Chapter 12
The Ex-Boyfriend's Agonized Scream
After Wen Zhi finished speaking, she saw him lost in thought. She then added forcefully, "I'll cook, you wash the dishes. With your hands. No dishwasher."
And just like that, their division of labor was clear. Wen Zhi was efficient—soon, two simple dishes and a soup were ready.
Dinner was quiet until Mo Tingyan suddenly said, "You like spicy food? But technically, spiciness isn't a taste—it's pain."
Wen Zhi raised a brow. "First time I've heard that. Then what about you liking sweets—what kind of 'feeling' is that?"
They'd eaten together a few times, and he never touched spicy food, not even a little.
Mo Tingyan looked surprised she'd noticed. His lips pulled into a lazy smile. "Sweet things stimulate dopamine production. So… happiness, perhaps?"
Wen Zhi: Boring.
"So you said all that just to tell me not to eat spicy food anymore? Just because you don't?"
Mo Tingyan shrugged. "I'm not that authoritarian. But… I do, in fact, hate everything related to pain."
Wen Zhi took a sip of water. Something about that sounded meaningful, but she didn't ask. They were only living together as a mutual arrangement anyway. His tastes and thoughts had nothing to do with her—just made cooking slightly inconvenient.
After dinner, Mo Tingyan dutifully went to wash the dishes. When Wen Zhi brought him her empty cup, she stood behind him, watching his practiced movements—cleaner than a dishwasher.
Setting the cup down, she said blandly, "Aren't you pretty good at this? Very skilled."
Hearing that, Mo Tingyan froze for a moment—rare for someone usually so relaxed and unrestrained.
But when he turned back to her, he was already wearing his usual roguish smile. "That only proves my Pearl has excellent taste in men—and knows how to tame her husband."
Wen Zhi: "…"
Not worth replying.
Next, their flight schedules conflicted perfectly—they didn't see each other for three days.
On the evening of the third day, Wen Zhi returned home after two flights. Mo Tingyan still wasn't back.
She put away her luggage and took clean clothes into the bathroom to shower.
She had planned to crawl into bed and sleep beautifully afterward.
But the moment she opened her bedroom door, a pair of large hands grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside. Before she could even see his face, she was already wrapped up and kissed thoroughly.
Seeing that it was Mo Tingyan—back at some unknown time—Wen Zhi froze in surprise. But quickly, her arms lifted, wrapping around his neck.
Three days apart, and Mo Tingyan was as intense as a starved beast who hadn't tasted meat in half a lifetime—igniting her completely, ravaging and conquering…
Just as they were immersed in that perfect rhythm, Mo Tingyan's phone suddenly rang.
At first, he had no intention of answering it. But the ringing wouldn't stop, ruining the moment entirely.
He finally grabbed the phone. Seeing the caller ID—Mo Tingjue—he raised a brow and answered.
The call connected, and Mo Tingjue's irritated voice came immediately:
"Bro, you're working at Jianghang now. Help me get Wen Zhi's flight schedule!"
Mo Tingjue had gone to Jianghang to block Wen Zhi for three days straight with no success. He went to her rental place—never home.
The woman was driving him insane.
Mo Tingyan didn't stop what he was doing. His breathing was steady as he replied, "No."
Hearing that, Mo Tingjue's already foul mood worsened.
"It's not like I'm asking for something hard. Just a schedule. What's your problem?"
"Don't understand? Then I'll spell it out: I'm not helping you. Why would I help a scumbag torment an innocent girl?"
At the word scumbag, Mo Tingjue's face stiffened.
"What scumbag? What did you hear?"
"You don't know what you did? Don't pretend ignorance with me. Stop calling me."
He was about to hang up when Mo Tingjue suddenly exploded:
"How can you be like this? Truly, like mother like son, you—"
Mo Tingyan's eyes darkened instantly.
At the same moment—
Wen Zhi, who had been trying to stay silent, suddenly let out a sound she couldn't suppress…
On the other end, Mo Tingjue heard something faint. Confused, he paused.
Mo Tingyan, voice laced with cold mockery, said, "You're absolutely right. Only a mother like yours could raise trash like you."
Mo Tingjue choked, about to shout back—
but the call ended abruptly.
Mo Tingyan hung up, unwilling to waste time on garbage.
He tossed the phone aside, lowered his head, and kissed Wen Zhi again, swallowing the scolding she was about to give him.
And then—
Wen Zhi's phone rang loudly.
She reached to grab it, but the half-kneeling Mo Tingyan was faster. He saw the caller ID first.
He grabbed the phone, answered it, turned on speaker, and held it in front of her.
Seeing it was Mo Tingjue calling, Wen Zhi shot Mo Tingyan a fierce glare!
She pressed a hand to his abs—a warning.
But he had zero intention of behaving.
From the phone came Mo Tingjue's accusatory voice:
"Wen Zhi, what did you tell my brother? I just had a moment of confusion—did what all men do—did you have to broadcast it everywhere? And you think Mo Tingyan is some saint? He—"
Mo Tingyan listened, lips curling with wicked amusement. He doubled down—hands and mouth even more shameless than before.
Wen Zhi couldn't help a soft gasp.
She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, glaring daggers at him.
How could this man be so vile?
She didn't want anyone, especially him, hearing something so private!
But Mo Tingyan only smiled, brushing her ear with his lips, whispering where only she could hear—
And at that moment, from the phone, Mo Tingjue suddenly let out a pained, anguished roar:
"Wen Zhi—what are you doing?!"