Mo Tingyan held a cigarette between his long fingers, paused near his lips.
The drifting smoke blurred his impossibly handsome face, yet Wen Zhi could still tell—
He was smiling at her.
She lowered her eyes, withdrawing the chill that had lingered there moments ago.
When she looked back up, she frowned lightly.
"Why are you here?"
"To pick you up."
Wen Zhi: "..."
"How did you know I came here?"
"Tsk."
Mo Tingyan stubbed out the cigarette and stepped closer, casually hooking an arm around her shoulders.
"Do you think I'm blind? Ever since we were chased this morning, that cold look never left your face."
He tilted his head, half-smiling.
"What—worried that old bastard of a father might actually kill me?"
Wen Zhi lifted her hand and brushed him away, turning her face aside.
"You smell like smoke. Stay farther away."
But when had Mo Tingyan ever listened?
The more she resisted, the more mischievous he became.
He pressed a hand to the back of her head and dipped down, stealing her lips.
Wen Zhi: "..."
She didn't actually hate the smell of tobacco—
especially when it lingered on him.
But this was the Wen family's gate.
She hated this place.
She quickly turned her head to dodge the kiss, her voice low.
"Let's go home."
Mo Tingyan's lips curved into a clean, easy smile.
"Alright. Let's go home."
On the way back, Wen Zhi was unusually quiet.
She rested her elbow against the car window, palm supporting her head, her mood dull and heavy.
Mo Tingyan broke the silence.
"You went back to speak up for me?"
She thought of the wreckage she'd left behind and answered without hesitation.
"I smashed his house."
Mo Tingyan freed one hand from the steering wheel and gave her a thumbs-up.
"Well done. Worthy of being my woman.
Clean, decisive—truly a heroic queen."
Wen Zhi: "..."
She glanced at him.
Her low spirits were somehow lifted by his nonsense, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"If you don't know how to compliment someone, then don't.
This isn't exactly something to praise."
"But it felt good, didn't it?"
She nodded.
It did feel good.
But after the anger faded—what then?
She knew her father too well.
A man who would stop at nothing would never let Mo Tingyan go so easily.
She turned to look at his focused profile as he drove.
Her heart tightened into a small, aching knot.
Thinking about what she was about to do—
it made her inexplicably sad.
"Mo Tingyan."
"Hm?"
"Thank you."
He glanced at her, puzzled.
"Thank me? For what?"
She shook her head and pressed her lips together lightly.
"What do you want to eat tonight? I'll cook."
"Oh?" His brows lifted.
"I get to order now? Anything I want?"
"Forget it."
She cut him off calmly.
"You'll only say something improper."
She could already imagine him saying you.
"How about this—tonight, I'll teach you how to cook."
He laughed.
"You think highly of me."
"Let's try. Together."
Seeing her low mood, Mo Tingyan decided to treat it as cheering her up and agreed readily.
"Alright then. I'll reluctantly give it a shot today."
Since it was still early, Wen Zhi had him drive to the supermarket.
They bought ingredients together.
Almost everything she chose—
was food he liked.
Dessert ingredients.
Sweet flavors.
She didn't pick a single thing she herself enjoyed.
That wasn't like her.
Normally, she always bought half-and-half.
Mo Tingyan watched her from the side.
Something was off.
But he didn't ask yet.
Back home, they each took a quick shower.
When Mo Tingyan entered the kitchen, Wen Zhi tied a floral apron around his waist.
Seeing his tall frame wrapped in it, she couldn't help smiling.
He leaned down and stole a soft peck from her lips.
"If wearing this can make you smile," he said lazily,
"then it's worth it."
She withdrew her smile, took out a piece of pork tenderloin, rinsed it, and handed it to him.
"Slice it thin."
Mo Tingyan: "..."
Seeing his troubled expression, she placed the meat on the cutting board and demonstrated a few cuts.
He followed along.
Some slices were thick, some thin—
far from perfect.
Yet she praised him anyway.
That wasn't normal.
Together, they battered the meat, fried it, stir-fried it.
In name, Mo Tingyan was cooking—
but every ingredient, every measurement, was guided by Wen Zhi.
Soon, a dish he'd eaten countless times—
and never tired of—
sweet and sour pork—
was plated.
Then came braised beef with potatoes and tomatoes.
Then red-braised pork.
And then…
Seeing her about to continue after five dishes, Mo Tingyan finally frowned.
"Zhangzhu, we've got all the time in the world.
There's no need to learn everything in one day, right?"
He sighed dramatically.
"I'm not a genius. Teach me this much at once—I won't remember it."
Wen Zhi froze.
He was right.
How could anyone remember so much at once?
Five dishes…
They should be enough for his future life.
She nodded and smiled softly.
"Okay. We won't make more—we won't finish it anyway.
Let's eat."
Mo Tingyan caught her wrist.
"One more. Let's learn spicy prawns."
She shook her head.
"No need. Just learn what you like."
He blocked her path.
Watching her now, a vague sense of unease crept into his chest.
Seeing he wouldn't move, she said lightly,
"My cooking's too good.
Your spicy dishes won't satisfy me anyway."
She grabbed the bowls and chopsticks and walked out.
They sat across from each other at the table.
Mo Tingyan picked food for her.
After tasting it, Wen Zhi smiled faintly and nodded.
"It turned out pretty well."
Mo Tingyan curved his lips, elegant and roguish.
"All thanks to my wife's guidance."
She smiled briefly and lowered her head to keep eating.
After the meal, just as Mo Tingyan was about to clear the table, Wen Zhi suddenly spoke.
"Mo Tingyan, wait.
I have something for you."
He stopped, sat back down, and looked at her with anticipation.
"What is it? A gift?"
Guilt stirred in her heart.
They'd been together for a long time.
He had bought her so many pieces of jewelry—
yet she had never given him anything.
After hesitating, she pulled out—
a bank card,
a necklace,
gold earrings,
and a gold ring—
all from her pajama pocket.
Mo Tingyan's brow darkened as he looked at them.
"What does this mean?"
"Mo Tingyan," she said softly,
"when we got married… it really was rushed."
"I did nothing, yet I accepted a house from you so easily.
And I took all these gifts without hesitation."
"I don't think that's right."
She pushed the items toward him.
"I'm returning everything to you."
"Wen Zhi."
His expression hardened.
He stared at her coldly, calling her full name.
"I'm asking you—what do you mean?"
Under the table, her hands were tightly clasped together, nails digging into skin.
It took all her strength to speak.
"Mo Tingyan…"
"Let's get a divorce."