Chen Caiwen’s back was drenched in cold sweat, soaking through her thin dress.
That glance Ye Mochen had swept over her just now carried no emotion, yet it froze the blood in her veins. It was the indifference of a predator at the top of the food chain toward a pebble by the roadside.
“Caiwen, what are you looking at? You seem lost in thought.”
Director Li finally leaned in beside her, his plump hand subtly attempting to rest on her waist. The stale smell of cigarettes and alcohol clinging to him made her stomach churn.
Chen Caiwen snapped back to reality, instinctively sidestepping his touch. A stiff smile quickly spread across her face. “It’s nothing, Director Li. I thought I saw someone I knew, but I must’ve been mistaken.”
Her mind was still buzzing. As the tide of fear receded, an even more unbelievable thought surfaced.
There was a woman in Ye Mochen’s arms!
She strained to recall—just a fleeting glimpse, but she’d caught sight of a snow-white neck and soft, cascading hair.
Who was that woman? Why was she being held by Ye Mochen?
Wasn’t that man, with his obsessive possessiveness and maddening stubbornness, supposed to be fixated on her alone? How could he touch another woman?
An absurd, betrayed fury ignited in her heart, briefly overpowering her fear.
No.
Chen Caiwen quickly regained her composure.
She knew Ye Mochen all too well.
That man was a lunatic—unpredictable, ruthless, and prone to fits.
What sane woman could endure him?
At this thought, she curled her lips disdainfully.
Whoever she was, she was just another naive sacrifice.
Now being pampered by him, it wouldn’t be long before she experienced his suffocating control and mercurial temper.
By then, she’d be just like Chen Caiwen once was—terrified, trembling, desperate to escape.
Just wait!
No woman in this world could endure Ye Mochen!
The lingering resentment and jealousy in Chen Caiwen’s heart swiftly transformed into a malicious sense of satisfaction.
She even felt a hint of schadenfreude, thinking, let that woman taste the bitterness she herself had endured in her past life.
“Director Li, didn’t we say we’d go downstairs for a drink?”
She turned and took the director’s arm, her smile now practiced and alluring.
She had chosen her path, and she would walk it herself.
As for that clueless woman, let her wait to be tormented by that madman!
…
The Rolls-Royce glided smoothly out of the underground garage. Inside the car, silence settled, broken only by the faint hum of the engine.
The passing lights outside cast fleeting shadows across Ye Mochen’s sharply defined profile, cloaking him in an aura of detachment.
Ran Weiyi had spent the day walking in high heels, and the ache in her feet surged upward in waves.
She discreetly kicked off her shoes, curling her toes in an attempt to relieve the discomfort, but the fatigue lingered stubbornly.
Frowning, she leaned forward in the dim light, intending to massage her own feet.
“Don’t move.” Ye Mochen’s voice came from beside her.
Ran Weiyi froze, but before she could react, the man had already leaned down.
His large, well-defined hand wrapped around her ankle—devoid of any desire, simply holding her firmly.
With his other hand, he removed her other high heel and casually tossed it aside.
“You…” Her words were cut off.
Without a word, Ye Mochen lifted both her feet and placed them on his lap, over the crisp fabric of his tailored trousers.The expensive fabric was instantly set off by her fair instep, creating a restrained, almost ascetic texture.
Ran Weiyi’s cheeks felt slightly warm. She wanted to pull her foot back, but he held it firmly in place.
His thumb, with a warm and deliberate pressure, pressed precisely onto the sore spot on her arch. The pressure was neither too light nor too heavy, hitting exactly the most uncomfortable point. A wave of warmth surged from the sole of her foot, traveling up her calf and spreading all the way to her chest.
Her entire body stiffened.
Ye Mochen’s movements were focused, as if handling an extremely important matter. His eyes were lowered, long lashes casting a shadow beneath them, his expression meticulous.
These hands that stirred up storms were now massaging her foot, with a gentleness that was almost unbelievable. Ran Weiyi felt a ticklish sensation in her heart following his movements.
Leaning back into the soft seat, she lazily narrowed her eyes, enjoying this top-tier service.
After a while, his voice broke the silence, carrying a commanding tone.
“Throw these shoes away when you get back.”
Ran Weiyi, however, curved her eyes and nodded obediently.
“Okay.”
Upon returning to the estate, Ye Mochen didn’t give her a chance to get out of the car herself. As soon as the car door opened, he had already circled around, bent down, and scooped her up into his arms in a bridal carry.
The action was both forceful and natural. Ran Weiyi instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. One of her high heels slipped off with the movement, lying abandoned on the car’s carpet, while the other dangled precariously from her foot. Without even glancing at it, he carried her straight through the grand foyer.
The living room was brightly lit, servants standing by with hands clasped, eyes fixed forward, the entire space so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Ye Mochen gently placed her on the soft leather sofa, and the dangling shoe finally slipped off. He casually kicked it aside as if it were some unsightly trash.
Instead of standing up, he directly knelt on one knee before her, his expensive suit trousers pressing unhesitatingly against the cold marble floor.
A servant promptly approached with a tray holding three pairs of brand-new soft-soled slippers: one pair with pink rabbits, one with pale yellow ducklings, and one with gray kittens.
Ye Mochen only glanced at them before waving the servant away.
He personally picked up the pink rabbit slippers. The somewhat silly-looking things looked absurdly incongruous in his large, well-defined hands.
Ran Weiyi watched him, watched this man rumored to be decisive and ruthless, now studying a pair of rabbit slippers with utmost seriousness, and she almost couldn’t hold back a laugh.
He grasped her fair, delicate ankle. The thin calluses on his palm carried a rough texture as they gently rubbed against her tender skin. The warm touch made her heart skip a beat.
With focused attention, he slipped the slippers onto her feet, adjusting the angle to ensure her feet were fully enveloped, his movements revealing a sense of cherishment.
Ran Weiyi lowered her gaze. In her line of sight was his striking red hair, soft strands that contrasted sharply with his cold, hard aura.
Chen Caiwen said he was a madman.
She thought, Chen Caiwen probably couldn’t imagine in two lifetimes that this madman would kneel at another woman’s feet, just to change her into a pair of comfortable shoes.
Only after putting them on did he look up. Those deep eyes, stripped of the coldness they showed to outsiders, now clearly reflected only her image.
“Does it still hurt?” His voice was low, carrying a hint of barely perceptible hoarseness.Ran Weiyi shook her head, a faint curve lifting the corners of her lips as she whispered softly, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Seeing her smiling little face, he finally stood up contentedly and led her toward the bedroom.