Liang Qiuchi’s throat tightened, but he quickly stabilized his emotions and continued walking forward.

Mo Xin stood with his back against the wall, hands crossed over his chest, his handsome face expressionless. As Liang Qiuchi slowly approached, Mo Xin suddenly extended a foot.

Liang Qiuchi didn’t dodge and stumbled forward, trying to grab onto the wall in panic to prevent himself from falling flat on the ground.

However, his left knee hit the floor hard, emitting a muffled “thud.”

Mo Xin crouched down but remained silent, still staring at Liang Qiuchi.

Liang Qiuchi sighed, stood up with the support of the wall, and slowly made his way to the bedroom.

Mo Xin watched his retreating figure until it disappeared behind the bedroom door. Then, he got up and went in the opposite direction. Like a ghost, he silently roamed the corridor until he stopped in front of the study door.

He turned the doorknob, surveying every corner of the room as if it were his first time entering.

Several classic military rifles and sniper rifles were displayed in a glass cabinet against the wall, all real weapons capable of firing bullets. They seemed undisturbed in their positions.

He then opened the two drawers of the desk, but there were no signs of the two handguns being moved.

Finally, he approached the computer and felt the back of the monitor, which was cool to the touch.

Mo Xin sat down behind the desk, took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag, letting the strong nicotine temporarily suppress his doubts and unease. His gaze casually swept over the items on the table before settling on a photo frame.

He held the cigarette in his mouth as he opened the frame, and the photo fell onto the table, revealing creases hidden by the frame.

Mo Xin carefully unfolded the photo, revealing Liang Qiuchi in a sharp military uniform standing proudly beside his younger self when they first entered the military academy, looking particularly spirited.

However, the deep crease in the middle of the photo was particularly glaring, a constant reminder that even the most beautiful moments were in the past.

Liang Qiuchi, this hawk, might have been wild and unruly before, but now he could only live in Mo Xin’s cage. If he wanted to fly, he would have to clip his wings.

The ash burned his hand, snapping Mo Xin back to reality.

He carefully folded the photo and put it back in the frame, extinguished the cigarette, and got up to return to the bedroom.

Liang Qiuchi couldn’t help but furrow his brow. This was the first time he had smelled smoke on Mo Xin.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Liang Qiuchi said, recalling the scene in the corridor just now, and asked tentatively, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling down?”

Mo Xin sat down beside him, murmuring softly, “Hmm,” as he took out a pack of cigarettes and repeatedly rubbed it in his hand, “I started smoking because of you.”

“Hmm?” Liang Qiuchi was a little surprised. “I don’t think I smoke.” Could amnesia change someone’s habits?

“Yeah,” Mo Xin chuckled bitterly, shrugging his shoulders, “You quit, but I couldn’t shake off my old habits.”

Liang Qiuchi was momentarily speechless.

Mo Xin absentmindedly turned the cigarette pack a couple of times before slapping it on Liang Qiuchi’s knee. Liang Qiuchi winced in pain, and Mo Xin asked, “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Liang Qiuchi pursed his lips and said, “I accidentally fell, but it’s nothing.”

Mo Xin stared at him and said, “Vincent doesn’t take care of people properly if he can’t even handle such a small matter…”

“It’s not his fault,” Liang Qiuchi said. “I had a headache this afternoon, so I went upstairs to sleep by myself. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by having him stay by my side.”

“Is that so,” Mo Xin blinked. “Did you fall in the bathroom? The floor can be slippery if there’s water on it.”

Liang Qiuchi felt uncomfortable under his sharp gaze and could only grit his teeth and say, “I wanted to stretch my legs after waking up and didn’t want to bother Vincent, so I took a stroll alone in the small hall outside. I didn’t expect to fall.”

Mo Xin looked at him for a few more seconds, then suddenly knelt down and rolled up Liang Qiuchi’s trouser leg.

There was a small bruise on his knee.

He fetched some medicinal wine and applied it to Liang Qiuchi’s knee, asking, “Does it hurt?”

Liang Qiuchi shook his head and looked at Mo Xin for a while before saying, “You still haven’t answered me. Why are you in a bad mood today and suddenly started smoking?”

Mo Xin focused on rubbing Liang Qiuchi’s knee. When his palm warmed up from the rubbing, he said softly, “Someone has set their eyes on my limited edition car. I can’t give it to them, but I can’t directly refuse either.”

“Oh,” Liang Qiuchi stared at his hair swirl, “Wasn’t the money they offered enough?”

Mo Xin shook his head. “I don’t want to give it up no matter how much money they offer.”

Liang Qiuchi pondered for a moment. “Is a car so important?”

“Yeah,” Mo Xin finished applying the medicine and let down Liang Qiuchi’s trouser leg. He looked up at him and said, “I’ve been thinking about it. I can only damage the engine and let the car stay quietly in my garage. If the other party can’t see it, they’ll forget about it after a while. What do you think of this solution, Qiuchi ge?”

Liang Qiuchi paused. “Why damage the engine? The car won’t run away on its own.”

Mo Xin chuckled oddly, stood up, and patted Liang Qiuchi’s thigh. “Let’s not talk about this. Rest for a while, and we’ll have dinner downstairs later.”

He went downstairs first, called Vincent to the living room, and asked about Liang Qiuchi’s activities in the afternoon. Vincent’s report matched what Liang Qiuchi had said.

Seeing his bad mood, Vincent asked, “General, is something wrong?”

Mo Xin gave him a cold look, and Vincent immediately lowered his head, changing his address to “Mr. Mo.”

Mo Xin lowered his gaze and looked at the second floor. “Change the lock for the study. If I’m not around, make sure the study is properly locked, and don’t let Qiuchi go in alone.”

“Are you saying Mr. Liang…” Vincent’s eyes were full of hesitation.

Mo Xin shook his head, indicating he didn’t need to say more. “Be more vigilant in the future,” he said in a low voice. “Once the storm blows over, I’ll submit my resignation to the council. Think carefully whether you want to return to the special forces or stay in the security bureau, and let me know. I’ll arrange it for you before I leave.”

This time, Vincent didn’t hesitate. “I want to go with you. You saved my life.”

“No,” Mo Xin looked at him deeply. “You’re not part of my plan, and your future shouldn’t involve me anymore. Understand?”

Vincent lowered his head and nodded slowly after a moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll stand guard for the last shift.”

Mo Xin “hmm”ed and said, “Go change the lock.”

Apart from several guns, there was also the entire villa’s security alarm system in the study. If activated, the system would sound an alarm if someone intruded through the main door or climbed over the wall without permission. The master switch of the system was installed on the wall in the study.

Vincent knew the importance of this matter and immediately found a nearly brand-new set of locks to replace the ones in the study—these were removed when the basement was urgently renovated, and luckily they hadn’t been thrown away.

As he went downstairs, on the first floor, there was a basin of water at the staircase landing.

He crossed the basin of water inexplicably and went to the kitchen to ask Mo Xin, “Are you suspecting that Mr. Liang has regained his eyesight?”

Mo Xin paused while frying the steak and asked him back, “Did you notice anything wrong?”

Vincent shook his head, thought carefully for a moment, and then said, “Mr. Liang hasn’t been as clumsy as before recently, but he’s been staying here for a while and gradually getting familiar with the layout of the rooms, so that’s understandable. Besides, if Mr. Liang had regained his eyesight, he wouldn’t hide it from you. He has no reason to do so.”

Mo Xin remained silent, flipping the steak, listening to the faint sound of oil sizzling in the pan, somewhat absent-minded.

Suddenly, Vincent whispered in his ear, “Mr. Liang is coming downstairs,” and a drop of oil splashed onto his hand. Mo Xin snapped out of his trance, turned his head to look at the staircase.

The unease that had been forcibly suppressed by nicotine suddenly surged back in an instant.