The Sweetheart He Raised Turned Dark
The year her only guardian passed away, thirteen-year-old Mo Qinghan met He Zheyu, who went by the alias "Sanye." From that moment on, she took root in He Zheyu’s heart. At nineteen, she became his wo
Mo Qinghan stood in front of the presidential suite, gripping the room card so tightly that it seemed the sweat from her palm might soak it through. The battle between “enter” and “don’t enter” raged in her mind, but in the end, “enter” emerged victorious.
She slowly opened the door, took a deep breath, and let it out just as slowly. It was just a thin barrier, she told herself. If it could save a life, she would profit from it as well.
The lighting in the room was dim; only a desk lamp was on. By its glow, Mo Qinghan could see the silhouette of a man in a bathrobe standing before the floor-to-ceiling window.
She hesitated before greeting him, “Mr. He, thank you for your generosity?”
He Zheyu, still facing the window, remained silent, ignoring her presence. Mo Qinghan felt lost, her hands clenching her dress at her sides to mask her nerves.
“Generosity?” He Zheyu finally echoed, letting out a brief, dry laugh. “This is something you’re trading your future for. What generosity? It’s just a transaction.”
Mo Qinghan was stung by his words. Nobody liked to be treated as a commodity, but she forced a nonchalant tone. “Then, as your merchandise, may I borrow your bathroom? After all, the smells from the subway and bus might lower my value.”
Only then did He Zheyu turn to glance at her, his gaze cold. “As you wish. If I were you, I’d finish my job first.”
Mo Qinghan was taken aback, stunned for a moment before replying, “Alright, as you wish. If you don’t mind the smell of my sweat.”
She spoke as she walked toward the bedroo