Chapter 77: Displeasure

Mo Ziyan placed the girl in the car and coldly ordered the man in front, “Drive. To the hospital. Hurry!” The driver didn’t dare linger. He shifted gears and sped forward, the car racing as if it might take flight.

The girl, who hadn’t been seriously hurt to begin with, clung to the corner of Mo Ziyan’s jacket in fear, her face pale as she pleaded, “I’m fine. Could you please tell him to slow down? I’m scared…”

“No,” he replied, his refusal brooking no argument. “If you’re scared, stay in my arms.” He pressed her into his embrace, his tone threaded with a worry and urgency he himself hadn’t noticed.

The girl arched an eyebrow in her heart, but obediently nestled into his chest. Listening to his slightly quickened heartbeat, she curled her lips in a faint smile. She’d never expected that doing a good deed would bring such an unexpected delight—what a pleasant surprise.

The car flew down the road, the scenery outside flashing past like wind slipping through one’s fingers, impossible to grasp.

Soon they arrived at the hospital. After a flurry of examinations and fuss, it turned out she’d only suffered some abrasions. The wounds were rather extensive and dirty, requiring cleaning with peracetic acid to prevent infection. It sounded simple, but the process was torture.

Her clear, glass-like eyes brimmed with tears from the pain; her curled lashes trembled helplessly like broken butterfly wings. She looked weakly at Mo Ziyan, her voice raw and feeble as she whimpered, “It hurts… please, no…”

Seeing her so fragile, Mo Ziyan, for the first time, felt utterly powerless. He could only tighten his hold, a sharp ache blooming in his chest as though someone were gripping his heart and squeezing mercilessly.

Cold sweat soaked her back. Her slender fingers clutched desperately at his jacket as she bit down hard on her lips, now purple from the pressure, muffling her cries.

Mo Ziyan frowned deeply, then reached out to cover her lips with his hand, his voice gentle and soft, “If it hurts, bite me instead.”

The girl shook her head weakly, her gentle voice a mere whisper, “No… I don’t want to hurt you too.”

He gazed at her for a long moment, said nothing more, and gently brushed the damp hair from her forehead, soothing her with light pats on the back.

When the cleaning was finally done, she lay limp and boneless in his arms, letting the nurse bandage her wounds. Even when an accidental touch caused pain, she only furrowed her elegant brows and wept quietly. Her hair was a tangled, damp veil about her shoulders; she looked as though she’d just been pulled from water—so fragile one’s heart ached for her.

“I… I want to go back to the dormitory. Please, take me back,” she murmured, her clear, melodious voice tinged with hoarse exhaustion, sounding as though she’d just finished some strenuous exertion—almost unbearably lovely.

A shadow flickered in Mo Ziyan’s fathomless eyes, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he listened quietly as the nurse explained the precautions. Only once he was sure she was alright did he carry her back to the car.

“Where do you live?”

“No, I don’t want to go home—I want to go back to the dormitory.” The girl shook her head quickly, her clear eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve.

Does she not want to go back because she’s afraid Mu Tingye will worry if he sees her like this?

Even now, she’s still thinking of him… how infuriating.

A nameless fire smoldered in Mo Ziyan’s chest, nowhere to vent, though he well knew it had little to do with him. He suppressed his displeasure and shot the driver a look. The car turned toward the specified address.

Of course, the girl realized he was angry, but she didn’t care and didn’t want to placate him. She feigned exhaustion and closed her eyes as if she’d fallen asleep.

An injured patient should act like one—no need to overexert herself or fret over others.

See? How well-behaved I am.

The rest of the journey was silent. The oppressive atmosphere inside the car lingered, chilling to the bone.

“Sweetheart, wake up. We’re here.” Even with his anger simmering, Mo Ziyan couldn’t bear to frighten her. He kept his voice low and gently patted her.

The girl opened her eyes, thanked him, and decisively got out of the car before he could say anything further.

Mo Ziyan had meant to ask if she’d be alright on her own, maybe even walk her back to the dormitory. But she simply walked away without looking back, leaving his simmering anger to boil over. He ordered the driver to leave at once. When had the master of the house ever suffered such indignity?

Meanwhile, the girl, after getting out of the car, doubled back and hailed a cab to return to the villa. She thought: Mu Tingye must have seen the news or gotten word by now. If he’s on campus, he’ll surely drag her home sooner or later—better to go back now and lessen his anger.

When she reached the villa, she couldn’t stand the sweat clinging to her skin. She asked the system to erase her wounds for an hour and took a shower. Afterwards, she went downstairs and sat in the living room, playing on her phone as she waited for Mu Tingye. But by the time he returned, she had already fallen asleep.

When Mu Tingye entered, he found the person he’d been so worried about curled up on the sofa, sound asleep. He froze for a moment.

Was she… waiting for him?

This realization softened his tense expression, which had been rigid ever since he’d learned she was injured while rescuing someone. His lips pressed together, he walked softly across the carpet, gazing at her peaceful, beautiful sleeping face.

The girl, never a deep sleeper, sensed his cool scent nearby and blinked open drowsy eyes. The first thing she saw was the man’s finely chiseled jaw and lips pressed into a thin, angry line.

So he really did know everything.

A faint panic stirred within her. She rubbed her soft cheek against his hard chest, her tone transparently coaxing, “Uncle Tingye, you’re finally back. I waited and waited for you until I fell asleep…”

...

“Uncle Tingye, what’s wrong?” she asked, sneaking a glance up at him with clear, watery eyes, looking pitiful.

“I heard you were quite the hero today,” Mu Tingye said, looking down at her, his voice low and hoarse, betraying nothing of his mood.

She looked up at him cautiously, trying to laugh it off. “No, no, everyone’s just exaggerating—it wasn’t like that at all…”

She wanted to say more, but caught sight of his darkening expression and instantly fell silent.

To think she’d dare lie to him now—she was getting bolder. When he saw the video of what had happened, his heart nearly stopped. He hadn’t cared one bit about the little boy’s fate; the only thing that mattered was that she must not be harmed.

Because he couldn’t bear to lose her. That was the truth he’d finally faced today.

No emotion showed on Mu Tingye’s face, but the oppressive air around him was suffocating. The girl knew today’s events had shaken him and that he was worried sick, but everything had happened so quickly—she truly hadn’t thought it through.

“Uncle Tingye, I’ll protect myself from now on. Please don’t be angry, alright?” She blinked her beautiful eyes, her voice soft and uncertain, testing his reaction.

When he still didn’t respond, she decided to go for broke.

“If you were ever in danger, I’d be the first to rush in to save you!” she declared, her tone earnest and serious.