Chapter 105: You Have Never Truly Drawn Near to Me (Dedicated to Yiyi Diamond)

Mo Zhicheng accepted the plan, still focusing primarily on the piece of land owned by the city investment group. The senior management of NightCity had long since begun preparations, but that construction site had been contested by Mo Zhicheng for bidding six months prior. However, due to governmental interference, the project had been stalled for a considerable time.

Yelinglan had a vague suspicion that this issue might be connected to Secretary Qin—that he was deliberately erecting numerous obstacles to thwart Mo Zhicheng’s efforts.

Of course, she did not believe Secretary Qin was intervening for the sake of his own son; that would have been utterly irrational.

Thus, Yelinglan boldly speculated that the gambling industry in Nanjiang was gradually forming a tripartite balance of power. The traditional gambling enterprise, the Yu family, had been a hereditary business established in Nanjiang for decades. Though challenged by NightCity’s business model, their prosperous ancestral foundation and extensive network kept them on par with Mo Zhicheng.

NightCity, led by Mo Zhicheng, also encompassed part of Leng Hongwen’s legacy, making Mo Zhicheng’s momentum as unstoppable as a surging river.

The third player, the Great World Corporation, held a neutral position, occupying about one-fifth of the gambling market share in Nanjiang, seemingly content to observe the fierce rivalry between the other two.

The Yu family was determined to protect its own legacy while seeking to suppress Mo Zhicheng’s rising influence. They had tried every means to collude with Secretary Qin to seize the city investment land. This explained why Mo Zhicheng had not yet secured it. Coupled with Qin Shao’s underhanded attempts to sabotage Mo Zhicheng, could this have accelerated Mo Zhicheng’s resolve to eliminate Secretary Qin’s faction?

Yelinglan carefully compiled the information she had discovered the previous night during a moment alone, intending to send it to Ye Shao.

Yet, she hesitated. Her hand tightened around the water glass, and she unconsciously stirred the warm water with a small spoon. The clear surface rippled, distorting her reflection into a blurred shadow. Her gaze flickered to the purple ceramic flowerpot nearby, where a line of elegant characters was deeply inscribed.

It was as if the man’s voice whispered in her ear: “Your water glass is always placed on the left side, a little away from the computer; you never drink coffee, only plain water...” The purple glazed flowerpot bore white floral patterns and an inscription that read: “I wish to know you deeply, to live long without severing this bond.”

Those eleven characters before her eyes echoed in her ears as his voice overlapped repeatedly, impossible to dispel.

She furrowed her brow, trying to calm her restless heart. Even in the seventeen years she had quietly waited for Ye Shao, she had never felt such turmoil, nor dared to hope so extravagantly.

Closing her eyes softly to steady herself, she pressed “send.” After seeing the message transmission symbol, a sudden fleeting sense of disorientation came over her.

Ye Shao’s reply was simply: “Let’s observe and wait.”

Frowning, she habitually deleted the message and then proceeded to the underground parking lot to wait for Mo Zhicheng.

Beep—beep—

Within moments, a crisp unlocking sound came from behind her. She instinctively turned around—it was Mo Zhicheng!

“Good girl!” Mo Zhicheng smiled at her, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other casually twirling the car keys. His handsome face bore a faint smile, kindling a warmth in Yelinglan’s heart.

Unconsciously, she smiled back and asked, “What is?”

He stepped closer. Taller by a head, he stood before her as the dim light cast a slanting shadow, softly veiling her features in gentle darkness.

He brushed her cheek, a stray lock of hair falling by her ear. He tucked it behind her ear and said, “I said you’re good—waiting here for me without me even messaging you.”

Mo Zhicheng gazed at her with endless tenderness. Only when looking at her did his ordinarily cold, indifferent expression soften.

She felt the warmth of his palm enveloping her face, as if she were cradled delicately on the tip of his heart. Such a small gesture stirred an indescribable ache at her nose.

That day, she had deliberately held him back, never imagining it would become his nightly excuse to linger. She could not refuse.

The night was as tranquil as flowing water. Pitch black, so dark that one could not see a hand before their face.

Mo Zhicheng held her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as he murmured, “Are you cold?”

She shook her head. His embrace was so warm, his breath so entwined with her, that she closed her eyes, feeling his arm tighten around her waist.

“Then let’s stay like this forever—through the ages, unchanging. How about that?” Mo Zhicheng whispered, his lips warm against her hair.

He inhaled the fragrance of her hair, pressing it to his chest. Yet she remained so slender, as if one firm grasp might shatter her into pieces. He restrained his impulse, gently releasing her before receiving her answer. What would that feeling be like?

Yelinglan turned to face him. In the darkness, she seemed to sense his breath, so close it was like a mere breath away. She softly called, “Zhicheng...”

Mo Zhicheng paused, then brushed his lips against hers. To others, he was “Mr. Mo” or “President Mo.” Even in the rain, only she was permitted to call him “Brother Zhicheng.” He adored hearing her voice call his name softly and melodiously, reaching straight to his heart.

She reached up and cupped his face just as he had held hers. In a gentle voice, she asked, “Zhicheng, could you tell me about the scar on your abdomen?”

It took all her courage to speak the words, and she braced herself for his displeasure. But she could see nothing; she had only her ears to listen, to feel.

After a long moment, she sensed his breath deepen, silence stretching as if she had touched a long-festering wound in his soul. She felt a slight tremor between her hands.

Yet she remained silent, waiting. The air around them grew colder with their shared quiet.

Finally, he cupped her cheeks and asked, “You want to know?” His carefully controlled voice carried a rasp, as if borne of endless darkness. She seemed to taste his bitterness and the hardships he had endured.

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling the pain behind the single word.

“It’s a bloody past. You wouldn’t want to hear it.”

She leaned closer. “You said that if I could be just a little closer to you, I might see you more clearly, right?”

“My father was addicted to drugs, my mother mentally unwell. Our family fell apart; I was left to fend for myself,” Mo Zhicheng spoke quietly. Though she could not see his expression, his restraint was palpable. He did not want her to see his vulnerability or pity him.

Having already learned much from Tang Pei, she was shaken anew, her heart aching further.

“One time, I knew a figure in the Chinese gang underworld. During a gang fight, I stepped up to shield him from a knife.”

Mo Zhicheng took her palm, guiding her hand to his abdomen. She hesitated briefly but allowed him to lead her to touch the hard scar.

She froze, expecting to recoil, but instead, she slowly traced the rough texture, imagining how deeply the blade had pierced, how many stitches it took to leave such a harsh, ugly mark.

Her fingers trembled. “Does it hurt?” Her voice quivered in the stillness.

He smiled, pulling her tightly into his embrace. “It hurt terribly, my Lan’er. The blade was almost a foot long, and I bled profusely. I nearly bled to death. But I survived. No matter how deep the pain, it could never compare to how many times you’ve rejected me.”

She was speechless, only enveloped deeply in his arms.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, hot and urgent against her hair. Feeling her shiver, he whispered, “So you know how shocked and scared I was when you threw yourself in front of me, taking that knife that made the blood flow like a river.

I was afraid you would die, because I have endured that bone-gnawing pain myself. But more than that, I feared that even if you lived, I might still lose you.

Lan’er... do you know my heart?

You have never truly seen it, never truly understood it, and have never truly entered it.”

He drew a deep breath, feeling tides rise and fall within his chest. The higher the waves surged, the more they shattered into fragments.