"There's water—I'll pour you a glass. When exactly will Young Master Mo arrive? The dishes I prepared for him are already cold."
Though the man she wished to entice wasn't Xiao Liu, she still feigned a pitiful demeanor in hopes of softening him, hoping he'd be moved enough to call Mo Xiuchen and urge him to finish with his clients and come to her home sooner.
"No need. There's already a glass here."
As she spoke, Xiao Liu had already stepped to the table, lifted the glass, and tipped it back, draining it in one go.
Cheng Jia's expression shifted instantly. The words escaped her lips in a rush: "No—don't drink that! That glass was meant for Young Master Mo."
She lunged forward, but it was too late.
Xiao Liu had emptied the glass, now holding only an empty vessel. Glancing at Cheng Jia's disturbed expression, he spoke dismissively, "It's just water. Why are you so worked up? Don't tell me you laced it with poison to harm our young master?"
"Of course not," Cheng Jia replied curtly, snatching the empty glass from his hand before adding bluntly, "You've had your drink—now go. If Young Master Mo finds the two of us alone in this room, it won't look good."
Xiao Liu frowned, displeasure clouding his face. Instead of leaving, he dropped into the chair at the table and glanced at the exquisitely prepared meal. "The young master told me to wait for him here. If he doesn't arrive, I won't dare leave. Cheng Jia, did you make these dishes yourself? Your cooking seems quite impressive."
Growing uneasy, Cheng Jia had no choice but to reply perfunctorily, "Yes, these were prepared for Young Master Mo. Xiao Liu, why don't you check if he's done with the client? If the dishes sit any longer, they'll be ruined."
Truthfully, they were already cold.
Xiao Liu could tell she wanted him to leave. He wished to as well, but he dared not defy the young master's orders.
From the moment he entered her home, the air was thick with a strong perfume—expensive, not unpleasant, in fact quite alluring. One thing was certain: the young master was right. Cheng Jia was stunning, a beauty of rare quality, her figure alluring. Especially tonight, in that sensual red dress hugging her curves, the fragrance she wore only intensified her appeal. He found himself momentarily intoxicated.
Xiao Liu frowned and changed the subject. "Cheng Jia, your perfume is lovely, but the young master despises fragrances. You should get rid of the scent before he arrives, or he'll be quite displeased."
Surprise flickered in Cheng Jia's eyes. Mo Xiuchen hated perfume? How had she not known that? She wore it often, yet he never seemed to mind.
Sensing her disbelief, Xiao Liu scowled and said darkly, "If you don't believe me, I'll call him right now and tell him you've filled the house with fragrance. Let's see if he still comes."
Just as he reached into his pocket for his phone, Cheng Jia rushed forward and clutched his wrist. "Don't call him! I'll take care of it now—I'll make the scent disappear."
She had drunk the water before Xiao Liu. In the brief moments of conversation, the drug had begun to take effect. Her head grew light, her body flushed with unnatural warmth.
Standing close to him, hand grasping his, she didn't recoil. On the contrary, she found the contact strangely comforting.
Alarm bells rang in her mind. She recognized the symptoms. If things continued like this, even if she managed to restrain herself, she doubted Xiao Liu would.
Downstairs, Mo Xiuchen smoked leisurely, listening to the exchange upstairs through his earpiece. The corners of his lips curled further with every word—just as he expected, the show was about to begin.
Judging by Cheng Jia's prior behavior, she wouldn't settle for just a spritz of perfume. No doubt she'd drugged something again—just like last time.
In the shadows of the night, a luxury sedan glided silently to a stop behind his car.
Moments later, a knock came at the window.
Mo Xiuchen opened the door to find Luo Haofeng's ever-smirking face. Frowning slightly, he hadn't yet spoken when Luo Haofeng slid into the car with a grin.
"Xiuchen, Wenran was worried about you, so she asked me to check in. Did Xiao Liu go up? How's the situation unfolding? Don't tell me you're eavesdropping on them in the middle of… all that?"
His flirtatious eyes flicked to the Bluetooth headset in Mo Xiuchen's left ear as he leaned in.
"Who told you to inform Wenran?" Mo Xiuchen's gaze darkened, boring into Luo Haofeng with a chill.
This meddlesome man—just like last time at the hospital, when he told Cheng Jia that Wenran was the one behind the construction accident—and had even predicted that he and Wenran wouldn't last long.
Always stirring trouble.
Luo Haofeng laughed, utterly unfazed, and snatched the earpiece to listen for himself. After a few moments, his brows lifted in wicked amusement. "Xiao Liu's in for a wild night. Who knew that goody-two-shoes could handle Cheng Jia so well?"
Mo Xiuchen sneered coldly. "If you're jealous, go up and take his place."
Luo Haofeng grimaced and shot him a side glance. "You and Wenran really are a match made in heaven. Do you think a woman like Cheng Jia deserves a man as dazzling and debonair as me?"
Mo Xiuchen narrowed his eyes, catching the crux of his words. "What did Wenran say about you?"
Still listening to the upstairs drama, Luo Haofeng chuckled, "Exactly what you said she would. I thought provoking her jealousy might be good for her, but she trusted you completely. I honestly don't know if Wenran is naïve or foolish—her husband visits another woman and she doesn't even flinch."
At that, Mo Xiuchen's lips lost their coldness, warmth rising behind his obsidian gaze. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—Wenran had promised to trust him, and he knew she wouldn't fall for Luo Haofeng's bait.
"If you want to watch the play, then sit tight and listen to the whole thing. You'll report it all to me afterward."
He glanced upstairs, then at Luo Haofeng, who was engrossed in the audio feed, before snatching the car keys from his hand and stepping out of the car.
"Hey, do I really have to hear the whole thing?" Luo Haofeng called to the closed door.
Through the window, Mo Xiuchen gave him a single look, then turned, walked to Luo Haofeng's car, opened the door, and got in. A moment later, the vehicle vanished into the night.
"Married men are such bores," Luo Haofeng muttered, flopping into the seat, fingers tapping the armrest in idle frustration.
Mo Xiuchen used to be nothing like this. But less than two months into marriage, and he was already whipped. The cold, indifferent man of the past—gone without a trace.
At this rate, he'd sell them all out for Wenran one day.