After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 92

The room the Xi family originally arranged for Chen Mo was right next to Xi Siyan’s.

But after a few days, both the Xi family members and the servants had long stopped being surprised to see the two men—both supposedly recovering from injuries—emerging from the same room each morning.

Even though the two of them mostly just slept curled up in each other’s arms and didn’t actually do anything, no one would believe them even if they said so.

Chen Mo didn’t care.

And Xi Siyan cared even less.

Occasionally, when curious younger members of the Xi family tried to poke around, Xi Siyan had countless ways to make them run off crying for their parents.

That was until Chen Mo discovered something—Xi Siyan was getting headaches.

Now that both of them had mostly recovered, they were preparing to move back to the villa at Genting Bay. While the headaches weren’t too severe, they still flared up when Xi Siyan didn’t get enough rest.

Chen Mo grew worried.

It was hard to say whether the headaches were aftereffects of the explosion—or tied to the memories he’d recovered.

“I know an old doctor who specializes in treating headaches,” Yuan Hao said one day, when he came by Genting Bay to deliver some documents and noticed the medicine bottle on the coffee table.

Chen Mo hadn’t held out much hope. After all, even the doctors hired by the Xi family hadn’t made much progress.

Still, he asked, “Where?”

“My hometown,” Yuan Hao replied. “My mom had migraines for over ten years. That doctor cured her. But it’s out in the county. It’ll take a few hours to get there.”

Chen Mo still asked Yuan Hao for the address.

He planned to go with Siyan once their schedules opened up.

“Master,” Yuan Hao said, looking around wide-eyed on his first visit to Genting Bay. His tone was full of envy. “Mr. Xi’s place is huge. Is it usually just the two of you here?”

Chen Mo chuckled while holding his phone. “Auntie hasn’t arrived yet. What, jealous?”

“Super jealous,” Yuan Hao replied without hesitation. “Our company pays decently and we get project bonuses, but I calculated—if I wanted to buy a villa like this in Suicheng, I’d have to work for 200 years. Even then, I’d be lucky to live another 50.”

“What’s this about fifty years?” a voice interrupted from the stairs.

Yuan Hao looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin.

A man in slippers had just come downstairs, clearly fresh out of bed. His voice was low and casual—but unmistakably Xi Siyan’s.

Yuan Hao stammered, “M-Mr. Xi,” then quickly gathered the documents on the coffee table and turned to Chen Mo. “Master, Mr. Xi—I’ll head back to the office now.”

Then he bolted like a rabbit.

Chen Mo shook his head and turned back to the man coming downstairs. “When did you get home last night? I must’ve fallen asleep—I didn’t even hear you.”

“Two a.m.,” Xi Siyan replied. He was still in his pajamas.

Gone was the sharp suit and stiff tie. His hair was slightly tousled, making Chen Mo recall the days they lived together near No. 1 Middle School.

Xi Siyan came over and sat on the sofa. He reached out his hand. “Come here.”

“You were out socializing until so late, and you’re still up early?” Chen Mo walked over without hesitation, swung his legs over Xi Siyan’s lap, and perched there comfortably. He reached out and gently scratched the back of his head, fingers tracing a faint scar. “Did your headache act up last night?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Xi Siyan murmured, wrapping his arms around Chen Mo’s waist. “It’s a minor issue.”

But to Chen Mo, it wasn’t.

Precisely because he had his own physical issues—and had long experienced the pain and inconvenience of lingering injuries—he took this matter seriously.

“I checked,” Chen Mo said. “New Year’s is next week. We both have some free time. Yuan Hao said there’s a well-known doctor in his hometown who specializes in treating headaches. I’ll go with you.”

Xi Siyan cast a glance at the door and scoffed. “Your apprentice? The one who ran like a scared mouse as soon as he saw me?”

“I’ve noticed you’re especially mean to him,” Chen Mo patted his shoulder. “Mr. Xi, you’re too much. He’s just a fresh graduate. Why bully him like that?”

Xi Siyan’s arms tightened slightly around his waist.

He didn’t bother hiding anything and replied matter-of-factly, “Can’t help it. First impression was too bad. What kind of idiot falls for me at first sight?”

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it normal for a junior to admire a senior in the workplace?”

“Totally normal,” Xi Siyan said as he bit gently at Chen Mo’s Adam’s apple. “Still pisses me off.”

Chen Mo: “…You really are something else.”

The intimacy came naturally.

Just as Xi Siyan’s hand tugged Chen Mo’s shirt loose from his waistband, Chen Mo grabbed his wrist and reminded him, “I have to go out.”

“Where to?” Xi Siyan asked.

“I need to check on the renovation progress this morning, then head to the company. In the afternoon, I’m going back to school—still have some experimental data to go over.”

“You’re even busier than I am,” Xi Siyan muttered. But he wasn’t the kind to waste time on things that mattered, so he straightened Chen Mo’s clothes for him.

When leaving the house, Chen Mo threw on an extra coat.

It was now the end of December, and the cold had set in. Recently, Xi Siyan had found some herbal remedies to dispel cold and dampness. Chen Mo used to get leg pain around this time every year—but this year, nothing.

Still, he didn’t let his guard down.

You pay attention when you need to.

On the way to Rhine Ark, Chen Mo had the uneasy feeling of being watched.

A vague discomfort settled over him.

But Xi Siyan had recently arranged for bodyguards to shadow him. Chen Mo knew about it and hadn’t objected.

That is, until he reached his floor.

He had bought a unit on a high floor. Ever since the fire, all the remaining debris had been cleared out by Xi Siyan. This was Chen Mo’s first time returning.

Everything charred had been cleaned. Less than a third of the new paint was on, and the bare black walls in the living room hinted at the scale of the blaze.

“Mr. Chen, right?” A contractor from the renovation crew came over, pulling out a pack of Yunnan-brand cigarettes and offering one to Chen Mo with a friendly smile. “You called early to say you’d be stopping by, so we didn’t have time to tidy up. Apologies if it’s a bit messy.”

“No worries. You guys go about your work—I’m just here for a quick look.”

Chen Mo waved off the offered lighter, letting the cigarette twirl between his fingers. His gaze calmly swept over the faces of the workers present.

He didn’t notice anything unusual.

Half an hour later, he came back downstairs.

There was no one in the car but the driver. A bodyguard in sunglasses sat in the front passenger seat. When he saw Chen Mo return, he turned and asked, “Mr. Chen, any signals? Did you notice anything wrong?”

“No,” Chen Mo shook his head. “Might’ve been my imagination.”

But he soon realized—it wasn’t.

Because just as the car pulled up in front of Xinrui’s office building…

A receptionist ran over, panic in her voice.

“Mr. Chen, something’s happened—”

Before she could finish, a crowd of reporters swarmed toward him out of nowhere.

“Mr. Chen, there’s almost no news online about your connection to the Yang family. Are you trying to hide something?”

“Excuse me, is it true that you refused to acknowledge your adoptive parents and even orchestrated their imprisonment?”

“Mr. Chen, your new partner Su Qianran is the wife of the president of Yang Corporation. Does this prove that the adopted son of the Yang family ended up in prison because of the Yang family’s inheritance dispute?”

“Mr. Chen, please respond directly!”

Back then, Grandpa had handled everything cleanly for Chen Mo.

Even during the battle against UA for Yang Corporation, almost no one had questioned Chen Mo’s identity. There were suspicions—yes, vague evidence, too—but nothing was ever confirmed.

And now, all of this suddenly surfaced.

It all pointed to Chen Mo’s background and past.

At that moment, Old K stepped forward and positioned himself in front of Chen Mo. “You go inside. I’ll deal with this.”

“This has nothing to do with the company.” Chen Mo stopped him. He rolled his eyes, pulled off his leather gloves in the biting winter wind, and stuffed them into Old K’s hands. Then, fixing his gaze on the reporter who had spoken the loudest, he said coldly, “If I really were above the law, the first thing I’d do is sue you for defamation. Now, who sent you?”

The group of reporters glanced around at each other, momentarily speechless.

—

At the same time…

A mysterious interview was quietly making waves throughout the city.

The interviewee, seen only from behind, was a middle-aged man. His voice had been digitally altered.

He seemed agitated. “You think he’s some great guy? He’s heartless. His own adoptive parents—he framed them. And that’s not all. The Yang family knows what happened. Their adopted son was forced to flee abroad by him, and even landed in prison. And people still believe he’s not interested in the Yang family’s inheritance? The equity dispute says everything. I even heard he personally pushed the old man from the Yang family out of the picture—he said the longer he delayed, the worse it’d be for him to gain control of Yang’s shares…”

Following that interview came another one.

This time, the person on screen was Chen Jianli, recently released from prison.

A man in his fifties who now looked like he was in his sixties. His eyes were dull and bloodshot, and he hung his head in apparent misery.

“It’s true! All of it is his fault! He relied on the Yang family, then turned on us. My Chen family was ruined because of him. My wife died from a sudden illness in prison, and my remaining son was sent to jail, too. I just want to know—is there any justice left in this world?”

The second interview seemed to validate the accusations from the first.

They were clearly trying to brand Chen Mo with certain labels:

A two-faced schemer. Ruthless. Someone who used wealth to exploit legal gray areas in pursuit of power and profit.

—

In the new office.

Old K sat at Chen Mo’s desk, stunned speechless. He didn’t even know how many secrets about Chen Mo he still didn’t know.

But right now, he was focused on just one thing.

He asked, “Honestly, if someone looks into what those people said, it’s clearly full of holes. No one in their right mind would believe it. So, what’s their goal? Is this blackmail? Or are they just trying to destroy your reputation?”

After all, the comment section under the interviews was already flooding with reactions:

[This is hilarious. You’re telling me Mr. Chen can manipulate everything? His resume’s been spotless for years—go check any official source.]

[Law student here. After watching that, I’m speechless. Is the world losing its mind?]

[And the man in the video—if you really raised him with such care for over ten years, how did both you and your wife end up in prison and crying about it now? Absolutely ridiculous.]

Chen Mo sat behind the desk, calm as ever. “This is exactly like the ‘social capital control’ tactic used during the Yang equity battle. Public opinion warfare. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, or if people believe it. As long as the rumor spreads, their objective is achieved.”

He had a strong hunch this was related to what Xi Siyan was dealing with lately.

The enemy was likely using this side as a breach point—to buy time or to launch a counterattack. Either way, it was just a nuisance.

Suddenly, Old K let out a shout.

Chen Mo looked up. “What is it?”

“Is something wrong with our office network?”

Chen Mo opened his browser and said casually, “Seems fine on my end.”

“Then why can’t I see anything?” Old K kept refreshing his screen, his expression darkening. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he looked over at Chen Mo. “You…”

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re not holding something over Mr. Xi’s head, are you?”

Before Chen Mo could respond, Old K added, “With the way his PR team handles things—so fast and so brutal—if your relationship ever falls apart, we’ll be the first to suffer.”

Chen Mo smirked. “Then I should really thank you for being willing to take the hit for me.”

He picked up his phone and called Xi Siyan.

No answer.

So he sent a message: “Don’t do anything reckless.”

—

That evening, in a deserted warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Half-shrouded in shadow, Xi Siyan stood still and calm.

He looked down at the man trembling on the ground and said, “I’ll ask one more time—where is Ren Xiansen?”

“I don’t know,” the middle-aged man stammered, clearly terrified and willing to say anything. “He just gave me some money and told me what to say. As for where he went, I really don’t know!”

Xi Siyan slowly stepped out of the shadows.

He squatted down to the man’s level. “If you don’t know, that’s fine. It’s not important.”

The man let out a relieved breath.

But then came the second sentence.

“I came here today… for you, Chen Jianli.”

The already hunched man visibly flinched.

“Why don’t you tell me,” Xi Siyan said slowly, “in what year, what month, what time, why, and with what, you inflicted those injuries on his body?”

“You can take your time. I’m in no rush.”

Chen Jianli looked up at the man before him, barely able to make out his face through the darkness. His whole body shook. He swallowed and asked in a whisper, “Who… who are you talking about?”

“You don’t even know who I’m talking about?” Xi Siyan stood up, looming over him like a shadow cast by the past.

He looked at him as though he were no more than an insect. Or perhaps—a man watching over the child who once stumbled through pain and time to become who he was.

His voice was calm, cold, and lethal.

“Then you deserve to die even more.”