After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 90

Because Xi Siyan needed time to recuperate from his injuries, Chen Mo ended up staying at the Xi family estate.

He still went to work as usual on Monday, and in the evening, he was picked up and dropped off by Xiaolin.

His presence in the Xi family was somewhat ambiguous—his status hard to define. He rarely participated in private family gatherings and mostly confined his movements to Xi Siyan’s courtyard. So aside from the day of the car accident, the Xi family didn’t see him much.

This led to mixed reactions among the Xi family’s extended relatives.

In the reception room, members of the older generation—the same age as Old Master Xi—sat with Xi Siyan, who was reclined on a pearwood chair.

“You’ve taken over most of the Xi family’s affairs now, Ah Yan,” one of the elders said, “so you need to start paying attention to your personal matters.”

Xi Siyan leaned back against a soft cushion, his shirt collar casually unbuttoned, looking as though he really was recuperating. He asked lazily, “And what personal matters are you referring to?”

“Of course we’re talking about your partner—your future marriage,” said another elderly man, his hair completely white. “Everyone has seen what you’ve accomplished in these past few years. We watched you grow up—we know you’ve always been steady and reliable. We have no doubt about your ability to take over the Xi family. But in matters of this importance, you can’t just do as you please. No matter how much the old man favors you, we can’t just sit back and watch you act recklessly on such a serious issue concerning the family’s future.”

Xi Siyan’s expression didn’t change. He simply asked, “So what are you trying to say?”

“Being with a man can’t be a long-term solution. It’s best to end it as soon as possible.”

Xi Siyan suddenly chuckled.

The old men exchanged looks, a bit caught off guard by his reaction.

One of them tried to soften the blow: “We don’t mean you should cut ties entirely. After all, the Yang family isn’t an ordinary family. But—”

“His surname is Chen,” Xi Siyan interrupted coldly.

In the quiet reception room, he slowly turned the porcelain cup in his hand and said, with an unmistakable chill in his voice, “These old ideas from the Xi family’s past should have died out in your generation. There’s no need for the elders to concern themselves with my private life.”

One of the old men slammed the table and stood up. “You’re getting too full of yourself!”

There was a light clack as Xi Siyan’s teacup tapped against the table.

Still sitting, showing no intention of rising, he said, “Whether my choices are right or wrong isn’t for you to decide. I’ll say this only once: whether or not Chen Mo lives here is up to me and has nothing to do with the Xi family. My qualifications to sit where I sit today are not determined by whether I like men or women. Since you all have so much time on your hands, you’d be better off educating your own children, and keeping them from causing trouble outside. After all, the Xi family’s ancestral rules clearly state that illegitimate children are not entitled to inherit any property.”

At last, the group of elders left the room angrily, threatening to take the matter up with Old Master Xi.

Han Qian walked in at that exact moment, glancing toward the door and saying, “They just wanted to test the waters and see where the old man stands now that he’s softened a little. Five years ago, when you went abroad, they used the opportunity to plant their own people in key positions. Now that they can’t shake your power, they’re grasping at straws. You could’ve just brushed them off with a few polite words—no need to provoke them like this.”

Xi Siyan didn’t respond directly, but gave a firm order: “Find a reason to quietly remove their people.”

“All of them?” Han Qian looked slightly startled. “Isn’t that a bit harsh?”

Xi Siyan’s gaze turned icy. “I have no reason to be polite with them. If they don’t learn their lesson, they’ll just get bolder next time.”

Han Qian exhaled slowly.

He raised his eyebrows and said, “Fine, but you’ve been making such big moves the past two days that people are starting to talk. There are rumors flying around in the inner circle that this is your ‘true nature’ coming out—that now that you’ve seized power, the real Xi Siyan is showing.”

Xi Siyan glanced at him. “And what nature is that supposed to be?”

“That you’ve lost your mind,” Han Qian laughed, but the amusement quickly faded, replaced by concern. “But seriously, you’ve clearly been suppressing something these past few days. What’s going on? Is it because Chen Mo’s out working during the day and you’re lonely? Or is all this sudden purging connected to him?”

Xi Siyan pinched the bridge of his nose without answering.

“Still getting headaches?” Han Qian asked.

“Yeah.” Xi Siyan closed his eyes. “Don’t tell him.”

Han Qian frowned. “I think I have a right to know what’s going on with your body. That night of the explosion, you didn’t let anyone in—not even Chen Mo. And now you’re still getting headaches? If this continues, people are going to start speculating that you’ve got some kind of brain injury. And he’s not blind—he’s going to figure it out eventually. Why are you hiding it from him?”

That night, he’d been completely out of it and hadn’t wanted Chen Mo to see him like that.

But in the second half of the night, Chen Mo had come on his own.

Xi Siyan left out the most important part and simply said, “It’s a lingering effect of the explosion. It’ll pass in a few days. I’m not deliberately keeping it from him—it’s just that now isn’t the right time.”

Han Qian caught the subtext and hesitated. “Because of Mr. Yang…”

“Yeah.” Xi Siyan nodded. “Just because he didn’t say anything doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

Chen Mo’s demeanor at the recent banquet had indeed been off.

Siyan had wanted to ask, but the timing never seemed right. On top of that, Phase II of the new project had just launched, and Chen Mo, as project lead, had his hands full. Even with Siyan injured, the two of them barely had any time together.

The only consistent routine was Chen Mo checking his bandages every night.

“Come here.” That night, just after his shower, Xi Siyan handed Chen Mo the medical kit.

Chen Mo paused while drying his hair. “No doctor tonight?”

Xi Siyan nodded.

Chen Mo didn’t refuse. He took the kit and set it down, still wearing his bathrobe, water beading on his skin. He moved closer and began unbuttoning Xi Siyan’s shirt.

Siyan braced his hands against the bed, silently watching Chen Mo.

Their eyes met, and Chen Mo’s fingers slowed.

The kiss came without warning.

“Let me change your bandages,” Chen Mo finally murmured.

“Mm.” Xi Siyan pressed him down against the bed, voice low, “Just a minute.”

They didn’t go any further.

Just a kiss.

Chen Mo, careful not to disturb the wound on Siyan’s back, let him take the lead.

The kiss grew deeper. Xi Siyan’s hand traced down from his neck, slipping inside his robe.

Chen Mo had many scars—most from childhood. Many had faded, but every time they were intimate, Xi Siyan always lingered over them, touching them gently.

But tonight felt different.

The areas where scars remained were often the most sensitive.

Tonight, Xi Siyan traced them deliberately—from gentle kisses to playful bites, like he wanted to erase the traces with his own touch.

Chen Mo would later call it “punishment.”

But as that warm, tingling sensation spread across his skin and up his spine, his breath quickened.

And his body began to react.

He tried to stop him. “Xi Siyan.”

“Mm.”

“Okay, that’s enough, it’s time for you to take your medicine.”

…

“Xi Siyan. You’re still injured.”

…

“Xi Siyan.”

After several failed attempts to stop him, Chen Mo was backed into the headboard with his robe half open. Xi Siyan closed in on him. Chen Mo had no way to release his growing desire, nor any space to escape. In the end, he shut his eyes and moved forward with helpless abandon, unable to bear it any longer.

Xi Siyan noticed immediately. A smile curled at the corners of his lips. He leaned over, whispering hoarsely into Chen Mo’s ear, “Good boy. Keep going. Please yourself—and let me watch.”

That word—baby—was something Chen Mo had once jokingly typed when teasing him over text.

But hearing it now, in this situation, made his face flush instantly. Especially when Xi Siyan expertly bit at his ear, making Chen Mo groan uncontrollably.

Chen Mo hardly ever did this.

Especially not under the direct and fixed gaze of someone else—it felt like a vulgar performance.

That blend of shame and secret pleasure, a sensation he’d never experienced before, completely shattered his old understanding of desire. From slow to fast, from subtle to wild, the beast hidden beneath Xi Siyan’s composed exterior bared its fangs. Chen Mo was utterly consumed.

The gradually uninhibited sounds, the twisting of his body, the tangled sheets…

By the time it ended, his mind had gone blank.

A few seconds later, he collapsed forward, grabbed a fistful of bedsheet, and buried his head, cursing under his breath: “Fuck.”

He had no idea how it had escalated to this level.

Xi Siyan leaned down.

Hugging him from behind, he whispered softly, “You were beautiful.”

Calling a man beautiful—it was the only word Xi Siyan could find.

Raw, unique—this was the Chen Mo that belonged to him alone.

Xi Siyan’s own reaction had been intense. Chen Mo had noticed it long ago, but Siyan hadn’t let him do anything—he just went to the bathroom by himself.

It was supposed to be just a dose of medication, but things had spiraled out of control.

Chen Mo chalked it up to his youth. This body, with its unspent energy and instinctive desire, was relentless. Once the dam broke, even the smallest gesture from the one he loved could ignite him.

After Xi Siyan returned, Chen Mo quietly changed his dressing.

Once they finished cleaning up and lay in bed, Chen Mo realized the upside of letting go. He had too much on his mind recently and rarely got proper rest. Now, with just a little relaxation, sleep overtook him quickly.

Half-asleep, he heard Xi Siyan ask from behind, “Is it tomorrow?”

Chen Mo opened his eyes in the darkness.

After a long pause, he answered, “Mm.”

Then he turned to face Xi Siyan.

Siyan reached over and gently rubbed his back. “I’ll go with you. Let’s sleep now—I’ll hold you.”

“Okay.” Chen Mo lowered his head, and didn’t speak again.

—

At ten o’clock the next morning.

After finishing his morning meeting at the company, Chen Mo drove himself to the hospital.

He wore a suit and carried documents that needed urgent processing.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, he was met with a mocking voice.

“You’re really someone important now. All us elders have been waiting here for you.” It was his grandfather’s only daughter—Chen Mo’s nominal aunt.

Chen Mo gave her a cold glance but said nothing. This only made her angrier. She stepped forward and shouted, “And you’ve got the nerve to kill! Do you even know what you’re doing? I just don’t get it. Why did Dad fall for some country-raised grandson and hand everything over to you? Now you want to pull the plug? You’re so heartless—”

“Shut up!” Yang Zhi couldn’t listen anymore and cut her off. “That was the doctor’s recommendation. Grandpa’s condition now would only mean prolonged suffering. Aunt, you’d better think before you speak.”

She glared at him, but fearing Yang Zhi’s influence in the group, she didn’t continue.

“Easy for you to say.” Her husband chimed in sarcastically, turning to Yang Qi’an and Zhou Yaoqiong. “Third Brother, Third Sister-in-law—you’ve really raised some fine sons. One’s in jail, and now the other two are working together like this. I can’t imagine how you’ll fare when you’re old. At least our two kids wouldn’t be so cruel.”

Over a dozen members of the Yang family had shown up. Most wore indifferent expressions, as if uninvolved. Watching them all, Chen Mo felt sick at the thought that these people had a say in deciding whether his grandfather should live or die.

He had been prepared for Yang Qi’an and his wife to side with the rest of the family, maybe even lead the opposition. But the result surprised him.

Zhou Yaoqiong was the first to speak. She called her sister-in-law by her childhood nickname and said, “Dad trusts Xiaomo because Xiaomo’s been taking care of him all these years. It’s not your place to criticize. Just because your husband’s brother was fired by my eldest son doesn’t mean you get to take it out on us with nasty words.”

The aunt and her husband were stunned, their faces darkening.

Yang Qi’an, as the former chairman of Yang Corporation, still held some weight among the siblings. Now, in the face of this family dispute, he glanced first at his eldest son, then at Chen Mo. After a few seconds, he said, “Don’t bother with your aunt. We’ve actually talked it over. Do what you think is right.”

Chen Mo nodded coldly.

Then turned and walked toward the hospital.

Behind him, he could hear his two uncles arguing.

“Did Dad really say he didn’t want to continue treatment? How old is Chen Mo anyway? He’s not even a real member of the Yang family anymore—why are we all listening to him?”

“Then go ask Dad yourself. Complaining to me won’t help.”

“You’re just spineless. All this fuss over some documents in Chen Mo’s hand? He’s not even a Yang—why don’t you make him hand it over?”

Chen Mo stopped on the stone steps and turned around.

He looked down at the group below.

His voice was calm, measured. “Whether you showed up today or not, the outcome won’t change. I don’t care who you are or what petty motivations you have. If you want to hire a lawyer or take it to court after this, I’ll see you there. But don’t let me hear another word about me not having the Yang surname—especially from people who clearly do care about the Yang name. After all, those annual dividends aren’t small. Don’t shoot yourselves in the foot.”

His two uncles flushed red with shame.

Unable to hold their ground, one retorted, “Is that any way to talk to your elders? Are you threatening us?”

“Exactly—what gives you the right?”

Chen Mo remained expressionless. “Whether I’m qualified or not, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Just then, three cars came speeding down the road.

Chen Mo guessed correctly—the lead car was Xi Siyan’s.

As soon as the door opened, Xi Siyan stepped out.

The noisy Yang family instantly fell silent, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

After all, over the years, the relationship between the Xi and Yang families had grown increasingly distant. If not for the earlier UA crisis, the two families likely wouldn’t have had any further business ties.

Now, someone from the Xi family had appeared—none other than the new heir, Xi Siyan.

The Yang family’s surprise reached its peak when they saw Xi Siyan turn and walk toward another vehicle behind him. From it emerged an elderly man with completely white hair.

Xi Siyan supported Old Master Xi as they stood there together. He said, “Let’s go see Grandpa Yang off.”

Chen Mo knew those words were meant for him. It wasn’t surprising—lifelong friendships between elders could endure even if their families grew distant.

But it was clearly unexpected for the Yang family. They were stunned to see that even after the weakening of ties between their two families, Chen Mo seemed to maintain an unusual closeness to the Xi family.

Still, they quickly walked over to greet them, offering their courtesies one by one.

Old Master Xi responded casually to each of them. Finally, he walked over to Chen Mo, patted him gently on the shoulder, and said, “Let me go have a word with your grandfather. He lived with dignity, and he should pass with dignity too. Good boy, you’ve done well. Your grandfather would be proud.”

Chen Mo looked at the old man and nodded. “Thank you.”

Anyone present that day at the hospital would have said that the old man had passed peacefully and with honor.

There were many who came—crying, grieving—and in that final moment, even the coldest hearts seemed moved to tears.

Only Chen Mo remained silent throughout.

Looking at his grandfather’s thin, frail body, Chen Mo felt weighed down by sorrow. Yet he reminded himself that, despite how painful the decision was, there was no such thing as “right” or “wrong” in a goodbye like this.

What followed was a whirlwind of funeral arrangements.

At his age, Grandpa’s funeral was considered a celebration of life. He had cultivated countless friendships and relatives throughout his lifetime. For once, the Yang brothers all agreed—they had to hold a grand, respectful farewell.

Chen Mo moved into his grandfather’s former home, staying behind to sort through his belongings. He didn’t participate in the funeral proceedings.

Among the old man’s possessions, Chen Mo found photo after photo of them together—taken each year on his birthday. They were carefully preserved, stored separately from other items. He also found the old man’s handwritten notes: reminders like, “What Xiao Mo reminded me about today,” or “Don’t forget to tell Mrs. Zhang to save supper for Xiao Mo—he’s working late tonight.”

Most of it, in fact, was about him.

Little things accumulated year by year, now tangible.

The day of the final farewell was a rainy one.

Chen Mo wore black.

At the cemetery, the visitors gradually dispersed, but Chen Mo remained, holding an umbrella and standing in front of the tombstone without moving.

He saw his name engraved on the stone—not prominently, but still listed among the many descendants.

The rain drummed steadily on the umbrella above.

When someone else stepped up beside him, Chen Mo didn’t turn his head. Still looking at the tombstone, he said, “I left the Yang family when I was in high school, but it wasn’t until today that I truly severed all ties.”

He felt the urge to speak—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. His voice came out hoarse: “It just took longer than I expected. And it was harder than I thought it would be.”

“You’ve handled it well. Always.” Xi Siyan’s voice was firm and certain.

He reached over, took the umbrella from Chen Mo’s hand, then tilted it so that it covered both of them. Looking down at him, he added, “Your parents are waiting at the bottom of the hill. They made it clear they want to reconcile. But I knew you wouldn’t want that, so I already turned them away for you.”

Chen Mo turned his gaze toward him. “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?”

Xi Siyan dropped the extra umbrella.

It fell upside-down into the mud, the rain quickly filling it with murky water.

He stared at Chen Mo for a long time before asking, “In your previous life… had Grandpa passed long before this?”

The question pulled a memory from deep within Chen Mo’s mind.

That other life, so long ago—it already felt distant, disconnected. A life sealed away behind reincarnation.

That version of himself had been shackled by fate from birth. His life had been like endless drizzle, with no sunshine after the storm.

Even Chen Mo, reborn and far removed from that past, had begun to forget it.

He had forgotten how heavy the rain was on the day of the college entrance exam.

Forgotten the cramped, overgrown garden behind the Yang family villa.

Forgotten the biting cold of the Yang Group’s skyscraper.

Forgotten the lonely fork in the road back in Yuhuai Village.

“Yes,” Chen Mo finally said.

Lightning tore through the sky, and the rain poured harder.

And suddenly, all of Xi Siyan’s strange behavior made sense.

If he had been given a second chance… it wasn’t so strange that he knew.

Chen Mo didn’t ask him when—didn’t ask anything more. He simply stepped forward, took the remaining umbrella from Xi Siyan’s hand, and closed it.

Exposing everything to the open rain.

Water poured down on them both.

Looking at him squarely, Chen Mo said, “Yes. He died of a cerebral infarction. It wasn’t painful—he never even went to the ICU. But he still passed, just three short years later.”

Xi Siyan felt a deep, unhealable wound tear open inside him.

The cold rain and roaring wind scoured the land like a battlefield. That other world, where that Xi Siyan had lost his Chen Mo, had been left a wasteland.

Even after those five years, they had still been torn apart.

Even though the story was different, he had still ended up alone.

Xi Siyan grabbed him in the rain, wrapped his arms tightly around him, pulled at his wet hair and waist, and whispered over and over:

“It’s not like losing your baby. Three years is a long time. It won’t happen again. Never again.”

Half an hour later.

A luxury car waited at the base of the mountain.

Two figures, drenched to the bone, approached.

Xiao Lin rushed out in a panic, umbrella in hand. “Mr. Xi! Mr. Chen! Oh my God, why are you soaked like this?”

Chen Mo opened the car door and pushed Xi Siyan in first.

He frowned and said, “Get the clothes he keeps in the trunk—and the medical kit.”

“Right away!” Xiao Lin’s scalp tingled at the thought of Mr. Xi’s back wound.

When he returned, arms full, he found Mr. Xi tugging at Mr. Chen’s clothes, while Mr. Chen resisted, furious.

“You’re the one who’s injured, Xi Siyan!”

“I’m fine now,” Xi Siyan muttered, still pulling at his wet shirt. He reached out toward the open door. “Give it to me.”

“O-oh! Yes, sir!” Xiao Lin quickly handed the items over.

He couldn’t quite describe it, but something about Mr. Xi had changed.

Maybe it was the way he held Mr. Chen now—like he could never let go.

Xiao Lin didn’t dare ask, nor did he dare glance at Mr. Chen’s half-bare shoulder. He simply closed the door and ran back into the rain.

As he ran, he thought:

Did they have a fight on the mountain?

…Will Mr. Chen be okay?

Everyone’s been saying Mr. Xi has been in a bad mood lately…