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Upon receiving Wen Jin’s call, Wen Ran stopped speaking, just staring blankly.

After hanging up the phone, Mo Xiuchen gazed at her tenderly, wanting to say something, but fearing it might backfire. The atmosphere had already become somewhat tense.

Wen Ran expressed her resolve through silence.

And he, through silence, conveyed his persistence.

There was a moment when neither of them spoke.

In the room, only the sound of newspaper pages flipping was heard. The newspaper was not being read by Wen Ran, but by Mo Xiuchen. He perused each page in his hands, observing the scandals of the first day, the clarification on the second, the explanations on the third, the fourth, the fifth days…

Finally, he revealed the evidence against Xiao Wenqing and Wu Tianyi.

All that careful, painstaking planning ended up useless. He couldn’t describe the feeling in his heart.

He looked up from the newspaper and saw Wen Ran sitting there, looking lost. Her elegant and exquisite face was adorned with a soft white color. Her eyes and brows were lowered, and her lips were closed tightly. She seemed to be deep in thought. Her slender body remained motionless, giving him the illusion that she was just a lifeless doll.

A pain gripped his heart as he instinctively called out her name,

“Ranran!”

Startled, Wen Ran’s body shivered slightly. After a second, she lifted her cold face towards him. For a moment, her dark pupils were unfocused, her gaze resting on his face for a moment and then focusing on one point.

Mo Xiuchen put down the paper, got up and crouched in front of her. As he stretched out his hand to hold hers, she tried to evade, but he held her hand nonetheless.

Kneeling in front of her, her icy-cold palm caused a pang in his heart. He tightened his grip on her hand, “Ranran, let’s go home.”

Wen Ran was unable to pull away from his grasp and didn’t struggle. She just avoided his gaze, looking down at the floor with a dismissive tone, “I will wait for my brother to come and go home with him.”

“Ranran!”

A twinge of pain flashed through Mo Xiuchen’s eyes, as his tone fluctuated slightly.

Was she even reluctant to go home with him now?

“Xiuchen, regardless of whether you agree to divorce, I won’t go back with you. If you do not want me to drain my love for you bit by bit, do not want us to eventually become strangers, please let go of your persistence, okay?”

Mo Xiuchen felt a pain so severe he could barely breathe. Her words were like sharp knives each stabbing into his heart.

He held onto her hand, so tight, so tight. Even though she was right in front of him, close enough to see and touch, close enough that her scent lingered with every breath he took, he felt that, at that moment, she seemed so far away.

So far that he felt powerless to reach her.

The agony in his eyes grew deeper and deeper until he couldn’t bear it anymore. If she had never loved him in the first place, he could accept loving her unilaterally. But clearly, she loved him as he loved her—deeply.

But because he wouldn’t fulfil her request, she withdrew her love and treated him like a stranger. He could not even tolerate her indifference and distance for a moment.

“Ranran, is there no other way?”

His eyes began to well up again. Men are often said to have tears but should not lightly shed them—only when deeply hurt will they cry.

Despite all the struggles and near-death experiences he had since childhood, he had never shed a tear. But now, he couldn’t control his tears.

The thought of her leaving him was so painful—more painful than excruciating physical pain.

His tone was exhausted and weak. Gone were his usual haughtiness and stubbornness, replaced by everything reduced to humility.

Wen Ran suddenly looked up at the ceiling, her lips tightly pursed.

Mo Xiuchen watched her and suddenly laughed—a laugh filled with sorrow and melancholy. He loosened his grip on her hand bit by bit, as the moisture in his eyes accumulated.

The moment his palm felt empty, tears fell from his eyes.

Wen Ran looked at the ceiling, not daring to look at him.

Mo Xiuchen stood up, his tall figure standing in front of her as he looked down on her, as if to etch her deep into his heart.

Wen Ran’s hand was cold; her heart was, too.

Even as she faced upward, tears fell the moment he released her hand, rolling down her cheeks, ultimately, the bitter taste seeped into her mouth, spreading through her lips and teeth, straight into her heart…

Once again, silence prevailed.

After a while, Mo Xiuchen opened his mouth, his voice soft and gentle, filled with love and heartache, “Ranran, I won’t force you. If you don’t want to go home with me, you can go home with Wen Jin, or Ah Kai later. If, after three days, you still insist on the divorce, I… I will agree to it!”

As he came to the end of his sentence, he paused and his tone slowed down significantly. It seemed that uttering those few words took all the strength he had.

Wen Ran’s heart suddenly clenched. Her already pale face lost that last hint of color, becoming as white as paper!

When he refused her just now, her heart ached. Now that he agreed, why did her heart ache even more?

As if it would ache till death, she bent her fingers, her nails sinking deeply into her skin, concluding that the bodily pain could alleviate her heartache. But even as her nails pierced her palms, the pain in her heart did not diminish.

After saying that, Mo Xiuchen turned around, took big strides towards the door, opened it, and left.

The door closed, footsteps fading away…

Wen Ran, sitting on the couch, suddenly slid down onto the icy-cold floor. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

In the hallway, Mo Xiuchen suddenly stopped in his tracks and his tall figure stiffened. He slowly turned his head, his gaze fixed on the door.

These simple motel room doors did not provide much sound insulation. Wen Ran’s suppressed cries leaked through the cracks, each sound like a knife to his heart. It felt as if someone was pulling a multitude of thin ropes tighter and tighter around his heart, the pain growing, his breath becoming more and more difficult.

However, he did not turn back. His towering figure stood rigidly in the hallway, staring intently at the door. Heat surged in his chest, reached his nose, and suddenly welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

Inside the room, Wen Ran cried desolately. As she cried all her grievances turned into tears. Even she herself did not understand why she felt so aggrieved. Yes, it was grievance—as she felt aggrieved due to Mo Xiuchen’s departure.

Ironically, it was she who wanted him to leave, but his departure left her feeling so wronged she wanted to die.

Outside, Mo Xiuchen stood as stiff as a statue, his hands by his side, the knuckles pale. Hearing the suppressed sobs coming through the door, his heart felt as if it had been abruptly drained after the sharp pain.