Chapter 13
Andre arrived at Mo Yue's villa at exactly 8:00 a.m. sharp. The metallic chime of the doorbell had barely finished before the door opened, revealing Mo Yue in a loose black shirt, sleeves carelessly rolled, a faint trace of cologne drifting into the crisp morning air.
"You're early," Mo Yue said with a slow glance down at him, though the clock clearly proved otherwise. "Or maybe I just thought assistants like you moved slower."
Andre's gaze didn't waver. "Eight o'clock means eight o'clock."
A smirk tugged at the corner of Mo Yue's lips. "Cold and punctual… you're going to bore me to death." He turned on his heel. "Come in. I'm not done with my coffee."
The interior was sleek, modern, but lived-in. A half-finished cup sat on the marble counter, next to a tablet flashing unread messages. Andre stood still, hands behind his back, eyes sweeping over the place without lingering on anything. He still has his mom favorite book inside his cross bag where he put his accessories. 'Should I request for an autograph now' he thought
"You're not the chatty type, are you?" Mo Yue asked while taking a slow sip. Interrupted his thought.
"I'm here to work."
That earned a low chuckle. "Right. Work." He set the cup down, grabbing a dark coat and sunglasses. "Let's go then. The vultures at Starling Media are probably sharpening their pens already."
••••••
The car ride was quiet, but not tense. Mo Yue hummed under his breath, occasionally drumming his fingers on the door. Andre's eyes remained forward, unbothered by the undercurrent of amusement in the other man's demeanor.
When they arrived, the entrance of Starling Media was already buzzing with reporters and photographers. Cameras clicked the moment Mo Yue stepped out, and Andre followed at a measured pace, ignoring the flashing lights.
They hadn't made it far before a tall figure approached — white shirt, pale tailored blazer, a neatly styled fringe. His right arm was in a sling, but his smile was pristine, almost gentle.
"Mo Yue," the man greeted warmly, voice smooth like polished glass. "I didn't expect you to arrive so early."
Mo Yue's lips curled, not in a smile. "Su Jie. Still playing the injured swan, I see."
Su Jie's gaze flicked to Andre briefly before returning to Mo Yue, the corner of his eyes tightening for the smallest second. "Some of us don't heal overnight," he replied, voice light but carrying a thread of steel. "Then again, not all of us invite… unfortunate accidents."
Andre stood slightly behind Mo Yue, watching without blinking. The air between the two stars felt like a thin sheet of ice — clear, brittle, ready to crack with the slightest pressure.
"Accidents happen," Mo Yue said flatly. "Though some people are talented at finding them."
The reporters, sensing a subtle shift, edged closer, hoping for something to bite on. Su Jie's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, let's not keep the media waiting. Wouldn't want them to think we can't stand each other."
"They'd be right," Mo Yue murmured, stepping past him without a backward glance.
Andre followed, noting the faint tremor in Su Jie's fingers despite his perfectly composed expression. Ruthless, hiding behind that clean smile — and yet, he'd flinched when Mo Yue passed him.
It wasn't just rivalry. This was personal.
By the time they entered the interview room, Mo Yue's sharp tongue was tucked away behind his usual calm poise, but Andre had already filed away the details.
Cold or not, he made it a habit to remember weaknesses.