Chapter 30 — Mo Tingyan Might Lose His Job
Wen Zhi pressed a hand to her cramping lower abdomen and cut him off sharply.
"Enough. I already told you—I don't want kids. If you've changed your mind, I can divorce you and set you free."
Mo Tingyan lifted his other hand and pinched her cheek lightly.
"Why so serious? I'm trying to help you feel better. Besides, I don't like kids either—too loud, too messy. But I am curious… Why don't you like children? Aren't women supposed to have some natural maternal glow?"
Wen Zhi's tone dropped to ice.
"Then I must not be a good woman. I don't think I'm capable of raising a life well. And I never want a child who might turn out… like me."
The room fell silent—thick, heavy.
A long moment later, Mo Tingyan spoke slowly, almost lazily.
"You're wonderful."
Wen Zhi's gaze flicked to the man still gently massaging her stomach. Something about him was off tonight—talkative, poking at things she didn't want touched.
She shut her eyes. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I want to sleep. You should go."
Instead, Mo Tingyan lifted the blanket and slipped directly into her bed.
He hooked the corner of his eye up in that arrogant, wicked little smirk.
"I'm tired too. I run hot—you're freezing. Perfect match. Let me cool off."
Before she could react, he pulled her right onto him.
Wen Zhi blinked, completely thrown off, and tried to roll away.
But Mo Tingyan wrapped an arm around her waist like steel.
"I massaged you for so long. Can't you do one tiny thing for your husband and help me cool down? Stop moving… or else… Just sleep."
Wen Zhi: "…"
Truth be told, he was warm. Hot, even.
Her freezing, aching body melted against him, and the comfort was instant.
So she stopped resisting.
Resting her cheek on his shoulder, her breaths brushed across his collarbone like soft kisses.
Mo Tingyan shut his eyes, every nerve tightening.
A beauty in his arms he wasn't allowed to eat—pure torture.
Pressed against him, Wen Zhi could easily sense his tension.
She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, and she turned her head away as if indifferent—though the corners of her lips rose uncontrollably at the sound of his racing heartbeat.
—
By morning, Mo Tingyan woke first.
Sometime in the night, their chaotic sleeping position had turned into a peaceful, intimate embrace—face to face.
He stared at the sleeping woman in his arms, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.
For the second time in years, he had slept peacefully.
Without nightmares.
And both times… he had been holding her.
Coincidence?
Or…
—
Wen Zhi didn't wake until noon. Her complexion had clearly improved.
Mo Tingyan asked softly, "How do you feel?"
"Much better," she said, sitting up. "The first day is always the worst. I'm just… starving."
She slipped out of bed to grab her slippers. "I'll cook something—"
Mo Tingyan caught her wrist.
"The fridge is empty. Let's eat out. No need for you to run around."
Wen Zhi didn't argue. Her stomach kept cramping in waves anyway.
"Alright. Let's change."
They went to the same restaurant they'd eaten at the day they got their marriage certificate.
Starving, Wen Zhi devoured the food the second it arrived.
Just as they were finishing, an unwelcome visitor stormed in—
Feng Zhao.
Mo Tingjue's closest buddy.
The moment Feng Zhao walked in, he saw Wen Zhi eating with a strikingly handsome man who was attentively adding food to her bowl.
Remembering how Mo Tingjue had recently complained that Wen Zhi was mad at him, Feng Zhao's temper instantly exploded. Women shouldn't be spoiled—this was exactly why.
He marched up and sized the two of them up. The man beside Wen Zhi… did not look easy to mess with.
So he turned his aggression on Wen Zhi.
"Wen Zhi," he barked, "my brother treats you so damn well. He's practically depressed because you're throwing a tantrum. And you're out here cheating on him? You really are shameless!"
Mo Tingyan slammed his chopsticks onto the table, eyes cold.
But Wen Zhi shook her head at him and glared frostily at Feng Zhao.
She had never liked him—his attitude was trash, his mouth filthier, and he was overbearing to the point of nausea.
And now he dared act like Mo Tingjue was some tragic victim?
Disgusting.
Wen Zhi's voice was sharp as ice.
"I've already broken up with Mo Tingjue. Even if I hadn't, who I eat with is none of your business."
"Break up? Says who? Get up—we're going to see my brother. Let's see if you dare repeat that to his face!"
Without warning, Feng Zhao lunged forward and yanked her arm violently, dragging her up so hard she stumbled, her leg slamming against the table edge.
Wen Zhi's eyes went cold. She grabbed a water glass, ready to smash it over his head.
But Mo Tingyan moved first.
He stood, swift and deadly, and kicked Feng Zhao square in the chest.
The man flew backward and crashed to the floor, wheezing, clutching his ribs.
Wen Zhi's heart tightened—he looked badly hurt. She grabbed Mo Tingyan's arm, anxious.
But Mo Tingyan had already stepped forward and planted his foot on Feng Zhao's chest—hard.
He bent down slightly, smirking with dangerous laziness.
"You touched her. Tired of living?"
Feng Zhao's earlier bravado evaporated the moment their eyes met.
His entire body prickled with fear, like a nest of vipers had crawled over him.
But with people watching, a rich young master like him couldn't lose face.
"You know who I am?" he shouted. "You dare hit me? I'm calling the police!"
Wen Zhi tightened her grip on Mo Tingyan's arm.
"Feng Zhao, you put hands on me first. This is best settled right here. Don't make it worse."
Feng Zhao staggered to his feet, still clutching his chest, glaring at the "adulterous pair" in fury.
"Oh, I'm the victim here. I was helping my brother catch a cheating woman. Now I'm injured—and you think I'll just let it go? Dream on. I'll have your wild man thrown in jail!"
Wen Zhi's stomach dropped.
If Mo Tingyan got taken to the police station and left a record…
His job would be gone for sure.