Back at Mo Corporation.
Song Wenxi went upstairs without any obstruction.
The meeting had already ended, and Bai Shuo wasn’t around. She headed straight for the CEO’s office.
Mo Hanche was buried in a pile of documents when he heard the knock.
“Come in,” he replied without looking up.
She pushed the door open.
The spacious office was divided neatly: on the far left, a full wall of bookshelves; beside it, a Connery grey sofa and a marble coffee table with a lunch box on top. Two green plants sat in the corner.
On the right, a long desk was stacked with documents. Next to the computer sat a familiar succulent—the “peach ball” plant Mo Beiyu had given him.
The man worked with focused precision. His short hair was slightly tousled, his jawline sharp and defined. The sound of his pen scratching against paper was crisp and efficient. He lifted his chin briefly, glanced up, then returned to his work.
But suddenly—
He stopped.
His gaze lifted again, locking directly onto Song Wenxi.
He stared for a moment.
Song Wenxi instinctively touched her nose and looked away.
This man… was kind of attractive when he worked.
Mo Hanche studied her. His pupils trembled slightly, breathing growing deeper. His gaze slowly drifted down her long, fair legs.
Fresh, lively… and damnably tempting.
He stood up, walked around the desk, step by step approaching her.
A faint sweet scent drifted into his nose. His eyes lingered on her clean, delicate face, then finally settled on her soft pink lips.
He lowered his head.
Their lips met.
Both of them trembled.
Mo Hanche’s eyes darkened. He lifted his gaze slightly and met her confused, innocent “deer-like” eyes.
One hand gripped hers—soft and warm. The other cupped her face as he deepened the kiss, slow and lingering.
“Mm…”
Ding.
Something in his mind snapped.
He abruptly pulled away, breathing uneven. His dark eyes stayed fixed on her moist gaze. He gently brushed her eye corner, then pulled her into his arms, voice hoarse:
“Next time… remember to breathe.”
Song Wenxi’s ears felt like they were steaming. She mumbled something incoherently.
“What?” he asked.
She pushed him away and walked toward the sofa.
“You acted on impulse because of my looks.”
Mo Hanche paused, then gave a low chuckle and sat opposite her, personally pouring her tea.
“Maybe it was involuntary.”
This man—wasn’t he supposed to be cold and noble? Why was he suddenly flirting?
Annoying.
She had come here for serious business.
She drank a full cup of tea, then sat upright with her legs crossed, hands folded calmly.
“Work is never-ending. You’re still young. Your achievements are already excellent. Why push yourself so hard? Health is your capital—don’t ignore it. Take at least one full day off every week. Sleep properly every day. And if you’re not on a business trip, come home as often as possible.”
“And also… I’ve ignored the children before. That was irresponsible. And you’re no better.”
“The three kids are so cute and well-behaved. How can you emotionally neglect them? That’s not right.”
“I’m telling you this so you actually reflect on yourself. Don’t use work as an excuse.”
Mo Hanche listened, then calmly said:
“Song Wenxi, how much money do you want this time? Just say it.”
He wasn’t wrong to assume that. Every time she came before, it had always been for money.
She had even once considered ignoring him and raising the children alone—but that sounded exhausting.
Three kids alone? Impossible.
Mo Hanche, at least, didn’t have bad habits. He wasn’t messy, wasn’t immoral—just obsessed with work. Maybe… he could be salvaged a bit.
She looked at him.
Sharp features, clean bone structure, deep-set eyes, well-shaped lips.
She was a total face-judger.
“Not money,” she said.
“For now.”
She set the cup down.
“What I said earlier—I was serious. Think about it properly.”
Mo Hanche looked at her.
“Anything else you came here for?”
She lifted the lunch box slightly.
“I ate the breakfast inside. Thanks.”
“Anything else?”
“No. I’m leaving.”
She turned toward the door, then paused again.
“Oh right—go get your heart checked at the hospital. Don’t ignore it.”
Mo Hanche watched her leave until she disappeared into the elevator.
Then he closed the door, his hand pressing lightly against his chest.
His expression darkened slightly.
Lately, he had been experiencing frequent heart palpitations and tightness—but how did she know?
After finishing important documents, he recalled her behavior today.
No yelling, no tantrums—just unexpectedly concerned about his health.
And that kiss…
Why did he kiss her?
He exhaled slowly.
Whether it was “impulse” or “instinct,” he couldn’t deny he found himself replaying it.
He pressed the intercom.
“Prepare the car. We’re going out.”
In the underground parking lot.
Bai Shuo fastened his seatbelt.
“Sir, where to?”
“Hospital,” Mo Hanche said, rubbing his brow.
Bai Shuo immediately turned around.
“Hospital?! Are you sick? What’s wrong? Is it serious?”
Mo Hanche glanced at him coldly.
“Stop panicking. Drive.”
At Shengze Hospital in Nancheng.
Bai Shuo ran up and down retrieving test results.
Back in the cardiology office, the doctor looked serious as he reviewed the reports.
“Based on your symptoms and the tests, you have ventricular tachycardia.”
He paused.
“In severe cases, it can even lead to sudden death.”
The room fell silent.
Then he added quickly:
“But in your case, it’s likely benign idiopathic. It’s treatable. Radiofrequency ablation works well. You also need rest and stress reduction.”
“Schedule the surgery for tomorrow,” Mo Hanche said calmly.
The doctor blinked, then nodded enthusiastically.
“Of course. We’ll arrange everything.”
On the way back, Mo Hanche’s phone rang.
It was Shen Shizhan, yelling:
“If you keep this up, you’re going to work yourself to death! Then your wife and kids will just end up someone else’s problem…”
The call was abruptly hung up.
Mo Hanche looked as calm as ever, continuing to review his tablet.
In the backseat, Bai Shuo glanced at him through the mirror, conflicted.
If it weren’t for Madam noticing something wrong today… no one would have caught it.
She might be chaotic—but sometimes, she really was sharp.
Even a little… godlike.