Chapter 67

Chapter 67: Sharing a Bed

What… what was this?

Slowly, horribly, reality assembled itself: somehow she, Song Wei Chen—innocent, harmless, already spoken for—had ended up in Sunless Residence, in the same bed as Mo Ting Feng.

Worse, she was in his arms.

They were still dressed, but it didn’t matter. The intimacy alone was enough to make her want to vanish through the floor.

This is it, she thought numbly. My reputation is dead. My virtue went with it.

She covered her face, refusing to accept the world.

Mo Ting Feng’s voice came low and rough beside her. “When I woke up last night, I saw you unconscious on the floor. I carried you back to bed. Did you hurt yourself anywhere?”

For once, he sounded… almost careful.

He hadn’t meant to take advantage of her. After he regained consciousness, he had endured the heart-eating backlash just to lift her onto the bed—and then he’d passed out again. When Gu Yu knocked this morning, he’d only just awakened, and at some point he had pulled her into his arms without even realizing it.

Even after taking medicine, the he dong still churned beneath his skin.

Song Wei Chen felt his breath against her ear. Heat crawled up her neck. She tried to shove away, desperate to escape.

Mo Ting Feng only held tighter.

Whether it was stubbornness or weakness, one truth remained: he didn’t want to let her go.

“Wei Wei…” His throat bobbed. “I’m sorry. That sachet may have been… wrong. Last night I lost control.”

He hesitated, as if the next words burned. “I’ll take responsibility.”

Song Wei Chen went stiff.

Responsibility? For what? Who asked you to take responsibility?

And if the sachet was the problem, what’s your excuse for holding me like this right now?

She forced herself to breathe and shoved at his chest. “It was just a kiss. You don’t need to take responsibility.”

“Just a kiss?”

Mo Ting Feng’s eyes darkened. In one swift movement, he braced himself above her and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to face him.

“Song Wei Chen. Do you think I’m that casual?” His voice sharpened. “Or are you the one who’s that casual?”

Song Wei Chen stared at him, dumbfounded.

He was the one who’d assaulted her, and now he looked like she’d stolen something precious from him.

Robber logic.

She swallowed down the urge to scream. She only wanted out—out of the bed, out of the room, out of this nightmare.

“Let go,” she said tightly. “Whether I’m casual has nothing to do with you. Pretend it never happened. I won’t tell your fox sister. I won’t tell Cang Yue either.”

The moment she said Gu Cang Yue’s name, Mo Ting Feng’s body went rigid.

His grip loosened.

His mouth twisted into something that almost resembled a smile, except it hurt. He released her and got out of bed, standing with his back to her, hands clasped behind him.

His voice turned cold again, sharp enough to cut. “Since you’re so casual, it’s laughable for me to insist on taking responsibility.”

He paused, then added with cruel calm, “Fine. Get dressed and come out. You need to meet He Ran and Wu Jiu. You’re using Sang Pu’s identity now.”

He turned his head, gaze mocking and bitter at once. “Song Wei Chen, listen carefully. We slept in the same bed last night. By now, the manor already knows.”

His words fell like stones. “Whether you want it or not, Sang Pu being Mo Ting Feng’s woman is now a fact. Don’t think you can pretend none of this happened.”

He left.

Song Wei Chen sat there, shaking with rage.

So that was it. Rumor as a leash. Public pressure as a cage.

If this reached Gu Cang Yue’s ears…

She grabbed a pillow and hurled it at the door. “You did that on purpose!”

He just couldn’t stand anyone else being kind to her. He couldn’t stand her having even a moment of peace.

Fine.

If he wanted a fight, she would give him one.

“It’s you who forced me to oppose you,” she muttered, teeth clenched, rebellion crackling in her bones.

After a quick cleanup, Mo Ting Feng went to his study. Ding He Ran and Ye Wu Jiu had been waiting for a long time.

The two men bowed the moment he entered. Ding He Ran’s expression was practically glowing with gossip. “Congratulations, my lord!”

Mo Ting Feng’s face remained blank. His mind was still caught on Song Wei Chen’s resistance—how she’d clung to the idea that none of it mattered, as if what happened between them was nothing.

The same as a thousand years ago, he thought bitterly. The same fickleness. The same ease.

“Congratulations for what?” he asked coolly.

Ding He Ran had been ready to burst with it—how the whole manor had been buzzing since last night, how the Dust Warden Official had acted intimate with a breathtaking miss at the rouge shop and even said something as shameless as my person, how they’d walked home hand in hand without a care for witnesses… a spectacle Dust Warden Manor hadn’t seen in a thousand years.

And then today, Ding and Ye had arrived on schedule and waited and waited. In the end, they’d had to ask Gu Yu—who was waiting nearby to serve Sang Pu when she woke—only to learn the Dust Warden Official had spent the night in Sunless Residence.

A true case of spring nights being too short, morning coming too late.

But looking at Mo Ting Feng now—cold, distant, not a trace of lovesick softness—Ding He Ran swallowed the gossip and pivoted hard.

“Congratulations, my lord,” he said quickly. “We found a lead on what’s inside the soul lamp!”