Chapter 94: I've Had Enough, I've Had Enough!! (Diamond Bonus for Yiyi)

“Sorry. You promised me that once my injuries healed, you would let me go. Please, Mr. Mo, do not go back on your word.”

As soon as the words fell, Ye Linglan felt the corners of his mouth sink, something flashing in his eyes. The warm, pleasant atmosphere between them plunged at once into bleakness.

“If I insist on going back on my word, what then?” Mo Zhicheng said without restraint. Yet beneath the indifference in his voice, a faint anger seemed to smolder. Linglan met his gaze and said carefully, “I know you are not that kind of man, Mr. Mo.”

Her clear eyes, seemingly calm and untroubled, brushed past the lamplight and shadows. But in her heart there was only fear. One look from him was enough to make her tread as though on thin ice; all she could do was follow his temper and keep to his mood. And yet—

Crash.

He set down his glass. She only had time to see the wine splash outward.

“What kind of man do you think I am, Ye Linglan? Do not test my limits again and again.”

Fire leapt in Mo Zhicheng’s eyes. He should have controlled himself, yet the harshness burst from his lips. Was it her provocation, or her deliberate disregard? He had endured long enough and could not bear it any longer. But that sudden, urgent flare left him briefly stunned.

The woman before him finally showed a flicker of emotion. She was afraid of him. It was an instinctive fear, something that had sunk into her bones. Even if the past few days had seemed calm on the surface, they could not conceal the reverence she held for him.

Mo Zhicheng drew a restrained breath, suppressing the tightening in his chest, and finally said, “I’m sorry. I lost control for a moment.”

At the apology, Ye Linglan could hardly believe it, yet she saw him lift the glass again and drain it in one swallow.

“Mr. Mo...”

She called him softly, her voice carrying a trace of comfort.

Mo Zhicheng lowered his gaze and poured himself another glass. Drinking alone, a faint bitter smile touched his lips. “I do not like the feeling of losing control. It makes me feel as though nothing is within my grasp. As for you... even I find myself surprised.” His eyes rested on the clear wall of the glass. “It was never supposed to be like this, Linglan...”

She stared at him, dazed.

“I never meant to make you fear me, to be afraid of me. But I cannot control myself, and everything I do ends up hurting you. So do not force me...”

“But you said that when it comes to feelings, they only matter if both hearts are willing.” Her words had not yet finished when she met the depths of his eyes. “I know there is someone hidden in your heart,” Mo Zhicheng said quietly, “though I do not know who he is, or what kind of man could make you unable to let go, so attached to him.”

Linglan froze. How... how could he know?

But Mo Zhicheng gave her no time to think, continuing, “Precisely because your heart cannot turn back that I feel something different for you. I said I admire your persistence, but I will not let go so easily either. I will not release you. My purpose, after all, is to make you fall in love with me. Ye Linglan, remember this: I do not care who that man is, nor what sort of standing he has. I will pull him out of your heart root and branch, little by little.”

Those words were deep enough to cut, forceful enough to dominate, and provocative enough to strike at the very core of her heart.

But she was truly frightened. Afraid that he was kind to her, kind enough to shake the foundations of her heart and warm the cold she had once endured. Afraid that he would not even leave her the chance to hate him. More than that, she feared that she might waver in her original resolve and begin to feel pity for him.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into the flesh of her palms, letting the pain force her into a little more clarity.

Linglan sighed. She poured herself another glass and tipped her head back to drink it down. Mo Zhicheng watched and stepped forward to stop her.

“Don’t drink anymore.”

He reached out, covering her hand and intercepting her raised palm. “I let you have a little wine, not to drink yourself into oblivion.”

His voice was low, but her cheeks had already begun to bloom like flowers half drunk on spring, a flush rising over her face, her eyes wet as water. He said, “What if you get drunk?”

Ye Linglan brushed his arm away. “Don’t you tell me what to do!”

Her brow knit slightly as she drank again. There was a chill and a mellow sweetness at the corners of her lips and teeth.

“I don’t care what you say. I won’t listen, I won’t listen—”

In a low cry of frustration, she swung her arm and knocked the empty glass from the table.

Crash.

The sharp sound shattered the recent peace. She covered her ears lightly. “I won’t listen, I won’t listen—”

Mo Zhicheng steadied her shoulders. “Enough. Stop this. Be good—”

His low voice tried to press down the turmoil in her, but she shook off his grip and sprang upright.

“Please, I beg you, do not treat me like this!”

Her eyes were wide as she looked at him. “I hate the way you use so-called tenderness to weave this net and trap me. I’ve said enough. I’ve had enough, Mo Zhicheng!”

The moisture suddenly gathering in her eyes seemed to hold back something deeper. In her childhood she had lost too much. What Young Master Ye had given her, she had kept quietly in her heart all these years.

But the things this man before her had woven around her were unlike anything she had ever felt. That feeling was too dangerous. It was taking root in her heart, growing little by little.

She looked at his silent face, and in the flash of a spark, scenes flickered before her eyes: his gentle breath as he applied medicine to her wounds; the way he changed her into a thick blanket when she slept; the way he held her in his arms on the wicker swing while they gazed up at the star-filled darkness.

At last she felt his arm sweep around her waist, pinning her between himself and the table. He lowered his head and kissed her resisting lips.

“Mm—”

His kiss was not even tender. It came with his usual possessive hunger, devouring and entangling her lips and tongue. Her arms pushed against him by instinct. She hated the scent of him covering her entire body. Enough. She had had enough!

She shoved hard at his strong chest, but in the end could not rival his strength. All she could feel was the overwhelming kiss, as though it sought to carry away everything she had clung to.

But before him she was no more than an ant. That little strength was utterly insignificant, unable to resist his unstoppable advance.

His wet, agile tongue wound around hers like twisting vines, endlessly entwined. He drank from her with a fervor that held equal parts anger and obsession, until he had exhausted every ounce of her resistance.

By the end, it was as if she had lost the last of her fortress. Tears slid from the corner of her eyes and into the edge of her lips, and he tasted the salt of them, long and bitter.

Mo Zhicheng went still.

He cupped her face and drew back from her lips, his forehead resting against hers. In his eyes lay a thick, heavy disappointment, and he could only say in a low voice, “One month.”

She looked at him through tears, her eyes full and overflowing.

“Give me one month. Stay with me for one month. If after that you still insist on leaving, I will never keep you again.”

His sharply defined brows were drawn tight, his hoarse voice carrying a trace of weariness. She watched his throat move slowly, as though he were suppressing something by force.

At last, he let her go. Linglan watched his retreating figure as he turned away, her gaze lowered.

One month.

A one-month deadline.

***

When daylight brightened the sky, Ye Linglan opened her eyes in a daze. Sunlight leaked in by the window, and she rolled over. The large bed held only her alone.

As she got up, she heard some movement downstairs. She thought it was Mo Zhicheng, but when she went down, it was Mrs. Zhang.

“Miss Ye, you’re up?” Mrs. Zhang seemed to be tidying something up. Seeing her come over, she turned and greeted her.

Linglan glanced at the clock on the wall. Six in the morning.

“Where is Mr. Mo?” she asked, curious.

“He left early,” Mrs. Zhang said casually.

Linglan was startled. He had never left the house this early before. A quiet sigh escaped her, and then Mrs. Zhang said, “Miss Ye, I may have to leave for a while starting today.”

“Why?” Linglan asked in surprise.

“It was Mr. Mo’s instruction.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“About a month,” Mrs. Zhang replied. “Mr. Mo told me to rest for a month before coming back.”

Only then did Ye Linglan understand. This was their one-month agreement. He had said he would give her only one month, and if she still insisted afterward, he would let her go.

She knew that this was the man’s final boundary. She could no longer defy him. In the end, they would both be hurt. And yet he had instructed Mrs. Zhang to return after a month—was that because he truly expected her choice, or because he had already foreseen it?

“Miss Ye, I was curious too. Mr. Mo has never let me rest for so long. I was worried that I had not taken good enough care of you and had made him unhappy.”

Linglan shook her head. She took Mrs. Zhang’s hand and drew her to sit beside her.

“Mrs. Zhang, you are meticulous in everything you do, and you have been so kind to me. How can you say such things? It makes me feel ashamed. I do not think Mr. Mo would dismiss you without reason, so please do not worry.”

She thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Zhang, how long have you worked in Mr. Mo’s home?”

“Almost three years altogether,” Mrs. Zhang answered. “With you saying this, I feel much more at ease. Over these three years, I’ve handled Mr. Mo’s daily life, and honestly, it is rare to find such an employer. He has never been harsh to me. At first I was rather worried, after all, with Mr. Mo’s status and power, he is not the kind of person one feels easy approaching.”

“And he always seemed so cold. At the beginning, I was careful with everything I did, afraid to overstep. Later I realized he was not as difficult as I had imagined, and his private life is very clean. In all these three years, I have never once seen him bring a woman home. You, Miss Ye, were the first. That is why I said Mr. Mo is quite attentive toward you.”

At that, Linglan hesitated slightly.

Mrs. Zhang continued, “But there is something I do not know whether I should say. I would hate to upset you.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Zhang. Go on.”

“I feel that when it comes to Mr. Mo, there is something... not quite right, though I cannot say exactly what. It seems as if you are deliberately refusing something.”

Mrs. Zhang had put her finger on it, and Linglan was taken aback.

“Take this morning, for instance. When I saw how displeased Mr. Mo looked, I guessed it must have had something to do with you.”

Seeing the dazed expression on Linglan’s face, Mrs. Zhang hurriedly asked, “Miss Ye, did I say something wrong?”

Linglan gathered her thoughts and quickly shook her head. “No. Mrs. Zhang...” She let out a deep sigh. But Mrs. Zhang would not understand.

Mrs. Zhang, however, clasped her hand more firmly and patted it thoughtfully.

Linglan lifted her eyes and asked, “Mrs. Zhang, can you tell me what Mr. Mo usually likes to eat, and what habits he has?”

Mrs. Zhang smiled. “See? You still care about him, don’t you?”