Chapter 47 For us She bit me last night
The street lights stretched Song Xingran's shadow very long. He leaned against the front of the black Corvette, the cigarette between his fingertips flickering in the night.
Ming Yang stood at the door of the coffee shop. There was a distance of three meters between them, but it felt like there was an entire galaxy between them.
"Song Xingran?"
The man didn't respond, but rather slowly put out his cigarette on a roadside trash can. The metal lighter flipped between his fingers, making a crisp "click."
He wore a black tight vest and a gray motorcycle jacket, which accentuated his shoulder line. The Patek Philippe watch on his left wrist shone coldly under the streetlight.
Song Xingran exhaled a smoke ring, and sparks drew arcs in the darkness.
"Chat?"
Ming Yang refused: "We have nothing to talk about."
"Regarding my wife's matter, I think it is necessary." Song Xingran stood up straight, and his leather jacket made a slight friction sound as he moved.
He was half a head taller than Ming Yang, and the shadow he cast completely covered the other person.
Ming Yang stroked the three remaining sandalwood beads on his wrist: "Does Wen Mu know that you came to see me?"
Song Xingran chuckled and crushed the cigarette butt into a roadside trash can. "She knows I have training tonight."
He deliberately emphasized the word "training." "Unfortunately, someone forced me to change my plans at the last minute."
"You're following me?"
"Do you need it?" Song Xingran pulled his phone out of his pocket. On the screen was a photo of Ming Yang and Wen Mu sitting across from each other in a cafe. "I've always been aware of my wife's schedule."
Ming Yang's expression changed: "Are you monitoring her?"
“It’s protection.”
Song Xingran corrected, tapping the screen to switch to the next photo. Wen Mu was standing at the door, bending down and stroking Jiayou's head.
"For example, this one she sent me just ten minutes ago."
Ming Yang's pupils contracted.
The man looked at his reaction with satisfaction and continued, "She ate the dumplings I made today. Even though I put too much salt in them, she finished them all."
He took a step forward and lowered his voice, "Do you know why?"
“Because I made it myself.”
"The night she had a fever, I rushed back from Brussels overnight. My knuckles are still blue."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Ming Yang's voice began to become unstable.
"I'm not interested in your married life."
"ha!"
The man laughed out loud, his eyes suddenly sharp.
"Do you believe what you said?"
"To be honest, I don't want to share my life with my wife with you at all."
"But in order to make you give up, I have to make a sacrifice."
"Wen Mu is my wife now. She sleeps in my bed, wears the ring I gave her, and even her dog calls me dad."
He chuckled.
"Who do you think you are?"
"Do you still want to be a mistress and seduce my wife?"
"Get as far away as you can."
Ming Yang clenched and unclenched his fists: "At least I once made her heart beat."
"Heartbeat?" Song Xingran seemed to have heard something funny. "You mean the time when you pretended to like her in order to get the offer from MIT?"
"On March 12, 2021, you received an exchange acceptance letter from MIT. On March 15, you asked Wen Mu to go to the observatory for the last time, but disappeared without even saying goodbye."
"You're investigating me?" Ming Yang forced a cold smile. "Is this how the Ningchuan Song family behaves?"
"You dare to call yourself a scholar? I think you are a villain."
Song Xingran smiled and threw the cigarette butt into the trash can. The metal lighter made a crisp sound as it slid into his trouser pocket.
"No."
"This is certainly not the Song family's style."
"That's my style."
He seemed a little hot, so he unbuttoned his jacket one by one, then took it off and draped it over his wrist.
Ming Yang's gaze lingered on the jacket for a second, and he was suddenly stunned.
"Ah," Song Xingran noticed his gaze and explained enthusiastically, "This is a birthday gift from my wife. She specially had it custom-made and flew it over to me."
"I think it looks great, what do you think?"
The person opposite didn't say anything, but his clenched fists were shaking.
The man smiled even more happily, revealing his fangs, but his smile was not cute, but full of aggression.
"Well, my wife has a good taste in clothes, doesn't she?"
"Alas." He sighed with feigned regret, "But someone as short-sighted as you probably wouldn't be able to see that."
"Mr. Ming, I advise you to hide your tail. Otherwise, I won't be able to cover up your ugly deeds."
Ming Yang's face turned pale instantly: "How could you..."
"Don't worry about how I know," Song Xingran interrupted him, "Just remember, as long as you behave yourself, I won't cause you any trouble."
"After all, my wife always tells me to do one good deed every day."
The night wind ruffled their hair.
Ming Yang suddenly laughed too: "So you checked me out? Because you're not confident? Are you afraid that Wen Mu still likes me?"
Song Xingran's eyes turned cold: "I'm investigating you because someone is harassing my wife."
"Harassment?" Ming Yang took a step forward. "She accepted the flowers I gave her. She drank the coffee I gave her. If this is considered harassment—"
"She thought it was a gift from a kind student."
"Just like five years ago, she thought you really liked her, not just for that letter of recommendation."
A knife stabbed directly into Ming Yang's most vulnerable part.
His expression twisted for a moment: "What do you know? I did like her at that time!"
"So much so that you didn't even say goodbye?" Song Xingran sneered. "So much so that you didn't contact me for five years. Only when your project at MIT failed and your advisor kicked you out of the team did you remember to return to Zurich?"
Ming Yang's breathing became rapid: "Who told you?"
"Is it important?" Song Xingran glanced at his watch. "My wife should have finished her shower. She usually calls me at nine o'clock."
As if to confirm his words, the cell phone rang at the right time.
He glanced at the phone screen, raised the corners of his mouth, turned the phone over, and held it in front of the person in front of him.
The word "wife" was jumping on the screen, standing out in the night.
"Sorry, the chat is on hold. My wife called me."
The man's tone was full of unconcealed levity, and he pressed the hands-free button.
"Hey, wife."
His voice instantly softened eight degrees.
"Where are you?" Wen Mu's voice came through the speaker, with a rare softness. "The team said you're on leave today. Don't you have a race tomorrow?"
Ming Yang's body froze. He had never heard Wen Mu speak in such a tone before. It was like marshmallows coated in honey, so sweet it was sickening.
"In Silverstone." Song Xingran lied calmly, but his eyes were fixed on Ming Yang.
"Wife, I miss you."
There was a subtle sound of fabric rubbing against each other on the other end of the phone, as if Wen Mu turned over in bed: "I miss you too."
Her voice lowered. "The dumplings are delicious."
Song Xingran's smile widened: "Did you put too much salt?"
"But I ate it all," Wen Mu said softly, "Not even a crumb was left."
Ming Yang turned suddenly and bumped into a trash can on the side of the road.
"What's that sound?" Wen Mu asked.
"Wild cat." Song Xingran glanced at Ming Yang calmly, "Maybe it smelled my cigarette."
"Why did you start smoking?" Wen Mu's voice was sleepy.
"I'm just smoking for fun. I don't usually smoke, you know."
"oh."
"Will you be back next week?"
"Yes." Song Xingran's thumb gently stroked the edge of the phone, "I'll bring you some delicious macarons here."
"Pink."
"Okay." His voice was so soft that water could drip out of it. "Go to sleep. I'll listen to you sleep."
After an unknown amount of time, the sound of a woman's even breathing came from the other end of the line. Song Xingran waited for a full minute before gently hanging up. When he looked up again, the tenderness in his eyes was gone, leaving only a cold victory.
"Did you hear that?"
He put away his phone. "She even remembers how much salt I put in."
"Money, power, and love."
"How can you compare to me?"
"Oh, right."
"You may not know this yet. Teacher Wen really likes my service, and also——"
"I like me very much."
He slowly and gracefully unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt, revealing a fresh bite mark on his collarbone. "She bit me last night. She's not very strong, like a rabbit. It didn't hurt."
His fingertips followed the marks down to his chest, "It's here too."
Then down to the abdominal muscles, "And here, do you want to see the whole thing?"
Ming Yang turned his face away abruptly, his Adam's apple rolling violently: "Enough!"
Song Xingran sneered: "Can't you bear it?"
"Then what makes you think she would give up 12% of the Song Group's shares, give up the villa I prepared for her in Monaco with a view of the entire starry sky, and give up a husband who cooks for her, remembers the publication dates of every paper she has published, and has an excellent sense of service?"
"Um?"
"Why do you do that?"
Ming Yang's eyes ignited with a last glimmer of unwillingness: "Does she know you came to see me?"
He sneered, "Wen Mu hates being lied to the most. Do you dare to tell her what happened tonight?"
Song Xingran's expression froze for a moment, so fast that it was almost impossible to catch.
But Ming Yang saw it, and he kept chasing after her like she was grabbing a lifeline: "You don't dare."
"Because you know that in her heart, you and I are no different."
“They’re all liars.”
The night wind suddenly became biting.
The man slowly adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, his movements as graceful as if he were preparing for a duel.
"Do you know the difference between you and me?" he finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous.
"I lied to her so as not to upset her."
"You lied to her for your own sake."
With the engine roaring, the Corvette rushed into the night like an arrow.
In the rearview mirror, Ming Yang's figure became smaller and smaller, eventually turning into a black dot.
The phone vibrates.
Jean: [Song, will you still participate in tomorrow's test match?]
Song Xingran stared at the message for a few seconds.
Lgnis: [Participate]
He needed to calm down and think about how to confess to Wen Mu what happened tonight.
He didn't want to repeat Ming Yang's mistake - a relationship built on lies will eventually collapse.
The phone screen lit up again, and it was a message from Wen Mu:
Wife: [I dreamed about you.]
Wife: [Come back soon.]
Song Xingran stared at the message for a long time, and finally replied:
Lgnis: [I’ll be back next week]
Lgnis: I love you
After sending this message, he opened his address book, hesitated for a moment, and dialed Yu Mo's number.
"Young Master Song?" Yu Mo's voice was alert.
"I need your help." Song Xingran looked at his red eyes in the rearview mirror, "It's about Wen Mu and Ming Yang."
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds: "What do you want to know?"
"Everything." Song Xingran's voice was hoarse, "But this time, I want to tell her in person."
Ten minutes later, the man hung up the phone and pulled over to the side of the road. The night deepened, the halo of streetlights smearing across the windshield, blurring his vision. He rubbed his temples, Ming Yang's last words replaying in his mind.
"Will you tell her what happened tonight?"
He doesn't dare.
It wasn't because he felt guilty, but because he knew Wen Mu's character too well. She hated deception and concealment, and even the smallest lie would make her whole body stand up with thorns.
And now, he met Ming Yang behind her back and even deliberately lied on the phone.
His fingers tapped the steering wheel impatiently, the rhythm erratic. He remembered the night Wen Mu had a fever, how she had curled up in bed, tears silently falling, yet she still refused to tell him what had happened. She would rather bear it alone than let him share.
"You are bigger than the game. Much bigger."
He had told her this before. But now, he was the one who kept it a secret.
The engine restarted, the man stepped on the accelerator, and the black sports car blended into the night.
Ming Yang was still standing at the door of the coffee shop.
He looked down at the three remaining sandalwood beads on his wrist and suddenly yanked the string. The beads tumbled to the ground and disappeared into the darkness of the gutter.
He took out his cell phone and found a photo he had secretly taken five years ago - the profile of Wen Mu adjusting the telescope at the observatory, cold and focused.
His finger hovered over the delete key, but he didn't press it.
"You were never an option for me."
Wen Mu's voice echoed in his mind, as clear as if it were right next to his ear.
Ming Yang smiled bitterly, put his phone back into his pocket, turned around and walked in the opposite direction.
The night wind blew away his footsteps and took away the last bit of obsession.
*
The sun is shining brightly in the early morning.
Wen Mu's phone screen lit up, and Song Xingran's message popped up—
Mars Brother: [Wife, there’s a game today, remember to watch the live broadcast]
Mars Brother: [If I win, will there be a reward? ]
The corners of her mouth rose unconsciously, and she tapped the screen with her fingertips.
Jupiter: Yes.
Jupiter: [If you win, I'll cook for you when you come back.]
The opponent responded immediately.
Mars Brother: [? ]
Martian Brother: [You cook? ]
Jupiter: [Yeah.]
Mars Brother: [Wife, are you sure you are not murdering your husband? ]
Wen Mu chuckled and tapped his fingers on the screen.
Jupiter: [Forget it.]
Mars: [No, no, no! I want to eat!]
Mars Brother: [I will eat it even if I am poisoned to death! ]
She smiled, locked the screen, and looked out the window. The sun was shining brightly, and the sky over Zurich was a brilliant blue, as if washed by water.
all is well
When Wen Mu entered the lab, Ming Yang was standing in front of a data tablet, writing something down. Hearing footsteps, he glanced sideways, nodded, and then returned to his work.
No flowers, no coffee, and no deliberate conversation.
Wen Mu breathed a sigh of relief.
That's good, he listened to her.
She walked to her workstation, turned on her computer, and began processing today's observation data.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, my phone vibrated.
Mars Brother: [The game is about to begin]
Mars Brother: [Remember to watch]
She was about to reply when Schmidt's voice came from the doorway: "Luna, can you come in for a moment?"
Wen Mu looked up. The professor was holding a stack of information in his hand, his brows slightly furrowed. "There are some anomalies in the data of Kepler-13b. I need your confirmation."
She hesitated for a second and looked at her phone.
Jupiter: [We'll see later.]
That shouldn't matter, right? she thought.
Anyway, it’s just the preliminaries, Song Xingran won’t lose.
In Professor Schmidt's office, Wen Mu lowered his head to check the data, his fingertips tapping quickly on the keyboard.
"Luna." The professor suddenly said, "What are your plans for the future, you and Mr. Song?"
She was stunned for a moment: "What?"
"Your research is in Europe, and his competitions are all over the world." The professor pushed his glasses. "Being in different places isn't a long-term solution."
Wen Mu was silent for a while, then said softly, "I will look for a job in Europe."
The professor was visibly stunned. "Are you willing to give up NASA's invitation?"
"Yeah." She nodded, her tone calm, "Love requires two people to make concessions."
"He's already given me a lot."
The professor looked at her and suddenly smiled. He took out an exquisite velvet box from the drawer.
"What is this?" Wen Mu took it in confusion.
"Open it and take a look."
She lowered her head and opened the box. A crystal-carved Orion hovered on a nebula-shaped base, its interior embedded with flowing star sand, resembling a real galaxy under the light.
"This is……"
Schmidt looked at her tenderly. "A gift for the son-in-law I've never met."
"Luna, I only have a son, no daughter. In my heart, you are no different from my daughter."
"So, from the bottom of my heart, I hope you can be happy."
Wen Mu's eyes were filled with tears. There was a line of small words engraved on the base:
"To the man who stole my brightest star."
(To the person who stole my brightest star)
She couldn't help but smile, and her fingertips gently stroked the words: "Thank you."
The professor patted her shoulder and said, "Go ahead, don't miss his game."
Wen Mu stood up, but was stopped again when he touched the door handle.
"Luna."
"What's wrong, Professor?"
The old man said sternly, "I'm not trying to speak for Ming Yang. You are all my students, and I feel the same way about you."
"What he did was wrong, and you have the right to choose to forgive or not. But I hope you won't be trapped in the past."
He pointed at the Crystal Nebula and said, "Look who's picking stars and moons for you now?"
"Your husband. Mr. Song."
"I believe he is your destiny."
Wen Mu felt that only in front of the professor would she dare to admit that when she first met Ming Yang, besides being surprised, she was more afraid.
She was afraid to face herself who had been deceived in the past, afraid to face Ming Yang who had deceived her in the past, and afraid to face Song Xingran.
Her life is peaceful and happy. She will only live like this with Song Xingran and not with any other man.
But what if Song Xingran doesn’t want to?
If he knew what happened in the past, could they continue their current happy and peaceful life?
So when Song Xingran asked her why she was crying, she didn't tell the truth.
Those were one of the few times Wen Mu lied in his life.
Because of love, I am afraid of that 1% possibility.
Wen Mu felt that this was not like himself.
But after talking with Ming Yang, she felt that this was herself.
We are not as rational and calm as we seem, and there are times when we are hesitant and timid.
But in the end, she will find the right answer, end it cleanly and neatly, and protect it wholeheartedly.
Wen Mu smiled faintly: "Professor, I am not trapped."
"And I believe it too."
As she walked out of the office holding the velvet gift box, the TV at the end of the corridor was playing sports news.
She was planning to go straight back to the lab, but she caught a glimpse of glaring red out of the corner of her eye—it was the warning light of the emergency vehicle on the track.
She stopped walking.
On the TV screen, a silver-black racing car was stuck between the guardrails in a twisted posture, its front wing completely shattered, and carbon fiber fragments scattered on the asphalt road like withered petals. The car door was wide open and the driver's seat was empty.
The camera panned over the flashing ambulance on the sidelines, where medical staff were busy surrounding a stretcher.
In an instant, Wen Mu's brain froze.
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The author has something to say: I have written it many times and hope to write out this kind of Shura field confrontation feeling.
I have also read everyone’s comments on Chapter 45. Since Teacher Wen’s feelings and confession are at the end, I did not explain them to you.
This is my first time writing and there are definitely many shortcomings. I hope everyone understands! [Breaking down in tears]
Thank you all for the nutrient solution and the votes! I really appreciate it! The collection has exceeded 200!
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