Chapter 293: Mo Jingshen’s Eyes Were Deep, Dark, and Full of Warning

Translator: Henyee Translations  Editor: Henyee Translations

In the evening, she still had to deliver food to Mo Jingshen.

This time, Ji Nuan couldn’t avoid this by burning her hand. Aqib told Dali to follow her from morning till night, and the only thing Ji Nuan could do was to observe Dali’s habits.

Dali would drink at lunch and dinner every day, but he didn’t drink much, nor take naps or pass out, giving her any chance to escape. No wonder Aqib trusted him; he was a very cautious and disciplined man.

The old woman redid the gauze on Ji Nuan’s hand, but her dressing was unprofessional. The burn on the back of Ji Nuan’s hand, mixed with the color of herbal ash, looked even worse. Luckily, her hand was wrapped in white gauze, or else even she couldn’t bear to look at it.

As soon as Ji Nuan’s figure appeared in Mo Jingshen’s cabin, she saw the man who had been sitting by the wall during the day, standing at the window. He leaned his back against the wooden sill and glanced coldly at her as she entered the door.

Since he was still able to get up, it seemed that the water she had forced on him in the morning had done him a little good. At least he wasn’t completely dehydrated.

Dali and those people still stood outside, watching.

Without saying a word, Ji Nuan took the wooden tray in and took out the two bowls inside, then looked at Mo Jingshen and told him with her eyes to eat.

Mo Jingshen stood still, looking at her.

His eyes were light black, cold, and bright, and as Dali’s eyes fixed upon Ji Nuan’s eyes, Mo Jingshen’s eyes became deep, dark, and full of warning.

Ji Nuan had understood that he was implying for her to be careful and not to try to save him from here or do anything suspicious.

He was telling her to protect herself.

Ji Nuan calmly looked at the food on the table, picked up the chopsticks and bowls, and walked towards him.

Mo Jingshen looked at her without moving.

She was thinking that if she had not been caught here, she might still be with Feng Ling and Nan Heng, waiting for the best time to rescue him.

Now that she, too, was already in the lurch, and was on the same boat with him, her first duty was not to protect herself but to make him eat.

He had been eating nothing for four days, and if he remained like this, her baby wouldn’t have a father.

Mo Jingshen’s eyes grew colder and colder as Ji Nuan approached him with the bowl in her hand.

She knew the impasse they were facing. She would be in serious trouble whether he ate or not, but it was another story if he was force-fed. After all, his strength should be no match for hers now. He could not stop her if she force-fed him, and Dali wouldn’t be suspicious.

She took some rice with chopsticks and put it to his mouth. However, he was still as he had been when she fed him water in the morning, standing still with his lips pursed.

Ji Nuan gestured at him, which was meant to show Dali that she was telling him that if he didn’t eat the food, she would be killed. Again, she pressed her hands together and begged him to eat.

Mo Jingshen looked at her coldly, gave a sudden sneer, took one of the wooden chairs, and sat down. After sitting down, he remained silent.

A strange show seemed to be staged in this large room, silent yet extremely dangerous. The actors would be doomed in case of any carelessness.

Ji Nuan ate a mouthful of the meal herself, chewed it, and opened her mouth to produce a sound like a real mute as if telling him that the meal was clean, that she had made it herself and that it was not poisonous.

Sitting on the wooden chair, Mo Jingshen raised his hand and was about to knock over another bowl on the table beside him, when he was caught by a very feeble force.

He turned his head only to see her burned hand was clutching tightly at the corner of his coat.

His eyes looked up coldly at her.

Ji Nuan moved her lips, carefully protecting the bowl from being knocked over by him. The situation was so tense that she could hear Dali and those men laughing and talking in Cambodian, with a burst of occasional mocking laughter.

They had guns in their hands; they had the power of life and death here, so they could watch outside as if they were watching a scene from a play.

But Ji Nuan and Mo Jingshen’s lives were hanging by a thread here. The slightest carelessness could lead to a fatal result.

How could she make this play a success?

How could she make an unreasonable man relent and eat the food?

She suddenly put down the bowl in her hand and knelt down slowly under his icy stare.

When he saw her suddenly knelt down, the corners of his eyes twitched, but in an instant, he still looked at her expressionlessly. His hand, however, suddenly clutched the armrest of the chair in the dark. He clenched his slender fingers harder and harder; his knuckles turned white, but his face remained expressionless.

Ji Nuan was crying, begging and kneeling as Dali looked on from the outside. Since Mo Jingshen still refused to eat even though the woman they caught had got on her knees, it seemed that this woman did have nothing to do with him. Perhaps she was not even Chinese. After all, if they were both Chinese, he would probably be sympathetic toward her.

It seemed that Mo Jingshen was not only a man with extraordinary perseverance but also a cold fish. Even such a beautiful, poor woman couldn’t move him.

Seeing that he remained unmoved, Dali went in and placed the gun directly on Ji Nuan’s head. Ji Nuan, still on her knees, did not dare to move.

Dali pointed the gun at her forehead, taunting in English, “Are you sure you won’t eat the food, Mr. Control? Then it seems that this woman is useless indeed. Since you hate her so much, how about I just kill her right in front of you?”

He smiled very coldly. His look and his tone were unconcerned. “Really?”

Dali put his finger on the trigger, glancing at Mo Jingshen’s cold look and asking, “Kill her or not?”

Mo Jingshen looked down. Without looking at Ji Nuan, he said with a straight face, “Then just kill her.”

Hearing this, Dali narrowed his eyes.

Ji Nuan sat stiffly on her knees, Dali’s gun pointing at her forehead.

She didn’t move, nor did Dali. And the man in the wooden chair didn’t even lift his eyelids.

The room was silent for a few seconds.

Suddenly, Dali’s mouth curved into a low chuckle. He suddenly withdrew the gun and put it back on his waist. “Mr. Control, you’re really coldhearted. Even such a delicate and pretty woman can’t move you.”

Then Dali suddenly bent down and pinched Ji Nuan’s chin with his dirty fingers. “You trash, you wouldn’t be alive today if Auntie hadn’t been so weak lately that she needs your help with the cooking.”

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