By the time Qiao Ruoxin finished playing the last note, Mo Chen spoke in a deep voice, "I'm tired, I'm going to sleep."
Having said that, he turned indifferently and returned to the bedroom.
"Hey you! What an attitude! So rude!"
She was so maddened she could only laugh, this man was doing it on purpose!
In annoyance, she muttered softly, "Just appease you for now, wait until you're better and see how I'll deal with you."
Qiao Ruoxin couldn't help but smile helplessly, standing up and walking to the railings.
Looking at the spot where Mo Chen had just stood, she whispered gently, "Good night, Brother Mo Chen."
The night wind picked up her fluffy and smooth long hair, concealing her delicate little face.
...
Mo Chen returned to the bedroom, pressed the remote control, and the curtains automatically closed.
His tall frame collapsed heavily onto the bed, staring at the empty crystal chandelier above his head.
The corners of his mouth curved into an indulgent smile.
If he stayed any longer, he probably would have lost control and pounced on Qiao Ruoxin.
Closing his eyes, his mind was filled with the image of Qiao Ruoxin playing the guitar, tender and pure.
Mo Chen slowly opened his eyes and muttered softly, "Good night, Little Ghost."
He didn't know if it was the lullaby effect of the song just now.
But he indeed felt a bit sleepy and gradually drifted off to sleep.
The next day, early morning.
Qiao Ruoxin took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat down in the living room.
She looked like she had just woken up, wearing a light green robe over a camisole nightgown, lazy and charming.
That exquisite little face was bright and innocent.
Her slender and fair fingers twisted open the cap and she took a few sips of water.
Footsteps echoed downstairs, and Qiao Ruoxin instantly woke up, turning with a smile to look back.
"Brother Mo Chen, you're awake!"
Mo Chen's pair of long, straight legs were descending leisurely on the stairs, exuding the vibe of New York Fashion Week.
He was wrapped in a wine-red suit, perfectly tailored, with a black shirt underneath, casually unbuttoned at the top two buttons.
Handsome, abstinent, composed, and sexy.
He put his hands in his pockets, walking down with an indifferent, lazy demeanor.
He responded indifferently, "Hmm."
Qiao Ruoxin looked at this man and couldn't help but sigh, his face had the power to thrill a woman, he carried the natural aura of a Crown Prince.
Mo Chen, standing at 188 centimeters tall, a graduate from the computer science department at Stanford University, the son of Asia's richest man, was a leader in looks among the second-generation wealthy, a tyrant of good looks.
But no one is perfect.
Mo Chen's flaws were that he was boring, taciturn, arrogant, pathologically obsessive, quick-tempered, and chauvinistic.
When he lost his temper, it was terrifying, utterly beyond control.
Mo Chen arrived in front of her, looking down at her with a high and mighty air, "Keep your phone on 24 hours."
"I'm going to record a show today, it's an overnight thing, and they'll confiscate the phone."
The man scoffed, "Since when are you so compliant with the rules? Did you listen when I said to stay away from me?"
"..." What a sharp-tongued, unpleasant man!
Mo Chen glanced at her coldly, "Figure it out yourself."
Having said that, he walked toward the outside of the villa.
She watched his tall figure disappear, "Then you better behave and eat properly, promise me that!"
Mo Chen's steps paused for a moment, without turning back, he responded, "Got it."
She really wanted to rush forward and hug him, but remembering that it would cause him such pain, she refrained.
She watched Mo Chen leave with wide eyes as the smile on her lips vanished.
Qiao Ruoxin curled up on the sofa, tears slowly falling and shattering into several pieces.
Seeing Mo Chen like this hurt her deeply, but her actions back then were out of necessity.