After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 82

Perhaps it was because UA was suddenly exposed for involvement in a major cross-border economic case—even though it was still under investigation—the entire atmosphere of the seminar’s second day felt like it had been frozen in cement. A heavy, ominous tension loomed like a coming storm.

Chuanxing no longer dared to make any bold moves.

This, in turn, left many small businesses—originally hoping to gain visibility—wandering like headless flies.

It was during this time that Xinrui suddenly announced it would begin negotiating partnerships with various companies at rates more reasonable than Chuanxing’s—and without demanding full buyouts. In just one day, it swiftly captured most of the targets Chuanxing had originally aimed for.

The execution was swift, the strike ruthless.

And this was a competition conducted openly, right out in the open.

Everyone attending the seminar gained a new level of respect for the name Chen Mo.

This young man sitting at the negotiation table wasn’t the most talkative, but he was the most direct. When it came to the bottom lines he’d drawn, he absolutely would not yield.

“Master,” Yuan Hao trailed behind him, arms full of documents, spinning like a top the entire day. Despite the fatigue, as they packed up and returned to the hotel, he still whispered to Chen Mo, “Should I leave the door unlocked for you tonight? I still have the room card from this morning. You can have it, Master.”

Chen Mo looked down at the room card being handed to him.

Compared to the dark circles under Yuan Hao’s eyes, Chen Mo—someone who had battled chronic insomnia for years—seemed to have adapted to high-intensity work long ago. Other than being a bit pale, he appeared perfectly normal.

“No need,” he said.

He didn’t bother to ask how his disciple had figured it out. He only replied, “UA just ran into trouble. He probably has his hands full. He won’t come tonight.”

Even though it was just speculation—

Two minutes later, Chen Mo received a message from Xi Siyan on his phone.

Sure enough.

XSY: Something came up tonight. Go to bed early—don’t stay up late.

A second message followed.

XSY: I had new meds prepared in Huajing. Someone will deliver them to you later. Try them. If anything feels off, call me right away.

Chen Mo thought Xi Siyan was overreacting.

After all, he knew his low-grade fever wasn’t a big deal. A bit of rest would take care of it. The problem was just timing. Clearly, Xi Siyan understood that too—and still didn’t pressure him to stop.

That kind of unspoken understanding was what always put Chen Mo at ease.

He knew he’d never meet another person who understood him this well.

Even though they still kept things from each other, it didn’t stop their feelings from being very, very real.

Chen Mo replied with a simple “Got it” and continued working.

The third day of the seminar.

Chen Mo gave a keynote on the application of AI in the medical field.

Compared to the first day—when he didn’t even get a chance to speak—Xinrui had quickly overtaken Chuanxing’s momentum. When he stood at the center of the seminar, speaking freely in front of the large display screen, all eyes in the room were on him.

Including Xi Siyan, sitting in the front row.

Their eyes met briefly, then turned away.

Chen Mo said, “I came into contact with AI quite late. One of the earliest memories I have is when I was a kid—someone once went with me to visit my hometown, a place almost untouched by modern tech. Out of respect for my elders, he even joined me in bathing with well water. Predictably, I caught a cold… and the doctors there didn’t even have proper IV drips…”

Chen Mo recalled the terraced fields of Yuhuai Village.

The cool bamboo mat in the little building.

The gang of village bullies they met, and the warm buzz of the town’s breakfast shop.

Even though that summer was where they began to drift apart…

Over the years, whenever he thought of Yuhuai Village, the deepest memories in his mind were all connected to Xi Siyan.

He rarely dwelled on it, but whenever he did, he’d try to sketch the figure from memory:

A high nose bridge, deep-set eyes, long fingers.

All those fragmented impressions ultimately converged into the man sitting in the audience today.

Wearing a crisp suit, long legs crossed, eyes calm—with the barest trace of a smile at the corners.

He clearly remembered every moment Chen Mo had described from those days.

Chen Mo could hear his own heartbeat.

The emotions he felt now were different from every other time he had stood on a stage like this. It was because there was someone here—someone who had once held his reckless past, and would likely be part of his foreseeable future.

The seminar wrapped up in the afternoon.

Their flight back to Suicheng was scheduled.

Unexpectedly, the 4:00 PM flight was delayed until 6:00 PM. Eventually, the airline announced the flight was canceled and rescheduled for 7:30.

Old K was anxious to return—he had a meeting with Su Qianran lined up.

He was furious.

“Let’s grab dinner first,” Chen Mo said, well aware of Old K’s temper. Unlike the silent, anxious sales team or the tongue-tied Yuan Hao, Chen Mo took the lead in looking for an airport restaurant.

Only when Old K finally stomped along, cursing the whole time, did the group relax a little—and the atmosphere began to ease.

Ten minutes later, they found a buffet.

Just as they stepped in, Old K suddenly stepped back.

“What’s wrong?” Chen Mo, walking just behind, was bumped into for no reason.

Old K grabbed his arm. “Let’s go somewhere else. Bad luck. People from Chuanxing are inside.”

Chen Mo turned to look and locked eyes with Ren Xiansen, who happened to turn around just then. Ren, having just lost the huge support of UA, no longer had the energy to fake pleasantries. His gaze was venomous, sharp like a snake, glaring straight at Chen Mo.

Chen Mo returned the stare coldly.

Only after Ren muttered something and turned away did Chen Mo look back and agree to find a new place.

About twenty meters ahead, there was a Chinese restaurant.

As the group made their way over, just before reaching the entrance, Old K muttered beside him:

“Damn bad luck! What kind of cursed airport is this—everywhere we go, we bump into people we’d rather not see.”

Only then did Chen Mo see Xi Siyan and his group.

In addition to Han Qian, there were five others with him. Perhaps because two of them were foreigners, they had specifically chosen Chinese cuisine.

“Mr. Xi.” The social butterfly in Old K was instantly awakened. Smiling, he stepped forward and greeted, “What a coincidence. Nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you,” Xi Siyan extended his hand and shook with Old K, glancing at Chen Mo at the same time.

As the two groups exchanged greetings, they found out they were all booked on the same 7:30 flight. So they ended up having lunch together.

At the long restaurant table, Chen Mo sat directly across from Xi Siyan.

They didn’t speak much.

Thanks to Han Qian’s extroverted personality and ease with conversation, he got along swimmingly with Old K and brought the others into the flow. The table was lively and never fell into awkward silence.

Ironically, this only made the two of them—Chen Mo and Xi Siyan—seem all the more noticeable.

Chen Mo barely ate, occasionally answering questions when prompted, but mostly just leaned back on his chair, listening to the chatter around him. With one leg crossed over the other, a slight shift of his body caused his foot to accidentally brush against the knee of the man across from him.

Chen Mo paused.

Xi Siyan, who had been speaking English to the foreign colleague beside him, suddenly stopped and turned to look at him.

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow.

It was an inconsequential little moment.

But as Xi Siyan returned to his conversation, that single glance lured something mischievous out of Chen Mo. He extended his leg again, this time intentionally. His foot touched Xi Siyan’s calf. When Xi Siyan momentarily paused mid-sentence, Chen Mo suppressed a smile and teasingly slid his foot up—calf to knee, then toward the thigh—gently, barely noticeable, like a soft caress.

Just as he was about to go further, a hand abruptly gripped his ankle—firm and unmistakably warning.

Chen Mo stopped at the perfect moment, retracted his foot, and casually picked up a piece of potato with his chopsticks, placing it in his mouth like nothing had happened.

At that moment, Xi Siyan had just finished his conversation.

He turned his head and glanced at Chen Mo’s barely touched plate, frowning.

Without a word, he beckoned the waiter and quietly gave instructions.

No one paid attention at first, but later—when the meal ended and they were preparing to leave—the waiter handed Xi Siyan a takeout bag at the register.

Han Qian was surprised. “You’re not full?”

Xi Siyan didn’t respond.

No one pressed the matter.

Then, in the VIP lounge before boarding, observant people noticed that the takeout bag had somehow ended up in Chen Mo’s hands.

Chen Mo held the bowl and ate slowly, one bite at a time.

Xi Siyan stood beside him, still engaged in conversation with someone. But whenever Chen Mo paused, he’d glance down with a furrowed brow—like a meticulous examiner monitoring progress.

During the break, he looked at his watch and tapped the armrest of Chen Mo’s chair. “Ten minutes left. Eat some more.”

“I already did,” Chen Mo replied.

Xi Siyan said flatly, “Right. In half an hour, you’ve had one small bowl of mushroom soup, two bites of vegetables, and that one piece of potato you didn’t plan to eat. Anything else?”

Han Qian, sitting closest, couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching.

The first time he looked at Xi Siyan, he thought the man was borderline neurotic. Now, glancing at Chen Mo, Han Qian could only offer him a moment of silent sympathy.

He knew the relationship between the two—knew that Xi Siyan had a notoriously controlling nature—but to manage someone like this? It was wild.

Chen Mo wasn’t some delicate little canary. As far as Han Qian could tell, he was the hidden major shareholder behind Xinrui, a man who’d outmaneuvered and suppressed a corporate powerhouse like Ren Xiansen for years. How could someone like that take this kind of micromanagement?

It didn’t matter if the relationship didn’t implode—the sheer friction should’ve made them both bleed by now.

But soon, Han Qian realized his assumptions were completely off.

Because Chen Mo didn’t protest.

He didn’t flip the table. He didn’t even roll his eyes.

Instead, under Xi Siyan’s watchful gaze, he calmly finished the entire small bowl of nourishing porridge.

Xi Siyan naturally took it from his hands when he was done and threw the empty packaging into the trash.

Chen Mo used a napkin to wipe his hands and, with his eyes slightly curved in a mild smile, looked over at Han Qian. “Assistant Han, do you have a question?”

Han Qian leaned on the armrest, inching closer to whisper, “I’m just curious—how do you put up with him? Honestly, this kind of… dating dynamic is beyond anything I imagined.”

After he spoke, he noticed Chen Mo reclining back in his seat with a half-smile.

This was different from the Chen Mo Han Qian had met at the train station years ago.

Different, too, from the Chen Mo he’d seen recently—calm, sharp, and distant.

This Chen Mo had his eyes lowered, lips curled slightly upward.

He said softly, “Who said I’m putting up with him? Since I chose to get back together with him, I’m not going to deny him what he wants.”

In that moment, Han Qian suddenly understood:

In this relationship, it was Chen Mo who had always allowed himself to indulge.

It was he who had given the other person the power to enter his world and take control.

The man who just smiled and claimed he wasn’t fulfilling Xi Siyan’s wishes—he was the one who had handed over the key willingly.

Han Qian was shaken.

He quietly sat back.

After all, he hadn’t forgotten—

That day, when he tried to show off and flaunt his new designer bag…

He was the one playing petty games with someone else’s man.