Chapter Seventy-Three: You Will Not

Mo Ziyan tapped his finger lightly, and the surveillance footage instantly zoomed in and became clearer. A delicate porcelain-white face appeared on the screen, her eyes red and her lashes lowered.

Seeing the girl's pitiful expression up close, his heart ached terribly, as if it had been gouged by a knife. Instinctively, he wanted to stand up.

Especially when he heard her muttering expectantly:

“Uncle Tingye, I—I’m so scared, please come save me...”

Mo Ziyan himself didn’t know why, but hearing that name left him deeply displeased. Why, at such a dangerous moment, was she hoping for that man to save her? Did he matter to her that much?

The girl's rosy lips continued to softly call that name. He couldn’t help but focus intently, listening.

Uncle Tingye... Mu Tingye, was it?

He knew that name—a legend in business, a man like a king. But he and Mu Tingye were not of the same world; naturally, they’d never crossed paths. What was this girl’s relationship with him?

Mo Ziyan pressed his thin, cold lips together tightly, his hawk-like eyes narrowing with an appraising gleam as he suppressed the urge to get up.

He watched as the wolf approached the girl. Her face ashen, she covered her face with her hands and trembled, bracing herself for its bite. Instead, she felt a damp, sticky sensation. Puzzled, she opened one eye to peek, only to find that the wolf she so feared was licking her hand.

Astonished, she gaped in surprise. Seeing that the wolf truly meant her no harm, and that its fur was as snowy white as the one Uncle Tingye had given her, her heart softened instantly. Emboldened, she reached out...

The foolish wolf quickly lost interest in teasing the girl and ran straight to Mo Ziyan. Yet it didn’t dare leap on him, merely circling him joyfully, occasionally brushing against him and glancing up.

Mo Ziyan looked down at the wolf sitting beside him, his face awash with an uncontainable sense of apology, though his deep gaze remained fixed on her. “I apologize. I didn’t know the maid would bring you to this room and deliberately lock the door. You must have been frightened. Don’t worry, I’ll see she’s properly punished.”

As he spoke, the maid from before was dragged in, her face frantic as she rushed to explain: “Master, please have mercy! I—I was just jealous of this young lady’s beauty and only wanted to scare her a little. I was wrong, truly wrong.” Still kneeling, she edged closer to the girl, clutching at her skirt in supplication. “Miss, I was wrong. Please forgive me. If you don’t, I’ll die. I beg you...” Tears streamed down her cheeks, making her look genuinely pitiable.

Little Qiu, what will you do? Will you agree and have the maid severely punished, or, like so many other women, pretend to be generous and forgiving simply because I am present?

Truth be told, no reaction would have pleased him.

Thinking thus, Mo Ziyan’s gaze grew ever more profound, his sharp eyes boring into the girl, as if trying to pierce her heart and see through her soul.

Everyone here is such an actor, playing their parts so well. How could I not join in? the girl thought.

She lowered her eyes, a complicated expression crossing her face as she gazed at the maid, who was crying so pitifully. She was no saint—she could not easily forgive someone who, out of mere jealousy, had thrown her to the wolves. But... Brother Ziyan had a capricious and sinister nature; he might truly punish the maid harshly. So young, about her own age—how could she bear it?

“I don’t like you.”

After a moment, under the watchful eyes of all present, the girl finally spoke. It was sudden, her voice soft and cool, the simple statement of four words startling in its bluntness, yet clearly heartfelt.

Everyone stared in shock at the slender, fragile figure whose back remained straight and unyielding. No one expected her to speak so directly. Though her words sounded childish, it was obvious she was pure-hearted, without guile.

Like and dislike, both honestly expressed—a rare trait in these cruel and complex times.

“I don’t like you. I can understand your jealousy—almost everyone feels it at times. But you shouldn’t have sent me to the wolves just because I look better than you. This is our first meeting; I’ve never done you any harm. I can’t understand or accept your actions or your thoughts. They’re cruel—no, I shouldn’t call you cruel. After all, this is our first meeting, and I don’t know you. I can’t judge recklessly. But because of this, I dislike you.”

“And there are thousands in this world more beautiful than you—will you try to hurt every one of them? Can you? Beauty is not everything. What matters is your mindset. If you aren’t as pretty as others, you can make up for it in other ways, close the gap. You shouldn’t let jealousy drive you to something so dangerous.”

Her eyes, bright as stars, were clear and unclouded as she looked at the maid, who was left dumbstruck. She finished all she wished to say in a single breath, then turned to Mo Ziyan, frowning slightly in anger. “I want to go home!”

Mo Ziyan’s brows drew together, and he looked at her with a complicated expression. “Aren’t you afraid I might be the one to hurt you?”

What would she do if she knew this was all a trap of his own making?

“No, you wouldn’t!”

The girl pressed her tender lips together and answered without hesitation, meeting his gaze directly, her eyes full of unreserved trust. He couldn’t help but wonder—why did she trust him so much, as if convinced he would never harm her? His cold eyes swept over her beautiful face. Was it an unshakable confidence in her own charm? How absurd. No one had ever softened his heart—except that little girl from his childhood.

He lowered his unruly gaze, hiding his wavering brow.

“I’ll have my men take you home.”

For once, the ever-proud and domineering Mo Ziyan found himself at a loss for words, his mind in turmoil, unsure how to face the girl before him. He could only wave for his men to escort her out.

But as one of his men reached out to touch her shoulder, Mo Ziyan’s pupils contracted sharply and he snapped coldly, “Don’t touch her!”

The sudden command made the man jump, paling as he turned to look at his master’s face. Mo Ziyan’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, stabbing down from above. The man instinctively took several steps backward, only relaxing and swallowing hard when that oppressive stare finally lifted, feeling as though he’d narrowly escaped death.

Mo Ziyan himself didn’t know what had come over him; he simply didn’t want anyone else touching her. His voice frosty, he said, “I’ll take you home myself.”

The subordinate looked at his master in shock, thinking, What’s going on? They’d dragged this girl here before, but now the master was personally taking her home. Could it be... he’s interested in her? But what about Miss Xinxin?

But the master’s business was none of his concern. Besides, he wouldn’t dare interfere. He could only watch helplessly as the two of them left together.