Breaking Defense! After Losing My Memory, I Was Spoiled to Heaven by My Yandere Ex-Husband

Once again, Wen Yusheng found himself feeling both frustrated and resigned—burnt on the outside, tender on the inside.

“Is this really my style?” he asked, looking at the brightly coloured clothes laid out before him.

“It is,” Chen Yumo replied with a calm certainty.

Wen Yusheng couldn’t imagine what kind of person he must have been before losing his memory. Slowly, he turned his head, fixing Chen Yumo with an imploring gaze.

“Do you have any… normal clothes? These are too much for the eyes.”

Chen Yumo thought for a moment before nodding. “The clothes I’m wearing are too big for you. You can make do with them tonight, and I’ll have someone send over some more normal clothes tomorrow.”

At that moment, Wen Yusheng couldn’t help but suspect that even Chen Yumo found his clothes ridiculous. Otherwise, why would he so readily agree to replace them? His gaze shifted to a golden pair of pyjamas hanging conspicuously on the rack—so shiny they actually reflected light.

“No, these pyjamas are too ugly! I can’t stand it!” he exclaimed, on the verge of tears.

Chen Yumo crouched down and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a brand-new pair of pyjamas. He handed them to Wen Yusheng.

“You can wear these. I bought them for you before, but you didn’t like them, so I kept them here.”

Wen Yusheng took the pyjamas as if they were a life-saving treasure. “I’m really grateful to you, big brother! You’re such a good buddy!”

Chen Yumo’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smile.

Big brother? Good buddy?

“It’s fine,” he replied. “As long as you’re happy.”

After Chen Yumo left the room, Wen Yusheng locked the door of the master bedroom, changed into the pyjamas, and felt instantly refreshed. Climbing into the soft, oversized bed, he scooped up the fragrant little Niangao and held him close. The little one smelled sweet and milky, making everything feel peaceful—except for the fact that sleep completely eluded him.

Meanwhile, Chen Yumo lingered just outside the door, listening for the click of the lock. When he heard it, the corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile.

His little wife was still so naive. If he truly wanted to, no locked door could stop him.

After all, Enigma’s strength was astonishing. Wen Yusheng had experienced it firsthand once—on the night he was permanently marked.

After standing there for a moment longer, Chen Yumo turned and walked back to the study next door. He adjusted his anti-blue light glasses and settled down to work.

By the time he finished his tasks, it was past one in the morning. Chen Yumo leaned back in his chair, staring at his phone. The insomnia was back. He couldn’t sleep—couldn’t even try to sleep. A wave of irritability coursed through him. He wanted to throw things, destroy something, anything, to release the tension.

His eyes darkened as he turned on his computer and pulled up the camera feed from the master bedroom. On the screen, he saw Wen Yusheng sleeping soundly, little Niangao nestled snugly in his arms.

Chen Yumo opened the second drawer of his desk, revealing a stash of cigarettes. He reached for them out of habit but froze the moment his fingers touched the box.

He sighed and pulled his hand back.

‘Forget it. Little Niangao is too sensitive to the smell of smoke.’

With a pounding headache and no chance of sleep, Chen Yumo resigned himself to staring at the monitor until dawn.

By morning, his Enigma-strengthened body had recovered as if nothing had happened. After a half-hour nap on the sofa, Chen Yumo was back to normal, showing no signs of his sleepless night.

Oddly enough, little Niangao, who was usually the first to wake, was still sound asleep, cradled in Wen Yusheng’s arms. The comforting embrace seemed to lull the little one into an unusually deep sleep.

The big bed was so soft, the faint cold fragrance in the room so soothing, that Wen Yusheng himself slept like a log. It wasn’t until almost 11 a.m. that he finally stirred.

Wen Yusheng cracked one eye open and fumbled for his phone on the bedside table. The screen read 10:53.

He bolted upright, his hair sticking up in all directions, looking like a startled porcupine.

Little Niangao, now fully awake, giggled uncontrollably at the sight of him.