Ding-dong.
「...」
Ding-dong!
「...」
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-ding...
"Who is it?" Mo Jie's sleepy eyes were reduced to a narrow slit, but he forced himself to get up and go to the door.
"Excuse me, is this Mo—oh, my goodness!" Leng Mei Yi took a step back, staring in disbelief at this... this miniature version of her cousin.
"Auntie, who are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for Miss Mo."
"Oh! My mother is still sleeping. Please come back this afternoon." Mo Jie said as he prepared to close the door. He was also very tired, tired enough to sleep for a whole day.
"Wait, you're Mo Jie?"
The door swung open, and the sleepiness in her blue eyes vanished, replaced by a calmness that reminded her of Cold Yan.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Leng Mei Yi. May I come in?"
Leng Mei Yi? That's… Mo Jie's eyes widened as he studied the woman before him. "aunt."
"Are you here alone?" he asked disappointedly.
The sharp-witted Leng Mei Yi immediately seized on the flaw in his words. "You know me? And you already knew someone was coming?"
Shit! "Um, no, I mean..." Mo Jie clenched his lips tightly.
"Is it just you and your mother at home?"
Mo Jie decisively closed the door.
Leng Mei Yi rang the doorbell several more times before shaking her head and returning to the car.
"How did it go?" As soon as she sat down, Leng Yan, who had been waiting impatiently, asked. If it weren't for Leng Mei Yi saying that women find it easier to communicate with each other, he would have gotten out of the car long ago.
"I rarely see you get so worked up!" Leng Mei Yi said, her mind elsewhere and still not having recovered from the shock.
"Damn it!"
"What?"
"I said I saw a ghost just now."
"Is there a ghost in that woman's house?" he asked suspiciously.
Leng Mei Yi didn't respond, instead falling into deep thought.
Leng Yan couldn't wait for an answer, so he couldn't help but get out of the car and walk to the front gate of the Mo family's house.
He rang the doorbell several times before a young boy finally opened the door.
Leng Yan's eyes widened instantly, not blinking for a moment.
"I saw a ghost!" That was the only thing he could think of to say.
＊ ＊ ＊
A lover's song is gentle, a lover's dance is seductive.
The room was filled with passionate voices, gentle caresses, and intimate breaths.
Neither of them spoke. She slowly released her arms from around his neck, the sheets tangled between their intertwined bodies. She touched his bare back and felt the sweat beneath her palm.
He looked down at the woman beneath him. Her delicate, fragile face filled him with tenderness. His little star.
Her face, almost drifting off to sleep, was so endearing, so fragile it seemed it might shatter at the slightest touch. He suddenly felt like some kind of monstrous creature that had harmed her, yet he couldn't help but feel a hint of pride.
She lay across his arm, and he awkwardly yet gently stroked her delicate bare back, listening to the overlapping heartbeats, one after another... Thump, thump, thump... He gently smoothed the strands of hair by her ear.
The dim light cast a soft glow on her moon-shaped skin. He managed to pull out the blanket from under him and covered both of them.
She murmured his name and slowly woke up.
He kissed her forehead. "Sleep a little longer."
"I can't sleep anymore." She clung to him, her legs inadvertently crossing over his waist, the suggestive posture igniting a rapid heat in his lower abdomen.
"Are you okay?" His blue eyes were clouded with desire. "If I had known earlier... maybe I wouldn't have been so rough." But the thought of her smooth, silk-like skin pressed tightly against him made him unable to control himself.
Pressing down on her soft, fragrant body, he kissed her neck seductively, then moved down her white, undulating curves, igniting sparks of passion. He took her again and again, the rapid rhythm and waves of breath carrying them both to the heights of pleasure.
"I love you, Burke!" she screamed, suddenly waking up to the realization that it was just a fleeting spring dream.
"Silly me!" Mo Jing'er mocked herself. She almost immediately closed her eyes again, panting as she waited for her heartbeat to return to normal.
When she opened her eyes again, a cold voice sounded by her ear.
"You're finally awake, Miss Mo."
"—How did you end up here?" Mo Jing'er turned around in shock, meeting the cold, mocking gaze in Leng Yan's eyes. She jumped up in fright, her clothes disheveled, and rushed downstairs, calling out for her son repeatedly.
"He's gone out." Leng Yan appeared at the staircase entrance. "I asked Mei Yi to take him out for a walk. I don't want anyone to interrupt our conversation."
Mo Jing'er felt a surge of anger. How dare he let his mistress take her son away? How dare he?
"Who do you think you are? How dare you do this?" she shouted angrily.
"Because I'm his father."
"Boom!" Mo Jing'er felt as if she had been struck by lightning, stumbling backward.
Seeing her panicked, pale expression, he decided to press further.
"You... I don't understand what you're saying." Her tone remained firm. "He's my son."
"He's mine too." Leng Yan smiled slightly and slowly descended the stairs.
The child was exactly like him when he was young, except he was more well-behaved and delicate. His blue eyes sparkled behind thick glasses, revealing a pure smile. He had stared at him blankly like that back then, until a clear child's voice broke the silence. "Hello."
"Hello."
After exchanging greetings, he didn't know what to say next, especially since the other person was just a child. "Who are you?"
"I'm Xiao Jie; Mo Jie, Mo Jing'er's son."
Mo Jing'er's son? His head was spinning. "Where… where is your father?"
Mo Jie quickly lowered his eyelashes, a fleeting glimpse of cunning flashing across his eyes, and replied in a low voice, "I don't have a father, sir."
"What about your mother? We're here to visit her. Can we come in and wait?"
Seeing her cousin on the verge of losing his temper, Leng Mei Yi, who had arrived shortly after, hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over.
He had talked with the little boy for a long time, and the more time he spent with him, the more he believed he was his own flesh and blood.
Had he really known Mo Jing'er before? Was this son the result of their relationship?
The questions in his mind swirled like a whirlpool on the sea, expanding endlessly. He desperately wanted to know the answers.
"Were we together before?"
"No!" The response came too quickly, sounding utterly false and panicked.
Who would believe she was telling the truth?
"So we really were together before." He spoke as if to himself. "He really is my son."
"Xiao Jie isn't your son."
Her icy blue eyes glinted with mockery. "I never said who he was."
It was like denying the obvious—she realized her mistake before he even had to point it out. "Get out!"
"I'll leave when it's time to leave." He threatened to approach her, forcing her to back up step by step until her back was pressed against the wall, and she realized with fear that there was no way out.
"Don't come any closer! I'll call the police for indecent assault! Don't come any closer!" "
"Go ahead and scream!" he sneered. "Better yet, call the police. I'll tell them how you hid my child for seven or eight years." He pressed his palms flat against the wall on either side of her body, his determined face radiating a savage aura as he closed in on her.
"Damn it," he suddenly cursed roughly. "I don't remember ever sleeping with you!"
"Smack!" A sharp slap echoed, leaving Mo Jing'er trembling with anger, her palm red from the force of the impact.
Cold Yan tilted his head slightly to the side but quickly turned away, his blue eyes blazing with anger, startling her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—!" Before she could finish her stammering apology, he swept his large hand through her soft, short hair, his lips ravaging hers with punishing force, causing her to cry out in pain.
He suddenly pushed her away.
This was truly unbelievable. He had never been aroused so quickly by any woman, let alone one he had kissed forcefully. Hmph! He now began to believe that he had indeed had an affair with this unremarkable stranger—during the seven or eight years of his memory loss.
Translated with DeepL.com (free version)