They locked eyes for a long moment.
Then Wen Zhi suddenly stood up, her expression icy and distant.
"I'm not in the mood right now," she said flatly. "If we keep talking, it'll only get worse. Let's stop here. I'm going back to my room."
After she left, Mo Tingyan remained seated at the table, unmoving for a long time.
He had always believed that he would never fall in love with anyone.
Yet just moments ago, when Wen Zhi said she regretted marrying him, his heart felt as though a heavy stone had been stuffed inside—dense, suffocating, aching.
Coupled with Jiang Nanzhong and Huo Ze repeatedly telling him that he might have fallen for Wen Zhi, Mo Tingyan suddenly realized how serious the situation truly was.
It seemed that… he really had fallen in love with that little girl.
And not just a little—
but deeply.
But right now, she was furious with him. Even if he swallowed his pride and tried to cling to her, it would only make her angrier.
So instead, he decided to give her some time—
time to process her emotions.
When she felt better, he would go and coax her properly.
Just as he stood up to return to his room, his phone rang. Seeing Jiang Nanzhong's name on the screen, he answered casually.
On the other end, Jiang's voice was brimming with excitement.
"Brother Yan! Get over here to the club—fast! We found the guy you've been looking for!"
The gloom in Mo Tingyan's heart instantly vanished. Grabbing his car keys, he strode out the door.
In the room, Wen Zhi heard the sound of the door closing, her heart sinking.
It was already so late—where was he going?
She had just told him she regretted marrying him, and instead of staying home, he rushed out?
What could possibly be so urgent?
For the first time, Wen Zhi realized just how little she truly knew about Mo Tingyan.
Driven by curiosity—and unease—she followed him out.
Mo Tingyan went to the same private club he had taken her to before. Since Wen Zhi didn't have an access card, she called the chief stewardess. The stewardess asked a familiar contact to lend her a membership card.
Wen Zhi entered smoothly and, relying on memory, found the private room they had visited last time.
This place seemed to be Jiang Nanzhong's usual stronghold.
Inside the room, the atmosphere was heavy and oppressive.
A middle-aged man was being ruthlessly pinned to the floor under Mo Tingyan's foot.
Mo Tingyan's voice was cold—icy enough to freeze one's blood.
"I'll give you one last chance. If you still refuse to speak, I have more than enough ways to make you die without a grave. And I doubt you'd want your family to suffer along with you."
The man trembled violently, too afraid to respond.
Jiang Nanzhong, lounging across from them, spoke lazily—yet with unmistakable menace.
"You'd better be smart. Don't think of him as just the discarded eldest son of the Mo Group. His identity is far beyond what you can afford to offend even if you died a hundred times. Ever heard of the Mingguang Group? He's the man behind it. Crushing you would be easier than stepping on an ant. So don't hide anything—he always keeps his word."
At the mention of Mingguang Group, the bruised and battered man finally broke.
Begging, he said, "President Mo… if I tell the truth, will you really spare my family?"
"That depends on whether what you say is the truth."
"I'll tell you everything. I swear I won't hide a single word. Back then, I was paid to cause that car accident. But the target… wasn't the two people in the car. It was supposed to be you—and your mother. They said you were attending a school award ceremony that day, and your mother would be with you, but…"
Mo Tingyan's mind went blank.
He was supposed to take his mother to that award ceremony.
But when had that woman ever cared about his achievements?
In the end, it was her—the one who pitied him, who encouraged him—who went in his mother's place.
And that was how she met her tragic end.
Mo Tingyan steadied himself, then bent down and grabbed the man by the collar, his voice cold and feral, like a ghost crawling out of hell.
"Who hired you to kill me?"
"It was… your father and his wife. They promised me one million after the job was done. But because the wrong people died, I never got the money. I've been on the run for half my life… I have a family, but I don't dare go home…"
Mo Tingyan shoved him away and stood up coldly.
The answer was exactly what he had expected.
Jiang Nanzhong asked, "What's your plan, Mu Han?"
"Hand him over to the police. Record his confession properly. Make that despicable couple pay for hiring a killer. And notify Huo Ze—destroy that pathetic little Mo family company. Bankrupt them."
Even if those two got punished, they wouldn't leave a single cent behind for the person they cherished most—Mo Tingjue.
Back then, they tried to drive him to death.
Now, he would return the favor—tenfold.
Jiang Nanzhong nodded. "Got it. Leave it to me."
Outside the club, Wen Zhi used all her strength just to raise her hand and hail a taxi.
During the ride, her mind replayed every word she had overheard.
Mo Tingyan… was really the man behind Mingguang Group.
She remembered that banquet—how the Mingguang Group president's silhouette looked strikingly similar to his. She had even joked about it with him afterward.
And he, washing dishes casually, had laughed and said, "Maybe we were family eight hundred years ago."
So it turned out—
She had been deceived.
Completely. Thoroughly.
Thinking about everything over the past few months—about how she had racked her brains again and again to help him keep his job, offering ideas, finding solutions—
Wen Zhi found it utterly ridiculous.
How could there be such a vile man in this world?
She sat alone in her room, sleepless until dawn.
She had a flight the next day, but she was too exhausted to go in and could only call the chief stewardess to request leave.
Mo Tingyan, busy handling the Mo family's affairs, didn't come home all night.
The couple who had hired the killer were arrested by the police, and the Mo family business collapsed overnight.
After completing his flight, Mo Tingyan rushed home.
Wen Zhi's room door was open.
Everything that needed packing had already been packed.
Seeing the suitcases scattered across the room, Mo Tingyan's heart jolted. He walked in quickly, wrapped his arms around her waist, and asked gently:
"Why didn't my precious one go to work today? The chief stewardess said you were sick. Where do you feel unwell? I'll take you to the hospital. But… what's with all these suitcases? Planning a big cleanup?"
Wen Zhi calmly slipped out of his arms, her voice low and cold.
"No. I'm moving out."
She looked at him steadily.
"Mo Tingyan—
let's get a divorce."