MW CH50

Chapter 50: Yours, All Yours

Wanting to be a jewelry designer started with my grandma.

She had this jewelry box—stuffed with treasures she adored. Emerald earrings, ruby brooch, sapphire ring… Said Grandpa got them all for her. Loved her, so he spared no effort buying stuff to make her smile.

“Men who like someone buy them jewelry.” Old lady sat at her vanity, elegant in an embroidered qipao, slipping on a rich purple jade necklace while chatting me up. “Your dad? Never even got your mom a sesame-sized diamond. Saw right through him—he didn’t care. Grandpa, on his deathbed, still grabbed my hand, told me to buy a necklace I liked—said I’d look pretty…”

I dangled my legs on her bed. “Did Mom like jewelry too?”

Her wistful look faded—she grinned at me in the mirror. “Who doesn’t love something this gorgeous?”

Say what you will about her blunt take on deadbeats—it hit kid-me hard.

One: Jewelry makes people happy. Grandma loved pretty things; Mom would too.

Two: A man in love gifts jewelry.

A jolt snapped me from shallow sleep—Shannan landing.

Grabbed my bag, stood outside the airport, antsy for a ride. Waited ages—no driver took the job.

Didn’t expect snagging a car from Shannan to Cuoyansong this late would suck so bad. Pulled the “cash talks” card—triple the rate—finally hooked a guy.

Took too long—hit Pengge past eleven.

Yan Chuwen was up, left the door cracked.

“Bad luck—power’s out, been hours.” He led with a flashlight, opened my room. “Why’re you hugging a plant?”

“Keeps not blooming—brought it for Mochuan to fix.” This orchid rode with me from Haicheng—seen some shit.

By flashlight, I unzipped my suitcase, swept essentials into my backpack, slung it on, waved at Yan Chuwen, and bolted for the temple.

Guess I’m used to Cuoyansong’s altitude now—first time climbing Pengge’s steps, I’d pant. Now? Flat ground.

Checked the time mid-climb—ten minutes to midnight at the temple gate. Eased up, fixed my collar, ran a hand through my hair, sniffed myself—no funk, just laundry scent from airport-fresh clothes.

Old wall-flipping habit kicked in—started that way, then backtracked. Gate was ajar, like I’d half-seen.

Cradling the orchid, I nudged it open—second shock hit. Summer night, hall windows half-up, dim candlelight spilling out. Like Deer King’s Birthday—Mochuan knelt before the golden statue, still awake this late.

Not his style.

Watching his back, my chest stirred—checked my phone: 11:51.

He’s… waiting for me?

Thought hit—I pushed the hall door. Like outside, it gave easy.

Guy deep in meditation a second ago whipped around—shock too raw to hide, mixed with waited-forever relief.

“Up this late—waiting for me?” Dropped my pack and plant—straightened up, got swallowed in a hug.

He pulled me in tight, arms locking my waist and back—felt like he’d fuse my bones into his.

“You’re back.” A sigh—no questions about my “can’t make it” flip.

He waited. Right then, I knew—he waited.

Even knowing I might miss the 1st, he stubbornly held out, banking on a miracle. Me, racing through the night, kept my promise—made his miracle real.

Sat in the flickering hall, I showed Mochuan my “treasures” one by one. First: the orchid.

“Remember this?” Held it up, grand intro with my free hand. “Your dorm orchid—I saved it from Yan Chuwen. Look—sick, right? Bloomed under Grandma’s care years back, but lately? Nada, won’t even grow.”

He took it, checked the leaves, sniffed the soil—quick verdict. “You poured tea water on it?”

Grinned, sheepish. “Kept it at the studio—someone probably did.”

“Orchids need airy, loose soil, moist vibes—too cold or hot screws them. Haicheng’s no good for it.” Set it aside. “I’ll repot it tomorrow—few months, it’ll bloom next year.”

“Knew it—environment’s off.” Dug into my pack, pulled the next biggie—handed it over.

“This…” Mochuan froze, taking the golden dragon plushie—recognition hit. “Orange.” Nailed the name.

“Zhao Chenyuan’s crew is rebooting Quiz Island—game’s not live yet, but he knew I loved it, so he snagged me this official merch. Gave it to me over food last week.” Per Zhao, test servers made one dragon egg for rarity—not even he had it. I drew it—stuck with him.

Flicked the dragon’s horn. “Eight years—our little family’s back together.”

Mochuan ran a hand down its furry spine—gentle, loving, like it was alive, not some mass-produced toy.

“Shutdown days, my foster dad was fading—knew he wouldn’t last, called me back to Cuoyansong.” Eyes dropped, lost in memory. “Held my hand, gave me the whole Cenglu clan—made me swear not to abandon them.”

Sudden laugh. “He knew—I was done with it all. Why no family? No name? Why can’t I be selfish, love just one person…”

He grabbed my hand, thumb tracing the red scar on my palm. “You were the first to say I’m not wrong—live how I want.” Pressed my hand to his lips, kissed soft.

Fingers curled—itchy, heart-thumping.

Wanted to kiss back hard—tangle tongues, bite lips, swap spit, lock fingers… Not yet—more “treasures” to go.

“Our fate’s set from the start.” Touched his face, tamped down the urge, pulled back, dug in my pack. “Big test server—thousands of players—yet we clicked.”

“If you hadn’t passed my friend request, we wouldn’t be here.” Pulled out the third gift—foam-wrapped jewelry box.

Tore it open—his words stopped me cold. “I knew it was you from the start.”

Looked up, stunned. “You knew?”

Mochuan, calm as hell. “Saw it by accident.” Added, “That camping trip… with Ming Zhuo. Your phone kept blaring game music—annoying. Tried shutting it off, saw it.”

Still reeling—that early?

“You knew ‘Hard-to-Pronounce Name’ was me, added me, married me? Back then, we… weren’t cool, right?” Last bit faltered—first time I wasn’t sure.

Were we? Guess so—fought over Ming Zhuo that night.

Flip it—if I’d known MK was him early, I’d have ditched the game, not friended him.

He thought. “You didn’t know it was me anyway.”

No big tone, face blank—but it stung.

“If Yan Chuwen hadn’t spilled you’re MK, you’d never tell me?”

No straight answer—fingertips brushed my box. “What’s this?”

Glanced down, opened it slow. “Necklace I made for you.”

Inside: third necklace inspired by him—gold-red, Immortal, my undying flame for him.

“This stone…” He touched it, clocked the red spinel. “The one you showed me?”

“Yeah—from Feather of God.” Took it out, stood to put it on him.

Final piece—I added a short gold chain tassel on the back, three-carat ruby drop. Front or back, no angle’s dull.

First wear—I went reverse: chain looped his neck once, tassel forward, pendant dangling back to his waist.

Stepped back, held my breath—took it in.

Third time’s the charm—my necklace found its true owner. Watched him glow unreal and holy in candlelight, eyes heating up.

“My third design for you. First was Pinewood Stream—won big globally. Tons wanted it—I wouldn’t sell, wouldn’t let anyone wear it. They snuck it on—I smashed it in a rage. They didn’t get me—don’t need them to.” Voice hoarse. “I know what I’m doing.”

He fingered the neck tassel. “Second’s Feather of God?”

“Yeah.”

“This one?”

“Immortal.”

He chewed on it. “Immortal…”

Knelt beside him, traced the necklace’s lines like a feather. “Like it?”

“Love it.” Eyes down, firelight shadowing them deep. “This is mine—not Pinjia’s, just mine. When I die, it sinks with me into Bazhai Sea—no one else gets it, no one takes it.”

Paused—looked at me, serious. “You too—you’re mine. No one takes you.”

Why’s his cold, bossy claim so damn cute? If I were a cheating sleaze, he’d be helpless—quietly hurt, max punishment just forgetting me. Heart melted.

“Yours—all yours.” Couldn’t hold back—leaned in, kissed him.

Quick one—night’s long, more gifts later… after this.