Shocking! A three-year-old brings his aloof mother to their door.

The documents in the outer office were piled up like a small mountain, all of which hadn't been processed that morning.

Mo Ye sat down in He Wanqing's chair, which still retained her fragrance and was very comfortable to sit on.

He opened the first document, picked up his pen, and began to review it.

He moved quickly, his eyes scanning the paper, his pen landing on the signature, spending no more than two minutes on each document.

Occasionally, when he encounters a situation that requires careful consideration, he will stop and think for a moment, his brow slightly furrowed, and then he will pick up his pen and write down a few lines of annotations, his handwriting neat and his thoughts clear.

Time passed by, second by second.

The office was quiet, with only the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional rustling of turning pages.

Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, slowly moving across the floor, from one corner of the desk to another, like a golden snail crawling along.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, Mo Ye closed the last document, leaned back in his chair, and stretched.

His bones cracked a few times, like a machine that had been running for too long finally stopping.

He rubbed his aching wrist, let out a long breath, and finally finished.

He stood up, walked to the door of the lounge, and gently pushed it open.

The lounge was dark, with the curtains drawn tightly shut.

The air conditioner is set to 25 degrees Celsius, it's cool and comfortable.

He Wanqing was still asleep, lying on her side, still holding the pillow in her arms. The blanket only covered her waist, revealing her fair shoulders and a slender waist.

Her profile in the dim light resembled a sketch, with soft lines and distinct contours.

The blanket rose and fell with her shallow breaths, like ripples spreading across a calm lake.

Mo Ye stood by the bed for a while, then lifted the blanket and gently sat down inside.

The mattress dipped slightly, and He Wanqing seemed to sense something. She turned over in her sleep and nestled towards him, like a little fish seeking warmth.

Mo Ye smiled, took off his shirt, threw it aside, and then lay down.

He Wanqing immediately kicked off the pillow in her arms, as if throwing away an inconvenient substitute, and then buried her face in his chest, wrapped her legs around his legs, and put her arms around his waist.

Mo Ye wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, rested his chin on the top of her head, and closed his eyes.

Another half hour passed.

He Wanqing stirred in his arms, rubbed her face against his chest, and then slowly, little by little, opened her eyes.

Before she could fully regain her senses, she stretched, her arms emerging from under the covers and drawing a large arc in the air. Her body was like a drawn bow, taut and then slowly relaxing.

The blanket slipped off her body, revealing her fair skin and graceful curves.

Mo Ye's gaze fell right there, and he swallowed hard.

After stretching, He Wanqing blinked and slowly woke up.

She saw Mo Ye staring intently at her chest, and instead of looking away, she slightly curled the corners of her mouth, a small sense of smugness welling up inside her.

She deliberately snuggled closer to him, letting her softness press against his chest, then looked up at him with bright, sparkling eyes.

Her voice, still languid and hoarse from just waking up, was as soft as a marshmallow soaking in warm water: "What's wrong? Want it again?"

Mo Ye nodded without hesitation, nodding like a chick pecking at rice.

He Wanqing burst out laughing, her smile like a spring breeze rippling across a lake.

Her fingers traced circles on his chest, her voice soft and gentle, with a hint of teasing: "Think about it, I won't give it to you."

Mo Ye watched as that cunning expression bloomed on her face, like a flower with thorns.

He rolled over and pinned her beneath him, then began tickling her waist and armpits with both hands.

He Wanqing writhed on the bed like a fish that had been flipped over, laughing incessantly until tears streamed down her face.

"You bad guy... Stop it, I was wrong, I was really wrong," her voice was broken, with laughter and panting.

Mo Ye stopped what he was doing and looked down at her.

He Wanqing was panting heavily, tears of laughter still glistening in the corners of her eyes, her rosy cheeks like freshly picked apples.

She looked up and glared at him fiercely, her eyes both menacing and alluring, like a cat with its fur standing on end.

Mo Ye lowered his head, pressing his weight down onto hers, his chest pressed against hers, with no gap between them.

His lips were almost touching hers, his voice low and tinged with danger: "Will you dare lie to me again?"

He Wanqing snorted, her chin slightly raised, stubborn as a calf that refused to bow its head: "Dare!"

Mo Ye paused for a moment, then laughed and leaned down to peck her lips: "You've become naughty."

He Wanqing wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips curled up, her eyes filled with his image, and her voice was soft as if she were pouting: "Isn't it all because of you?"

Mo Ye supported her bottom and lifted her off the bed.

He Wanqing instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, put her arms around his neck, and hung on him like a koala.

Mo Ye supported her, standing steadily, his voice as calm as if he were saying something completely ordinary: "Alright, let's get up, we'll go pick up Tongtong later."

He Wanqing paused for a moment, then suddenly remembered something, and raised her voice several octaves: "What time is it?"

Mo Ye glanced at the phone on the bedside table: "Around 4:40."

He Wanqing's breath hitched, her mind went blank, and she buried her face in his neck, her voice muffled, tinged with panic and frustration: "It's over, it's over, I haven't finished my work yet..."

Mo Ye patted her bottom, his voice carrying a hint of "you forgot about me" as if it were the most natural thing in the world: "Have you forgotten about your husband? I'm done."

He Wanqing lifted her head from the crook of his neck, her eyes wide with disbelief as she looked at him, her voice tinged with a mixture of heartache and reproach: "Why didn't you call me?"

Mo Ye pinched her little nose, his voice as gentle as if he were coaxing a child: "You're tired, but I can manage on my own."

Looking at him, He Wanqing felt something melt inside her, warm and soft.

She nestled back into his arms, her voice muffled: "You like your job?"

Mo Ye lowered his head, his lips close to her ear, his voice low and carrying a hint of ambiguity that only she could understand: "I like doing your job."

He Wanqing's face flushed again, but instead of pushing him away, she hugged him even tighter.

Her voice was as soft as a feather brushing against water: "How much do you like it?"

Mo Ye laughed, a muffled laugh near her ear, carrying a hint of seriousness, a hint of joke, and a hint of certainty: "I'll work for you... for the rest of my life."