Inside the office, Cheng Jia's gentle voice filtered through the solid wooden door, carrying a soft and cheerful tone. "Mo Shao, I couldn't afford an expensive gift, so I cooked a few dishes instead. That day, I noticed you liked sweet and sour ribs and braised lion's head meatballs, so I made those, along with two other dishes and a soup. Try them."
Wen Ran's expression shifted slightly, and she instinctively pressed her lips together.
Inside, there was a faint sound—probably Cheng Jia opening the lunchbox—followed by Mo Xiuchen's calm and distant voice. "Cheng Jia, don't open it. I promised Ranran I'd go home for lunch. I appreciate your kindness, but I can't accept it."
Cheng Jia's hands paused mid-motion as she looked up at him with soft eyes. "Mo Shao, at least taste it. I spent the entire morning making this for you. If you'd like, I can call Miss Wen and let her know you won't be going home for lunch."
Wen Ran's expression flickered. She resisted the urge to push the door open immediately, waiting another second. Then, she heard Mo Xiuchen's reply.
"If I break my promise and don't go home, Ranran will be upset. If you don't want to take it back, just leave it here—I'll have someone send it to the cafeteria for everyone to share at lunch."
Upon hearing this, Wen Ran's mood inexplicably lifted, and a smile played at her lips. Without hesitation, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Inside the office, Cheng Jia's face paled at Mo Xiuchen's response. She wanted to say more, but the sudden knock at the door cut her off. Mo Xiuchen looked up toward the entrance and spoke in a warm tone. "Come in."
Wen Ran pushed the door open, stepping in with a smile as she met the gaze of the man behind the desk.
The moment their eyes met, a flicker of surprise flashed through Mo Xiuchen's deep gaze. His attention shifted to the insulated lunchbox in her hand, and a soft smile appeared on his handsome features. "Ranran, what brings you here?"
The way he said "Ranran" rolled off his tongue naturally, affectionate and familiar, as if he had called her that a thousand times before. The tenderness in his voice made Wen Ran's heart tremble.
As he spoke, he stepped out from behind his desk, striding toward her with unwavering focus. From the moment she entered, his eyes had been solely on her, as if Cheng Jia—who stood near the sofa—had become invisible.
Wen Ran stood gracefully by the door, watching him approach with a smile in her eyes. The air around her gradually filled with his familiar, crisp masculine scent, and her heartbeat involuntarily quickened.
The tall man stopped in front of her, his deep gaze sweeping over the lunchbox in her hands before he asked gently, "Did you come all this way just to bring me lunch?"
A faint blush rose on Wen Ran's fair cheeks as emotions swirled within her. Her gentle smile carried a touch of elegance and warmth—more poised than Cheng Jia's delicate softness. She nodded and was just about to speak when Mo Xiuchen suddenly grasped her wrist, his brows furrowing. "What happened to your hand?"
Wen Ran was momentarily stunned, meeting his concerned gaze. A warm feeling spread through her heart as she shook her head and said lightly, "I accidentally burned it with oil. It's nothing. Don't worry about that—just try the food I brought and see if you like it."
Mo Xiuchen took the lunchbox from her, feigning surprise. "You made these dishes yourself?"
Wen Ran playfully grinned. "Try them first, and then I'll tell you."
Just as she finished speaking, Cheng Jia, who had been standing by the sofa with a pale face, could no longer bear to watch their intimate exchange. She abruptly interjected, "Miss Wen, you know how to cook?"