Chapter 25 — His Agony
To be supported so firmly and unwaveringly…
She never knew it could feel this good.
For a moment, Wen Zhi found herself indulging in this version of Mo Tingyan — bold, reckless, and entirely hers.
The dinner wasn't even over, but afraid that Mo Tingjue would cling to her again, she excused herself with a hand on her forehead, claiming she'd had too much to drink. She slipped away before anyone could stop her.
Back in her room, she quickly uploaded a voice-over video on her social account.
Once finished, she dove straight into bed — only for Mo Tingyan to show up right on cue.
The moment she opened the door, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside, poking her head into the hallway to make sure no one had followed. Only after confirming the coast was clear did she shut the door.
She turned, voice low and tense.
"Why are you here again? If someone sees—"
Mo Tingyan caught her hand, eyes fixed on her wrist.
"You washed this?" he asked.
Wen Zhi blinked. "What?"
His smirk was pure delinquent.
"He touched you. That scumbag's filthy. Better wash it off."
"…"
As if he were any cleaner!
She shook off his grip, marched back inside, pulled the watch from her bag, and tossed it at him.
"Do you always live like you're burning money? A two-hundred-thousand-yuan watch — you just give it away?"
Mo Tingyan grinned and moved in for a hug. Wen Zhi dodged.
Seeing she was genuinely upset, he leaned toward her, voice low and coaxing.
"It's fake. I bought it just to keep up appearances. I've got loads of high-end replicas."
He took out his phone, showing her a photo.
"See? Bought in bulk. As long as you don't take them off, no one can tell."
Wen Zhi stared at the rows of "luxury watches" and felt her eye twitch. She subconsciously touched her necklace.
"What about this?"
"That necklace is worth four thousand. Not from a real master craftsman, but the certification tag? My friend pulled that from CJ's official line. Completely genuine. It's a private custom piece — hardly anyone's seen a real one. The tag is real, so yours is real. Wear it proudly."
Wen Zhi was speechless.
"Do you have to be this vain? Who cares about name brands? And Lin Yue's seen plenty of luxury items — aren't you afraid she'll realize your watch is fake?"
Mo Tingyan hooked a finger under her chin, lips curving in sly amusement.
But he didn't answer.
"What are you laughing at?" she asked cautiously.
He replied, almost smug,
"Knowing you, you'd never let something that expensive leave your hands. As long as you compete, you can shut Lin Yue up, avoid Mo Tingjue's pestering, and win my watch back. Isn't that killing three birds with one stone?"
"…"
"And what if I can't play piano?"
He raised a brow, full of arrogant confidence.
"I've read your résumé. You listed piano as a skill. Knowing you, you wouldn't write it unless you were good at it. Besides — I'm one of the judges. You think I'd let you lose?"
"…"
He really had a way of leaving her speechless.
Seeing she no longer looked ready to lecture him, he quietly exhaled in relief.
"It's late. I'm going to sleep. You should go back too," Wen Zhi said, dismissing him.
But Mo Tingyan circled to the other side of the bed, completely serious.
"I'm sleeping here tonight."
Wen Zhi's expression hardened.
"No. I told you — I can't sleep with someone next to me."
He clicked his tongue.
"Special situation tonight. When I came over, Mo Tingjue was headed this way. He didn't see me, but if I walk out right now, we'll run right into each other."
"…Don't make excuses."
"Pearl," he murmured, gaze earnest for once. "I'm telling the truth. And relax — I swear, I'll only hold you. No funny business. Don't kick me out, okay?"
Wen Zhi glanced toward the door, hesitating.
"Fine. But if you break your promise, don't expect me to ever trust a word you say again."
She got into bed, turned her back to him.
Mo Tingyan smiled — a quiet, triumphant curl of his lips — before sliding behind her and pulling her gently into his arms.
She gasped softly, ready to protest, but his warm breath brushed the back of her neck as he whispered,
"Just holding you. Nothing else. Goodnight."
Wen Zhi's neck tingled, but surprisingly… being held didn't feel as suffocating as she'd imagined.
If anything…
It felt… safe. Too safe.
She shifted, found a comfortable spot, and soon their breaths blended, lulling both into sleep.
Wen Zhi dreamt a long, peaceful dream — until her body suddenly jolted violently.
She frowned, consciousness drifting back as she heard panicked breathing and broken murmurs.
Her eyes flew open.
Somehow, she and Mo Tingyan had ended up face-to-face, wrapped tightly in each other's arms.
And he was trapped inside a nightmare.
Sweat soaked through his thin shirt. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, his handsome features were twisted in agony.
He clung to her, trembling, whispering desperately,
"Come back… don't go… you'll die…"
Wen Zhi could barely breathe under how tightly he held her.
He was suffering — truly suffering.
She hesitated, remembering the last time he had a nightmare, then slowly lifted her hand and stroked his back in a gentle, calming motion.
"I won't go," she whispered softly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
This time, he didn't jolt awake from her touch.
Instead… he slowly calmed.
His grip loosened, his breathing steadied, and the torment eased from his face.
Wen Zhi exhaled a shaky breath of her own.
What kind of nightmare tortured him like this?
Who was he calling for?
His… "white moonlight"?
But before she could think further, sleep tugged her under once more.
When morning arrived, Mo Tingyan opened his eyes to find Wen Zhi nestled soundly in his arms.
For the first time in ages, a real, peaceful smile tugged at his lips.
Last night… he had slept through.
No nightmares.
No darkness.
A full night of uninterrupted rest — something he hadn't experienced since the accident.
How long had it been since he felt this… alive?
Staring at the woman sleeping in his arms, Mo Tingyan fell silent, his thoughts stirring deeper than he intended.