“Young Master carried a woman in just now, did you guys see that?”
Just as everyone wa speculating Qiao Mianmian’s identity, Lei En entered.
The housemaids greeted him politely. “Butler Lei En.”
Lei En nodded and swept a solemn glance across the group. He announced with much conviction, “That was Young Madam, she’ll be the mistress of the Mo Residence. Anybody who shows her the slightest disrespect will be told to leave immediately. Did you get that clear?”
The housemaids could barely believe what they heard.
A few seconds later, they unanimously responded, “Yes, we got it.”
Lei En took his leave.
They quickly huddled together again.
“Gosh, that’s Young Madam?”
“So Young Master is actually married?”
“Who am I, where am I, what is going on?!”
Qiao Mianmian was very sound asleep.
She didn’t even wake up when Mo Yesi carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the bed.
On the huge, soft bed, she looked all the more petite and vulnerable.
She was all curled up comfortably, like a little kitten.
Her long hair covered half her face, but the other half of her sweet, innocent look was enough to have people adore her.
Mo Yesi sat by the bed, stroking her little face. After watching her in silence for a while, he planted a soft kiss on her lips.
The sweet scent on her lips evoked in him emotions he never thought he had.
Before she came along, he’d never known that his self-control was so weak.
He’d underestimated her attractiveness.
Perhaps, this woman really was his savior.
He was resistant to all other women, except for her.
It really seemed like god’s will—that he couldn’t accept any woman, but made her an exception.
“Qiao Mianmian.” The man’s voice was deep and quiet. “If this really is god’s will, then stay with me forever, be with me forever, and never leave.”
“I won’t ever let you leave either.”
When Qiao Mianmian woke up the next day, she found herself lying on a huge, foreign bed.
The bedroom was extravagantly furnished, every ornament and aspect of the decor was evidently costly.
The bed was completely black—black sheets, black blanket, even the lampshade of the walk lamp was black.
It was a room filled with a masculine aura.
Her clothes had been changed and she was now wearing a pastel purple silk nightgown. The material was smooth and soft and obviously expensive.
She clutched the blanket tightly as she sat up. It took her a few seconds to process what was going on.
She reached for her phone to take a look at the time and then instantly hopped off the bed.
She washed up and packed up in the shortest time possible and dashed downstairs.
The moment she reached the first floor, she saw a 50-odd-year-old man dressed in a black uniform.
Upon seeing her, the man took a step back, bowed 90 degrees, and greeted politely. “Good morning, Young Madam.”