Thanks to this eventful New Year’s Eve, Chen Mo found himself entangled in one family gathering after another until the sixth day of the New Year. It was as if he had suddenly become the center of attention—uncles, aunts, cousins, and distant relatives he had never met before emerged one after another, acting as if they had always been close.
Chen Mo never refused their invitations. He accepted their compliments, listened to their advice, and responded with a polite demeanor.
However, whenever someone asked him what exactly the old man had gifted him, or whenever a relative tried to “borrow” something under the pretense of having an urgent need, Chen Mo simply pretended not to hear.
The New Year wasn’t even over yet.
And just like that, the enthusiasm surrounding him faded away overnight.
Whenever relatives mentioned him now, their expressions looked as if they were suffering from constipation. They would complain that he was someone who “knew how to keep his money close,” stopping just short of outright calling him stingy.
Those who truly knew Chen Mo would understand whether he was stingy or not.
—
“Giving us money again?”
Not long after the second semester of the school year started, Lao K sent a message.
“The investor you introduced evaluated our project and has decided to invest. Just for this alone, I owe you a huge thanks.”
Chen Mo immediately noticed the change in the way Lao K addressed him.
It made him, who was secretly using his phone during self-study class, feel uncomfortable.
Chen Mo: “Just call me Chen Mo.”
Lao K: “Alright, Boss Chen.”
Chen Mo: “…”
Although Lao K had no idea about his true identity, and Chen Mo had also reminded Su Qianran not to reveal any information about him, being surrounded by high school students made it impossible for him to immerse himself in the mindset of the high-ranking executive he once was.
Besides, he didn’t like it.
He disliked the rigid office hierarchy where superiors and subordinates were clearly divided.
Every day, there were endless documents to sign, endless meetings to attend, and endless personnel issues to resolve.
He thought back to his childhood.
In that remote and impoverished mountain village, he had been astonished when he saw that a neighbor’s child had received a remote-controlled toy car from their migrant worker parents.
That was the first time he developed a sense of curiosity about the world beyond the mountains.
Even in the harshest of environments, even when he was still just a boy in a county-town middle school, he had already realized—through books, through the emergence of new KTVs and internet cafes—that not every pair of parents were like Chen Jianli and Li Yunru. That life was much broader than the limited space he could see.
Excelling in academics became his first subconscious method of escape.
And though he later suffered from identity confusion after returning to the Yang family, it never stopped him from searching for what he truly wanted.
This was also why, in his past life, he eventually met Lao K and worked alongside him.
He loved the ever-changing world.
He was fascinated by cutting-edge technology and the principles behind it.
As long as he was immersed in it, he felt like the version of himself from the very beginning—untainted and free.
Chen Mo replied to Lao K:
“Consider this money as my official investment. The previous funds don’t count. But I have one condition—I will not participate in any form of decision-making or management, nor can I guarantee that I’ll be able to provide mature technical support within five years.”
From a business perspective, this was practically giving away money for free.
The other side fell silent for a long time.
As Chen Mo was quietly waiting for a reply, he suddenly heard two knocks on his desk.
Looking up, he found his homeroom teacher, Xiang Shenglong, standing beside him with a deadly serious expression.
“Hand it over.” Xiang Shenglong stretched out his hand.
That movement was enough to draw the attention of the entire class.
Chen Mo, suddenly dragged back to reality, rubbed his nose and accepted his fate. He switched off his phone and obediently handed it over.
After confiscating the phone, Xiang Shenglong didn’t forget to lecture him:
“It’s only been a month since the semester started, and you’re already slacking off? Are you getting carried away just because you scored well on your finals last semester? There’s still a long way to go!”
Chen Mo, ever the quick thinker, immediately admitted his mistake.
“I was wrong, Lao Xiang.”
Xiang Shenglong: “What do you mean Lao Xiang? Show some respect in the classroom and behave properly!”
The class burst into laughter.
Xiang Shenglong turned back toward the podium, fuming. “What are you all laughing at? Get serious! Look at Xi Siyan—he flew to the capital at the start of the semester to compete in a national contest. If nothing unexpected happens, he’ll complete the entire Olympiad schedule by the end of his second year. He’s already miles ahead of most people, while you all are still sitting here, slacking off without a care in the world!”
A wave of exaggerated wails spread across the room.
“Teacher, isn’t studying hard enough? Why do you have to compare us to a monster like Brother Yan?!”
“Exactly! We’re just ordinary students trying to get by! Why must teachers and classmates be so cruel?!”
The students in the experimental class were nothing if not eloquent.
Chen Mo found their complaints amusing. As he listened, he subconsciously glanced at the empty seat next to him, feeling a little lost.
It was already March. The cherry blossoms outside the teaching building were in full bloom.
At this moment, the same classmates who claimed to be “ordinary people” were all quietly striving toward their own futures.
And for the first time, Chen Mo felt a sense of urgency.
Clearer and brighter than ever before.
—
A few days later, Lao K sent over details regarding their project—an applied research initiative on intelligent technology in new media.
Chen Mo was no stranger to intelligent technology. After all, in his past life, he had led similar projects.
But that didn’t stop him from meticulously reviewing information. His dorm room desk was soon stacked with professional books thick as bricks.
He started from the basics, and as his discussions with Lao K deepened, their conversations became increasingly technical. Lao K, still a university student at the time, also began treating their exchanges with more seriousness.
Of course, as a high school student, Chen Mo couldn’t possibly reveal his true identity.
The other dorm mates quickly noticed something was off.
Mr. Mo—who was famous for his health-conscious habits—suddenly seemed not very health-conscious.
It wasn’t that he stopped soaking his feet, drinking tea, or wearing thermal underwear.
But something had changed.
The usual laziness in his demeanor had vanished.
It was replaced by a newfound determination—calm, yet unwavering.
Qi Lin, who was multitasking between flirting with his girlfriend and flipping through a thick, obscure English book on Chen Mo’s desk, suddenly blurted out in shock, “What the hell is this? I can’t understand a single word!”
Chen Mo took a glance and answered lazily, “Something about robotics.”
Qi Lin: “…Robotics? Why are you reading this stuff?”
Chen Mo smiled.
“I don’t know. I just like it.”
Chen Mo reached out, took the book back from Qi Lin, weighed it in his hand, and said with a smile, “It’s actually quite interesting.”
“I don’t get your world,” Qi Lin muttered in confusion. “Before, I only ever felt like Lao Xi was living in a different universe from the rest of us. But now, Brother Mo, are you planning to follow in his footsteps too?”
“I’m not,” Chen Mo replied, casually spinning his chair. “Xi Siyan is just fooling all of you. I, on the other hand, am fooling myself for entertainment. Look, Lao Xiang already confiscated my phone. I need to borrow yours to send a message.”
Just as he spoke, the black phone in his hand started vibrating.
Chen Mo had already logged out of social media, so he handed the phone back to Qi Lin. “You’ve got a call.”
“It’s probably my girlfriend.” Qi Lin’s face lit up with a grin. He didn’t even check the screen before answering in a sweet voice, “Hey, babe!”
Chen Mo nearly fell off his chair.
A second later, Qi Lin’s expression completely shattered.
Stammering, he corrected himself, “Xi… Xi… No, not ‘babe’—I wasn’t calling you that!”
After struggling through an awkward explanation, he turned to Chen Mo with a look of sheer defeat and handed the phone over.
“It’s for you.”
“For me?” Chen Mo raised an eyebrow, glancing at the screen before finally taking the call. Seeing that it was Xi Siyan, he looked at Qi Lin with some sympathy before putting the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”
For a moment, there was nothing but static on the other end, as if the signal was weak. But soon, Xi Siyan’s calm voice came through.
“Where’s your phone? I’ve been messaging you for days, but you haven’t responded.”
“You sent me messages?” Chen Mo was momentarily stunned. “Lao Xiang took my phone. I got caught using it in class, and it got confiscated.”
Chen Mo admitted this openly, and Xi Siyan seemed to accept the explanation without question.
Chen Mo only knew that Xi Siyan was currently in the capital but wasn’t entirely sure about the progress of the competition.
So he asked, “Where are you now? What are you up to?”
“I’m preparing to go abroad for the competition,” Xi Siyan replied. “I’m about to head to the airport.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah.”
At that moment, Chen Mo faintly heard someone calling for Xi Siyan in the background.
“Alright then,” Chen Mo said with a smile. “Good luck in the competition, and may you have a bright future ahead.”
“Okay,” Xi Siyan replied.
After a pause, he added, “It’s going to be harder to stay in touch while I’m abroad. If anything comes up, just leave me a message.”
Chen Mo nodded in agreement.
After the events of the New Year, he had gradually grown used to the fact that Xi Siyan seemed to know everything about him. He had also become accustomed to the idea that if he ever needed something and went to Xi Siyan, there was almost no chance he would refuse to help.
Not that he really needed any help at the moment.
Yang Qi’an had been busy trying to win his favor lately, even doubling his monthly allowance.
Zhou Yaoqiong, perhaps having been reprimanded by Old Madam Zhou once again, had suddenly started treating him with a more even-handed approach. Apart from occasionally sending him soup and health supplements via the driver, she no longer caused him much trouble.
As for Yang Zhi, he had been too occupied with Su Qianran’s project to have time for anything else. And as far as Chen Mo knew, after Yang Shule’s scheme with his biological father was exposed—and then turned back against him—he hadn’t stopped his involvement. Instead, he was meeting with him even more frequently. Pictures of them dining together in restaurants had been circulated, yet the Yang family did nothing to intervene.
The media that had been closely following Yang Shule had caught wind of this.
They published an article about his personal life again.
The title was quite poetic: “The Rising Star and His Ordinary Father.”
Yang Shule was probably busy trying to suppress the news now and had no time to show up in front of him.
By the time he hung up the phone with Xi Siyan, Chen Mo still hadn’t thought to ask him what he had originally called for.
—
Meanwhile, at noon, with the sun at its highest point, the bus to the airport had been waiting for a while.
This time, the competition was taking place abroad, and the students were traveling as a group.
Several young students—both boys and girls—were crammed up against the bus windows, peering outside.
They saw the captain of their team, who had just gotten his phone back, standing outside finishing his call.
Excited whispers spread among them.
“Captain, who were you talking to?”
“Was it a boy or a girl?”
For people their age, this was the most intriguing question.
“Is it your girlfriend?” One girl, half-joking and half-curious, leaned forward. “We finally got a break, and the first thing you do is call someone. Captain, come on, tell us—who’s so important?”
The person being teased had an ID card hanging from his neck, identifying his nationality.
His face showed no emotion. Without hesitation, he walked toward the bus, completely ignoring the jokes.
Instead, he casually reminded them, “Don’t lean out of the windows too far. It’s a safety hazard, you know.”
A chorus of groans erupted in protest.
By the time he boarded the bus and took the window seat in the back row, some people still refused to give up.
“Captain, you still haven’t answered us! Who were you on the phone with? A boy or a girl?”
“A boy,” Xi Siyan replied without opening his eyes.
The word “boy” instantly killed the enthusiasm of most of them.
One guy muttered, “What’s so interesting about calling a guy at such an important moment?”
Xi Siyan opened his eyes slightly, glanced at him, and smirked.
“It’s actually pretty interesting.”
“…Huh?”
But Xi Siyan had already closed his eyes again.
He didn’t bother dealing with their questions anymore.
—
On the way to the airport, he dozed off for a bit.
It was a brief dream—if it was even a dream at all.
It was the same road, leading to the airport, but in the dream, those parting words—“a bright future ahead”—never existed.
That missing farewell left a regret that couldn’t be replaced.
So when the plane finally soared to an altitude of ten thousand meters,
In the small world within the aircraft cabin, he opened his notes app and typed a single line:
“The road ahead is long. I hope your journey is smooth and free.”
