Wen Zhi looked at the seemingly frivolous yet genuinely serious man in front of her, exasperated.
"There's nothing to compare here."
Not childish at all…
Mo Tingyan's fingers brushed lightly across her cheek, trailing down into her collar. His eyes, deep and meaningful, sparkled in the slanted light streaming into the room.
"There is. The rivalry between men. Tell me your answer."
The sudden tease made Wen Zhi's skin tingle. A strange warmth seemed to ignite over her body.
She pressed her red lips together, then, in a bold reversal of roles, wrapped her hands around his neck. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, voice sultry:
"Captain Mo, in terms of allure… no one has ever beaten you."
He really was trouble in human form—a face too good, a body too perfect. The kind of man who could ruin a lifetime with a single glance.
As soon as her words fell, his insatiable lips pressed against hers. But in an instant, the world seemed to flip upside down…
A passionate struggle later, night deepened, and they lay exhausted on the bed. Her ears filled with the sound of his deep, low breaths.
Suddenly, Wen Zhi realized… a marriage not based on love, only on mutual pleasure, might not be so bad.
Give when needed, leave each other alone when not.
No jealousy, no interference, no emotional burden.
Wasn't this the life she had always wanted?
Just…
Wen Zhi turned her head to look at the chaos of clothes strewn across the floor.
Perhaps they should have picked a different place.
She raised her hand, attempting to push him away, voice firm:
"Move. I'm going to shower."
Mo Tingyan's long arms naturally curled around her slender waist. Though his breathing had calmed, his voice remained husky:
"Together?"
"No need. I'm not used to it."
Pleasure was one thing, but sharing a shower—something so private—was out of the question.
She slipped out of his embrace, grabbed a piece of clothing to wrap around herself, and hurried into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, after she finished bathing, Mo Tingyan leisurely rose from the bed, completely naked, and—without hesitation—walked straight into her bathroom.
Wen Zhi stared at his utter lack of modesty, helpless.
A man with no shame, truly thinking his body was model-perfect?
Even if models might not measure up… at least have some restraint!
Seeing the mess of clothes around her, Wen Zhi groaned. She stuffed everything into the suitcase, zipped it closed, out of sight out of mind, and moved to the study next door to organize her "treasures."
Soon, Mo Tingyan emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, but the room was empty of her—only the lingering traces of their earlier passion remained.
The Study Next Door
Mo Tingyan stepped in and saw Wen Zhi carefully placing small figurines into a transparent display case.
He approached from behind, leaning close to her ear, a playful smile on his lips:
"You're still playing with dolls at this age? Didn't expect you to have this kind of childish side."
Wen Zhi shot him a sidelong glance, correcting him:
"These aren't dolls. I made them myself."
Mo Tingyan raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. The little figures were exquisitely detailed, not a single flaw in sight.
Clearly, she had nimble fingers.
But…
His curiosity was piqued. Pointing at the letters engraved on the base, he asked,
"What does ZZ mean? Your artist name?"
Wen Zhi stared at the two letters, pausing before answering faintly,
"Yes."
Mo Tingyan chuckled, clearly entertained.
"Oh? Why ZZ? Is there a story behind it?"
She looked away, but didn't hide anything. Calmly, as if discussing an unimportant topic, she replied,
"My childhood nickname is Zhang Zhu. ZZ is the abbreviation."
Mo Tingyan's brow lifted slightly, expression unreadable.
That name… it had been a long time since he'd heard it.
Sensing his gaze on her, Wen Zhi turned, a hint of suspicion in her eyes:
"Something wrong?"
Mo Tingyan's face remained neutral as he repeated the name softly:
"Zhang Zhu… Pearl in the Palm. A good name."
Hearing the compliment, Wen Zhi's lips curled in a meaningful smile.
Yes, she was indeed a pearl in the palm… but only in the past.
"I've packed the important luggage. The rent on my place still has half a month left, so I can move the rest myself. You can help with the suitcases in the living room; I'll handle these little trinkets myself."
Mo Tingyan leaned forward slightly, admiring her flawless profile, and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
"As you wish."
Wen Zhi looked at him, touching her lips thoughtfully. Is he… adapting to the role a little too quickly?
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the new apartment, several buildings away.
It was far larger than the apartment Wen Zhi had rented.
Three bedrooms, two living rooms, north-south exposure. Two rooms were bedrooms, and one was converted into a study. The place was otherwise empty, with minimal furniture.
She walked around, confirming her suspicion: After paying the down payment for the house and car, Mo Tingyan probably had little money left—hence no furniture.
She sat on the only piece of furniture in the large living room—the sofa—and looked at him.
"Mo Tingyan, about life after marriage… we need to talk."
Mo Tingyan strolled over, one hand in his pocket, and sat beside her.
As the sofa sank slightly, his arm naturally looped around her waist.
"Alright, wife. Tell me what you want."
Wife…
He said it so easily—but she could barely stand to hear it.
"First, don't keep calling me that. I'm not used to it."
Mo Tingyan leaned toward her face, a rogueish smile on his lips.
"Then I'll call you Zhang Zhu, hmm?"
Wen Zhi stiffened. That name… she hadn't heard it in years.
"Just call me Wen Zhi."
"No way," Mo Tingyan rejected outright, flashing a mischievous grin.
"If anyone else can say it, how is it special when I say it? Besides, isn't calling someone by their childhood name… romantic?"
Wen Zhi frowned.
"So you had this weird little game with all your ex-girlfriends too?"
Mo Tingyan repeated her words lightly, chuckling, playful mischief in his eyes.
"Ex-girlfriends…?"