Chen Mo’s decision to live in the school dormitory sparks opposition from the Yang family. At breakfast, tensions rise as he asserts his presence in the household.
The breakfast table was silent when Chen Mo came downstairs with his suitcase. The Yang family had spent the entire morning arguing about his choice to live on campus.
“You have everything you need here,” Zhou Yaoqing said, scooping a bowl of soup for him. “Your brother lived at home until college. Why the sudden decision?”
Yang Shule, sitting opposite him, sneered. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Afraid of riding in the same car as me? Should I start taking the bus just to make you feel better?”
Chen Mo smiled and took a sip of his soup. “That’s up to you.”
Yang Zhi, reading the news on his phone, finally spoke. “If he wants to live at school, let him. He’ll come crawling back soon enough.”
Zhou Yaoqing hesitated before turning to Chen Mo. “You and Shule are the same age. You should support each other. When you graduate, you’ll be able to help your brother in the company.”
“I won’t be joining the family business,” Yang Shule interrupted, his voice firm. “I’ll make my own way in the world.”
Chen Mo chuckled. “That’s good. As for me, Grandpa said that when I turn eighteen, I’ll receive my rightful dividends. That’s all I need.”
Yang Zhi looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. “Quite ambitious of you.”
Chen Mo ignored him.
Yang Qi’an, the head of the family, finally sighed. “If you insist on living at school, go ahead. If you need money, ask me.”
Zhou Yaoqing, watching Chen Mo closely, felt a strange guilt settle in her chest. His hostility from before seemed to have faded. The brand-name clothes suited him well, and when he sat at the grand dining table, he looked like he had always belonged there.
She found herself wondering—what kind of son would he have been if she had raised him from the start?
“Mrs. Zhang,” Zhou Yaoqing called.
The middle-aged servant, wearing an apron, came out from the kitchen. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Bring another bowl of soup for Xiao Mo.”
Mrs. Zhang stiffened and glanced at Yang Shule, who kept his head down, his spoon unmoving in the bowl. She hesitated before saying, “Madam, this soup was made especially for Xiaole. You said it was to help replenish his strength.”
Chen Mo nearly laughed out loud.
Zhou Yaoqing’s face darkened in embarrassment. “There’s plenty left. He doesn’t need an entire pot for himself.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Zhang,” Yang Shule suddenly said, smiling weakly. “I’ve been taking medicine, and I’m already feeling better.”
Mrs. Zhang pursed her lips.
At that moment, Yang Zhi slammed his spoon onto the table. “Mrs. Zhang, you’ve been in this house for over a decade. Since when do we need to fight over a bowl of soup?”
Mrs. Zhang’s face turned pale.
She said nothing and turned toward the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned carrying a steaming casserole wrapped in a towel.
Chen Mo stood up and reached for it.
“Let me—”
The next moment, the casserole slipped from his hands and shattered onto the marble floor with a loud crash. Steam rose, and the fragrant broth soaked into the cracks.
A stunned silence followed.
Chen Mo sighed regretfully. “Oops. Too hot to hold.”
Mrs. Zhang clenched her fists, trembling with anger.
She had expected someone—anyone—to scold him.
But instead, Yang Zhi merely frowned and said, “Are you still standing there? It’s burning.”
Zhou Yaoqing waved a hand. “It’s just soup.”
Yang Qi’an barely glanced up. “Mrs. Zhang, clean it up.”
Chen Mo slung his backpack over his shoulder. “It seems I wasn’t meant to have that soup. I’ll be leaving now.”
He walked past Mrs. Zhang and turned to Yang Shule. “Xiao Le, don’t take it personally. I wasn’t targeting you.” He then glanced at Mrs. Zhang. “Oh, and Mrs. Zhang, just a reminder—during the holidays, I have to return home as the Yang family’s son. I suggest you prepare accordingly. I wouldn’t want to embarrass the whole family. It would be a shame if your years of service here came to an unfortunate end.”
Mrs. Zhang paled further, her lips quivering.
Around them, several servants exchanged uneasy glances. Those who had once mocked or slighted Chen Mo now looked as if they wished they could vanish on the spot.
Chen Mo didn’t bother looking back.
As he stepped out the door, the morning sun warmed his skin.
The wind was light, and the sky was clear.
For the first time, he truly felt free.
Chen Mo moves into the dormitory, encountering school gossip and a familiar face at the gate. A witty exchange with the grade director sets the tone for his new beginning.
The driver escorted Chen Mo to school, treating him with exaggerated respect as he helped unload his luggage.
“If you need anything, just send me a message, and I’ll bring it over,” the driver offered earnestly.
Chen Mo pulled up the handle of his suitcase and replied, “No need. Just go about your day.”
The driver hesitated, then nodded. “Alright… I’ll be here on Friday after school to pick you up.”
“No need for that either,” Chen Mo said casually, meeting the man’s surprised gaze. “Weekend breaks are too short. I’ll come home during the long holidays. I’ll call you then.”
Leaving the driver looking flustered, Chen Mo wheeled his suitcase toward the school gate.
Monday mornings at Suicheng No. 1 High School were always chaotic.
Parents sent their kids off with last-minute reminders, car horns blared, breakfast vendors shouted their prices, and school staff scolded students for forgetting their ID cards.
Students, all in identical uniforms, lined up in front of the school entrance.
The sound of Chen Mo’s suitcase rolling across the cobblestone pavement turned more than a few heads.
As he stood in line, he overheard the conversation of two girls in front of him.
“There was a race at Nanshan last weekend. I heard someone from our school won first place.”
“Are you serious? That place is dangerous. People have died racing there.”
“I don’t know. It’s all very hush-hush. My cousin’s friend mentioned it. Apparently, only rich kids and troublemakers go there.”
“Speaking of rich families, did you hear about the Yang family’s whole baby mix-up situation? Something big happened over the weekend—check the school forum.”
The two girls huddled together, scrolling through their phones. Suddenly, one of them gasped.
“Wait… Xi Siyan was there?”
“It’s not surprising. He’s close with the fake young master of the Yang family,” the other girl replied, her tone tinged with admiration. “He could’ve skipped a grade, but he stayed back for some reason. And he’s won first place in every competition. Top students from other schools are scared of him. He’s got the looks, the brains, and the money. We can only dream.”
Teenage girls always romanticized their idols, painting them as perfect figures from a dream.
Chen Mo, amused, refrained from shattering their illusions.
After all, the person they were idolizing was one of those “troublemakers” who raced at Nanshan.
Chen Mo had found out about Xi Siyan’s love for racing by accident.
He later learned that during his years abroad, Xi Siyan had obtained an international racing license and competed in high-stakes tournaments.
Outside of China, no one cared that he was a Xi. They only saw the ruthless racer beneath the gentleman’s mask—someone with an extreme desire for control.
Back home, he played the role of the Xi family’s young heir, charming the business world with ease. To his old classmates, he was still the unattainable school idol, the golden boy who could do no wrong.
The girls continued their discussion.
“Wake up, girl. He might not even like girls.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen him play basketball. That Yang kid is always the one handing him water, right?”
“That’s the one. He hasn’t been to school in ages, but they were photographed together at the Yang family’s party.”
“You think he stayed back a grade just for him?”
“You should be posting theories on the school forum.”
Chen Mo was still listening with interest when his turn in line came.
The staff member on duty was none other than Lai Xiangfu, the bald director who had sent Gou Yiyang and his gang running on Friday.
Director Lai, despite only being in his forties, had a rather unfortunate hairline.
Recognizing Chen Mo, he immediately softened his usual stern expression. “Ah, Chen Mo! I saw your dormitory application. Good, good. Studying hard is the right attitude! No matter how difficult things were before, you must continue working hard. Your future and our school’s reputation depend on it!”
His words were brimming with enthusiasm.
Chen Mo blinked, momentarily taken aback.
In his previous life, Director Lai had shown concern for him when he struggled to adapt. After graduation, every time Chen Mo returned to visit, he always invited Director Lai for a meal.
At their last dinner, Director Lai had sighed and said, “Chen Mo, you don’t look well. Have you been unhappy all these years? Sometimes, you only get one life. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
Chen Mo had simply poured him another drink and replied, “I’m fine. Thank you for looking out for me.”
Now, in this lifetime, he smiled and said, “Thank you, Director Lai. I’ll bring you something next time to show my appreciation.”
Director Lai frowned. “Student Chen Mo, this habit of yours is unacceptable—”
“Oh, it’s nothing expensive,” Chen Mo interrupted. “I recently found a black sesame paste. All-natural, no additives. Good for the liver and kidneys… and it prevents baldness.”
Silence.
Then, laughter erupted among the students in line.
A nearby teacher chuckled and joked, “Director Lai, students these days know how to bribe! At the next flag-raising ceremony, someone’s going to have to give a 300-word self-criticism speech.”
Director Lai glared at Chen Mo, but there was amusement in his eyes.
The student before him looked completely at ease, carrying none of the burdens he once had.
He sighed, shaking his head. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”
