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

Back home, He Wanqing changed into slippers, stood in the entryway, turned around, and looked at Mo Ye. The blush on her face had faded considerably, but a trace of pink remained on the tips of her ears.

She spoke, her voice regaining its calmness, but that calmness was like a thin layer of ice, beneath which churned with emotions that were hard to describe: "Let's go take a shower."

Mo Ye nodded and followed her into the bathroom.

The water gurgled and steam slowly spread, blurring the mirror and glass.

He Wanqing stood under the showerhead, her eyes closed, as hot water poured down from above, flowing down her hair, over her shoulders, over her waist, and over her long legs.

Mo Ye stood behind her, squeezed out some shower gel, lathered it up, and applied it to her back. His fingers slowly traced patterns on her smooth skin.

He Wanqing also turned around, stood on tiptoe, and applied foam to his chest.

The two of them washed quietly, neither of them speaking nor doing anything unnecessary.

Surprisingly, they didn't do anything out of line while taking a bath; they simply took a bath.

The water has stopped.

Mo Ye pulled over a bath towel and wrapped He Wanqing up.

He dried her off first, then dried himself off, and the two of them changed into their pajamas and walked out of the bathroom.

The two sat side by side on the sofa.

The TV was on, the volume was turned down low, and the picture flickered, like a silent film was playing.

He Wanqing nestled in Mo Ye's arms, her face pressed against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat.

Her fingers slowly traced circles on his chest, her voice soft: "Why didn't you do anything bad this time?"

Mo Ye was peeling an apple. He paused for a moment, then continued peeling.

He cut the peeled apple into small pieces, put them on a plate, stuck toothpicks in them, then pinched her cheek, his voice tinged with a mix of helplessness and doting: "If you do anything bad, tonight will be over."

He Wanqing pouted, her voice muffled, sounding like she was both being coquettish and complaining: "Fine."

Mo Ye used a toothpick to pick up a piece of apple and held it to her lips. Looking at her slightly pouting lips, his voice carried a mischievous smile and a knowing, probing question: "What's wrong? You've thought about it?"

He Wanqing was neither shy nor evasive. Instead, she nodded frankly, her voice carrying a sense of matter-of-fact honesty: "Not yesterday, and not today either."

After she finished speaking, she paused for a moment, and then her ears slowly turned red.

Why does it seem like she has an exceptionally strong desire?

She buried her face in his chest, unable to look at him.

Mo Ye smiled, a smile full of doting affection: "Since my dear wife has a need, your husband must fulfill it."

He finished the apples on the plate in a few bites, washed his hands, dried them, and came back.

He Wanqing raised her head and stretched out her hands to him.

Mo Ye bent down, put one arm around her waist and the other hand supporting her legs, and lifted her up from the sofa.

He Wanqing wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

He carried her into the bedroom and closed the door with his heel.

He Wanqing's voice soon came from the room.

The voice was initially suppressed and restrained, as if it were blocked by something, with only a tiny gap allowing those fragmented syllables to be squeezed out with difficulty from deep in the throat.

Later, I don't know when it started, the voice changed. It became no longer suppressed, no longer restrained, but like a flood that had burst its banks, pouring out continuously, both delicate and charming, with a penetrating power that made one's bones melt.

The sound penetrated the doors, the corridors, and echoed throughout the entire villa.

Several hours later, the sound finally stopped.

The room fell silent, save for the overlapping breaths of the two people, one heavy and one light, one deep and one shallow, like two intertwined tides slowly receding to reveal a damp beach.

Mo Ye reached out and brushed the wet hair from He Wanqing's forehead behind her ear, his fingertips gliding over her sweaty skin.

He Wanqing nestled contentedly in his arms, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen, and eyes half-open, like a satiated cat.

She was clearly in a good mood, and the smile on her lips was impossible to suppress.

Mo Ye looked down at her, his voice tinged with curiosity and a mischievous smile: "Wife, why are you being so uninhibited today?"

He recalled those difficult moves from earlier, those postures he wouldn't have dared to even mention before, but He Wanqing had cooperated with them all tonight, and even better than he had imagined.

He Wanqing buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled, tinged with shyness and a sense of entitlement: "Tongtong isn't here today."

Mo Ye grinned mischievously, his lips close to her ear, his voice low and seductive, filled with anticipation: "Then let Tongtong stay at her grandmother's house for a few more days from now on."

He Wanqing pursed her lips and didn't say anything, but she nodded.

She had this idea for a while.

Mo Ye washed his hands again and came back.

He Wanqing lay on the bed, so soft and boneless that she didn't even bother to move a finger.

She spoke, her voice soft and sweet, with a hint of coquettishness at the end: "Carry me to take a bath."

Mo Ye nodded, bent down and picked her up from the bed.

The bathroom door was closed.

The sound of rushing water continued for a very long time before finally stopping.

More than an hour later, Mo Ye finally came out carrying the naked He Wanqing.

He Wanqing's face turned as red as a boiled shrimp. She glared at him angrily, her eyes filled with both shame and irritation, but the alluring charm in her eyes was like a soft little hook, making one's heart itch: "You bad boy."

Mo Ye couldn't help himself in the bathroom and teased her again. She was a little embarrassed and buried her face in his neck, refusing to come out.

Mo Ye placed her on the chair in front of the dressing table, picked up the hair dryer, plugged it in, and began to dry her hair.

The hot wind was blowing, and his fingers slowly ran through her hair, drying the strands of wet hair.

He Wanqing closed her eyes, feeling so comfortable she was almost asleep.

The hairdryer stopped, and Mo Ye put it away, bent down, picked her up from the chair, and put her back on the bed.

He pulled the blanket over both of their shoulders, then lay down and pulled her into his arms.

He Wanqing's body was soft and warm, like a marshmallow just taken out of the oven, carrying the faint fragrance of shower gel and the warmth of her body temperature.

Mo Ye buried his face in the top of her head, took a deep breath, and felt his whole body enveloped by her scent, soft, fragrant, and incredibly comfortable.

He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer into his embrace.

He Wanqing was exhausted; her eyelids drooped as if filled with lead, and her vision became increasingly blurry.

Her lips moved, uttering a muffled, soft "Goodnight," like a goose feather falling onto the water's surface.

Mo Ye lowered his head and placed a very light kiss on her forehead. His lips paused for a moment before he pulled away.

His voice was soft, like a night breeze brushing across a lake: "Okay, goodnight."

The next morning, Mo Ye woke up.

He gently pulled his arm out of He Wanqing's embrace, got out of bed, put on his slippers, and went into the kitchen.

The millet porridge was bubbling away in the pot, white foam gathering and dissipating around the edge of the pot.

He fried two eggs, heated up some toast, and cut a plate of fruit.

When He Wanqing came downstairs in her nightgown, Mo Ye was just putting breakfast on the table.

Her hair was still messy, her eyes weren't fully open, and she looked dazed and languid.

She rubbed her eyes, walked behind Mo Ye, wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressed her face against his back, and said in a soft, sweet voice, "Husband~"

Mo Ye put down the millet porridge in his hand, turned around, pulled her into his arms, and rested his chin on the top of her head: "Hey, what's wrong?"