Mo Tingyan casually lit another cigarette.
His sharply defined features slowly blurred behind the drifting smoke.
His expression was calm—
so calm it was impossible to read his emotions.
Yet the words that followed were sharp enough to cut.
"Zhangzhu," he said coolly,
"just because of this little mess your father made, you're planning to dump me?"
"This is not a small matter."
Wen Zhi looked up at him, her breathing quick, helplessness flickering in her eyes.
"You don't understand him. I do. I'm his daughter."
"I've seen every despicable thing he's done.
He showed no mercy to the woman who bore his children, nor to his own daughter—
so why would he spare you?"
"If you stay with me," she continued softly,
"the beating the day before yesterday, the car accident today—
this will all become part of your everyday life."
Realizing that Wen Zhi was divorcing him not out of fear, but to protect him,
Mo Tingyan's anger eased—just a little.
"You're overestimating him."
"Mo Tingyan," she sighed, exhausted,
"we've been married for less than two months. You really don't have to do this."
"I don't like owing anyone anything.
I don't want you to face danger or humiliation because of me anymore."
"This was never my intention when I married you."
What a stubborn woman.
Mo Tingyan leaned lazily against the back of the chair.
The corner of his lips curved, as if smiling—
but there was a sharp glint of danger in his eyes.
"I don't care."
"But I do!" Wen Zhi exhaled heavily.
"The one thing I never want to be in this life—
is someone else's burden."
"I don't want anyone's life to change because of me.
You and I are just ordinary people. We can't withstand his endless harassment."
Mo Tingyan raised a brow.
"Either way, I'm not agreeing to a divorce."
Wen Zhi looked at him.
The storm in her eyes slowly settled, though her voice still carried a tremor of pain.
"My decision is final. It won't change."
"I'll pack up and move out as soon as possible.
I'll apply to transfer work groups at the airport so it won't be awkward for you."
"The property deed—on your next day off, I can go with you to transfer it back."
"As for the rest…"
"There's nothing else."
She stood up.
"I'm going back to my room to rest."
Mo Tingyan watched her retreating figure.
He crushed the cigarette out, stood abruptly, crossed the distance in two strides, grabbed her, turned her back—
and kissed her fiercely.
The taste of tobacco flooded her mouth.
This kiss was unquestionable, domineering—
quickly turning from a kiss into a punishing bite.
Wen Zhi gasped in pain and shoved him away.
"Mo Tingyan!"
Ignoring the anger in her eyes, he bent down, scooped her up effortlessly, carried her into the bedroom—
and tossed her onto the bed.
She tried to roll up.
Too late.
He was already over her, pinning her shoulders, looking down at her from above.
His eyes burned with naked desire.
His warm fingers brushed gently across her lips, voice low and dangerously coaxing—almost aggrieved.
"Baby… you're already planning to divorce me."
"At the very least, shouldn't you let me sleep properly tonight?"
"How else am I supposed to accept it?"
Before she could react, his kiss fell again—
This time, there was no violence.
Only indulgence. Only tenderness.
Her body softened.
Her thoughts blurred.
Truthfully…
in this regard, he really was very good.
They fit far too well.
Doing anything after the divorce would feel wrong.
So just tonight.
Let go.
To leave her with no strength left to overthink,
Mo Tingyan thoroughly exhausted her for over four hours.
By the time it ended, Wen Zhi didn't even have the strength to get up, wash, or dress.
She collapsed into the pillow and fell asleep almost instantly.
Mo Tingyan watched her sleeping face, got up, fetched some water, and gently cleaned her.
Then he took his phone and stepped out of the room.
Had he known she feared Wen Renhao this deeply,
he wouldn't have delayed things for even a day.
But divorce?
She actually dared to think about divorcing him?
Heh.
He wasn't done sleeping yet.
She could keep dreaming.
He dialed a number.
The next morning, Wen Zhi woke up to find it was already past ten.
Her alarm hadn't gone off?
She was late for work!
She bolted upright—
only to see a note on the bedside table:
I took care of your leave. Rest at home today.
She finally relaxed.
Her pay had already been docked a lot this month—
another penalty would've hurt badly.
But…
why did Mo Tingyan make decisions for her like this?
After washing up, she planned to look for apartments online and pack her things.
She'd barely checked a few listings when her phone rang.
It was Wen Xue.
She didn't answer.
Soon, a video was sent.
In it—
their father lay in a hospital bed, face swollen and bruised beyond recognition, a catheter inserted beneath the sheets…
Wen Xue's voice followed, sharp and accusatory:
"Wen Zhi, look carefully. This is what you've done to Dad.
He's incontinent now. As his daughter, aren't you coming to serve him?"
"Get to the hospital. Now."
The video ended.
Wen Zhi tightened her grip on the phone.
Who could have beaten Wen Renhao into this state?
The answer surfaced almost immediately.
Mo Tingyan had told her not to go to work today—
Had he… caused trouble?
Her heart lurched.
She quickly called the airline to confirm—
Mo Tingyan's flight had taken off on time.
Only then did she exhale.
She went to the hospital but avoided alerting the Wen family, quietly asking around instead.
After circulating through plenty of gossip, she finally learned the truth—
The ones who beat Wen Renhao
were the very men he had hired to deal with Mo Tingyan.
They claimed Wen Renhao had hired them but refused to pay afterward—
so they retaliated.
Desperate criminals, the lot of them.
Beating someone would only get them a short sentence.
Wen Renhao didn't dare call the police—
afraid they'd seek revenge once released.
So he swallowed the loss in silence.
Wen Zhi left the hospital quietly.
Though everyone said Wen Renhao deserved it—
she couldn't shake the feeling—
Something about this wasn't right.
That afternoon, Mo Tingyan returned early.
Only two short flights today.
He came back in a good mood—
with a bouquet of roses in his arms.
Wen Zhi sat on the sofa.
She didn't take the flowers.
She looked at his playful grin and asked seriously,
"My father's situation—
was that your doing?"
Meeting her scrutinizing gaze, Mo Tingyan knew he should deny it.
But Wen Zhi was too smart.
Lying would be foolish.
So he answered honestly.
"It was me."
An uneasy chill crept into her heart.
What kind of power did it take—to pull this off so cleanly?
"How did you make them turn on him?"
She stared at him, eyes sharp.
"Mo Tingyan… who exactly are you?"
"And how many things about you—
do I still not know?"