After everything that happened that night, Chen Mo thought the matter had finally passed.
He didn’t expect that before New Year’s Day, the villa at Genting Bay would receive uninvited guests.
That morning, a layer of frost coated the yard’s trees in a cold, silvery white.
Mrs. Liu, who had recently been hired to handle the kitchen and housework, knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Chen, someone’s here to see you.”
At that moment, Chen Mo was sorting clothes in the walk-in closet.
The dressing room in the master bedroom had been filled gradually over the past few weeks. As he opened the half of the closet belonging to Xi Siyan, he paused—there was a down jacket hanging inside.
He froze for a second before replying to Mrs. Liu, “I’ll be right down.”
He recognized the jacket. He’d bought it for Xi Siyan at the mall a few years ago as a thank-you gift. It was winter then, too. He had just returned from training and had gone to celebrate New Year’s with classmates. Siyan had worn it that night.
The jacket still looked brand new, clearly well cared for.
Their relationship had been undefined at the time, but Chen Mo still remembered the unexpected meeting at the ski resort, and the warm towel that had been placed on his knees in the dead of night.
So, when he went downstairs, he was still in a good mood.
Until he saw who was sitting on the sofa.
Zhou Yaoqing and Yang Qi’an.
Mrs. Liu walked over with a slightly embarrassed expression. “They insisted on coming in. I couldn’t stop them.”
“It’s not your fault, Sister Liu,” Chen Mo reassured her. “Please bring lunch to President Xi at his company later. No need to mention that anyone came by.”
Mrs. Liu hesitated. “You’re not going to tell him?”
“Well,” Chen Mo smiled lightly, “he probably already made it clear the Yang family isn’t welcome. You understand.”
Mrs. Liu nodded.
She hadn’t been working there long, but from the beginning, it was obvious what the relationship between the two men was. And it was even more obvious that President Xi took anything involving Chen Mo very seriously.
Mrs. Liu left.
Chen Mo walked over and sat down lazily across from the couple.
He had no intention of speaking first.
Zhou Yaoqing and Yang Qi’an exchanged glances. Eventually, Zhou Yaoqing said softly, “Xiao Mo…”
“Mr. Yang. Mrs. Yang.” Chen Mo’s tone was polite but distant. The couple’s expressions shifted at the formal address. Chen Mo pretended not to notice and added, “I don’t remember summoning you. If this is about what Grandpa left behind…”
“No, no,” Zhou Yaoqing interrupted quickly.
Yang Qi’an picked up the thread. “Your aunt and the others won’t bother you about that again. If they do, they’ll be removed from the group’s profit-sharing list and stripped of their positions.”
Chen Mo didn’t bother asking who had the authority to make that decision.
He also didn’t care about the Yang family’s internal power dynamics.
So he simply asked, “Then why are you here?”
Zhou Yaoqing looked at him, her eyes starting to glisten with tears. Maybe she remembered he didn’t like that—so she quickly blinked them away, forced a smile, and said, “We just wanted to check in on you. Over the years, you never wanted to come home, even when we called. Now that Dad’s gone, your father and I still wanted to see how you’re doing with our own eyes.”
Yang Qi’an, never as subtle as his wife, looked older than ever. His once black hair had turned almost completely white, and deep worry lines furrowed his brow. He added, “If you’re not doing well, come back to us…”
“I’m doing fine,” Chen Mo interrupted.
He didn’t elaborate much—just gestured toward the kitchen with his chin. “No petty servants here. No arguments over soup at the dinner table. No constant nitpicking or unwelcome advice. Work’s going smoothly. Life is peaceful.”
The message was clear.
Too pointed.
The couple’s expressions shifted into awkward shame.
They looked around the villa.
It wasn’t as lavishly decorated as the Yang family estate, but everything was thoughtfully designed—bright windows, a clean and serene atmosphere.
Meanwhile, the Yang family home had grown cold and quiet. Most of the servants had been dismissed. Only one elderly helper remained to manage the household.
When Zhou Yaoqing and Yang Qi’an left Genting Bay, they paused at the end of the yard.
They turned back—and saw Chen Mo still standing at the doorway.
Zhou Yaoqing choked back a sob. “Xiao Mo… Mom is sorry. I’m not asking for forgiveness. Just… I really am sorry.”
Yang Qi’an added, “Even if you don’t want anything to do with us, don’t cut off your big brother. He’ll always be on your side when it matters.”
Chen Mo leaned against the doorframe with arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
The yard’s landscaping was being tended by Mrs. Liu’s husband. Pruned bushes and trees stood bare in the winter air, a scene full of seasonal bleakness. Chen Mo stared at the backs of the aging couple as they walked away together—defeated by time, supporting each other.
It felt like watching something ancient slowly drift down the river of time, reaching this day at last.
Chen Mo didn’t know what they’d looked like after his death in his previous life.
But at least at this moment, he felt some peace with himself.
There was no need to be bound by righteousness or sentiment. No need to keep remembering.
The day a person dies… is the day their obligations end.
—
Still, Xi Siyan found out.
Because they had made plans to go out together for New Year’s Day.
Everyone was busy with last-minute matters before the holiday, but right after work that day, a familiar car was already waiting outside Xinrui Building.
“Why are you here at this time?” Chen Mo asked, fastening his seatbelt.
“I’m taking you somewhere,” Xi Siyan said, stepping on the accelerator.
“Where?”
No answer.
The car drove on—and eventually stopped at a private restaurant.
It was the same one Xi Siyan had brought Chen Mo to when he’d just returned to China.
“You specially hired someone to make a private menu, didn’t you?” Chen Mo followed him in, smiling. “Why eat here again all of a sudden?”
Then he fell silent.
“Chen Mo!”
“Xiao Mo!”
It was another couple.
But unlike Yang Qi’an and Zhou Yaoqing, they looked more aged by hard work than by time. Faces worn but sincere.
Yet when they saw Chen Mo, their smiles lit up completely—pure, visible joy.
Chen Mo was startled for a moment. Then he quickly stepped forward. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you call me?”
His aunt patted his hands and beamed, “My son’s getting engaged this year. The girl’s from another city, so your uncle and I went to propose the marriage. We passed through Suicheng on the way, and of course we had to see you. We’ve tried calling you so many times in recent years, but it wasn’t until we visited your place that we heard about the fire. We were so scared. Luckily, one of your classmates reached out to us shortly after.”
Xi Siyan must’ve had people watching the Rhine Ark property—that was probably how he found out so quickly.
The memory of going to Yuhuai Village with him that year still felt vivid, like it had just happened.
Nowadays, there were probably only two elders left in his life who, when they saw him, didn’t care about his net worth or how high his status was.
“Uncle, Aunt, please sit down,” Xi Siyan greeted them warmly.
“You two have been together for years now, and your relationship is still so good,” Auntie said with a smile. She nudged Uncle to take something out of the bag.
She pulled open a simple sack, the kind used for fertilizer, and said to Chen Mo, “These are all from the crops your uncle and I grew ourselves—clean and healthy. Most of it’s dried, easy to store. Take it with you and split it between the two of you.”
“Thank you, Uncle and Aunt,” Xi Siyan accepted it without hesitation. “We live together now.”
Uncle grunted, “Still not married, huh? Chen Mo, you’re not planning to find a girlfriend? You’re not that young anymore.”
“I found someone,” Xi Siyan replied with a faint smile.
“Oh, you did? That’s good, that’s good.”
Dinner was full of laughter and easy conversation.
Afterward, Xi Siyan dropped them off at the hotel he’d booked in advance, then came back down with Chen Mo.
Standing on the polished marble floor of the lobby, Chen Mo said, “When we were eating, I thought you were going to tell them about us.”
“Not yet,” Xi Siyan slipped his arm around Chen Mo’s shoulders. “Let’s wait until we get married and invite them then.”
Chen Mo blinked. “Get married?”
“What?” Xi Siyan raised an eyebrow. “You planning to run? My expectations aren’t even high—a simple ceremony, marriage certificate overseas, that’s all.”
Chen Mo: “…The way you say it, I’d be a jerk if I refused.”
—
They left the hotel.
Chen Mo tilted his head up, gazing at the sky above.
Xi Siyan was by his side and suddenly said, “If you’re ever unhappy, I’ll be here.”
That’s when Chen Mo realized—he knew the Yang family had come.
Chen Mo stepped forward and gently hugged him.
“I’m not unhappy,” he whispered, “But… seeing my aunt and uncle today, I really was happier.”
“Yeah?” Xi Siyan rested his chin lightly on Chen Mo’s temple, exhaling softly into the wind. “Then that’s all that matters.”
—
New Year’s Day officially began.
Chen Mo drove Xi Siyan to Yuan Hao’s hometown.
Compared to Baima County, which Chen Mo was more familiar with, this town was more developed and festive. Lanterns hung across the streets, and roadside stalls added a warm, rustic kind of bustle that only small towns could produce during the holidays.
Following GPS navigation, Chen Mo drove carefully through the traffic.
Eventually, they hit a jam and had to park and walk the rest of the way.
Chen Mo’s phone—placed beside him—started buzzing non-stop.
“Help me check,” he said.
Xi Siyan picked it up, scrolled a bit, then said, “Everyone from your high school group is celebrating the holiday.”
“That group? I thought it was dead,” Chen Mo said in surprise. “Didn’t Old Xiang use our class as the golden standard every year for his top-track lectures? Pretty sure that made us public enemies.”
“Mhm.” Xi Siyan leaned back against the seat. “Well, that’s what happens when you’re too outstanding. They had you to compare themselves with.”
“Come off it.” Chen Mo smirked. “You ranked second in the entire province for the college entrance exam. First place was some rural genius. Old Xiang nearly cried. If you had taken the test that year, first place would’ve been yours.”
Xi Siyan replied calmly, “Illusion. There are plenty of geniuses every year.”
“So how’s the group alive again?” Chen Mo asked.
“Qi Lin,” Xi Siyan said, eyes half-closed. “He popped up in the group chat out of nowhere. No idea what triggered him.”
Chen Mo immediately understood. Qi Lin had never managed to become the number one “attacker” in Suicheng. He didn’t even stay in the city—went to college out of province. Later, Chen Mo learned from Sun Xiaoya that Qi Lin had chased someone down for revenge—apparently the same person who’d scammed him during high school.
Chen Mo reached over and took the phone.
The group chat had exploded.
It was full of excited, chaotic messages—most of them directed at Qi Lin, mocking him for finally facing the truth.
“Damn, Qi Lin, you’re awesome. I always thought it was weird how close you were to the class monitor.”
Qi Lin was quick to deny it, replying furiously:
“Don’t talk nonsense! I don’t like him! Xi-dog has someone he likes!”
“Who?”
“Wait… the monitor had a crush in high school?”
When Jiang Xu had returned that one time, Chen Mo and Lao Gou had gone to a class gathering. Some of their old classmates had seen Xi Siyan picking up Chen Mo afterward.
Now someone commented hesitantly:
“Was it… Brother Mo?”
“They’re both in Suicheng now.”
“Yeah, I saw them together while I was out eating.”
“WTF, Brother Mo and God Xi?”
“So it’s real???”
“Qi Lin, you were childhood friends, right? Where’s the monitor?”
At that moment, the car was still stuck in traffic.
Chen Mo typed into the chat: “In the car.”
Before he could finish typing out their destination, the group exploded again.
“In the car???”
“Bro, say it straight—is it the physics car or the theory car???”
Sun Xiaoya chimed in:
“Can you people be adults for once? So? Which car are you in?”
Chen Mo aimed the camera at Xi Siyan—he’d intended to send a photo of his hand and part of the car’s interior to keep things vague.
But in the shot, Xi Siyan had lowered his gaze and was staring at his phone, looking calm and serene.
Chen Mo backed out of the photo and didn’t send anything.
He knew these people didn’t necessarily believe it—they were probably just teasing him.
But chatting with old classmates always seemed to draw you back into the past.
He sneered and typed:
“At least it’s not the kindergarten bus.”
“Damn!!!”
“Still gotta be Brother Mo!”
“On the first day of the new year, I hereby declare that No. 1 High School history has been rewritten: ‘How the school’s most carefree rebel chased the male god of No. 1 High to the end of the earth and pulled the trigger.’”
The messages came one after another.
Then came a reply from account XSY:
XSY: Stop making trouble.
Chen Mo looked at Xi Siyan.
At the same moment, Xi Siyan turned to look at him and amended:
“Drive carefully. Don’t get cocky.”
