As soon as Wen Ran sat down in front of the dressing table, she heard the door of the study open. In the mirror, the tall and slender figure of Mo Xiuchen appeared.
Even though they had already shared a bed a week ago, her heart still inexplicably skipped a beat at this moment.
Her hand, holding the comb, paused slightly before she slowly resumed combing her hair.
Mo Xiuchen walked toward her with elegant strides, his deep, dark pupils reflecting her delicate figure. The closer he got, the stronger the faint fragrance lingering in the air became, seeping into his lungs, spreading through every cell in his body, impossible to resist.
His gaze darkened slightly.
"Let me help you."
His deep voice slipped into her ears. The next moment, a warm, strong hand wrapped around hers, throwing her heartbeat into complete disarray.
Startled, she widened her clear, bright eyes and looked at his handsome face in the mirror. Only then did she realize what he meant by "helping her." Without thinking, she refused, "No need, I can do it myself."
He took another step forward. Her back instantly stiffened. His body was almost pressed against hers. Even through the fabric, she could clearly feel his warmth. Her fair cheeks flushed instantly, and her heartbeat became even more erratic.
"Do you remember what I said this afternoon?"
Mo Xiuchen's large palm enveloped her smaller one. He neither let go nor forcibly took the wooden comb from her. He simply held her hand, firm but not overpowering—just enough to keep her from pulling away. The heat from his palm seeped into her skin, spreading directly into her chest, making her feel as if her entire body was warming up.
She quickly reminded herself not to be nervous, not to panic. This man had… issues in that aspect, so he wouldn't do anything to her.
"We are husband and wife, meant to spend a lifetime together, not strangers. You have to get used to me."
Hearing no response from her, Mo Xiuchen continued, his deep, magnetic voice spreading softly through the spacious and quiet bedroom, surrounding Wen Ran like an inescapable net.
A warmth stirred in her heart, a trace of emotion, and something else she couldn't quite define. Unknowingly, her grip on the comb loosened.
Mo Xiuchen easily took the comb from her hand, released her fingers, and let his deep gaze linger on her blushing face in the mirror for a moment before he slowly began combing her hair.
Wen Ran sat stiffly in the chair, not daring to move. Her clear, bright eyes fixed on the mirror, watching as he gently ran the comb through her hair, his large hands skillfully sliding it from the top of her head to the ends before repeating the motion. He did it so naturally that a soft warmth filled her heart.
Thinking about what Aunt Zhang had told her while he was away on his business trip, a wave of unexpected heartache rose in her chest. How could fate be so unfair to him? A man so outstanding and perfect, yet he had endured so much hardship and suffering since childhood.
"Mo Xiuchen…"
His name slipped unconsciously from her lips in a soft whisper.
"Mm."
His deep, magnetic voice responded from above her head. He had been focused on her hair, but at the sound of her voice, he lifted his gaze to the mirror, meeting her eyes with a depth that was both intense and gentle.
"Um… give me the comb. You should go take a shower. You must be exhausted from traveling. A bath will help you relax—then get some rest."
After calling his name, she suddenly didn't know what to say. Under his steady gaze, she hurriedly found an excuse and reached out to take the comb from his hand.