Mo Xiuchen, like a conqueror, claimed her with relentless intensity.
Unversed in such intimacies, Wen Ran had no defense—she surrendered swiftly, utterly.
...
"Ranran, remember this—you are my wife. For this lifetime, and beyond."
He entered her from behind, his large hand tilting her chin, repeating the vow he'd made before, yearning for her to embrace their marriage with the same fervor.
...
A long while passed before Wen Ran regained her senses, only to find herself in the bathroom.
Clarity slowly returned to her dazed mind.
Mo Xiuchen, sated and lighthearted, let a faint smile curve his lips at the sight of her shyness. The heavy haze in his heart had dissipated completely amidst the passion they'd just shared.
"Only now you're feeling shy?"
His hoarse voice brushed over her ears, tugging at her heartstrings.
Wen Ran trembled, her voice soft with bashfulness. "Put me down."
"You sure you can stand?"
"I can."
Even if unsteady, it was still better than clinging to him like this. Besides...
"Alright."
Mo Xiuchen chuckled and gently set her on her feet.
But the moment he let go, her legs gave way. She nearly crumpled, and he caught her swiftly by the arm. "I'd better help you bathe."
Without waiting for her reply, he lifted her once more, took a few strides forward, and turned on the shower...
By noon, Wen Ran hadn't eaten a bite. She curled up on the resting couch in her office, fast asleep.
After enduring Mo Xiuchen's relentless affection the night before, her body had only just begun to recover, only to ache again as if torn apart and reassembled.
If not for the phone that kept ringing insistently, she might not have woken at all.
Startled by the caller ID, Wen Ran sat up abruptly and glanced at the time—it was already four in the afternoon. Why hadn't Sister Li woken her?
"Hello?"
Her voice was hoarse from sleep.
Through the phone, Mo Xiuchen's deep, magnetic voice flowed into her ear. "Ranran, open the door."
"Huh?"
Her mind still clouded with sleep, Wen Ran couldn't quite process his words.
"I'm outside your office."
He explained with uncharacteristic patience, his tone warm and gentle. Li Qian had informed him she was still asleep when he arrived.
He knew exactly why. Last night, he hadn't considered her physical limits, and in his selfish desire, had pushed her too far.
"Oh, just a moment!"
Eyes widening in surprise, Wen Ran jumped out of bed, slipped on her shoes, and rushed out of the lounge. She opened the door to find his tall figure standing there and scratched her head sheepishly. "I don't know how I overslept…"
That morning, they'd agreed to visit Cheng Jia at the hospital together.
Mo Xiuchen's gaze slid over her disheveled hair and came to rest on the unfastened button of her blouse, where a glimpse of skin and the faint traces he'd left last night were barely concealed. Her drowsy eyes and soft features carried a subtle allure absent during the day.
Desire flickered in his eyes.
Wen Ran blinked, confused by the heat in his gaze, and looked down at herself, trying to find what was out of place.
"Fix your hair," he said.
Regaining his composure, Mo Xiuchen brushed back a strand of her hair that had fallen across her cheek. His rough fingertips grazed her skin, and Wen Ran flushed—this was still the office, after all.
"I'll do it myself."
She dodged his touch, flustered, and turned toward her desk.
Mo Xiuchen chuckled, closing the door behind him as he followed.
Instead of sitting down, Wen Ran leaned over the desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved her comb.
Unaware he had approached, she turned—and almost bumped into his chin. He seized the moment, one arm circling her waist, pulling her tightly against him.
She gasped softly, eyes wide with alarm.
"Relax, I'm not going to devour you here."
Seeing her flustered expression and crimson cheeks, Mo Xiuchen laughed quietly. Though her delicate beauty, tinged with sleep, was temptation in its purest form, he would never cross that line here, in the Wen Corporation.
"I'll brush your hair."
Before she could protest, he took the comb from her hand, his gaze warm and intent, drawing her in.
Meeting his eyes, Wen Ran's heart skipped a beat.
She neither resisted nor wished to. The last remnants of drowsiness melted away, and a faint smile bloomed on her blushing face—an image too lovely for words.
Mo Xiuchen had never brushed another woman's hair, but this wasn't the first time for her. His hands moved gently, deftly guiding the comb through her soft locks.
And in the depths of his heart, something melted—quietly, tenderly, like a still lake stirred by a breeze.