Whoosh
Han Shao Zhou yanked open the balcony curtains, already prepared to confront Mo Ming, but the expected figure was nowhere to be found.
The balcony was empty.
The evening breeze drifted in through the half-open sliding door, lightly stirring the beige curtains.
Han Shao Zhou frowned. If Mo Ming wasn’t hiding here, then his earlier conversation with Grandpa had been pointless.
He closed the balcony door tightly and turned to search the rest of the apartment—study, guest room, bathroom, storage room…
When his eyes landed on the two large suitcases leaning against the wall in the storage room, he paused briefly but didn’t think much of it.
In the bedroom, Han Shao Zhou suddenly heard a muffled sound coming from the closet.
He and Mo Ming had separate closets, and that noise had come from his own.
Han Shao Zhou quietly slid open the door and crept inside. He approached a wooden cabinet, where the sound of someone munching echoed. He chuckled and quickly slid the cabinet door open.
There was Mo Ming, knees curled up inside the wardrobe, munching on a bowl of cherries. Startled, Mo Ming swallowed the fruit in his mouth and cautiously asked, “Did your grandpa leave?”
Han Shao Zhou stared at him, expressionless. “He left.”
Mo Ming let out a small sigh of relief. “That’s good…”
“Comfortable hiding in here?”
Seeing the dark cloud looming on Han Shao Zhou’s face, Mo Ming shrank back, shaking his head as he meekly replied, “Not comfortable. My back… it still hurts.”
“You seem pretty comfortable to me. Want to scoot over and let me join you in there?”
“No, no need. Don’t be mad, Shao Zhou. I’ll come out right now.”
Mo Ming hurriedly climbed out of the wardrobe, standing barefoot in front of Han Shao Zhou. He glanced up to gauge his expression, noticing that Han Shao Zhou seemed quite upset. His voice grew quieter and more apologetic, “I’m sorry, Shao Zhou. I was wrong.”
“Come with me.”
Han Shao Zhou spoke in a low tone and walked off. Mo Ming, knowing he was in the wrong, followed behind him with his head hanging low, without uttering a word.
When they reached the living room, Han Shao Zhou sat on the sofa and pointed to the empty spot in front of the coffee table. He was just about to scold Mo Ming when he noticed that Mo Ming’s feet were bare. His toes, pale and curled, were chilled by the cold floor.
A surge of irritation swelled in Han Shao Zhou’s chest. “Go put on some shoes!”
Mo Ming quickly ran to slip on his house slippers and then obediently returned to stand in front of Han Shao Zhou. He fidgeted with the hem of his pajamas, his lips pressed into a pout, his gaze lowered as if he had been terribly wronged.
Han Shao Zhou had a hard time dealing with Mo Ming’s pitiful expression. It made him feel as though any further scolding would only make him seem like the bad guy.
Yet Mo Ming, with this pitiful look, seemed to know exactly how to disarm him. Han Shao Zhou’s anger twisted and turned within him, but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to let it out. He almost found himself reflecting on his own actions instead.
Han Shao Zhou seriously suspected that this little guy in front of him was trying to emotionally manipulate him.
“What are you feeling so wronged about?” Han Shao Zhou took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice cold. “Look at me.”
Mo Ming slowly raised his head, his lips tightly pressed together, his shimmering eyes flickering with uncertainty.
“Why did you hide when my grandpa came over? Didn’t I tell you to stay in the room? What was the meaning of hiding in that wardrobe?”
“I… I was nervous,” Mo Ming whispered. “But I know I was wrong.”
“And what exactly was wrong?”
“I was wrong for not listening to you,” Mo Ming said, pausing for a moment before adding, “I’ll definitely listen to you from now on.”
“You said the same thing last time, but look at you now.”
Mo Ming moved closer and wrapped his arms around Han Shao Zhou’s arm, sitting beside him. With earnest eyes, he said, “I won’t do it again, I promise…”
“If you keep this up, I really won’t want you anymore,” Han Shao Zhou warned.
He felt that he had spoiled Mo Ming too much these past few years, especially after they returned to Chuanhai. He had pampered Mo Ming so much that he seemed to have lost any sense of danger. Even in a critical moment like this, Mo Ming had dared to mess things up.
There were still many years ahead of them. He had to straighten him out sooner rather than later.
Mo Ming rested his chin lightly on Han Shao Zhou’s shoulder and whispered, “I’ll never make you angry again, okay…?”
Han Shao Zhou closed his eyes, his face still cold and expressionless.
Mo Ming leaned closer and kissed Han Shao Zhou’s cheek, speaking softly, “Shao Zhou, please don’t be mad at me anymore, okay?”
Han Shao Zhou raised his arm slightly as if to push Mo Ming away, turning his body to the side and remaining silent, his face stern.
Mo Ming frowned slightly, stood up, and moved to sit on Han Shao Zhou’s left side. He continued to cling to him, kissing him gently in an attempt to soothe him. His voice, soft like a kitten’s, said, “I really know I was wrong, I swear…”
Finally, Han Shao Zhou opened his eyes and looked at the person beside him, his eyebrow arching. “Really?”
Mo Ming nodded vigorously and raised one hand. “I swear, if I ever make you angry again, I’ll… I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
Mo Ming mumbled, “I haven’t thought of it yet.”
“I’ll think of it for you. If you do it again, I’ll throw you out of here,” Han Shao Zhou said with a smirk, pinching Mo Ming’s cheek. “Got it?”
Mo Ming lowered his gaze slowly, tightening his grip on Han Shao Zhou’s arm as he murmured, “I… I don’t want to leave. Please don’t throw me out.”
The smile in Han Shao Zhou’s eyes grew deeper. “Scared?”
Mo Ming looked downcast, sad, and after a moment, he nodded softly.
Without saying another word, Han Shao Zhou pushed him down on the sofa, showering him with kisses and nips.
His anger had long since dissipated, but being pampered by Mo Ming like this made him feel an unexpected sense of satisfaction.
He could clearly sense that Mo Ming feared making him angry, that Mo Ming was afraid of losing him…
Right now, Mo Ming seemed like a little kitten with his nape held in Han Shao Zhou’s grip, completely at his mercy. This absolute control gave Han Shao Zhou a sense of security he had never felt before.
Although Han Shao Zhou didn’t usually pay much attention to Zhao Cheng’s nonsense about relationships, right now, he had to admit that Zhao Cheng had a point.
As long as you held the reins in a relationship, you could determine its direction and even its outcome.
Han Shao Zhou felt like he had mastered the art of handling Mo Ming…
Mo Ming was getting dizzy from all the kisses, but even though Han Shao Zhou was excited, he was still aware that Mo Ming hadn’t fully recovered.
Still, with how things were heating up, it was hard to stop. He wanted to at least make Mo Ming feel good, even if he had to restrain himself.
…
Mo Ming suddenly tensed up, grabbing a pillow to muffle the sounds escaping through his lips.
When Han Shao Zhou finally lifted his head and removed the pillow, he found Mo Ming’s eyes wet, glistening with a faint redness. His face was flushed as he panted for breath.
Han Shao Zhou chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss him again, only for Mo Ming to quickly cover his face with the pillow once more.
“Go rinse your mouth, now,” Mo Ming ordered weakly.
In high spirits, Han Shao Zhou playfully pinched Mo Ming’s waist before heading to the bathroom.
Mo Ming quickly got up and put on his pants, his ears so red they looked like they might start bleeding. When Han Shao Zhou returned from the bathroom, Mo Ming turned his head away, refusing to look at him.
Han Shao Zhou wasn’t upset. Feeling quite content, he turned to the kitchen to bring out the food. When he came back, he saw Mo Ming squatting beside a few gift boxes on the floor, curiously inspecting them.
“My grandpa brought those over. They’re gifts from other people, some kind of supplements,” Han Shao Zhou said with a smile. “Perfect for helping you recover.”
Mo Ming’s eyes brightened. He hesitantly asked, “If they taste good… can I have more?”
Han Shao Zhou laughed. “They’re all yours. Grandpa doesn’t care for these processed things. Every time he gets them, they just sit in storage. If you like them, I’ll have Ah De bring you more next time.”
Upon hearing that, Mo Ming happily picked up the gift boxes and brought them over to the sofa, opening them one by one to inspect the contents.
Two boxes contained pastries from a children’s farm, freshly made that very morning. Mo Ming tried a bite—it was soft, sticky, and delicious.
Another box held two large, plump truffles, one black and one white, with bits of soil still clinging to them. There was also a flat, black square box containing eight small glass jars filled with a brown liquid. According to the label, it was a highly prized medicinal broth. Mo Ming opened one jar and took a sip, expecting it to be bitter, but instead, it was smooth and slightly sweet, with a hint of tea flavor. It was delicious.
Han Shao Zhou finished setting the table and came over to the sofa. Seeing Mo Ming happily licking his lips, looking content, he couldn’t help but smile. “You like it that much? How about I take you to my family’s warehouse someday? You can treat it like a blind box—you can pick whatever you want.”
Mo Ming shook his head, replying earnestly, “Those things belong to your grandpa.”
Han Shao Zhou sat down beside him on the sofa, opening another jar of broth. He handed it to Mo Ming with a playful smile. “If I tell Grandpa that we’re dating, he’ll probably have the whole warehouse sent over for you. Do you believe that?”
“But I could never really date you…” Mo Ming said softly, smiling as he took the jar from Han Shao Zhou. He brought it to his lips and took a small sip before tilting his head back to gulp down the rest.
So delicious—it even made his stomach feel warm.
Mo Ming wanted to have another, but just as he reached out for another jar, Han Shao Zhou suddenly grabbed his hand.
Mo Ming froze, looking up at Han Shao Zhou in confusion, only to see that his playful expression had disappeared. He was now frowning, his face clouded with a heavy, troubled look.
“What’s wrong?” Mo Ming asked nervously. “Am I not allowed to drink anymore?”
Han Shao Zhou seemed to be holding something back. His expression was unreadable, but after a moment of hesitation, he let go of Mo Ming’s hand, stood up, and walked away from the sofa. His voice was flat and devoid of emotion as he said, “Don’t drink anymore. Come eat dinner.”
Sensing that something was off, Mo Ming quickly followed him to the table.
“This is really good,” Mo Ming said between bites of a mushroom, not holding back on the praise. “This is the best meal you’ve ever made, Shao Zhou. Your cooking has improved so much.”
“I didn’t make it,” Han Shao Zhou said darkly. “Grandpa’s bodyguard did.”
“…”
Realizing he had praised the wrong person, Mo Ming stopped talking altogether and focused on his food.
As Han Shao Zhou watched Mo Ming eating happily across the table, his expression grew darker and darker.
What had he meant by that comment just now?
Could it be that his earlier attempt to instill a sense of urgency had backfired, making Mo Ming afraid to have any romantic feelings for him?
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