After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 32

Chen Mo woke up the next day and glanced at his phone, noticing a nearly five-minute video call with Xi Siyan. He was momentarily dazed.

How did the call even end?

Oh, right—Xi Siyan had mentioned he had to head to the training base early and told him to sleep soon.

Chen Mo couldn’t remember how the topic of self-pleasure had been so smoothly diverted.

All he knew was that Xi Siyan was definitely a master at changing the subject.

With that, he got out of bed, washed up, and stepped out of his room.

The entire villa was eerily quiet.

Until a voice came from behind.

“Excuse me.”

Chen Mo turned around to see Yang Shule standing there with a dark expression. He smiled and greeted him cheerfully, “Good morning.”

That simple greeting made Yang Shule’s eyes fill with both disgust and disbelief.

He said, “How can you act like nothing happened after what you did?”

“I’m not pretending nothing happened,” Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “At least I didn’t pretend we were brothers. I’d say I’m handling it pretty well.”

“You—!”

“Hey,” Chen Mo cut him off, his voice still casual. “Don’t make me start cursing this early in the morning.”

Yang Shule suddenly looked like he had swallowed something sour.

Glancing up the corridor, he called out in a tone thick with frustration, “Brother.”

Yang Zhi approached. “What are you two talking about?”

Yang Shule glared at Chen Mo. “Ask him.”

But Chen Mo was already heading downstairs, not bothering to acknowledge Yang Zhi.

Yang Zhi withdrew his gaze from Chen Mo’s departing figure and looked at Yang Shule. His voice remained calm. “Lele, what did I tell you last night?”

Those words made Yang Shule freeze.

His eyelashes lowered slightly. “I know he’s not someone to mess with, and I don’t deliberately pick fights with him. But, Brother… it wasn’t like this before he moved into the dorms.”

Yang Zhi asked, “What was it like, then?”

Yang Shule looked up. “At least Mom and Dad didn’t argue all the time because of him. And you never made me back down on matters involving him without hearing my side first.”

Yang Zhi frowned. “I was there the entire time yesterday.”

“Brother, do you really think I’m being unreasonable?” Yang Shule searched his brother’s face, hoping to find a trace of the indulgence or guilt he was used to seeing. But there was none.

He continued, “He was the one who refused to let my friend into the swimming pool back then. He was the one accused of plagiarism, yet somehow it ended up being my fault. Why did I lose friends? Why can’t I even stay in the experimental class anymore? In this family, it’s not that I can’t tolerate him—it’s that he can’t tolerate me!”

Yang Zhi was quickly running out of patience.

Still, he sighed and tried to reassure him. “You’re overthinking it. He never planned to stay.”

“Isn’t that exactly what he wants?” Yang Shule’s voice was strained, as if he had held these words in all night. “He’s going to ruin the Yang family—the family that used to be perfect.”

Yang Zhi smiled faintly, like he was coaxing a child.

“Shule, you have to accept reality. Chen Mo is back, and there’s no changing that.”

Yang Shule clenched his jaw.

Really? No changing it?

He had known—since he was five years old.

His mother was only using him to tie his father down. She refused to accept the failure of their marriage, so every time his father had a scandal or refused to come home, she would have him call. And every time, his father would return—not because of her, but because of him.

For more than ten years, he had carefully maintained the image of a perfect family.

Acting sweet. Acting naive. Doing everything to please.

He had believed, truly believed, that he was an indispensable son—that the Yang family relied on him to stay intact.

As for Yang Zhi… he had always been distant.

But that didn’t matter. He liked him. He was willing to play the role of a good big brother in this seemingly harmonious family. And that had been enough.

Until now.

Now, everything was ruined.

Chen Mo was favored by the Zhou family. He had even come out, yet not a word of blame came from his father—all because of his ties to the Xi family.

That was what Yang Shule couldn’t accept.

Not his father’s indifference.

Not even Yang Zhi’s sudden concern for Chen Mo.

It was Xi Siyan.

What right did Chen Mo have?

—

Chen Mo had no idea what was happening upstairs.

By the time he reached the dining room, Yang Qi’an and Zhou Yaoqing had also come down for breakfast.

After last night, the couple clearly had no intention of making peace. The air between them was cold, stiff, and tense.

Chen Mo didn’t care.

After last time, the servants seemed afraid of him.

His breakfast was served particularly close to him. A bowl of creamy white fish soup, kept at the perfect temperature, was placed before him. And before he could finish drinking it, someone stepped forward to replace it with a fresh bowl.

Chen Mo ate slowly, leisurely.

The only sound at the table was the soft clinking of his spoon against the bowl.

Perhaps because he was so absorbed in eating—seemingly ignoring everyone else—Yang Zhi was the next person to pick up his spoon.

This made the remaining people at the table feel even more out of place.

Yang Qi’an, the supposed head of the family, had initially planned to lecture Chen Mo about last night’s fiasco. But in the end, he only said, “Xiao Mo, you and the Xi family kid…”

“Dad.”

It was Yang Shule who interrupted him.

He said, “It’s just a rumor. You know that Grandpa and Grandpa Xi had an old friendship. Our families have always kept in touch. Because of that, Ah Yan took care of me when we were at school. It’s fine if outsiders spread gossip, but if our family talks about it openly and word gets to the Xi family, it’ll be hard to explain.”

Yang Qi’an coughed awkwardly.

Truthfully, he did want to use his connections to get a project with the Xi family. But his father refused to be a lobbyist in these matters, so he had to be careful not to appear like he was using his son.

Reluctantly, he swallowed his temper and turned to Yang Shule instead. “Since you’re being taken care of so well, you should invite them over for dinner more often.”

“Dad,” Yang Shule poked at his bowl, “I’m not in the experimental class anymore.”

Then, he turned to look at Chen Mo.

Yang Qi’an, remembering the fight between his two sons at school, frowned. With the stress of his project weighing on him, his tone turned impatient.

“You’ve gone too far. What is there to fight about between brothers? Why make things ugly and let outsiders laugh at our family?”

Chen Mo nearly laughed at the father-son act playing out before him.

Instead, he calmly drank the last of his soup.

Once he saw the bottom of the bowl, he finally responded to Yang Shule.

“I recall you were the one who chose to transfer to a regular class, right?”

Yang Shule’s voice turned sharp. “If I hadn’t been forced to, do you think I would’ve wanted to?”

Yang Qi’an was momentarily stunned but quickly followed up, “Yeah, if he wasn’t able to stay in the experimental class, why would he transfer to the regular class?”

“Exactly.” Chen Mo nodded, wiped his mouth, and stood up. “Did I force you to leave?”

Yang Shule paused. “I didn’t say that.”

“Good.”

Chen Mo pulled his chair aside, waved at the servant, and asked them to bring his schoolbag.

He slung it over his shoulder and said, “I’m heading out since I’m done eating.”

Though he said he was leaving, his feet didn’t move right away.

He looked around at the people sitting at the table and casually added, “Oh, by the way, Xi Siyan hates being used. Dad, don’t invite him to dinner. And brother, stop calling him ‘Ah Yan’ at the table—it’s a bad habit. I’m giving you some serious advice here.” He adjusted his bag strap and turned to leave. “Alright, now I’m going.”

—

As Chen Mo sat in the car, he kept murmuring the name Ah Yan to himself.

The only person he’d ever heard call Xi Siyan that before was his second uncle.

But hearing it from Yang Shule now—it felt entirely different from his past life. Back then, he had assumed it was just a sign of their close relationship. But now? It felt deliberate. Forced. Unnatural.

Maybe it was because he had gotten too familiar with Xi Siyan recently.

—

By the time Chen Mo arrived at school, the bell for morning self-study had already rung.

The desk next to his was arranged just as it had been before, with two fresh, untouched test papers lying on it.

Without a second thought, Chen Mo took the test papers and shoved them into Xi Siyan’s desk.

Xi Siyan had left early in the morning, along with Xue Ping from their class.

Many students in the experimental class were preparing for competitions. Even though they were only in their second year, Chen Mo had overheard plenty of conversations about chemistry, math, and English Olympiads. This was just another reminder of the vast difference between the experimental and regular classes.

Strangely, Chen Mo didn’t feel any pressure from it.

Instead, for the first time in a long while, he felt… empty.

It was difficult to describe.

Especially after spending an entire day staring at the vacant seat beside him, he felt oddly unsettled.

He didn’t fall asleep in class anymore.

Even if he was slouching, he would quickly sit up when the bell rang.

—

The weather in Suicheng changed rapidly.

In just one week, students went from wearing two layers to donning sweaters, and soon after, they were in down jackets beneath their school uniforms.

Chen Mo made sure to stay warm, which led to people joking that he looked like he was getting ready to hibernate.

—

One noon after school, Lao Gou invited him to the cafeteria.

It was drizzling outside, and the wind was biting cold.

“Damn, it’s freezing.” Lao Gou stomped his feet as soon as they stepped outside.

Chen Mo urged, “Let’s hurry up, or we’ll be stuck eating cold food again.”

Lao Gou took the lead, dashing forward while cursing, “Those first-year bastards run faster than wild dogs every damn day just to grab food. It’s tough for us seniors—especially for an old man like you, who can’t handle the cold.”

Without hesitation, Chen Mo raised his knee—padded with a brace—and kicked him in the butt.

“Consider yourself lucky I’m not making you carry my tray,” he said lazily.

Lao Gou turned back and said, “Thank you for your boundless mercy, Your Excellency.”

“…Isn’t that what people call eunuchs?”

“Bullshit, no.”

—

Halfway to the cafeteria, Qi Lin and his group caught up to them.

“Brother Mo, you’re actually heading to the cafeteria in this weather?”

Chen Mo gave him a deadpan look. “If I don’t eat, am I supposed to ascend to immortality?”

“No, I mean, why personally go to the cafeteria? You could have sent one of us to grab food for you.” Qi Lin walked alongside him, tilting his umbrella to share it. He had stubbornly worn only two layers for the sake of looking stylish and was now visibly shivering. “Winter in Suicheng always comes out of nowhere… Anyway, Brother Yan told me to keep an eye on you before he left.”

Chen Mo paused. “He told you to watch over me?”

“Yeah,” Qi Lin nodded. “He said you’ve never spent a winter in Suicheng before and was worried your leg might not handle it well.”

The competition training camp had stricter phone usage rules compared to school.

Chen Mo hadn’t felt the absence of Xi Siyan too much, given how often Qi Lin and the others still mentioned “Brother Yan” on a daily basis. But hearing those words suddenly… it caught him off guard.

Qi Lin added, “After all, he was the one who got you treated by that Chinese medicine doctor. If he comes back and finds out you messed up your leg, he’d probably flip.”

Chen Mo shook off the odd feeling and said, “I grew up in a colder place. I’ll be fine.” Then, he changed the subject. “Is the competition training really that tough?”

A boy next to Qi Lin chimed in, “Hell yeah. I went last year but got eliminated halfway. It was winter—if you didn’t sprint fast enough, you’d have no hot water to wash your face. It wasn’t a training camp—it was boot camp.”

The older students all burst out laughing, swapping horror stories about past training experiences.

Chen Mo let them talk and only commented when the laughter died down, “That sounds miserable.”

“It’s just like this for the provincial level,” someone explained. “Once you make it to nationals, the conditions get better. Plus, all the competitors you meet there are the real deal—national champions and all.”

Someone sighed. “Man, that’s not my world.”

Ironically, even among this group—who joked about “not belonging” in that world—many were already top-tier students preparing for the college entrance exams.

Chen Mo couldn’t help but reflect on the vast disparities in people’s realities.

—

By the time they reached the cafeteria, a long line had already formed.

Because of the walk, Chen Mo’s knee brace had slipped slightly, so he bent down to adjust it.

As he straightened up, he suddenly felt something coming right at his face.

A camera lens.

The cameraman was standing so close he barely had time to react.

Through the viewfinder, the cameraman took in the scene—Chen Mo standing there in his white down jacket and plaid scarf, his hair slightly damp from the rain, strands clinging to his face. The lighting was dim, making his pale skin stand out even more.

When he glanced at the camera, his gaze was sharp and cold.

His tone was equally unwelcoming. “What are you doing?”

Before the cameraman could even explain, they silently acknowledged one thing—

This student had a face made for the camera.

And with this year’s documentary project, that face alone was enough for plenty of attention.