After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 72

The wedding had seemed perfect.
All the way up until the banquet ended, Chen Mo thought it would just be a normal day.
He attended the ceremony as someone with no ties to the Yang family, and when it was over, he would simply congratulate the couple and quietly leave.

But as the guests gradually dispersed—

Chen Mo still hadn’t seen Xi Siyan.
And just as he was about to leave with some colleagues, someone suddenly rushed over and whispered urgently in his ear:

“Something’s happened to the old man.”

Chen Mo’s first thought was that someone in the Yang family had said something stupid again and made the old man angry.

But when he followed them over—

He saw the old man lying at the foot of the stairs, about to be rushed to the hospital.

Chen Mo’s mind went blank.
He stared at the old man’s ashen face and the blood staining his white hair red.
His whole body stiffened, the scene feeling unreal.

It was just this morning — the old man had still been telling him that he hoped he’d find someone and live a good life.

The scene was chaotic.

Chen Mo stood frozen on the edge of the crowd for a long time, unable to move closer.

When he finally stepped out of the hotel, he saw Yang Shule waiting on the roadside, surrounded by his group of people.

As if deliberately waiting for him.

Yang Shule strolled straight over, blocking Chen Mo’s path.
With a twisted smile, he said,
“You cut ties with the family long before I left the country. I heard you’ve barely kept in touch since then. Chen Mo — you don’t have to get involved now.”

“Move.”
Chen Mo’s cold gaze met his, noticing up close the dark circles under Yang Shule’s eyes.

But Yang Shule didn’t budge.
“Still the same as always,” he sneered, “acting like the whole world owes you something.”

“Move — for the second time.” Chen Mo’s voice was icy.

“And what if I don’t?”
Yang Shule laughed, but just as his two bodyguard-like men stepped forward — they didn’t even get the chance to touch Chen Mo.
Because someone grabbed Chen Mo first and pulled him back.

Xi Siyan stood beside him, gaze cold as ice, staring down Yang Shule.

“What did Lunar promise you?” Xi Siyan asked coldly.

“Brother Yan, you’re well-informed,” Yang Shule replied, his expression flickering strangely.
He looked at Chen Mo, then back at Xi Siyan, before regaining his calm smile:
“But don’t get me wrong — I really did just come back for my brother’s wedding. As for Lunar… no favors. He’s my fiancé now.”

Even Chen Mo’s expression darkened at those words.

“Honestly,” Yang Shule said, now addressing Xi Siyan, “I’m surprised. You did so well overseas — but I never thought you’d still be tangled up with Chen Mo after coming back.”

Chen Mo couldn’t be bothered to listen anymore.
He moved to leave.

“Chen Mo.”
Yang Shule called after him with a smirk.
“Aren’t you curious how the old man fell down the stairs? He had a nurse watching him 24/7 — someone you hired, wasn’t it?”

Chen Mo froze, spun around, grabbed the front of Yang Shule’s collar, and hissed:
“It was you.”

“It wasn’t,” Yang Shule said, not resisting, that same twisted grin on his face.
“I just told him that I could get him his 20% shares back through Lunar’s channels. They abandoned me when I was useless and dumped me abroad. No one helped me, so I had to crawl back for it myself. I didn’t expect the old man to be so stubborn — said he’d rather donate it than leave it to me. Then he slipped… oops. At his age, do you really think he can survive something like that?”

Chen Mo’s grip tightened, his knuckles turning white.

His heart was pounding.

This — this was exactly the kind of situation he couldn’t accept.
In his previous life, though the old man passed away earlier, he’d gone peacefully, without suffering.
At least back then, he hadn’t known that the Yang family shares would fall into the hands of the very person he loathed.

Even when Yang Zhi eventually transferred the shares to Yang Shule, at least it had been through open and fair competition.

But now — this was nothing but a cruel, disgusting betrayal.

Chen Mo yanked Yang Shule in closer, his voice low and threatening:
“You’d better pray Grandpa pulls through.”

“You— a stray outsider — what right do you have to act like some devoted grandson? You—”

“Agh—!”

Before he could finish, Xi Siyan grabbed Yang Shule’s wrist, making him yelp in pain.

The men Xi Siyan brought with him quickly restrained Yang Shule’s people as well.

“Go to the hospital,” Xi Siyan said to Chen Mo. “Take my car. Leave this to me.”

“Thanks.”
Chen Mo took the car keys and didn’t say anything more.

Now that he knew Yang Shule was connected to UA’s Lunar, it was clear this wasn’t a simple family matter — it would be better handled by Xi Siyan.

Chen Mo walked toward the roadside, still able to hear Yang Shule’s voice behind him — no longer pitiful, but hysterical and unstable:

“Ayan — I sent you so many emails when I was abroad! You never replied! What, you still think this is all my fault? You think I wanted to follow Lunar? I had no choice! He’s so old, and you—”

Chen Mo didn’t know what Xi Siyan was feeling right now.

But those words made his blood boil.
If it were possible, Chen Mo wanted to turn around and drag that man away from him right there.

At the central Suicheng hospital’s emergency department.

It was afternoon.

The hallway outside the ER was packed.

Chen Mo leaned silently against the wall, watching the old man’s four children — including Chen Mo’s biological father, Yang Qi’an — arguing not about the old man’s condition, but about who should take responsibility, and who should inherit the shares.

The arguing grew louder and uglier.

“Enough!”

It was Yang Zhi who finally shouted, his reddened eyes bloodshot.

“Is this the time for this?!”

As the current head of the Yang family, with years of growing authority under his belt, Yang Zhi’s outburst carried weight — even among the self-centered relatives.

He made his way to Chen Mo, with Su Qianran supporting him, his voice hoarse:
“I’ve already investigated. I know what happened to Grandpa. This won’t be overlooked.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Chen Mo said flatly.
“You handle it your way. I’ll handle it mine.”

Yang Zhi looked weary, wiping a hand over his face.
Su Qianran frowned, quietly steadying him.

Out of basic decency, Chen Mo reminded her,
“Yang Shule is backed by UA’s boss, Lunar. If you don’t want to be caught off guard, you’d better start preparing now.”

Yang Zhi stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly said:
“I’m sorry.”

Chen Mo frowned.
“What?”

Su Qianran lightly patted Yang Zhi’s shoulder, urging him to go rest nearby.
She stayed and explained to Chen Mo:
“Don’t think this apology is because of Yang Shule’s situation. He’s had it bottled up for a long time. He’s stubborn — we argued so many times before, but he never knew how to say it. He’s always been like this.”

Chen Mo stayed silent.

But his heart felt heavy.

“Chen Mo, I just want to say — no one else is you. I don’t know what you’ve been through, so it’s perfectly natural if you can’t forgive us. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

“Yeah, I didn’t.” Chen Mo tugged up the corner of his mouth. “But if you keep talking, I might start feeling sorry for you.”

Su Qianran smiled, leaning against the wall beside him.

After four long hours, the doors of the emergency room finally opened.

The old man, aged and frail, had undergone surgery for a cerebral hemorrhage.
His life was barely saved, but whether or not he would ever regain consciousness was uncertain.

Chen Mo had only just let out a breath of relief — when that breath caught again in his throat.

The old man needed to be monitored in the ICU, round-the-clock.
Family visits weren’t allowed.

At around nine in the evening, Chen Mo dragged his exhausted body out of the hospital.

This kind of prolonged mental strain was even more draining than several days of nonstop overtime.
He took off his jacket and slung it over his arm.
As he descended the long stone steps outside the hospital, his legs — numb from standing so long — began to ache, sharply.

Maybe he’d bumped them during the hospital rush earlier, or maybe it was just the strain of standing for hours.
Either way, the pain made him sit down right there on the cold stone steps.

It was late, and there weren’t many people coming or going through the hospital entrance anymore.
Maybe three minutes passed, maybe ten.
When Chen Mo noticed someone getting out of a car by the roadside, he didn’t get up.

It was Xi Siyan — still dressed in the same formal suit he’d worn at the ceremony.

He shut the car door and climbed the stone steps one at a time.

“Why are you here?”
As he approached, Chen Mo looked up and asked, voice hoarse.

Xi Siyan crouched down in front of him.
“I came to pick you up. Otherwise, someone’s going to end up spending the night here on these steps.”

Chen Mo looked at the man crouching in front of him.

The image overlapped with another memory — years ago, after a ball game, when someone nearly fell down these same steps, only to crouch in front of him, laughing.

From their youth, to now.

People had come and gone from his life, but this person had left and then… returned.

Chen Mo said nothing.

He lowered himself onto Xi Siyan’s back.

Xi Siyan carried him effortlessly, steady and unhurried.

The midnight wind was chilly against his neck, but the places where their bodies touched were warm.

Xi Siyan carried him down the steps.
But instead of heading for the car, he started walking slowly down the sidewalk.

Xiao Lin quietly followed behind in the car, keeping pace.

Chen Mo didn’t say anything either.

Not far ahead was a middle school.
It was a weekend night — people out eating, shopping, chatting about the latest gadgets and gossip.
Now and then someone would spot a tall, good-looking man carrying another equally handsome young man down the sidewalk, leaning in close to talk and laughing softly.

“Xi Siyan.”
Chen Mo spoke, his hand loosely resting over his other wrist.
His jacket still hung over Xi Siyan’s chest.
“I overheard someone just now. They were saying we looked like a couple. But you carried me on your back all the time back in high school, and nobody said a word then.”

“Yeah.”

“You heard it too?” Chen Mo asked, raising a brow.

Xi Siyan gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

Chen Mo thought back — back when his old leg injury flared up again, they hadn’t been particularly close.

He chuckled and asked,
“Back then, when you were carrying me around, did you secretly curse me? Like, ‘This damned gay kid’s ruining my reputation.’”

“No.”
Xi Siyan shook his head.
“I just kept wondering — this guy doesn’t look small, how come he’s so light?”

Chen Mo was speechless.
“That’s it?”

“What else?”
Xi Siyan adjusted his hold on him.
“You’re still light now. Chen Mo, do you know what went through my mind when I saw you sitting alone on those steps just now?”

“What?”

“I regretted it. Again.”

Xi Siyan’s voice was low and steady.
“I always seem to regret it — regret meeting you, regret leaving you. I keep thinking you’ll probably be fine on your own, that you don’t need me. But…”

Chen Mo lived a good life.

Not just by his own standards — everyone around him thought so too.

Graduated from a top university, built a successful career, had goals, money, independence.

But for some reason, those words from Xi Siyan made his chest ache — like someone had reached in and squeezed his heart tight.
It hurt.

Chen Mo frowned.

He couldn’t take this heavy atmosphere.

So he changed the subject,
“How’d you deal with things after I left this afternoon?”

“What was there to deal with?”
Xi Siyan replied evenly.
“I had them drag him back and dump him at the hotel where Lunar’s staying.”

Chen Mo recalled the words he’d overheard earlier in the day.
His gaze darkened.

“Ayan.”
He suddenly leaned in, whispering by Xi Siyan’s ear.

Xi Siyan’s footsteps faltered noticeably, his pace slowing, though his tone stayed even:
“What’s gotten into you, calling me that all of a sudden?”

“Other people can call you that — but I can’t?”
Chen Mo teased, deliberately leaning in closer, his breath brushing against Xi Siyan’s ear.

His voice carried a sort of malicious dissatisfaction, as if getting even.

Xi Siyan dodged slightly, helpless.
“You can, but stop breathing down my neck while you do it.”