Chapter 4: Rise!
off his facade, and estimated that he hadn't uncovered the traitor yet!Fu Mo'han was too lazy to pay attention to what Mu Shaocheng was thinking. The only reasons he participated in this banquet hoste...Late at night, Fu Mochen returned to the Fu Residence with exhaustion all over him.
The steward truthfully reported on Lin Jinran's situation. When he heard that Lin Jinran hadn't left Fu Mansion all day and had only left his room once, the cold sword eyebrows furrowed.
"Tomorrow, assign her some work."
"What kind of work are we arranging" The steward asked hesitantly, trying to gauge Fu Mo'han's intentions.
Fu Mo's eyes, black as ink, swept over the butler with a seemingly casual yet frigid coldness. "What use is there for you when even these trivial matters require my arrangement"
"I know, tomorrow Miss Lin will definitely be arranged." The butler shivered heavily and didn't dare to say more.
Fu Mo'han strode towards the kitchen, the butler following closely behind. He thought that because of Lin Jinran's presence, Fu Mo'han wouldn't return, so after dinner, he had the chef leave and didn't leave any leftovers.
But he didn't expect Fu Mo Han to be back, and he came to the kitchen. At this time, the housekeeper was even more uneasy, "Master, do you need to let the chef..."
"No need." Fu Mo'han knew the chef would leave some leftovers, he just ate a little, there was no need to wake the chef and have him come over again.
He single-handedly opened the fridge with swagger, his icy gaze sweeping coldly through its contents before locking onto a bowl of fried rice tucked away in the corner.
The long fingers picked up the bowl of fried rice and tossed it to the butler, "Heat it up."
The butler let out a sigh of relief, thinking the cook hadn't left any leftovers, but he had secretly prepared some behind his back.
He didn't hesitate, immediately putting the rice in the microwave. He set the timer for about a minute and brought the hot rice to Fu Mo Han's face.
At this moment, Fu Mo'han was gracefully seated at the dining table, his stern countenance intently focused on the stock trend of the Fushi Group on his laptop.
The slender fingers picked up the spoon, scooped a spoonful of fried rice, and put it in their mouth.
The rice grains are distinct and the taste is neither salty nor bland, not greasy nor dull. It's perfectly seasoned with the aromas of scallions and eggs.
The five-star chef at his house makes fried rice more skillfully than this, but the taste is always that of a hotel.
However, it had a different kind of smell. If he had to describe it, Fu Mo Han only thought of the scent of fireworks.
Like the taste grandma used to make when I was little.
"Who cooked this rice" He elegantly put down his spoon, raised his cold eyes, and stared straight at the butler standing upright in the distance.
The butler was taken aback. This wasn't made by the chef
If not a chef, then who
His oblivious expression made Fu Mo-han's black eyes sink slightly. "Find this person."
"Yes," the butler hurriedly agreed, there weren't many people in Fu Manor to begin with, and even fewer who could enter the kitchen.
Tomorrow, I will gather all the servants and ask who has been inside.
After dinner, Fu Mochen elegantly wiped the corner of his lips and put away his phone, which was monitoring stocks.
He got up and strode upstairs.
Fu Mo Han opened the bedroom door. After opening it, the puffed-up bedding in his sight caught his cold eyes, and he narrowed his eyes slightly.
Damn it, how is this woman still lying in his bed!
Is the housekeeper an idiot Why wasn't a room arranged for her!
Fu Mo's cold and sharp eyes were filled with intense heat. His face was frigid, and he strode over with heavy steps. His low and magnetic voice was laced with displeasure, "Get out!"
However, the person in bed did not move.
Fu Mo's eyes suddenly darkened like ink, his long fingers gripping the corner of the bedding and pulling with force.
The blankets covering the woman were ripped off and thrown to the ground.
His black eyes, sharp as ice, stared at the woman lying in bed. He reached out and grabbed her slender wrist, trying to throw her off the bed.
Ice-cold palms, the warmth of the wrist grasped tightly, was extremely high. Fu Mo Han's sword eyebrows furrowed deeply, he loosened her wrist, brushed aside the long hair that blocked her cheek, revealing a flushed face that entered his dark pupils.d her against the door, lowering his head once more to claim her lips, his touch urgent and demanding, seeking out the sweetness she offered. 。This time, he was no longer gentle, but a passionate inte...