Chapter 52: Momo, Follow Me and Feel It
Damn it, calling her “Momo” so naturally—this guy was practically a flirting pro.
Little Eight snickered. “You dummy, isn’t this a good thing? You don’t even have to take the initiative—the big boss is delivering himself right to your door.”
Happiness had come too fast. Nan Xun almost couldn’t keep the curve of her smile in check. The feeling of the big boss actively flirting with her—rather than her racking her brains to grind up his favor—was really, really good.
No, no, she had to be more reserved. She absolutely couldn’t smile.
“Fu Mo, is it too late for me to start learning now?” Nan Xun asked.
A faint smile surfaced in Fu Mo’s dark eyes, and his tone grew especially gentle. “Not late. You’re a smart girl.”
Nan Xun’s face flushed again.
Damn it, damn it—if Fu Mo kept flirting like this, she was going to lose her composure sooner or later.
Fu Mo said nothing more. He sat down directly on the piano bench, then patted the seat beside him, signaling for Nan Xun to sit next to him.
Trying to maintain her composure, Nan Xun sat down, her hands not knowing where to go.
Without any warning, Fu Mo lifted his hands and began to play the piano.
Nan Xun noticed that his fingers were long and beautiful. Those hands danced nimbly over the keys, and wherever they passed, it felt as if flowers bloomed in their wake, fragrant and intoxicating. The music rose from low to high, then slowly descended again—melodious, graceful, with a natural ebb and flow.
Nan Xun was completely absorbed. She hadn’t expected Fu Mo’s piano skills to be this good.
When the piece ended, she was still immersed in it, unable to pull herself out.
“That was amazing,” Nan Xun praised.
“Come, Momo, give me your hands,” Fu Mo suddenly said, extending his hand toward her.
Nan Xun froze for a moment, then blankly handed him her left hand.
“Both hands,” Fu Mo reminded her softly.
So she obediently handed over her other hand as well.
Fu Mo’s right arm slipped under her armpits, loosely encircling her in his arms. He was very gentlemanly, not actually touching her.
Then he carefully spread Nan Xun’s fingers open one by one, slowly placing them over his own large hand, finger upon finger, until all ten fingers overlapped.
His body temperature was lower than normal—cool, even cold.
That faint chill traveled from their touching fingers straight into her body, making her shiver involuntarily.
“Momo, follow me and feel it,” Fu Mo said in a low voice.
Nan Xun agreed, and the next moment she felt her ten fingers begin to move along with his.
He deliberately slowed the tempo, and the music shifted from lively to slow and gentle.
As they played, Nan Xun suddenly sensed a scorching gaze fixed on her profile.
She turned her head and saw that Fu Mo had somehow turned to look at her, his eyes mixed with a chilling, unsettling frenzy.
Nan Xun was startled—but when she looked again, those eyes held only a faint smile, comfortable and soothing. That terrifying glimpse just now seemed like nothing more than her imagination.
Thinking back on that fleeting look, Nan Xun suddenly felt uneasy. She sprang up from the piano bench and forced a dry smile at Fu Mo. “Fu Mo, it’s getting late. I’ll go make dinner. D-do you want some porridge? I’ll cook some.”
With that, she hurried into the kitchen.
As soon as she entered, the Void Beast’s voice rang out. “Congratulations—malice value has dropped to 80.”
“What? That fast? Compared to the Demon King from the last world, this speed is like riding a rocket!” Nan Xun was overjoyed.
It seemed he really did like her.
“Little Eight, what was the big boss doing during those few hours I was asleep?” Nan Xun asked.
The Void Beast’s answer satisfied her greatly. “He was watching you the whole time. The love in his eyes—tsk—so intense he practically wanted to eat you on the spot.”
Little Eight’s exaggerated tone delighted Nan Xun.
After she left, Fu Mo sat alone in front of the piano, his gaze dark and heavy, a cold aura gradually emanating from his body.
“Oh right, Fu Mo!” Nan Xun’s small head suddenly popped out from the kitchen doorway. She looked at the man who seemed not to have moved since earlier and reminded him, “There’s a lot of fruit in the fridge. If you get hungry, you can eat some first to tide yourself over.”
“Alright,” Fu Mo replied, the cold aura around him slowly retracting.
He suddenly curved his lips into a smile.
Those pale pink lips looked noticeably redder than before. Paired with that smile, they appeared strangely enchanting—like a blood-red spider lily blooming atop a grave, releasing a rich fragrance amid decay and rot…
The night was deep, the perfect time for dreams.
While Nan Xun slept hazily, she suddenly heard a scraping sound coming from the living room—like someone dragging something with great effort, the object so heavy that it scraped harshly across the floor.
Not long after, piano music sounded again. But this time it wasn’t pleasant—if anything, it was harsh and grating.
Nan Xun frowned, thinking to herself, What is Fu Mo doing? Making all this noise in the middle of the night instead of sleeping.
She muttered a couple of complaints and was about to get up to take a look, but just as she tried to rise, the noise-like piano music abruptly stopped, and the living room returned to silence.
So Nan Xun ignored it and went back to sleep.
In the pitch-dark living room, Fu Mo stared coldly at the little girl sitting on the piano bench. The piano had already been moved back to its original position.
The little girl looked very cute. Sitting on the piano bench, she sobbed softly. As she cried, two streams of bloody tears ran from her eyes. “Mom, I was wrong. I’ll practice properly. I won’t play around anymore.”
As she cried, her expression suddenly changed. Her face turned deathly pale, and she bared her teeth at Fu Mo, snarling viciously. “Why won’t you let me play the piano? Why won’t you let me play? Is it because I don’t play well? I practice for hours every night. I’ll get better and better. Once I play well, Mom won’t be angry anymore…”
Fu Mo narrowed his eyes slightly and cut her off. “You’re too noisy.”
“Mind your own business! This is my territory—how dare you provoke me!” the little girl raged, suddenly lunging at Fu Mo.
Fu Mo grabbed her by the throat in one swift motion and said coldly, “Courting death.”
The little girl screamed in terror. “Spare me, my lord! I won’t dare again!”
“Too late.” Fu Mo closed his hand.
The little girl let out a shrill scream as her body rapidly shrank. Then he casually tossed her into his mouth. His throat bobbed once—she was swallowed.
With a sweep of his arm, the piano and bench flew up and gently settled back into their original position.
Looking at the cold, white piano sitting in the living room, Fu Mo suddenly recalled the scene of the two of them playing together there during the day.
Something stirred in his heart, and he sat down in front of the piano.
In her sleep, Nan Xun heard piano music again—but this time it was slow and beautiful, a feast for the ears.
She listened intently for a long while before finally confirming that she wasn’t dreaming—someone really was playing the piano in the living room.
