Yan Xinxin gazed at Mo Chuxi in a daze, his brows, his features—there seed to be a profound shadow of him in her mory, but...
"Hiss..."
Yan Xinxin lowered her head, raising her hand to cradle her head.
It hurts.
So painful.
It felt like her nerve endings were being pulled tight, tangling the images in her mind into chaos, along with a cacophony of fragnted sounds...
"Yan Xinxin?"
Mo Chuxi looked at her with a mixture of concern and confusion.
But when he saw her torn dress and the wound on her forehead, his heart burned with the desire to rip Xiao Yiran, that beast, to shreds!
That vile man—he would make him pay dearly for what he did, sooner or later!
"Leave, I need to be alone..."
Yan Xinxin raised a hand to push Mo Chuxi away, then turned over on the bed, curling into a ball with the blanket in her arms.
Her thoughts... everything was in disarray.
Am I Mu Qianyuan?
Am I really her?
But then why does the test with Mu Qianshui show we’re not a match?
Could it be that sibling tests aren’t accurate enough?
But if I really am Mu Qianyuan, then what is Ye Lirong talking about?
Why did she choose to tell all this now?
Why? Why!
Yan Xinxin pulled the blanket up to shield herself, retreating into the dark—a space that, at this mont, gave her a comforting sense of closure.
She couldn’t figure it out.
And even less did she know how to face it all. If she truly was Mu Qianyuan, how was she supposed to face everyone...
Ti slipped away quietly.
The night deepened.
Yan Xinxin woke from her drowsiness, opening her eyes to find her head pounding.
It felt as if she’d just dread about a little boy who looked exactly like a young Mo Chuxi. In the dream, she would sweetly call him "Brother Xi."
She slowly sat up, raising a hand to support her heavy head.
If I really am Mu Qianyuan, why do I have no mories of the past—only these fragnted glimpses, halfway between dreams and reality?
Could it be that I... have amnesia?
Frowning in confusion, she suddenly noticed a hand reaching toward her.
She flinched slightly, her peripheral vision catching sight of a familiar, striking figure.
Mo Chuxi pressed his palm to Yan Xinxin’s forehead to check her temperature.
Feeling the normal warmth, he relaxed and withdrew his hand slowly.
"Get up and eat sothing. If you’re not in the best ntal state, it could affect the competition."
He spoke gently.
"I’m looking forward to seeing Mrs. Mo standing on stage to receive her award."
Yan Xinxin’s heartbeat trembled for a mont, but her expression remained calm and composed, as if unruffled.
She didn’t lift her head to look at him, nor did she say a word.
"If you don’t want to speak to your husband, then starting now, just treat as your boss, hmm?"
Mo Chuxi compromised, yielding again and again.
For him, nothing felt more agonizing than Yan Xinxin’s utter disregard for him at this mont.
"I’ll step out briefly and return soon."
With that, he turned and left.
Yan Xinxin soon heard the sound of the door opening and closing. It took her a while to co to her senses.
When she sat up, she realized her clothes had been changed, and the wound on her forehead caused by Xiao Yiran’s deranged shove had been bandaged.
Dragging her feet, she walked to the living room and was surprised to find a bouquet of red roses placed on the sofa, alongside a box of red velvet cake.
She slowly approached the sofa, sank down, and reached for the bouquet of red roses.
roses, still 88.
What exactly does 88 signify?
Yan Xinxin pondered in confusion, intending to look it up on her phone. But as she turned, vivid mories that didn’t belong to "Yan Xinxin" flared up in her mind.
Her heartbeat spiked, and her hands let go.
The bouquet of roses fell to the floor, her pupils dilating in shock!
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