After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 58

The countryside was nothing like the city; everything grew completely silent after eight or nine o’clock.

The couple lived downstairs, while the second floor of the old house was meticulously maintained. They had planned to keep the room for their son, but since he hadn’t returned for more than half a year, the room had remained empty.

The bed was laid with a cool mat, and the quilt was brand new.

It carried the warm, sun-baked scent of fresh laundry.

After taking a shower downstairs, Xi Siyan came up to the room. Chen Mo was leaning against the wall, engrossed in his phone.

“Do you want the inside or the outside?” asked Xi Siyan, shaking his wet hair. The towel on his shoulders was still damp.

Chen Mo looked up from his phone, his gaze shifting to the bed under him. “Doesn’t matter.”

Without hesitation, Xi Siyan decided, “You take the inside.”

The bed wasn’t particularly wide, but it was enough for two people to sleep comfortably.

Chen Mo set his phone aside. When Xi Siyan sat down, his arm accidentally brushed against Chen Mo’s knee, startling him. Without thinking, Chen Mo reached out and touched his arm. Surprised, he said, “Why is your arm so cold? Did you use cold water to shower?”

“Yeah. Why?” Xi Siyan replied, turning to him. “Uncle seemed to just use water straight from the well.”

“Are you an idiot? There’s hot water on the stove—you just need to mix some in!” Chen Mo resisted the urge to slap his own forehead. “Uncle and Aunt are used to it, but can you handle cold well water?”

Before Chen Mo could stand up, Xi Siyan pressed him back down.

“I’m fine.”

“Fine, my ass,” Chen Mo muttered.

With a soft chuckle, Xi Siyan placed a hand on Chen Mo’s shoulder to stop him from getting up. “It’s refreshing, actually. Makes it easier to sleep. Get some rest; Uncle said there’d be a car from the village heading to town early tomorrow. We need to be up early.”

Unable to move, Chen Mo grabbed the quilt and threw most of it toward him. “Fine, just cover yourself. The temperature drops quite a bit at night.”

They both lay down on the bed, side by side. The warm, yellow glow of the overhead light filled the small room.

Neither of them spoke.

This wasn’t their first time sharing a room, but it was the first time they were sharing the same bed.

The quilt was light, almost weightless. Chen Mo stared at the mosquito net above his head but couldn’t fall asleep.

“Turn off the light,” he muttered.

A moment later, the room plunged into darkness with a soft click.

Minutes ticked by.

Chen Mo soon regretted his suggestion. The pitch-black night seemed to magnify every tiny sound—their breathing, the faint creak of the bed frame whenever one of them shifted. He felt acutely aware of the presence of another person beside him, a faint awkwardness hanging in the air.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed—ten minutes or half an hour. Chen Mo started feeling stiff and uncomfortable lying on his back. Hearing the steady rhythm of Xi Siyan’s breathing, he decided to shift onto his side. But the moment he moved his foot, it brushed against Xi Siyan’s calf.

The slight contact made him freeze.

Both of them were wearing shorts, which made the accidental touch all the more startling. Chen Mo didn’t dare move again and ended up stuck in a strange, half-twisted posture.

The next moment, he noticed that the person beside him had turned over. Before Chen Mo could say anything, he felt an arm wrap around his waist.

It wasn’t a tight hug, but it was firm enough to pull him closer.

One of Xi Siyan’s arms slipped under Chen Mo’s neck, while the other lightly patted his back. Resting his chin on Chen Mo’s forehead, his voice was drowsy and low. “Sleep. I’ll hold you while you sleep.”

“It’s too hot,” Chen Mo muttered, still in shock.

“I’ll cool you down,” replied Xi Siyan without loosening his grip. Instead, he pulled Chen Mo closer. “Didn’t you just say my skin’s cold?”

Chen Mo was rendered speechless.

It was true—because of the cold shower, Xi Siyan’s body felt cool to the touch. But Chen Mo had never been this physically close to anyone before, let alone in such an intimate position.

And yet, despite his initial discomfort, Chen Mo didn’t push him away.

He had expected to spend the night stiff and wide awake, but to his surprise, he soon fell asleep—and slept exceptionally well.

When he woke up, it was to the sound of dogs barking at the entrance of the village.

By then, the sky outside had already turned a pale gray, and the early risers of the village were starting their day.

The first thing Chen Mo saw when he opened his eyes was Xi Siyan’s face, inches away from his own.

Through the faint light streaming in from the window, he could see that Xi Siyan’s arm was still under his neck. Judging by the way it hung limp, it was likely numb from the weight.

Worried, Chen Mo reached out to carefully move the arm away.

But the moment his palm made contact, he froze.

“Shit,” he thought to himself.

The skin under his hand was burning hot—far too hot to be normal.

“See, this is what happens when you shower with cold water,” Chen Mo muttered, now wide awake.

“Xi Siyan.” Chen Mo propped himself up and gave him a push.

Half-conscious, Xi Siyan raised a hand to his forehead. It was unclear if it was from the fever or because his hand had gone numb. His brows were deeply furrowed, clearly in discomfort.

Still, he managed to open his eyes slightly. In a hoarse voice, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not me.” Chen Mo lowered his head, pressing his forehead against Xi Siyan’s. The heat was more intense than expected. Alarmed, he urged, “You’ve got a fever. Get up, I’ll take you to the hospital in town.”

Xi Siyan didn’t resist the proximity, and when Chen Mo leaned back a little, he pressed a hand to his own forehead. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “Just a fever—I’ll take some medicine.”

Chen Mo knew the trek from the village to the town would take some time.

After a moment of thought, he didn’t argue. “Alright,” he said, lifting the quilt, “then sleep for a bit. I’ll go to the village committee clinic and grab some medicine for you.”

Chen Mo, having slept on the inner side of the bed, was about to step over Xi Siyan to get out.

Halfway through, however, he was stopped by Xi Siyan.

Chen Mo thought he was just fooling around and patted his hand. “Let go, stop messing with me.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Xi Siyan, sitting up halfway and holding him back.

Chen Mo frowned. “What’s the point? It’s close by. If I run, I’ll be back in no time.”

“Then I’ll run with you,” replied Xi Siyan, his hand firmly gripping Chen Mo’s wrist as he swung his feet off the bed.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Chen Mo suddenly understood why Xi Siyan insisted on coming along. It struck him how deeply Xi Siyan remembered things he’d said casually, like the time he mentioned having to walk to a Chinese medicine clinic alone as a kid.

It had stayed with him.

Still kneeling on the bed, Chen Mo watched as the usually immaculate and aloof Xi Siyan fumbled to put on his shoes with messy hair and a slightly feverish demeanor.

This was the heir to the Xi family in Suicheng. The “Xi God” idolized by the experimental class. The same young man who once radiated arrogance, sitting in a car without deigning to step foot into this rural landscape. The same Xi Siyan who commanded respect at the wine table and in the business world.

And yet, none of those images of him left as deep an impression as this moment.

This was the same person who had endured the bumpy ride here with him, praised Auntie for her cooking, taken cold showers alongside Uncle, and now refused to let Chen Mo go to the clinic alone, even while running a fever.

Chen Mo wanted to tell him, I’m seventeen, about to turn eighteen. I’ve been an adult for a long time. I’m not a child struggling to walk through the snow anymore.

But in that moment, the tightness in his chest was overwhelming.

It wasn’t just affection; it was something deeper, something that bypassed the surface and went straight to his soul.

“Fuck,” Chen Mo cursed under his breath, raising his arms to cover his eyes.

The next second, he reached out, grabbed Xi Siyan by the shoulders, and pushed him back onto the bed, leaning over him.

Startled but quick to react, Xi Siyan stopped him. “What are you doing?”

“Can I kiss you?” Chen Mo blurted out, his straightforwardness almost absurd.

For a moment, Xi Siyan was stunned. In the dim light of the room, he lay under Chen Mo and stared at him for a few seconds before breaking into a smile. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly so enthusiastic, but no. It’s contagious.”

Ignoring him, Chen Mo leaned down to kiss him anyway.

Laughing, Xi Siyan turned his head to avoid him, his chest shaking with amusement. He even grabbed Chen Mo’s chin and warned, “Cut it out. Uncle and Aunt are already up—I can hear them downstairs.”

“Xi, you…”

Remembering he still needed to fetch medicine, Chen Mo reluctantly gave up on the kiss. Instead, he lowered his head and bit down hard on the muscle near the base of Xi Siyan’s neck.

The bite was strong enough to make Xi Siyan groan audibly.

“You little mad dog,” he muttered with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

By the time they returned from the village clinic with fever-reducing medicine, it was almost eight o’clock.

The clinic was no longer run by the old man Chen Mo had known as a child. Instead, it was staffed by a young doctor in his forties, wearing glasses.

The doctor seemed surprised to see two young men coming in together.

After taking his temperature—39.2 degrees, a high fever—the doctor suggested an IV or injection. However, when Xi Siyan firmly refused and opted for oral medication, the doctor didn’t push the issue. He prescribed the medicine, watched him take the first dose, and offered some precautions.

Probably worried about spreading the fever, Xi Siyan even asked for a mask and wore it on the way out.

On their way back, they ran into quite a few villagers.

Many of them recognized Chen Mo. To them, he had only left the village a year ago, and the circumstances of his departure had been a major event. On the other hand, Chen Mo had to wrack his brain to match faces to names. His greetings were clumsy and awkward.

For instance:

“Everyone’s been saying you’re back, but I didn’t believe it! Chen Mo, where are your parents?”

Chen Mo replied with a straight face, “Probably eating at the government’s expense.”

The villager blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

Another: “Chen Mo, you’ve improved so much! Come by my house for a meal when you have time.”

“Sure,” Chen Mo replied casually.

And yet another: “Did you get into college? People say you’re the only young person from our valley who’s made it out. Study hard, you hear?”

Chen Mo smiled and nodded. “I passed the entrance exam. I hear you, Grandpa.”

He then turned to explain to Xi Siyan, “Elderly folks can get a bit mixed up sometimes.”

Most of the villagers who approached Chen Mo were brimming with curiosity about his current life. They wanted to know whether the rumors circulating about him were true. Some even inquired about Xi Siyan, as his presence—refined and elegant—gave off an air of superiority.

Especially in contrast to certain others.

At one point, they stopped by the roadside to chat with an uncle working on the ridge of a nearby field.

A sudden, loud roar interrupted their conversation as three or four filthy, mud-splattered motorcycles came tearing around the bend, speeding toward them.

The riders were a group of young men with unkempt, dyed hair of various colors, and two of them even had girls clinging to the back of their bikes.

The uncle sighed angrily at the sight. “These kids nowadays,” he grumbled, “getting worse by the day. Always fighting with people from the town, smoking and drinking. They don’t act like students at all.”

Xi Siyan gave the approaching group a passing glance and said evenly, “They’re just in their teens. It’s natural to act impulsively at that age.”

Chen Mo turned to him, surprised. “I didn’t expect you to be so tolerant.”

“It’s not tolerance,” Xi Siyan replied, meeting his gaze. “It’s just that you’re not one of them. Besides, I’m not their father—why should I care so much?”

As the motorcycles neared, it seemed they were about to speed past the group. But suddenly, the bike in the lead screeched to a halt.

The rider flipped up his helmet visor and froze in shock. “Brother Mo?!!”

Chen Mo stared at the boy for several long seconds before recognition dawned. “Little Maozi?”

“Fuck! It’s me!” The boy leaped off his bike, excitement written all over his face.

The other motorcycles also came to a stop, their riders dismounting to gather around.

“Brother Mao? What’s going on?”
“Who’s that guy?”

Little Maozi, who appeared to have become something of a leader among them, threw an arm around Chen Mo’s shoulder and introduced him to the group. “This is my brother! Back when Hei and I were getting bullied out in town, it was Brother Mo who sorted things out for us. He fought so fiercely that even Erhuzi and his gang in town were scared shitless of him. Come on, come say hello to my big brother!”

One by one, the group of boys—clearly stuck in their middle school delinquent phase—crowded around to greet him.

“Brother Mo!”
“Nice to meet you, Brother Mo!”
“Brother Mo, have a smoke!”

Chen Mo stood there, silently enduring their enthusiastic greetings. His expression remained neutral, though inwardly, he felt a little awkward.

Truthfully, he had helped Little Mao and Hei at the time more out of obligation than anything else—it was because of his parents. One favor turned into another, and before he knew it, helping the two of them had become second nature. Back then, Chen Mo had been filled with suppressed rage, desperate for an outlet, and fighting was as good a release as any.

He hadn’t expected his past actions to earn him a band of loyal followers. In fact, he barely remembered most of their faces.

One of the boys, who had offered a cigarette, noticed that someone had taken it—but it wasn’t Chen Mo.

Instead, it was the tall boy wearing a mask, his face obscured but his aura unmistakably striking. His deep, dark eyes and calm, refined demeanor made him stand out sharply among the rough crowd. His height and flawless skin added to the impression of quiet elegance.

“Thanks,” said Xi Siyan, his tone polite but distant. “I’ll take it for him. You don’t mind, do you?”

“N-not at all!” The boy stammered, suddenly awkward and self-conscious.

Even Little Maozi was taken aback. “Brother Mo, who’s this?” he asked hesitantly.

Chen Mo, now fully back in the moment, glanced at Xi Siyan. Even though the man was clearly sick, standing there in his mask, he still exuded a presence that made everyone else seem small.

Feeling a mischievous urge, Chen Mo smirked and said, “This is my younger brother. A new recruit. Just call him Xiao Xi.”

Little Maozi blinked. “Ah? Uh… okay.”

However, when his eyes met Xi Siyan’s gaze—steady and piercing—he found himself unable to call him “Xiao Xi.” After fumbling for several moments, he finally gave in and said, almost reverently, “Brother Xi.”

“Hello,” Xi Siyan replied with a small nod, his tone measured.

Little Maozi’s admiration skyrocketed in an instant.

Inwardly, he thought, Damn, Brother Mo’s amazing. Even the younger brothers he recruits have this big-boss energy!