After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 69

At that moment, Chen Mo didn’t actually believe it.
He just realized that it was the kind of lie you could see through with a second thought—but still, the mere possibility that “Xi Siyan is married” hit him like a punch to the gut.

It forced him to constantly remind himself:
There’s a reason “ex” exists in “ex-boyfriend.”
Whatever decisions he makes now, whatever life he leads, it all boils down to one simple truth—none of your business.

After all those years apart, it wasn’t in Chen Mo’s nature to comment on someone else’s life choices.

They entered the apartment.

Chen Mo poured him a glass of water.

The place he lived in now was a little sparse. He’d only moved in recently, and hadn’t bought much beyond the essentials.

“Sit wherever you like. I’ll grab a bag for your clothes.” Chen Mo said as he headed into the master bedroom.

Xi Siyan shifted his grip on the water glass, his eyes quickly scanning the entire living room.
Calmly, discreetly, but thoroughly—he checked the nooks and corners of the space as though running a mental checklist.

When Chen Mo came back out, he caught the tail end of a phone call being made from the balcony.

“…Okay, got it… I’m here. Nothing seems off for now, so don’t worry. Just stay on it…”

When Xi Siyan hung up and stepped back inside—

“Who was that?” Chen Mo asked.

“The power company,” Xi Siyan answered smoothly. “Just bought a house after coming back, and there’s been some issues with the renovations. We’re coordinating.”

Chen Mo felt that the explanation was a bit flimsy.

But since the other party wasn’t offering more, he didn’t push. If it involved confidential matters from work, he wasn’t about to pry.

Still, he gave a quiet heads-up.

“I heard your launch ceremony’s being held at Hengguang’s No. 1 venue? Ren Xiansen from Chuanxing Technology has an open Deputy GM position at Hengguang. If you’re dealing with him, be cautious.”

Xi Siyan walked over.

“I heard he and Xinrui have always been at odds with you.”

“Not just us.” Chen Mo circled around the sofa and pulled out a few thick folders from the drawer under the coffee table. “These are everything I could dig up on Chuanxing. That guy doesn’t play by the rules, and he’s pissed off a lot of people in the industry. But I’ve never been able to trace where his funding comes from.”

Xi Siyan took the documents and responded casually,
“It’s UA Group.”

“UA?” Chen Mo’s brows furrowed deeply. Then realization dawned—he looked up at Xi Siyan.
“CM and UA have been at each other’s throats for years. You knew about Ren Xiansen from the start, and that’s why you chose that venue?”

Xi Siyan lifted an eyebrow, making no effort to deny it.

“UA’s been very wary of CM’s return to China. Rather than avoid them, it’s better to confront them openly. UA’s boss, Lunar, is a nearly fifty-year-old overseas Chinese with huge ambitions for the Chinese market. Ren Xiansen is his point man here, and he doesn’t care about image. Smart tech is UA Group’s next major focus. You’ll need to watch them more closely than I do.”

As he spoke, Xi Siyan suddenly looked into Chen Mo’s eyes and called out,
“Mr. Chen.”

“…What?” Chen Mo was a little confused.

Xi Siyan quickly shook his head and smiled.
“Nothing.”

Someone as composed and intelligent as Xi Siyan rarely stumbled—he never lost his cool, no matter the situation.
But now, he truly didn’t know how to ask or what to say.

He’d returned home two months earlier than originally planned.

That was also the main reason CM hadn’t made a formal move against Chuanxing Technology yet.

Because—
That last dream had been clearer than all the ones before it.

He had broken free from that strange, dreamlike haze.
But the feeling—the visceral feeling of Chen Mo dying—had never been more vivid.

He had dreamed it over and over: a wilderness where he searched endlessly, unable to find him. And when he woke up, all he could feel was emptiness, like he was still trapped in the rain-soaked night when they said goodbye.

Back then, the young Chen Mo had said seriously:
“Brother Yan, we both know that was just an accident.”

The accident that had befallen his second uncle had only accelerated a separation that had probably been inevitable.

Because they were both so young.

Only in one dream did the scene change—he stood on an empty lawn in front of an unfinished building.

A stretcher draped in a white sheet.

Siren wails piercing the air.

Media cameras flashing one after another.

He couldn’t quite make out what anyone was saying, only had a deep, suffocating feeling: If he stepped forward and lifted that sheet, the price would be something he’d regret forever.

But what chilled him the most wasn’t just the dream.

It was the fact that he knew—deep down—the person lying beneath that sheet wasn’t the eighteen-year-old Chen Mo.

It was his twenty-eight-year-old self.

What exactly was he regretting in that dream?

Was it not coming back sooner?
Or not being able to let go?

He didn’t dare gamble.

His instincts screamed at him—don’t gamble. You can’t afford to.

So—
Five years, two months, and twenty-three days after leaving the country, he got on a flight home.

The outside world thought he brought CM back to China to expand their empire, or to take over the Xi family business completely, or maybe even out of national pride.

But in truth, there was only one reason.

Because Chen Mo was still here.

The 23-year-old Chen Mo—he was both the same as the 17-year-old Chen Mo, and also completely different.

College, work, the path he’d walked these past few years—
They’d smoothed out the sharp, biting edges of his younger self.

To outsiders, he could be elegant and sharp-minded, speaking confidently as a workplace leader.
Other times, he was warm, easygoing, and thoughtful.

He had nurtured himself well.

From a sapling sprouting through cracked, hopeless soil—
He’d grown into a towering tree.

Xi Siyan had come back exhausted, quietly approaching—but still shaken by those vivid, inexplicable dreams.

He checked every danger that might be lurking—but found nothing.

Even earlier, when he entered the house, he’d instinctively done a sweep—for his safety.
Nothing was off.

The only person he could think of who held a lasting grudge against General Chen of the New Tech Department—was Ren Xiansen.

That thought alone sent a chill into Xi Siyan’s eyes.

—

By the time Xi Siyan left that day, Chen Mo felt that his own mood was… strangely even.

He thought about how the man had eventually taken the entire stack of documents with him, and sighed.

Team Leader Xi, who was still as driven and career-obsessed as ever, had only grown more intimidating over the years.

That kind of aura?

If any of the new interns had to work under him, they’d probably be scared sh*tless.

That day, Xi Siyan left with his suit in hand.

After taking a two-day break, Chen Mo returned to the lab to continue his research.

The day of CM’s official launch ceremony had finally arrived—and invitations had gone out to several newcomers as well.

Chen Mo had originally intended to attend.

Whether as a peripheral partner or simply as a personal friend, there was no reason for him to decline.

But from the moment Old K dragged him out early that morning to pick out outfits, something felt… off.

“Why are you dressing me up like a peacock?” Chen Mo finally lost his patience after trying on the third suit.

Old K, looking every bit the overbearing older brother, lounged on a leather sofa in the high-end boutique, hand on chin as he appraised him. His tone was all earnest mentorship:
“Impatient already? Do you know how many people out there have been watching us ‘Newcomers’ ever since you and CM’s President Xi were in the news? They’re just waiting for one misstep to cash in. This is exactly when we can’t afford to lose face for the company.”

Chen Mo, now dressed in a dark red suit, sneered:
“So you want me to go out there and flash a smile for your benefit?”

“How could you say something so cold and heartless!” Old K feigned indignation. “Am I not footing the bill myself?”

Just then, the door to the adjacent fitting room swung open.

Su Qianran stepped out, wearing a floor-length white gown. She glanced over and quipped at Old K,
“Wow, it’s rare to see you splurging. But honestly, with Chen Mo’s face, he’d look good even wrapped in a burlap sack, wouldn’t he?”

Chen Mo rubbed his temples.
“Can you two stop already?”

Su Qianran smiled at herself in the mirror, twirling slightly.
“What do you think? How do I look in this?”

“Looks great,” Chen Mo nodded, then added, “But isn’t it a bit too formal?”

Su Qianran replied breezily:
“CM’s invitations aren’t exactly easy to get. You can’t show up looking informal. I saw a red one too—needed a new toast dress for the wedding banquet, so I figured I’d knock out two birds with one stone.”

“The wedding’s in just two days.” Old K grumbled.
“Girls always say how important ceremony is—shouldn’t these things have been taken care of long ago? Now you’re dragging your two partners out to buy things last minute.”

Su Qianran flipped her hair.
“I like it. What’s it to you?”

In the end, Chen Mo’s final outfit was chosen by Su Qianran, purely to match her white gown. So he wore it—didn’t even bother changing.

Friday, 10:00 AM.

At Hengguang’s No. 1 venue, security had already locked down the perimeter early in the morning.

When Su Qianran arrived with her arm linked through Chen Mo’s, a good number of guests were already present.

Chen Mo made sure she didn’t trip over her dress, but Su Qianran leaned in and whispered:
“So this is what it feels like to be the center of attention before getting married, huh? Looks like I made the right call.”

Chen Mo glanced down at his outfit.

God knows what was going through Su Qianran’s mind when she picked this style.

It wasn’t inappropriate, not exactly. At a glance, his sleek black suit was lined with faint silver patterns, paired with an open-collar white shirt—only, the “collar” was just decorative. There was nothing worn underneath.

A finely draped silk scarf covered the exposed patch of skin at his collarbone. It was formal, yet relaxed—a casual elegance he’d never really tried before.

“Boss Su, Boss Chen!”

Maybe it really was the news coverage doing the work.

Everyone—whether they knew them or not—came over to greet them.

Especially Chen Mo. People were going out of their way to probe, trying to subtly (or not-so-subtly) confirm just how close he really was to CM’s CEO.

To every one of them, Chen Mo would calmly reply:
“Not that close. We’ve only met twice, both times through Huan Shang.”

Just enough to brush them off, without inviting more questions.

10:30 AM. The ceremony began.

CM Group was bringing sixteen foreign-funded projects into Suicheng, and representatives from all walks of life—local government, business, tech—were all in attendance.

Chen Mo sat among the audience, watching Xi Siyan in his element: shaking hands, signing contracts, delivering speeches from the stage.

He heard him say:

“When CM was first founded, the vision was simple and straightforward—to grow bigger, to grow stronger, to become a leading force in the industry.
Central Meridian—beyond its core philosophy—has a more personal meaning for me.
You can think of it like this: maybe it’s the apple dangling in front of your eyes, maybe it’s the moon high in the sky. But today, CM isn’t the apple, and it’s not the moon.
It’s the adrenaline shot that keeps us moving forward.”

Su Qianran nudged Chen Mo’s shoulder.
“Why do I feel like something’s off the more I listen?”

“What do you mean?” Chen Mo turned to her.

Su Qianran gave him a knowing look.
“CM. Think about it. C. M. Come on.”

Chen Mo frowned and actually thought about it—and then froze.

He looked back toward the stage, where the man in question was just wrapping up his speech to roaring applause, surrounded by a crowd as the next segment began.

Chen Mo hesitated.
Is Su Qianran just overthinking it?

But he had no time to keep dwelling on that.

Because when he headed to the restroom, he stumbled across an unexpected scene—a couple of security guards were grappling with a young woman at the end of the corridor.

At first, Chen Mo thought the security team might be overreacting.

But then he saw two familiar figures nearby—Han Qian and Ren Xiansen.

Han Qian had been there the last time he’d seen Xi Siyan.

As for Ren Xiansen, Chen Mo recognized him immediately.

Mid-thirties, whites of his eyes unnaturally pale, and a peanut-sized scar at the corner of one eye.

Han Qian looked more seasoned now. He had one hand braced against the wall, the other gripping Ren Xiansen’s collar. His voice was low and seething:

“Ren. Your mother should’ve just killed you while you were still overseas. Did you forget how close you came to losing this eye?”

Ren Xiansen tugged back his collar and gave a lopsided smile.
“President Xi was too young back then. Couldn’t afford to be ruthless. Now that he’s returned to China—well, guess we’ll all have to rely on our own skills, won’t we?”

Han Qian jabbed a finger toward the girl beside him.
“Your only ‘skill’ is threatening some girl into being your mistress?! You’re disgusting!”

Ren Xiansen laughed.
“Now that’s a false accusation. She wants to be famous. It’s a fair exchange—both sides get what they want.”

Then, deliberately leaning in close to provoke, he added:
“By the way, I heard President Xi took a nasty hit from that stick. Concussion, right? No lingering effects, I hope?”

“You—” Han Qian started, but the words caught in his throat.

Because someone had just grabbed his shoulder from behind.

Before he could turn around, that person had already stepped forward and passed him. Ren Xiansen scoffed:
“Who the hell do you think you—”
“Ah!”

Chen Mo kicked him straight in the knee, then twisted his arm up and slammed him against the wall. There was a sharp crack—and Ren Xiansen howled in pain.

Chen Mo pinned him there, voice low but deadly serious:
“Were you the one who hit him?”

“Chen Mo, do you even know who the fuc—AARGH!”

“I asked you a question!” Chen Mo grabbed the back of his head by the hair and slammed it hard into the wall.
“Did. You. Hit. Him?”

“I didn’t lay a hand on him,” Ren Xiansen choked out, veins bulging in his neck. “I just found some fugitives, paid them a little… bunch of idiots. Useless in the end. Never even touched him.”

Chen Mo had long suspected that Xi Jianxing had run into something serious overseas.

And Xi Siyan… there was no way things had been smooth for him either.

But hearing it said aloud—really hearing it—was a whole different experience.

The kind of people who flee abroad were often desperate, dangerous. And this man—this piece of shit Ren—he hadn’t just wanted to scare Xi Siyan. He had wanted him dead.

Chen Mo’s temples throbbed violently.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this kind of rage—raw and uncontainable, like a dam breaking inside him.

He yanked Ren Xiansen around and punched him straight in the face.

Once.
Twice.
Three times.

That year, when he fought Chen Jianli, he had fought to kill, clinging to him like a mad dog, no matter the cost. For most of his life, Chen Mo had locked away that part of himself—buried the childhood version deep inside. Today, without warning, he tore off the chains.

People nearby finally realized something was wrong and rushed to pull him off.

Han Qian muttered, exaggerated as ever:
“Stop it, stop it! You two really are a pair. Starting fights in public—damn. Your ‘husband’ is fine, more than fine. Jeez… that was fast.”

Chen Mo stood up from Ren Xiansen, took two steps back, breath ragged, suit disheveled.

He looked toward the far end of the corridor.

A group of people were heading his way with a strong presence.

He sneered internally at Han Qian.
“You really lost your damn mind. Me and Xi Siyan? Haven’t had anything to do with each other in eight hundred years.”

But in a blink, that group had reached him.

Xi Siyan glanced at the man slumped on the floor like he was already dead. Then, he grabbed Chen Mo’s upper arm. His gaze swept across the scratch on Chen Mo’s cheek—who knew when he’d gotten it. His eyes were dark, emotion unreadable.
“Again?”

“Yeah.” Chen Mo’s chest was still heaving. He lifted his eyes and stared right back at him.
“My hands were itching.”

Xi Siyan left the crowd behind and ordered Han Qian,
“Clean it up.”

Then he grabbed Chen Mo and strode away, without saying another word.

Chen Mo had no idea what he was doing, and didn’t expect him to walk so fast. He stumbled slightly, keeping up with uneven steps.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door.

Xi Siyan reached out and shoved it open. Chen Mo only caught a vague glimpse—it looked like a resting room of some sort.

Then Xi Siyan pushed him roughly against the door.

He grabbed his chin, leaned in, and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was aggressive, feral—and tasted of blood.

Like he’d been holding it back for a long, long time.

As he kissed him fiercely, his hand slipped under Chen Mo’s shirt—then both of them froze.

Two seconds passed.

Then Xi Siyan rasped hoarsely,
“You’ve got some fucking nerve.”