Chapter Twelve: In the End, She Became His Woman

Mo Qinghan kept her head down, refusing to look at He Zheyu, and muttered, “I ate on the plane, I’m not hungry.” No matter how one listened, it sounded like she was sulking like a child. He Zheyu didn’t press further, started the car, and drove off.

With her head leaning against the window, Mo Qinghan squinted her eyes. Though it looked as if she were dozing, her lashes and pupils still moved ever so slightly. The wound on her lips, bitten by Zhao Qingwu, was now much less visible. Her loose hair covered half her face, and any remaining traces of blood on her lips and cheeks had likely been cleaned before boarding the plane.

He Zheyu glanced at her, so disheveled and forlorn, but words that rose to his lips were swallowed back. Mo Qinghan knew what he wanted to ask. She kept her eyes closed, her voice soft and delicate, “Let me tell you a story, Mr. He.”

Without waiting for his reply, she continued, “When I was thirteen, I lost my only guardian. I had no friends. Qingyu was still young, and I had no one to confide in about my suppressed feelings. So I found a pen pal through a readers’ column—his name was Three Leaves. He wasn’t called that initially; I gave him that name myself.”

At this point, the car, which had been moving steadily, suddenly swerved. A few seconds later, it returned to its previous smooth pace. Mo Qinghan paused, then asked, “Do you want to hear more, Mr. He?”

He Zheyu loosened the top button of his shirt and let out a deep breath, his voice no longer cold as before. “So this is why you were so eager to meet me.”

“I thought just the name ‘Three Leaves’ was enough to make me throw caution to the wind and come looking for you, isn’t it, Mr. He?”

He Zheyu slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to the roadside. His hand remained gripping the steering wheel, his index finger tapping it anxiously. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter who told me? Isn’t the result what counts?”

“Do you resent me for deceiving you?”

“I was angry at first, but after boarding the plane, I thought it over. No matter if you were He Zheyu or Three Leaves, you never hurt me. You silently did so much for me. I wouldn’t even know where to start resenting you.” Mo Qinghan straightened up and gazed at He Zheyu with eyes full of tenderness.

He Zheyu slowly approached her. Mo Qinghan did not dodge as she had before; instead, she leaned in and offered her lips to him. He Zheyu was taken aback for a moment, then took control, perhaps kissing her with a bit too much force. He touched the wound on her lips, causing her pain. She gently pushed him and whispered, “It hurts, be gentle.”

Already stirred by her, He Zheyu could no longer restrain himself. He reached to unbutton her blouse, and seeing this, Mo Qinghan caught his hand and softly pleaded, “Can we not do this in the middle of the street?”

He Zheyu rested his head against her chest for a long moment before sitting upright again. “You really are a little enchantress.”

Mo Qinghan, shy, curled up and refused to look at him.

When they arrived at the hot spring villa, Mo Qinghan sat atop He Zheyu’s suitcase, smiling. “I’m too tired to walk. Why don’t you drag me in along with the luggage?”

He Zheyu fondly stroked her cheek. “Alright.”

And so, he pushed her on the suitcase all the way into the room. The night-shift security staff at the villa found this couple’s display of affection rather unusual, but one thing was clear: the man adored the girl.

Once inside, Mo Qinghan looked at He Zheyu and said, “I didn’t bring any clothes. May I borrow your shirt as a nightgown?”

He Zheyu pulled a white shirt from his suitcase and handed it to her. Mo Qinghan took it and went straight to the bathroom.

Outside, He Zheyu lit a cigarette, taking a few thoughtful drags. He pondered who had told Mo Qinghan that he was Three Leaves. Someone must have been investigating behind the scenes, but it certainly wasn’t Zhao Yiya. If it were her, Mo Qinghan would never have made it safely to him. He recalled Mo Qinghan’s words: “If his fiancée finds out about me, what kind of revenge will she take?” His brows knit tightly.

Just then, Mo Qinghan emerged from the bathroom, her face flushed with steam. Barefoot, she walked over and sat in his lap, her hand gently smoothing his furrowed brow, the other taking his cigarette and pressing it into the ashtray. “I don’t like you smelling of smoke.”

He Zheyu said nothing. He gazed at her pink cheeks, the two buttons undone at her collar, her petite frame swimming in his large shirt, one shoulder exposed. He swept the loose strands of hair from her forehead behind her ear and asked, “Sweetheart, are you really ready?”

Mo Qinghan leaned down and gave him a light kiss. “I’ve always been yours, haven’t I?”

He Zheyu placed his hand behind her head, pulling her closer. Kisses no longer satisfied him; his marks appeared on her neck, her shoulders, everywhere.

Mo Qinghan’s soft cries sent He Zheyu willingly into surrender.

The atmosphere in the room changed, thick with sweetness and the intoxicating scent of desire.

By dawn, the first to awaken was neither He Zheyu nor Mo Qinghan, but Zhao Yiya, still lying in her hotel room.

She had expected some development with He Zheyu last night, but woke to find herself fully dressed and alone in bed. What infuriated her most was that He Zheyu had abandoned her, leaving her face-to-face with someone who could only say, “Boss, I really don’t know where he went.”

Zhao Yiya confronted Han Mo, “Did you drug my drink last night?”

Han Mo forced a smile. “How could I? I wouldn’t dare tamper with Miss Zhao’s wine. Maybe you were just so happy to see the boss that you drank a bit too much.”

“Don’t give me that nonsense. You say you don’t know where he went, but I know exactly where he is.”

Han Mo looked at her in terror.

“Don’t look at me that way. I know he’s always scheming to ditch me, so I have to use a few tricks myself, don’t I?” Zhao Yiya glanced at her phone, which showed her tracked target at a hot spring club, and she nearly crushed it in anger.

Han Mo patted his pocket.

“You want to tip him off right in front of me?”

“Of course not, I just wanted to check the time.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“That’s not really appropriate. Besides, I trust the boss wouldn’t do such things.”

“I only trust my own eyes.”

When Zhao Yiya arrived at the hot spring club, she headed straight for the room indicated on her phone, kicked open the door, and cursed, “You filthy whore! Daring to seduce my fiancé, today you’ll learn what happens to a shameless mistress!”

Han Mo tried to hold her back, but couldn’t.

To her surprise, the door was opened by a greasy middle-aged man. Behind him, a woman wrapped in a bedsheet unleashed a torrent of foreign curses, leaving Zhao Yiya too ashamed to lift her head. Han Mo bowed and apologized in the foreign language, offering every courtesy. Zhao Yiya was dumbfounded. She had clearly instructed the attendant to plant the tracking chip in He Zheyu’s coat while he was in the restroom—could the attendant have put it in the wrong place?

Han Mo pulled the stunned Zhao Yiya away and said, “Miss Zhao, if the boss finds out about your actions, what do you think will happen?”

Zhao Yiya lost all her earlier bravado, her voice weak, “I just wanted to see if Zheyu was cheating on me. This was just self-defense.”

Han Mo retorted, “Wrong is wrong. I hope you don’t use such tricks again. Before you do, consider whether you can bear the consequences.”

Zhao Yiya was left speechless, finally muttering, “You’re nothing but Zheyu’s lapdog. You’d better think twice about what you should and shouldn’t say.”

Han Mo ignored her, placed the car keys in her hand, and said, “A dog like me surely isn’t qualified to drive Miss Zhao. You’ll have to drive yourself home.” With that, he walked away without looking back.

Zhao Yiya stamped her foot in anger.

Awake, Mo Qinghan gazed at the handsome man beside her, tracing the contours of He Zheyu’s face with her fingers, murmuring, “Turns out, even asleep, you’re not as unapproachable as you seem.”

He Zheyu squinted, grasping her mischievous hand. “Looks like someone wasn’t satisfied with my performance last night—they still have energy for other things.” With that, he pulled her into his arms, beginning another round.

Mo Qinghan’s protest was swallowed by He Zheyu.

When they finally awoke again, it was already afternoon. Mo Qinghan, seeing herself covered in He Zheyu’s handiwork, complained, “He Zheyu, how long has it been since you touched a woman?”

“Since I met you at thirteen, I haven’t touched anyone else.”

Mo Qinghan hid her head under the covers. “So your first woman was Zhao Yiya?”

He Zheyu didn’t catch what she said under the blanket. He lifted it and asked, “What did you just say?”

Mo Qinghan didn’t repeat her question. Instead, she laughed, “He Zheyu, who would’ve thought you were so perverse, harboring those thoughts about thirteen-year-old me.”

He Zheyu moved his hand at her waist, making her squirm with ticklishness. She immediately grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t move, it’s ticklish…”