Chapter 11 Solitude
She turned around, almost colliding into the man's chest. For a split second, her mind went utterly blank. When her thoughts returned, he was only an inch away from her. The clean scent of cologne, laced with a faint trace of tobacco, enveloped her senses. Though his fragrance was subtle and pleasant, at this moment, it felt as suffocating as a mountain pressing down on her.
The room was eerily silent, broken only by the sound of her rapid breathing. Instinctively, Ye Linglan stepped back, but Mo Zhicheng advanced, closing the distance. It was a measured pursuit—like a seasoned predator toying with its prey, not in haste to capture, but driving her relentlessly to the edge of a cliff. With no way out, he chipped away at her composure, bit by bit, until her body met the door with a heavy thud. Her heart skipped a beat. She tilted her chin, gazing up at his face cast in the backlight.
He was a full head taller than her. When he remained silent, the atmosphere in the room seemed to freeze, far colder than when he had been dealing with Qin Shao just moments before. This was the real him—severe, unyielding, the same piercing stare she remembered from their first meeting at the interview, a gaze that left nowhere to hide, as if he could see straight through her.
“President Mo,” she said, gathering her courage and meeting his eyes, the fear fading from her expression, “It was my mistake to enter the private room tonight. That’s why Qin Shao was angered.” A shadow fell over her as he leaned in, his breath brushing against her nose. Linglan’s eyes widened, staring into his. For a brief moment, she saw a tiny reflection of herself in the depths of his pupils.
Mo Zhicheng arched an eyebrow and placed a hand above her head, closing in until their bodies almost touched. He looked down at her from above, his posture dominant. Her breath, soft and warm, floated up to his chiseled jaw. Ye Linglan clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain calm, her cool aloofness barely concealing her nerves. She pressed on, “If you wish to punish someone, let it be me alone.”
Despite her bold words, worry gnawed at her heart. It was thanks to Tang Pei’s help that she’d gotten a chance at Night City. For the past two weeks, she’d kept a low profile. Just half a year—if she could endure for just half a year longer, she might secure a place in the corporation. Yet tonight, her attempt to rescue Xiaowen might have ruined everything.
Lost in her anxious thoughts, she suddenly felt a tingling sensation along her neck. Before she could react, Mo Zhicheng’s finger traced lightly from her graceful neck down to her slightly open collar. Only one button remained undone, revealing the delicate line of her collarbone. His touch was feather-light, but she held her breath, frozen. The innocence of her reaction betrayed her inexperience; she’d never been so intimately close to a man before. But Mo Zhicheng—who had seen countless women—was unfazed. His fingers seemed to carry a strange, magnetic power, sending chills down her spine and beads of sweat to her nose.
If Qin Shao’s attention had carried a note of mockery, Mo Zhicheng’s eyes were filled with scrutiny. Ye Linglan trembled, pressing herself helplessly against the door. In her panic, she blurted out, “What do you want?” No sooner had the words left her lips than Mo Zhicheng’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. With his other hand, he reached into her pants pocket and drew out the hidden playing card.
Ye Linglan gasped.
“You’re quite bold, aren’t you?” Mo Zhicheng finally spoke, holding the card between his fingers. His other hand remained firmly around her slender waist, tightening like a noose until she could scarcely breathe. Ye Linglan’s brows knitted in discomfort. The next moment, the man lifted her chin with the card, studying her closely in the lamplight. In his eyes, a gentle glimmer rippled like autumn water.