Mo Chuxi stepped forward to stand in front of her.
His tall, elegant figure stood against the backdrop of the slowly descending sunset, his deep contours irresistibly alluring.
Yan Xinxin stared at him, momentarily entranced.
"It’s not that I want to say this, but your appearance, Young Master Mo, tells me you have a story."
She spoke with a hint of jest.
"Although I don’t have wine, you can still share yours."
Listening to Yan Xinxin’s playful words, Mo Chuxi’s expression remained cold and indifferent.
"Did you just wake up from a nightmare?"
He asked, his deep, fathomless gaze locking onto her crystal-clear eyes.
The relaxed smile on Yan Xinxin’s face quickly faded.
"Was it that nightmare from five years ago?"
He continued to press her, soon noticing her delicate eyebrows knitting tightly.
Yan Xinxin turned her face slightly; fragmented and soft streaks of light illuminated her graceful profile.
"Some things can’t be forgotten just because you want to, just like how you can never truly forget Mu Qianyuan deep inside your heart."
Yan Xinxin murmured softly.
"Except yours are beautiful memories, whereas mine..."
"Then, if the man who hurt you five years ago were to appear now, what would you do?"
Mo Chuxi’s probing question made Yan Xinxin freeze in place.
She raised her eyes in astonishment, her heart suddenly trembling, then strode towards him.
"Mo Chuxi, did you find that man from back then? Is that why you’re asking me about the past today? Is it?"
Yan Xinxin’s emotions surged; her right hand suddenly seized the collar of his black shirt.
She demanded urgently, her star-like eyes filled with a complex medley of emotions that Mo Chuxi couldn’t decipher.
He lifted his hand and gently held the small hand clutching his collar.
"Although you once said you didn’t want to know about that man, in truth, you do want to, don’t you?"
Yan Xinxin froze upon hearing his words.
"Yan Xinxin, answer me—do you hate that man in your heart? Hate him so much you’d wish to kill him?"
Without a moment’s hesitation or doubt, Yan Xinxin responded resolutely and firmly.
Mo Chuxi’s heart skipped a beat. As he gazed at Yan Xinxin’s steadfast expression, his hand that was holding her small hand slowly loosened its grip.
A sharp pain inexplicably spread from his chest.
"It’s getting late; I need to go pick up Xi and the others from school."
Breaking the silence, Yan Xinxin turned to leave.
Mo Chuxi’s palm felt suddenly empty, as though something was silently slipping away.
The sunset retreated in quiet stillness.
Yan Xinxin sat in Mo Chuxi’s car and brought the two children back from the kindergarten.
Little Chenxi attended school for the first time today, and his mood seemed quite good, showing no signs of fear towards the unfamiliar environment.
As dusk fell and shadows merged.
Yan Xinxin busied herself in the kitchen, cooking dinner. As she worked, her thoughts drifted back to Mo Chuxi’s words not long ago.
If the man from five years ago were to appear, would she truly hate him enough to kill him?
At least not for Xi. She could never become a murderer.
She didn’t want her son, who already had no father, to also lose his mother. Nor did she want the little baby in her belly to grow up in a broken family.
Changing into casual clothes, Mo Chuxi stepped out of his room and saw Yan Xinxin busy in the kitchen. His gaze sharpened abruptly.
He looked at her, his heart beating erratically, involuntarily recalling a famous saying.
"When you’ve eliminated all impossible factors, whatever remains, no matter how unbelievable, must be the truth."
Suddenly, his deep, phoenix-like eyes took on a shade of blood-red.
On that night five years ago, something happened. No matter how impossible it seemed, he was now almost certain:
He, Mo Chuxi, was the very scumbag who had forced himself on Yan Xinxin back then!