"Take the call first—see what Uncle Bai has to say."
Watching Bai Xiaoxiao's phone ring incessantly, Wen Ran frowned slightly and gently reminded her.
Bai Xiaoxiao nodded, inhaled deeply, and answered the call without bringing the phone to her ear. She held it at a distance and called out, "Dad, what's the matter?"
"Bai Xiaoxiao! Get back here immediately!"
Had she held the phone to her ear, she would've gone deaf from her father's roar. Even Wen Ran, seated across from her, could clearly hear the fury in his voice.
"Dad, what happened?"
Feigning ignorance, Bai Xiaoxiao asked, though she already knew the matter must be related to Luo Haofeng.
"Luo Shao just called me, furious, saying our company staff harassed him. The cooperation we finally secured is now ruined. Bai Xiaoxiao, this is your doing! If you don't handle this properly, don't bother calling me your father ever again!"
It seemed her father was truly enraged this time.
"Alright. I'll be right back."
Bai Xiaoxiao furrowed her brow, cursing Luo Haofeng inwardly for being so petty over such a trivial matter.
"Ranran, can you call Mo Xiuchen? Ask him to help. Don't believe Luo Haofeng's nonsense, alright? If we lose this opportunity to work with MS Group, my dad will disown me."
Because of Bai Xiaoxiao's plea before she left, Wen Ran, seated behind her desk, did dial Mo Xiuchen's number.
But the result left her disappointed.
On the other end, Mo Xiuchen replied indifferently, "I've handed the Bai Corporation project over to A-Feng. He has full authority to make decisions. Ranran, I'm afraid I can't help with this."
Wen Ran frowned faintly at his words and merely responded with a soft "oh," without pressing him further.
"Xiuchen, seems you haven't completely abandoned your friends for love. Don't worry, I'm just teaching that little brat Bai Xiaoxiao a lesson. I won't let Wen Ran blame you for it."
At the top floor of MS Tower, Luo Haofeng's cheerful laughter echoed through the president's office. Mo Xiuchen snorted coldly and dismissed him with displeasure, "If you have nothing better to do, return to your office. Stop being an eyesore."
Just moments ago, he had heard the faint disappointment in Wen Ran's voice. That single "oh" stirred an inexplicable tightness in his chest. Now, looking at Luo Haofeng, he found him more intolerable than ever.
Luo Haofeng whistled nonchalantly and left the office in high spirits.
After the door shut, Mo Xiuchen sat in silence for a moment. Just as he took out his phone, intending to call Wen Ran and explain that Luo Haofeng was only punishing Bai Xiaoxiao for her antics at noon, his phone suddenly rang.
The caller was Xiao Liu.
"Young Master, Cheng Jia has attempted suicide. She slashed her wrists…"
Mo Xiuchen's brows knitted. He asked calmly, "Can she be saved?"
"I don't know. The doctors are still trying. I didn't take her to Kangning Hospital—it's too far. I brought her to the nearest hospital instead."
Xiao Liu's voice held a strange tremor—whether from shock at Cheng Jia's actions or, as Wen Ran feared, from some new, undefined sentiment stirred in him after that night.
"Alright. I'm tied up at the moment. Stay at the hospital and keep me updated."
Mo Xiuchen didn't ask why Cheng Jia had tried to take her life, nor how Xiao Liu had found out. A flicker of darkness passed through his eyes, only to be replaced a moment later by his usual cold indifference.
"Understood, Young Master."
Wen Ran didn't learn about Cheng Jia's suicide attempt until she returned home.
Mo Xiuchen had told her during lunch that he had evening engagements. After work, she didn't go straight home but visited the hospital to have dinner with her brother, Wen Jin.
It was past nine when she arrived home.
Zhang Ma was brewing soup. Upon seeing her, she warmly asked if she'd had dinner. Wen Ran casually inquired about the soup, and Zhang Ma informed her that Cheng Jia had attempted suicide that afternoon. Luckily, she'd been found in time and was now stable.
The soup was being prepared for Cheng Jia.
"Does Xiuchen know?"
Wen Ran paused slightly, her gaze shifting to the fragrant kitchen. Zhang Ma nodded, "It was Young Master who asked me to make it. Xiao Liu will come to collect it shortly."
"Alright, carry on. I'll head upstairs."
Mo Xiuchen's dinner engagement ended around eleven.
Due to his actions at lunch, Qin Mu had taken offense and used his "poor health" as an excuse to pass all his drinks to Mo Xiuchen.
Mo Xiuchen had no choice but to accept. Fortunately, his tolerance was high. Though he drank a lot, he remained sober and clear-headed.
By the time he arrived at the hospital, Cheng Jia was still awake, her gaze blankly fixed on the ceiling. Her face, pale and bloodless from the loss, was more haggard than it had been even after her previous head injury.
Seeing Mo Xiuchen, a flicker of emotion stirred in her eyes—surprise, but not joy. Perhaps she had already given up. When he entered and approached her bedside, she wrinkled her nose slightly at the scent of alcohol and said to Xiao Liu, "Mo Shao must be uncomfortable after drinking. Why didn't you take him home instead of bringing him to the hospital?"
Xiao Liu's expression shifted—this was the first thing Cheng Jia had said to him since regaining consciousness.
Her tone was odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on why.
Mo Xiuchen narrowed his eyes, their sharp gleam locking on Cheng Jia. "Xiao Liu told me you attempted suicide this afternoon. Why?"
Cheng Jia seemed unwilling to meet his gaze. She lowered her head, bit her lip lightly, and murmured, "I couldn't bear to live any longer."
Mo Xiuchen let out a cold laugh. "All because you and Xiao Liu slept together? Is that what makes you feel disgraced? Or is it because none of this went according to your plan? Tell me, Cheng Jia—do you think Xiao Liu isn't worthy of you, or is it simply that your scheme didn't play out as you imagined?"
"Young Master!"
Xiao Liu called out urgently.
Mo Xiuchen turned to him, eyes cold and piercing. Xiao Liu flinched under the intensity of that gaze.
"I asked Zhang Ma to make soup. Go back and get it."
Mo Xiuchen glanced at the bedside table—no thermal container in sight, and the room was filled only with the sterile scent of disinfectant. Clearly, the soup hadn't arrived yet.
"Understood!"
Xiao Liu nodded and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.
Inside the room, Cheng Jia gazed at Mo Xiuchen with a complex expression. She didn't know how to define her feelings—suspicion, disbelief, perhaps even a faint glimmer of joy she struggled to suppress.
She thought he hated her—despised her, even. Yet he'd asked Zhang Ma to make her soup.
Could it be… he still cared?
Even if that concern stemmed only from her residual value to him, she was willing to accept it. So long as he still had even a shred of concern for her.