Shen Bingjing struggled desperately.

She tried to scream, but the moment she opened her mouth, Mo Xuan saw her intent. Without a second thought, he clamped a rough hand over her lips.

She tried to resist—but both wrists were seized by his other hand, twisted tightly behind her back. Immobilized.

Only then did she realize how unnaturally strong he was. Their usual playful scuffles? All him holding back. If he went all out, she wouldn’t have even a trace of resistance.

All she could do was stare with wide, terrified eyes, dreading what might happen next.

Mo Xuan was panicking too.

He never expected Yun Jiumo to finish applying ointment so fast—and come looking for him directly!

Worse: Shen Bingjing was here. Events were moving too fast, but instinct screamed—Yun Jiumo and Shen Bingjing must *not* cross paths.

Especially with him still at the scene.

*Hide. Now.*

The thought barely formed before he acted. Forcibly restraining Shen Bingjing, he scanned for cover.

Only options: restroom or the small grove.

Drag her into the restroom? No way. Men’s or women’s—either meant social death if caught.

That left the grove.

Yun Jiumo’s calls drifted closer. No time. Mo Xuan swept Shen Bingjing into the thicket behind the restroom.

Thick trees and undergrowth concealed them—impossible to spot unless someone searched deliberately.

From the corner of her eye, Shen Bingjing saw where they were headed. Her heart hammered.

*W-what… what is he doing?! Why the grove?!*

Memories of those steamy movies she’d secretly watched under the covers flooded her mind. Her cheeks burned crimson.

She thrashed weakly—only to realize, despairingly, she couldn’t push him away.

At the grove’s end stood an ancient wall, veiled in lush ivy like a deep green curtain.

Mo Xuan pressed deeper, using bushes to hide them.

Shen Bingjing’s back slammed against the stone. A choked whimper escaped—startling him.

“Don’t make a sound,” he hissed, glaring at her bewildered face—half warning, half plea.

His hand stayed clamped tight. Eyes squeezed shut, she let out muffled protests, face pale.

He loosened his grip instantly but gripped her shoulders, pinning her firmly.

Gasping after nearly suffocating, Shen Bingjing glared. “What’s *wrong* with you?!”

“Quiet! Someone’s coming!” He pressed a finger to her lips. She bit down hard.

*Wait… why am I nervous too?*

“I said stay still. Why keep moving?” he whispered harshly.

“Why should *I* hide?!”

“Want someone to see us like this?”

She froze. Blinking rapidly: “Isn’t this *your* fault?!”

“I—” Guilt choked his words. After a stammering pause, he lowered his head. “My bad. Just bear with it.”

“No. I’m leaving *now*.”

Dragged here for no reason, ordered to stay silent like a lunatic—her patience snapped. She shoved him. He didn’t budge.

Mo Xuan’s eyes stayed locked outside. Yun Jiumo stood at the restroom entrance, scanning the area, expression grim. Stepping out now? Suicide.

Shen Bingjing, blind to the danger, stomped hard on his foot.

He swallowed a yelp. Yun Jiumo paused—as if sensing something. While Shen Bingjing kicked and squirmed, trapped between threat and struggle, Mo Xuan pressed her back against the wall.

“For heaven’s sake, stop! Or we’re *both* done for!”

Desperate to hold her still, his mind raced. Past-life memories seared like branding iron. If he’d stayed calm… but the thought of Yun Jiumo catching them sent pure panic surging through him—the dread of a cheating husband caught red-handed. Rationality vanished.

*Just leave… please.*

Delicate Shen Bingjing inwardly wailed. Her back ached. His full weight pinned her. Hard muscles, solid heat, his scent washing over her like an aphrodisiac—dizzying, overwhelming.

Worse: he didn’t even notice where his right knee pressed.

Her earlier struggle had parted her legs. In securing her, his knee landed squarely—and kept shifting forward with every motion.

Heat flooded her face. Sweat beaded. Breath hitched in soft whimpers. Limbs turned to jelly. Twice she nearly cried out, sliding weakly down the wall.

She cursed him silently, powerless.

He saw nothing. Only Yun Jiumo.

After several unanswered calls, Yun Jiumo turned and walked away.

Only when she vanished did Mo Xuan stagger back, gently guiding Shen Bingjing out.

Drenched in sweat, trembling, she leaned entirely on him. Each step required a shaky breath. Eyes shimmered with unshed tears, as if deeply wronged.

Feeling the damp trickle below, she fought tears.

Oblivious, Mo Xuan shot her impatient glances for moving slowly.

“You… what’s *wrong* with you?”

His cluelessness made her want to bite him.

“Mo Xuan, I—” She straightened with effort, pressing her legs together. “I just remembered something…”

“What?”

“A secret. I’ll whisper it.”

Curious—*Could it be about Shen Bingyao?*—he leaned close.

She lifted her lips to his ear, voice a faint whisper: “The secret is—”

“Mo Xuan, you *bastard*!”

A sharp slap cracked the air.

His ear rang. Half his face stung—numb, tingling.

When he blinked back to reality, she was gone. Not even a silhouette remained.

Alone before the silent grove, Mo Xuan touched his reddening cheek.

“Did I… do something terrible to her?”