Young Master Mo, Are You Done Kissing?

Mo Jingshen recovered very quickly. Perhaps after sleeping for two months without moving, his wounds had a lot of more room to heal, unlike before when his wounds were easily torn up.

Except that he was a little thinner, he was no different from before.

He remained as cold and dignified as she remembered. He was still the man she was familiar with.

The only difference was that he stopped smiling at her, and his eyes no longer stopped at her. Even if they were sitting in the same plane, even if they were sitting in the same row and he was right beside her, she felt he was far, far away from her.

After a while, Ji Nuan suddenly laid her hand on his leg, and the man, who had closed his eyes, opened them and stared at her coldly. “What are you doing?”

She looked at her hand on his lap, then at his apparently unhappy look, and pursed her lips. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

Although there was plenty of room in the first class, he, tall and long-legged, sat on the outside of the aisle, and she couldn’t get out unless he moved.

Mo Jingshen looked at her again and moved his leg.

Ji Nuan withdrew her hand awkwardly. As she got up, the plane passed an area of turbulence and suddenly bumped. Perhaps unintentionally or deliberately, she stumbled and fell into his arms. Though she could stabilize her body, she still put her hands on his legs. At the same time, she leaned forward and almost fell into his arms, and their faces were only a finger apart.

At such a close distance, he looked at her deadpan. Her heart was pounding, but she said calmly, “Sorry, I lost my footing.”

Mo Jingshen: “…”

Before getting up, she deliberately pressed her hand hard on his leg, touching his “golden thigh” to her heart’s content—which she had not been allowed to lately—before she turned to go to the bathroom not far from the first-class cabin.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she forced a smile. Feeling that the smile didn’t look good, she pulled the corners of her mouth up with her hands and didn’t put down her hand until a satisfied smile appeared on her face.

They were going back to Hai City, to their original world, to their original life.

Divorce? Of course, she wouldn’t get divorced.

But she had been so alienated by him that she seemed unable to maintain the status quo. In this marriage, what mattered was not dignity, pride, or self-esteem. He had done so much for her, both when she knew and when she didn’t know. Not long ago, he had almost died for her. If she easily gave up and left him, she would fail him, as well as herself.

Anyway, they were husband and wife, which was a reasonable and legal relationship. At the worst, she would chase him from behind. If he retreated, she would step forward; if he were cold, she would be warm; if he avoided her, she would take the initiative; if he were expressionless, she would smile at him.

As Mrs. Mo, it was perfectly legal and legitimate for her to get into his bed!

As long as she took the initiative, he could not, however powerful, take away the title of Mrs. Mo from her unless she agreed to divorce.

Ji Nuan smiled at the mirror again. She didn’t go out until she felt her smile was natural and beautiful.

When she returned to her seat, she passed him as he rose and looked up at his stern face. She suddenly stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear when no stewardesses were passing by. “Honey, after several days of pondering, I’ve finally come to a decision.”

After hearing her call him “Honey,” he coldly glanced at her as if looking at a madwoman.

As she had made up her mind to win him back, she wouldn’t give up easily, so she still smiled and looked into his dark, placid eyes, whispering, “I’ve decided… I won’t agree to divorce you even if you put a knife to my neck.”

Hearing her words, he gave her a sharp look. Without waiting for him to speak, she went back into her seat, fastened her seatbelt, and picked up a magazine to read, eager to fly back to Hai City.

Mo Jingshen didn’t say anything. He certainly didn’t plan to discuss their divorce on the plane.

After reading the magazine for a while, Ji Nuan patted him from time to time, asking him to get a glass of water, a blanket, or a headset for her. She spoke to him almost every half hour. Although the man ignored her, Ji Nuan still patted his hand after half an hour as if he had never rejected her.

Mo Jingshen’s eyes grew a little colder. He looked at her.

“I haven’t studied French. I don’t understand these words. Don’t you know many languages? What does this paragraph mean?” Ji Nuan asked, solemnly placing the magazine before him and pointing to the French passage on the last page.

Seemingly annoyed by her clumsy acting skill and stupid pickup lines, he had no intention of speaking to her.

“Help me translate it into Chinese. It’s not very long, two or three sentences at most,” she asked again, pointing to the passage in French.

Mo Jingshen looked at the part she pointed to, his eyes deep and unfathomable, but he didn’t translate it for her.

It was about three hours from the plane’s landing in Hai City, and Ji Nuan had been looking at the French passage. Across the aisle sat a French student with a Chinese to French dictionary in his hand. Ji Nuan borrowed the dictionary from him and looked up word by word.

In the end, she took a pen and wrote down the translation on her boarding pass.

Quoi qu’il se passe, si une personne t’aime réellement, elle reviendra toujours avec le temps.

No matter what happens, if someone really loves you, with time, he/she will come back eventually.

Ji Nuan returned the dictionary to the French student and set before Mo Jingshen’s eyes what she had just written.

She looked at him with bright eyes. “Did I translate it correctly?”

Mo Jingshen glanced at the neat line of words she had written on the boarding pass and kept silent, but his eyes remained cold. When she drew near him and asked again, he looked at her with a look like a knife that would cut her, saying indifferently, “It has many meanings. Self-sentimental people often translate a very simple sentence into an extremely romantic one. Generally speaking, self-sentimental people are pathetic.”

The smile on Ji Nuan’s lips spread instead of fading away. “It is better to be sentimental than impersonal.”