Mo Tingyan stepped up to Wen Zhi and looked at the blood-red dress she was wearing. His voice grew heavy and low.
"Once, the only person in this world who was ever truly kind to me… was wearing a red dress just like this. She died right in front of my eyes."
He paused, his gaze dark and deep.
"Is that reason enough for you to change?"
Wen Zhi's heart jolted violently.
The aggressive defiance on her face froze, then slowly collapsed into helpless confusion.
She reacted quickly—said nothing, turned around, and walked briskly back into the bedroom.
The moment the door closed, she lowered her head, guilt flooding her chest.
She had gone too far just now.
It felt as if she had stabbed another knife straight into his heart.
Letting out a deep sigh, she steadied her emotions, walked back to the wardrobe, and changed into a white dress, paired with black mid-heeled sandals.
When she came out, Mo Tingyan was still standing by the coffee table.
Their eyes met for a brief second. Wen Zhi immediately looked away, her gaze falling on the offerings laid out on the table.
He had prepared… a lot.
Mo Tingyan nodded in satisfaction.
"This is much better. Shall we go now?"
Wen Zhi didn't respond. She stepped forward, quietly picked up part of the offerings, and walked out without a word.
Mo Tingyan noticed the guilt in her eyes. After getting into the car, while fastening his seat belt, he called softly,
"Zhangzhu."
"Hm?" Wen Zhi turned to look at him.
He curved his lips faintly.
"Don't ignore me. Give me directions."
She looked away again, her tone calm and distant.
"Just set the navigation to Jiangcheng Public Cemetery."
"Alright."
The entire drive passed in silence. Neither of them brought up the red dress again.
At the cemetery, Wen Zhi stood at the foot of the mountain and looked up at the sky.
Every time she came here, the weather was never good.
Today was no exception—overcast, gloomy, and inexplicably irritating.
Mo Tingyan went around to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and took out the offerings. He handed two lighter bags to Wen Zhi.
"Let's go, Zhangzhu. You lead."
She said nothing and walked into the cemetery ahead of him.
Back then, Wen Renhao had been unwilling to properly bury his disobedient ex-wife, so she was laid to rest near the foot of the mountain.
They didn't walk long before arriving at the grave.
Looking at the photo on the tombstone—her mother's gentle, radiant smile—Wen Zhi's mind was dragged back to childhood.
She remembered Wen Renhao once dragging her here angrily, pointing at the tombstone and shouting—
"See that? She didn't just abandon you—she took away my most obedient daughter too! She's the sinner of the Wen family, someone I'll never forgive in my lifetime! From now on, you don't have a mother anymore, understand?"
Seeing Wen Zhi silently staring at the tombstone, Mo Tingyan followed her gaze.
His eyes darkened slightly before shifting to the smaller tombstone beside it.
Looking at the photo, he asked in mild surprise,
"Wen Ruan? Same surname, and she looks a lot like you. Is this a Wen family cemetery?"
Wen Zhi finally spoke, her voice low.
"She's my biological older sister. Back then… she died in the same accident as my mother."
She then pointed to the larger tombstone.
"And this is my mother."
Mo Tingyan's gaze drifted between the two smiling photos, his eyes momentarily unfocused.
Wen Zhi crouched down and placed the offerings carefully in front of both graves.
Then she stood up, bowed once, and turned to Mo Tingyan.
"That's enough. Let's go."
He caught her wrist in surprise.
"That's it? We're leaving already?"
"Then what else?" she asked coolly.
"You should at least introduce me," Mo Tingyan said seriously.
"I'm already here."
Wen Zhi: "..."
"There's no need. The dead can't hear any of this."
He refused to let go.
"What if souls really exist? Maybe they'll be happy to see you found such a handsome man."
Wen Zhi: "..."
She said coldly,
"I'm twenty-one, not two. I stopped believing in fairy tales when I was eight."
She pulled her wrist free.
The next second—
Mo Tingyan turned around and knelt straight down in front of her mother's grave.
Wen Zhi froze, her steps halting abruptly.
What was he doing?
Mo Tingyan looked at the smiling photo on the tombstone, his gaze soft and sincere.
"Mom," he said quietly,
"My name is Mo Tingyan. I'm Zhangzhu's husband—your son-in-law. We've been married for two months now."
"Zhangzhu is a very good girl. She grew up in a harsh environment, but she grew strong all on her own. From now on, I'll take good care of her too. Please rest assured—both you and her sister."
Wen Zhi watched him solemnly make his promise, and something inside her heart was lightly struck.
It felt… strange.
After finishing his words, Mo Tingyan bowed deeply three times before standing up again.
He looked at Wen Zhi.
"Aren't you going to bow to Mom before leaving?"
She looked away and started walking down the mountain.
"No need."
This time, Mo Tingyan didn't stop her. He simply followed her quickly.
After walking some distance, Wen Zhi finally turned back and glanced at the two graves—one large, one small—far behind them.
Her eyes were dark and unreadable as she turned away again.
Noticing her gaze, Mo Tingyan raised an eyebrow.
"You were right before. Your mother really was beautiful. You and your sister both look like her."
Wen Zhi stopped walking.
She said that?
She thought back. A few days ago, when Mo Tingyan asked why she didn't trust him, she had said—
If he had seen her mother, he would understand why she didn't trust men.
Because her mother was so beautiful… yet still couldn't keep her father's heart.
Mo Tingyan continued casually,
"And fortunately, neither of you resemble your father. He's not exactly ugly, but compared to your mother, he really—"
"Mo Tingyan," Wen Zhi cut him off sharply.
"The memorial is over. You don't need to mention them in front of me ever again."
He looked at her—cold, distant ever since entering the cemetery—curiosity clearly written all over his face.
"Zhangzhu, honestly," he asked,
"why do you hate your mother so much?"
Wen Zhi stopped again.
A heavy suffocation pressed down on her chest. She turned to him, displeasure clear in her eyes.
"I told you before—I won't ask about your mother, and I expect you not to ask about mine. Why do you keep pushing?"
"I'm just curious—"
Her fists clenched tightly.
"Then stop being curious," she snapped.
"Don't you have secrets you don't want to tell anyone for the rest of your life?"
"We're just married partners living together. We don't interfere in each other's private matters—that was agreed on before marriage. If you really can't control yourself, then tell me now. I'll end this marriage as soon as possible."
Mo Tingyan's heart sank.
He stepped forward, blocking her path, his expression turning cold.
"Our marriage," he asked slowly,
"is it really such a trivial thing to you?"