Liang Qiuchi carried Mo Xin back to the bedroom, and the two of them slept like conjoined twins, holding each other tightly even in their sleep.

Mo Xin slept lightly, feeling low and depressed in his heart. He woke up before dawn, nestling in Liang Qiuchi’s arms and quietly staring out at the faint light outside the window.

When Liang Qiuchi woke up and saw the dark circles under his eyes, he asked, “How long have you been awake? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Mo Xin had one hand resting on his waist and his voice was hoarse. “Just woke up.”

Liang Qiuchi rubbed his head. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I want porridge.” Mo Xin specifically requested Liang Qiuchi to cook, and Liang Qiuchi happily agreed. After holding him for a while, he went downstairs to cook porridge for Mo Xin.

Mo Xin was like a clingy cat, following him closely.

While Liang Qiuchi was slicing meat in the kitchen, Mo Xin sat at the dining table outside, staring at him intently.

When the aroma of the porridge filled the air, Wu Yahui came downstairs with her hair disheveled, leaning against the kitchen door frame and giving a thumbs up to Liang Qiuchi, who was wearing an apron. “Domestic god.”

She yawned and sat next to Mo Xin, waiting for the meal with him.

“If you say you didn’t make mine, I’ll be mad at you.”

“I did, it’ll be ready soon.” Liang Qiuchi stood in front of the pot, stirring with a spoon. The aroma of the porridge wafted through the air, making Mo Xin feel much more comfortable hearing the bubbling sound.

After a while, Vincent also came downstairs. Seeing that Liang Qiuchi had also served him porridge, he was pleasantly surprised and hurried into the kitchen to help with the utensils.

The four of them sat together to eat porridge. Wu Yahui wanted to ask how Mo Xin was feeling, but seeing him eating so seriously, she held back her question.

Mo Xin lowered his head and finished his porridge, then put down the spoon and glanced at the quartz clock on the wall, walking to the side and turning on the projector in the hall.

On the news channel, the host was narrating the biography of the new president, Reinis. The screen showed footage of Reinis singing with his supporters in a church early that day.

Liang Qiuchi walked over to him and watched for a minute, then took the remote control from Mo Xin’s hand and changed the channel.

But the content broadcasted on other TV stations was almost the same.

Liang Qiuchi took out his phone and fiddled with it, turning on the screen mirroring function. After a few manipulations, the large screen blacked out for two seconds, and when it reappeared, a familiar street appeared, packed with people shoulder to shoulder, each holding banners or signs, with the leader fervently shouting for Reinis to step down.

“What is this?” Wu Yahui and Vincent heard the commotion and hurried over.

Liang Qiuchi said, “A protest march.”

Mo Xin recognized it at a glance. The location of the march should be the central square of San Lorenzo, which was closest to the federal presidential office and a famous landmark in San Lorenzo.

“Not only in the federal capital,” Liang Qiuchi clicked on his phone screen, and the marching footage on the screen increased from one to nine grids, “there are also protests in the capitals of various states and counties.”

Wu Yahui remembered the half-hour phone call he made last night. “Is this all organized by you?”

Liang Qiuchi shook his head, “Only San Lorenzo is, the others are spontaneous.”

Except for some deliberately inciting elements from the Lugo faction, eighty percent of the protesters were opponents of Reinis. Dissatisfied with Reinis’ early assumption of office, especially in this sensitive period, Mo Zhenghong’s sudden assassination and death made it even easier for people to speculate and criticize.

They strongly protested against the inauguration of the new president and demanded a federal investigation into the assassination of Mo Zhenghong.

They didn’t want a murder suspect to be the head of the federation.

Liang Qiuchi looked at Mo Xin with some reluctance. “Sorry, I had to use your father’s matter to make a fuss about this.”

This was akin to touching on a sore spot, and he hadn’t consulted Mo Xin beforehand.

Mo Xin shook his head. “I understand.”

At present, while Reinis had not yet stabilized his position, the effect of the protest marches could be maximized. The opportunity was fleeting, and if not seized, it would be even more difficult later.

Approaching noon, the protesting crowds had reached the street block where the presidential office was located. Due to the presence of security forces, the procession could not move forward anymore, so they sat peacefully protesting under the scorching sun.

Some media outlets rushed over and used aerial drones to capture the entire street, blocked solidly by the demonstrators, then exposed it on the internet, sensationalizing it widely.

Thus began a silent battle of public opinion.

At ten minutes past noon, Mo Qi returned home covered in dust. He looked tired and hadn’t even had a bite to eat. He quickly went upstairs to his room after taking a shower and changing into clean clothes, then strode out again.

Just before getting into the car, he turned back to Mo Xin and said, “You still need to put more effort into Father’s funeral.” His rough voice was like a broken bellows, and even he himself was surprised for a moment, “I’ll be busy at the state government for the next couple of days and won’t be able to get away.”

After he finished speaking, he patted the doorframe and turned to leave.

Suddenly, Mo Xin called out, “Ge.”

Mo Qi turned back, “Yes?”

Mo Xin looked at his bloodshot eyes and said softly, “Drink more water.”

Mo Qi couldn’t help but be taken aback again.

For over twenty years, this was the first time he had heard caring words from Mo Xin’s mouth. It seemed that overnight, his younger brother, who was not versed in worldly affairs, suddenly became warmer.

He smiled gratifiedly at Mo Xin, and his steps towards the car became more powerful.

Liang Qiuchi also felt deeply moved by Mo Xin’s subtle changes. He knew that a person’s growth inevitably required experiencing pain, and these pains could only be borne by Mo Xin himself.

All he could do was silently accompany him, open his arms for him to lean on when he needed it, and occasionally help him with the trivial matters related to the funeral.

Mo Zhenghong’s funeral was scheduled for the tenth day after his death.

As the governor of Danga State, he had performed well during his tenure and was quite popular among the people of the state. A special mourning group set up by the state government, with the consent of the Mo brothers, held a three-day memorial service before the funeral to commemorate him. Many people came from afar just to see off the governor for the last time.

Both inside and outside the funeral hall, it was a sea of flowers.

On the day of the funeral, although it was drizzling, there were still many crowds spontaneously gathering outside the cemetery. The state office had to temporarily deploy extra personnel to maintain order at the scene.

Due to the sensitive nature of his identity, Liang Qiuchi could not accompany Mo Xin to the funeral.

He helped Mo Xin put on the black veil on his left arm, looking at him with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Mo Xin nodded, glanced at Mo Qi, who was standing at the door smoking, then turned his gaze back to Liang Qiuchi. “Is everything arranged?”

“Yeah,” Liang Qiuchi hesitated, “If you don’t feel comfortable, it’s okay to postpone it for a couple of days.”

“It’s fine,” Mo Xin said firmly, “Today has the most people, and it’s the best timing. It’s only convincing when everyone’s watching.”

Mo Qi looked at the time, turned back to Mo Xin, nodded, and gestured that it was time for them to leave.

Mo Xin looked deeply at Liang Qiuchi again. “Don’t worry, let’s just stick to the plan.”

“Okay.” Liang Qiuchi opened his arms and gently hugged him, watching Mo Xin stride to Mo Qi’s side.

The two brothers exchanged a few brief words in a low voice, then one after the other, they bowed their heads and walked into the rain curtain.

The funeral procession set off from the funeral hall amidst the solemn music, traversed a grassy area in the cemetery, and under the gaze of the many farewell crowds outside the park, arrived at the burial site.

Inside the coffin, Mo Zhenghong remained calm and peaceful, except that he was covered with the flag of Danga State, not the national flag of the federation.

The two journalists lucky enough to enter the cemetery for coverage couldn’t help but exchange glances when they saw this, each capturing an unusual meaning from the other’s eyes.

After the family had their final viewing of the remains, four honor guards sealed Mo Zhenghong’s coffin for burial. The mourners outside the cemetery all bowed their heads in silent tribute.

Mo Xin stood under a tree, silently watching as the soil gradually covered his father’s coffin, while Vincent stood beside him holding a black umbrella to shield him from the rain, though the drizzling rain still wet the black veil on his left arm.

Mo Qi stood aside holding a photo of his father, also silently observing everything.

Suddenly, he whispered, “Where is he?”

Mo Xin replied without blinking, “Almost here.”

As the final scoop of earth was sprinkled onto the neatly filled grave, a gunshot suddenly rang out, echoing through the entire cemetery.

Amidst the chaotic screams of the crowd, a man wearing a black hoodie somehow rushed out from behind a tree, aiming a gun directly at Mo Xin.

He was shouting, “Long live President Reines!”