Wen Zhi lifted her hand and pointed softly at the wound on Mo Tingyan's arm.
That injury—
It was caused by her, when she was barely conscious.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I hurt you."
Mo Tingyan turned his head, glanced at the small wound where the blood had already dried, and let out a careless chuckle.
"This?" he said lightly. "That barely counts as an injury. Didn't even bleed much."
But Wen Zhi still felt guilty.
After he finished bandaging the cut on her wrist, she braced herself with one hand on the bed and slowly sat up. Reaching for the medical kit, she said,
"Take your shirt off. I'll clean it for you."
Mo Tingyan didn't want her dwelling on something so minor. He waved his hand casually.
"It's nothing. You don't need to—"
But Wen Zhi was firm.
She grabbed his wrist as he tried to stand, reached up herself, and began unbuttoning his collar.
Mo Tingyan took a step back, putting on a playful grin.
"Well, if my Zhi-zhi is this worried about me—so worried she's starting to take liberties—then fine. I'll leave this tiny wound to you."
She ignored his teasing.
Once his shirt came off, she saw the puncture clearly. It wasn't large, but it was deep—nearly a centimeter.
Her brows knit together.
She picked up the antiseptic and carefully cleaned the wound, her movements gentle and focused.
Mo Tingyan watched her fair, porcelain-like face for a long moment before asking softly,
"Were you scared today?"
Her hands paused.
She turned her head slightly, her gaze drifting past him, memories of the evening flashing through her mind.
She was human.
She didn't want to be violated.
So of course—
She had been afraid.
But she didn't answer directly.
She resumed treating the wound and smiled faintly.
"I should thank you," she said. "You arrived just in time to save me today."
Then, as if remembering something, she added,
"By the way… how did you know I was at the Wen house?"
"I left later than usual," Mo Tingyan replied. "When I passed your company, I saw you being dragged into a car. I followed them all the way to your family's place. I figured going in alone would get me jumped, so I borrowed a few friends from Jiang Nanzhong to back me up. Turns out—it was necessary."
Wen Zhi nodded.
But her thoughts drifted.
If it hadn't been for him today…
The consequences would have been unbearable.
The room fell silent for a long while.
Then Mo Tingyan suddenly spoke again—serious, steady, and uncharacteristically solemn.
"Zhi-zhi. Don't ever try to kill yourself again."
She looked up.
"Even if something truly awful happens. Even if you're humiliated. Even if you lose what people call 'purity'—don't give up your life. Do you hear me?"
"Purity means nothing. Living does."
They locked eyes.
Wen Zhi's eyes reddened, though no tears fell.
No one had ever cared whether she lived or died.
The people closest to her could abandon her when she needed them most—and exploit her the moment she became useful.
Only Mo Tingyan told her this:
Live.
Her heart felt as if it were wrapped in a burning warmth—
Hot, protective, overwhelming.
She had never felt this before.
It was unfamiliar…
And frightening.
Seeing her silent, Mo Tingyan continued, his expression unwavering.
"Did you hear what I said? None of this was your fault. The people who do evil live just fine—so why should you die? I'm your husband. I don't care whether you're 'pure' or not. So don't do stupid things."
Then he added coolly,
"The correct answer is simple—kill them instead. Then we walk away and live well. Understand?"
Wen Zhi finally looked away, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.
"I was confused because of the drugs," she said softly. "I won't do that again."
Mo Tingyan nodded, satisfied, and said no more.
Just as Wen Zhi finished bandaging his arm—
Her stomach betrayed her with a loud growl.
Mo Tingyan chuckled, placing a hand over her belly.
"It's protesting. Hungry?"
She glanced at the clock.
"It's past eleven. Aren't you hungry too?"
He sighed dramatically.
"I worked out on an empty stomach for hours tonight. Of course I'm starving."
Wen Zhi: "..."
She put the gauze aside, lifted the blanket, and started to get out of bed.
"I'll make some noodles. Let's just make do tonight."
"Hey."
Mo Tingyan pressed her back down and stood up with the medical kit, his tone righteous.
"Not today. You're exhausted. If I exploit you like a heartless landlord now, am I even human? Lie down. I'll do it."
She froze. "You?"
"Aren't noodles just boiling water?" he said confidently. "Once they're cooked, they're cooked. You rest. I'll call you when it's ready."
Wen Zhi watched him stride out confidently.
It's just noodles, she thought. What could go wrong?
Twenty minutes passed.
She dozed off, then woke up again.
Still no sign of him.
Growing worried, she stepped out of the bedroom—and saw Mo Tingyan emerging from the kitchen with two bowls of noodles.
He grinned at her roguishly.
"What? Smelled the aroma and came running?"
Wen Zhi: "..."
Aroma? Where?
She didn't crush his enthusiasm, stepping forward to help him with the bowls.
She noticed a fried egg on top of the noodles—surprisingly thoughtful.
But when she flipped it over—
It was burnt black on one side.
She couldn't help laughing.
Mo Tingyan: "..."
"I've never cooked before," he defended himself seriously. "This was my first time. The egg looks ugly, but the noodles are definitely cooked. I boiled them for a full twenty minutes. Try them."
She pushed the egg aside and took a bite.
They were… cooked.
"How is it?" he asked eagerly.
She nodded. "Yes. They're cooked. Just… overcooked. And there's no flavor."
He looked wounded. "This is my first meal for someone. You're supposed to encourage me."
Wen Zhi looked at him.
Someone cooking for her…
That was new.
Even though it tasted bland, her heart felt full.
After a moment's thought, she said seriously,
"You did great."
Mo Tingyan: "..."
Fine. His wife really didn't know how to compliment people.
He took a bite himself—and immediately frowned.
He'd eaten bad food before, but this was on another level.
He shoved the bowl away irritably.
"I'm done. I'll order takeout."
Wen Zhi smiled faintly. "You just forgot the seasoning."
She carried both bowls back into the kitchen.
When she saw seven or eight burnt eggs piled in the trash can, she shook her head.
What a crime.
She quickly fixed the noodles, added seasoning, and returned.
Mo Tingyan took another bite—
His eyes lit up.
"Zhi-zhi, you're incredible. Same noodles, completely different taste."
She ate quietly, then looked up at him.
"You should learn how to cook someday. Otherwise… if we ever separate, will you just eat out forever?"
Mo Tingyan froze mid-motion and looked straight at her.
"Separate?" he asked slowly.
"We're married. Why would we separate?"