They had only seven days left. (Dedicated to Baby Diamond)

"Looking for her?!" She sneered inwardly.

Feeling weary, she remained silent, leaning against the car window and forcing herself to calm down. Mo Zhicheng noticed this and did not pressure her further. He simply sat beside her and draped his coat over her shoulders. Ling Lan flinched, subconsciously brushing the coat away, which caused it to fall to the floor. The force behind her movement betrayed a hint of irritation and disgust. Ling Lan hadn't intended it and felt a pang of regret the moment it happened, but Mo Zhicheng did not blame her. He leaned over, picked it up, and draped it over her again. Feeling the stubborn strength in his hands, Ling Lan could not resist him and let it be.

The journey passed in silence. She still did not mention Leng Tingyu in his presence; perhaps it was her pride at work, but she endured it.

Seeing that she had stopped struggling, he found the right moment to reach out and pull her into his arms. She began to resist, but the more she tried to break free, the tighter he held her, cradling her head against his chest. After several desperate attempts, she could no longer overcome his strength. Yet, the scent of another woman clung to him, winding around her nostrils and drilling into her chest.

Ling Lan closed her eyes slightly. In her twenty-some years of life, she had carried too much.

When the body is weary and the heart is tired, one longs for a harbor to drop anchor, to rest, to find warmth, to pause.

She had once hoped that on the other side of this world, there might be someone who viewed watching over her from afar as happiness, silently guarding her presence. What she asked for was not much.

The Lunar New Year was only a few days away. The 'Tiancheng' group had begun its holiday break, and only seven days remained of their one-month agreement!

Seven days!
One hundred and sixty-eight hours!

She froze slightly, the silence in the car deepening with a touch of melancholy.

Mo Zhicheng held her tightly in his arms, his lips brushing against her dark hair. Amidst their silence, he stared out at the unfathomable night beyond the window. In that darkness, one could not see one's own hand; it was filled with panic and dread.

Tonight, the night sky was tranquil, with only sparse stars shining in solitary light. Both inside the car and outside the window, everything was cold, dark, and endless.

He lowered his head to kiss her hair, his movements fragmented, a shadow of gloom settling in his deep eyes.

They felt each other's heartbeats like this, yet wondered what it would be like when they finally went their separate ways.

Ling Lan felt as if something would shatter at that moment. Once shattered, it could never be mended. No one can make something broken into pieces whole again, can they?

She could not articulate what that vague, invisible, intangible thing was. But she knew that she would be heartbroken, that it would be agonizing—that was an absolute certainty.

Mo Zhicheng felt her body tremble and held her tighter, suffocatingly close, as if only in this way could nothing ever separate them.

Seven days, only seven days left!

He took a deep breath, the faint fragrance of her hair filling his nose, making his heart race. Holding her was like clutching the only warmth and security in this world.

He murmured, "Do you know? Those days with you—those days as calm, safe, and orderly as plain water—how happy they were for me." Ling Lan was stunned, hearing his voice turn infinitely tender: "Actually, I just want you to stay with me. I'm just afraid. Nights without you are too lonely; air without you is too thin; I'm afraid I won't be able to breathe. That's all. It's simple, isn't it?"

She shivered.

"But, are you willing to stay with me?"

Thinking of this, Mo Zhicheng smiled sorrowfully. Ling Lan looked up at him, realizing he had long since seen through her thoughts, her hesitation.

"One month. After one month, if you still want to leave, I will not keep you."

She seemed to see the resolution in his eyes again.

"Are you willing?" he asked softly, cupping her cheeks as if she were the greatest treasure in his heart. But she could not give him that answer.

That night, they did not speak another word. Two bodies lay flat on the large bed, as they did every night, only tonight, there was a deeper reluctance to let go.

The group company began its staggered holiday shifts, but the main office remained in operation. Ling Lan was scheduled for her break on the day of the Lunar New Year.

Ye Shenghan contacted her, wanting her to clear her schedule on New Year's Eve to welcome the New Year with him.

Ling Lan was worried she wouldn't find an excuse to leave that night and couldn't refuse Ye Shenghan. She knew Mo Zhicheng's nature; he would surely get to the bottom of it. But since the young master persisted, she agreed, intending to play it by ear.

Since the year-end dinner, she had vaguely sensed that the atmosphere between her and Mo Zhicheng had become somewhat strange.

When they met, they exchanged only a few words and discussed nothing more.

At the company, encounters with Leng Tingyu were inevitable. Ling Lan felt a slight resistance but ultimately said nothing. Yet, as the days passed, it happened so quickly—only five days remained!

In the Bentley, Mo Zhicheng looked at some documents and said in a low voice, "I checked the shift schedule. You are off on New Year's Eve."

She hadn't expected him to bring it up himself. Just as Ling Lan was wondering how to explain it to Young Master Ye, the man continued, "I'm giving you two days off. Tonight, I'll take you to buy some New Year goods, and you can send my regards to your parents when you go back."

"Hm?" She was stunned.

What did he mean by saying this?

Seeing her momentary shock, Mo Zhicheng put down the documents, looked at her, and said quietly, "I said you should go home on New Year's Eve. You don't need to stay here." His expression faded, and even his voice became deep and oppressive.

She had never expected him to let her go home on New Year's Eve. Ling Lan was dazed, momentarily at a loss. Not wanting him to see through her, she forced the corners of her lips up into a slight smile and said, "Thank you!"

But her lips trembled faintly. She told herself this was good, the best of both worlds: she could spend New Year's Eve with Young Master Ye to welcome the New Year, and she wouldn't have to worry about arousing Mo Zhicheng's suspicions.

It was good, so good!

She whispered it to herself over and over, so why did she feel such a sense of loss?!

She turned her head, quietly watching Mo Zhicheng, and noticed the fatigue on his face. He leaned back against the seat, rubbing his temples, his handsome brows furrowed even deeper.

In the silent air, she could only hear his low, labored breathing. She even noticed he had loosened his tie, the slightly disheveled collar reflecting a sense of desolation. She remained silent, and both sank into stillness.

"Why didn't you accept the gift Miss Leng gave you tonight?"

After a long time, she finally couldn't help but ask.

The man closed his eyes and smiled, a hidden helplessness in his soft laughter: "Do you really wish I had accepted it?"

The question left her speechless. Yes, why couldn't she help but ask such a thing? She smiled helplessly, too.

In the night, he woke up tossing and turning, suddenly rolling over to press down on her. She was startled awake by his rough strength, only to be met with a violent kiss.

Amidst the hazy night, she saw the man's strong, lean body in the moonlight. His robe had long since fallen away, and the lightning-shaped scar on his abdomen was like a proud medal, flaunting the man's fierce physique.

In the air, she could only hear his breathing, ringing in her ears; she could feel his intense desire.

He had been sleeping restlessly for the past two days, waking up repeatedly in the middle of the night.

At this moment, he didn't consult her or offer any soothing gestures; he simply forced his way in. She could feel his powerful heartbeat, so rugged and unbridled beneath his usual refined and gentle exterior.

He began to grow impatient, and Ling Lan was left dazed by his kisses, not knowing where she was.

She could only murmur helplessly, "Zhicheng..."

Hearing his name, hearing her call, he lost all patience for tenderness, wanting only to swallow her whole. Even though he had warned himself to be gentle with her, he simply could not control his strength.

Ling Lan took a sharp breath, turning her face away. In the darkness, she looked at her hand resting on the pillow—a beautiful hand with an empty palm, fingers slowly curling into a lonely posture, as if wanting to grasp something, yet destined for nothingness. It was a beautiful and desolate pose.

Finally, she learned to possess, to strive. Her slender arms hooked around his neck, pulling him into a hug, meeting his rhythm.

The moonlight outside shone cunningly, spilling like water onto the dark carpet.

He turned her body over, as if unable to relieve the stifling sensation in his chest. His burning chest pressed tightly against her back, taking her into his black wings, covering her delicate body inch by inch.

Yet, the sense of emptiness in his heart could not be filled. Like a madman, he turned her chin, kissing her lips, unwilling to let go.

His body grew hotter and hotter, sweat dripping onto her thin shoulders and back like the tears of a bursting soul, tragically beautiful.

He wrapped his arms around her neck, embedding her into his strong embrace, holding her for a long time without letting go.

Ling Lan breathed rapidly, her exquisite face filled with confusion. His hot breath brushed against her ear, the heat threatening to scorch her skin.

She looked at him, only to see a hint of indescribable despair in those clear, fire-filled eyes.

Yes, it was despair!

Five days. There were only five days left between them!

He finally stopped but did not pull away. He lay over her, resting for a long time, as if still longing for more.

Ling Lan was like a submissive sheep, staying quietly and obediently beneath him. He held her like that, his grip tightening as if he wanted to rub her into his very bones and blood.

"Zhicheng, I can't breathe."

Ling Lan's body felt almost distorted by his pressure. Feeling the discomfort in her chest, she spoke softly to remind him.

Mo Zhicheng froze for a moment, seeing her flushed face, and loosened his grip slightly. He kissed her brow tenderly, "I'm sorry."

Ling Lan turned slightly to her side, facing away from him, and could no longer move.