Chapter 13

The vehicles stopped one in front of the other.

Pei Mingshu was behind, watching as Pei Qing lifted Mo Yin out of the car. Pei Qing’s movements were both skillful and careful, and from lifting Mo Yin out of the car to setting him down, a natural tacit understanding had formed between them.

To onlookers, perhaps, in Pei Mingshu’s eyes, they seemed like an intimate couple.

“Don’t tell Pei Qing.”

The trembling voice echoed in his ears, subtly pleading for secrecy.

Pei Qing noticed Pei Mingshu’s gaze and turned back, casting a cold glance. Pei Mingshu’s expression remained unchanged, not showing the usual friendly demeanor he often displayed.

A light touch on the back of his neck made Pei Qing turn his head. Mo Yin was looking at him nervously. “Let’s go inside, I’m hungry,” he said.

Pei Mingshu silently watched as Pei Qing pushed Mo Yin inside, then handed the car keys to the servant waiting nearby. As he climbed the steps, he unbuttoned his coat with one hand.

After June arrived, the weather in the city became increasingly hot and humid. Fortunately, the Pei residence was built halfway up the mountain, where the summer breeze was cool and refreshing. Pei Mingshu stood on his terrace facing the verdant mountains, smoking leisurely.

When the servant came up, they almost froze upon seeing him smoking.

“Master…” the servant began.

Pei Mingshu turned around.

“Dinner is ready.”

Pei Mingshu turned his face, took another drag from the half-smoked cigarette in his hand, and said, “I got it.”

The dishes prepared for dinner were light and refreshing, visually pleasing and delicious. However, Pei Qing still seemed to have little appetite, barely eating anything, probably due to the ongoing difficult negotiations with Heda.

Pei Qing said he wanted to go out for a walk. His legs trembled slightly as he stood up.

Pei Mingshu expressed some concern, but Pei Qing waved it off, saying he was fine. Pei Mingshu withdrew his gaze and happened to meet Mo Yin’s eyes diagonally across from him. Mo Yin’s eyes flickered for a moment, then he quickly looked away as if avoiding eye contact.

Pei Mingshu’s gaze paused for a moment, passing over the slightly flushed tips of Mo Yin’s ears.

After dinner, Pei Qing pushed Mo Yin away, and Pei Mingshu handed the towel he had used to wipe his hands to the servant. He stood up and watched the two of them, his gaze following them until they disappeared inside after Pei Qing pushed Mo Yin in.

The servant started to clear the table, but Pei Mingshu stood there motionless for a long time. She had to speak up to remind him, “Master?”

Pei Mingshu turned to look at her, his expression calm. “It’s getting hot. Send more fruits to Xiao Yin and the others.”

“Okay.”

Pei Mingshu went upstairs, took a shower, and as the evening wind blew through the mountains, the curtains on the balcony fluttered lightly. Pei Mingshu, rarely, felt a bit agitated.

The source of this agitation undoubtedly stemmed from his meeting with Mo Yin this afternoon.

Firstly, he had indeed acted somewhat dishonestly. Taking advantage of Pei Qing’s absence, he had arranged for Ding Mo Hai to “falsely convey an imperial decree” in Pei Jingyou’s name to summon Mo Yin.

He did this to prevent Pei Qing from knowing that he had met with Mo Yin privately, to avoid further conflicts with Pei Qing.

Apparently, Mo Yin had the same intention. He also didn’t want Pei Qing to know about their private meeting. But the way Mo Yin had spoken, his expression, and his gaze, all seemed to carry some other meaning.

It was as if their private meeting had some inexplicable, unclear implications… The various strange behaviors Mo Yin had exhibited in front of him earlier all flooded back at once…

Pei Mingshu’s thoughts paused for a moment. He furrowed his brows and lit another cigarette, but this time he didn’t smoke it, just held it between his fingers and inhaled the scent of tobacco to calm his mind.

—

Youcheng and Heda’s cooperation negotiations finally fell through, and Pei Jingyou was very annoyed. He swallowed two pills in the office in succession. “It’s been dragged on for so long, turns out they’re just playing us.”

Pei Mingshu wasn’t surprised. His face remained indifferent. “When two tigers fight, one will be injured. The hope of cooperation was already slim.”

Pei Qing was the busiest with this matter. His expression was cold and severe. “If cooperation isn’t possible, then we’ll have to take another path.”

Pei Jingyou sneered, a hint of ruthlessness on his face, suggesting, “Then let’s settle old scores and new ones together.”

The 829 Incident was approaching its one-year anniversary, and Mo Yin was trending again. Everyday photos of him at school, the Pei residence, and the company were leaked, showing him leading a peaceful and stable life, with a gentle smile, starkly different from his desolate appearance at the press conference a year ago.

Youcheng, after a year of rectification, had completely reversed its habit of exploiting employees, thanks to Pei Mingshu’s efforts. For a while, Youcheng’s reputation soared, while a series of scandals about Heda surfaced online, such as unfulfilled donations and allegations of media manipulation against Youcheng. The public relations battle between the two companies intensified, with both sides pouring in considerable resources to push the other out of the same track.

As Mo Yin trended on social media again, he became unwilling to accompany Pei Qing to the company. Pei Qing’s expression soured, but surprisingly, it was Mo Yin who comforted him, saying, “I know you can’t do much about this situation. Besides, school is starting soon. I’ll just stay at home and rest for a couple of days.”

Pei Qing squeezed his hand and brought it to his lips, showing a gesture of affection.

Mo Yin saw Pei Qing off to the door, and as Pei Qing waved goodbye, his expression softened. “Wait for me to come back,” he said gently from inside the car.

Mo Yin nodded with a smile. “Okay.”

After Pei Qing’s car drove away, Mo Yin turned his wheelchair and saw Pei Mingshu coming down the stairs. Despite the scorching summer, Pei Mingshu was still dressed impeccably in a buttoned-up shirt and trousers.

Their eyes met briefly, and just like before, Mo Yin quickly averted his gaze, as if feeling guilty the moment he saw Pei Mingshu.

Pei Mingshu’s steps paused on the stairs.

Mo Yin had already turned his wheelchair towards his room.

“Xiao Yin.”

The wheelchair stopped.

Mo Yin, facing diagonally towards Pei Mingshu’s direction, didn’t lift his head, frozen in place as if rooted to the spot.

The sound of footsteps drew closer, and Pei Mingshu came up to Mo Yin. Since their last private meeting, he hadn’t spoken to Mo Yin. He had been busy, and there wasn’t much time for them to interact anyway. Plus, he deliberately avoided Mo Yin, reducing their chances of communication even further.

Pei Mingshu stopped him to apologize to Mo Yin for the PR battle.

Of course, the company’s PR team would inform him, given his different status from Pei Qing.

Pei Mingshu immediately expressed his opposition.

The PR team was in a dilemma. “Mr. Pei’s idea is to ‘use troops for a day, use them for years.'”

Pei Mingshu pondered for a moment. “I’ll talk to him.”

In the end, the result remained the same.

Pei Mingshu couldn’t argue with his father, who seemed on the verge of a heart attack at any moment. Pei Jingyou’s face was incredibly unsightly. “Mingshu, I know you’re soft-hearted, but in some matters, being soft-hearted is the last thing you want. Since Mo Yin is now considered part of our family, it’s okay for him to make sacrifices for the sake of the family, isn’t it?”

Pei Mingshu asked, “Did you ask for his opinion?”

“Of course,” Pei Jingyou replied. “He’s very sensible and agreed quickly.”

Pei Mingshu was slightly taken aback. In his consideration, Mo Yin was absolutely unwilling to show his old wounds to attract attention and cheap sympathy. He could tell that Mo Yin was also a proud and stubborn young man. Towards the Pei family, Mo Yin had always seemed somewhat distant, except for his relationship with Pei Qing…

Thinking that Mo Yin might be making sacrifices for Pei Qing, Pei Mingshu furrowed his brows, feeling indescribable emotions.

“It’s okay,” Mo Yin said, lowering his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, it’s all in the past now.”

Pei Mingshu fell silent for a moment before saying, “I have something else to ask for your opinion.”

—

“Do you really not want me to accompany you?”

Mo Yin shook his head. “Today, I want to be alone.”

Pei Qing looked around, feeling that the old Pei residence seemed cleaner and brighter than before, for some reason. He had felt this way when he accompanied Mo Yin here before. Maybe it was because the weather had gotten hotter, and the sunlight felt more intense, causing this illusion.

Pei Qing looked at Mo Yin. “After I finish, should I come to pick you up?”

Mo Yin nodded. “Okay.”

“If you need anything, call me.”

“Okay.”

The offerings and ashes were already arranged on the table, along with the food they had brought. Pei Qing lifted the wheelchair for him, and Mo Yin pushed it to the table to burn incense paper.

The ceiling fan slowly rotated, dispersing the smoke from the table.

Mo Yin looked at the photos on the table.

Perhaps the power of this world was too strong. When the dormant memories were activated, the background memories transmitted to him seemed especially real, as if he had truly been a family member of this unfamiliar couple for over a decade.

It seemed to have a slight influence on him, making this orphan, who had no concept of family, feel a hint of pain.

Rest in Peace.

Mo Yin bowed his head and placed down the golden paper. His usual gentle and fragile demeanor was absent, replaced by a distant and calm expression.

“They will come to accompany you in burial,” he whispered softly.

The smell of burning paper filled the room as Mo Yin drifted into a daze, lost in thought. The knocking on the door interrupted his reverie, prompting him to set aside the paper and wheel himself to open the door.

Standing outside was Pei Mingshu.

Today, he was dressed in black, looking solemn and formal.

Mo Yin silently stepped aside to let him in. Pei Mingshu lit incense for Mo Yin’s parents, then took a seat on a nearby chair, picking up the paper Mo Yin had put down. He looked up at Mo Yin and said, “I came a bit late due to some business at the company.”

“It’s okay,” Mo Yin replied.

Returning to the table, Mo Yin picked up another stack of paper.

Pei Mingshu placed down a piece of paper, and the flames licked at the golden paper, consuming it entirely. Heat lingered on his fingertips.

The two of them burned paper silently. Pei Mingshu sat a bit away from Mo Yin. With no air conditioning in the house and the windows open, the stifling summer air poured in. Soon, sweat began to bead on Pei Mingshu’s forehead, and he glanced at Mo Yin. Mo Yin’s cheeks were flushed, and the black of his eyes reflected a faint glimmer of fire. Sweat glistened on his temples, lending him a youthful vitality.

Mo Yin’s gentle and fragile demeanor always made people feel he was harmless and pitiful, lacking some intense quality. Perhaps he had possessed it before.

Pei Mingshu thought of the photo of Mo Yin applying to become a pilot.

At that time, Mo Yin had been full of spirit.

A mixture of guilt, sympathy, and pity gripped Pei Mingshu’s heart.

He couldn’t deny his responsibility.

He had enjoyed all the benefits of the Pei family. As the young master of the Pei family, how could he push away the evil deeds done by this colossal monster of money?

Pei Mingshu placed down another piece of paper, looking at the cautious and shy smiles of the couple in the black-and-white photo. In his heart, he made a silent promise.

“I will ensure that he lives without worries for the rest of his life.”

As the paper burned out, Mo Yin picked up a stick and used it to extinguish the remaining embers inside. Sweat droplets formed on his nose, and his eyes looked very focused. Pei Mingshu’s heart softened, and he said, “Let me do it.”

“No need,” Mo Yin said softly. “Don’t dirty your clothes.”

“It’s okay.”

Pei Mingshu reached out as he spoke, but Mo Yin instinctively recoiled, accidentally hitting the stick. Sparks flew as the freshly burnt paper ash scattered in the air.

“Be careful.”

Pei Mingshu quickly stood up, shielding Mo Yin from the flying paper ash with his back. His hands were held out in front of Mo Yin’s head.

Mo Yin seemed shaken, holding the stick motionless until Pei Mingshu brushed the ash off his shirt sleeve. Only then did he put down the stick. “Are you okay?” he asked with concern.

“I’m fine,” Pei Mingshu said, quickly brushing off the ashes from his sleeve with the back of his hand.

“Let me take a look.”

Mo Yin grabbed his shirt at the waist, his brows furrowed in worry. “How’s your back? Did you get burned?”

“I’m fine, no injuries,” Pei Mingshu reassured him.

The thin summer shirt felt light, and Pei Mingshu indeed felt a faint stinging sensation on his back. However, he didn’t want to worry Mo Yin and gently grabbed Mo Yin’s wrist to get him to let go. “It’s just some ash, nothing serious.”

“No, let me see,” Mo Yin insisted, holding onto his shirt. “I’ll feel better once I see.”

Pei Mingshu stood while Mo Yin sat, their eyes at different levels and normally not meeting. Mo Yin tilted his head back as he spoke, and Pei Mingshu turned to look, their eyes unexpectedly meeting.

Pei Mingshu saw the transparency in Mo Yin’s eyes, an unhidden concern — perhaps too hurriedly unhidden. As soon as he noticed Pei Mingshu looking, Mo Yin quickly looked away.

The atmosphere in the room grew tense.

The spot where their skin touched felt strangely warm.

Pei Mingshu gently pulled Mo Yin’s wrist away. Mo Yin’s fingers obediently released his shirt and landed on the wheelchair, as if ready to escape at any moment.

Pei Mingshu watched his fingers grip the wheelchair tightly, and after a moment of silence, he spoke in a calm tone. “It’s really nothing.”

Mo Yin hummed in response and lowered his head again, using the two hair strands on top of his head to cover his gaze at Pei Mingshu. Pei Mingshu’s fingers twitched, wanting to touch Mo Yin’s hair, but ultimately he didn’t reach out.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Mo Yin asked somewhat stiffly.

“Is it convenient?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Mo Yin silently picked up the chopsticks and bowls on the table, turning towards the sink. Pei Mingshu followed, lifting his feet. “Let me do it.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Pei Mingshu washed the dishes and chopsticks while Mo Yin stood beside him, always keeping his head down as if he had done something wrong.

The meal was prepared by Mo Yin with the help of Pei’s family chef in the morning.

Pei Mingshu said, “It’s delicious.”

Mo Yin lifted his head, smiling at him.

After lunch, Pei Mingshu tidied up the dishes while Mo Yin pushed the wheelchair back to his room.

The room was already dusty again, but thankfully the books were neatly placed on the shelves. Taking one out to read, it still looked clean.

Mo Yin opened a book, flipping through a couple of pages with a few papers inserted inside. He opened one and ran his fingers over the words.

Pei Mingshu stood behind him, looking down at what turned out to be a report card with Mo Yin’s parents’ signatures on it.

Pei Mingshu reached out, hesitated for a moment, then placed his hand on Mo Yin’s shoulder, whispering, “You’ve done very well.”

Mo Yin smiled, looking up, his expression rarely so clear. “I’ve always been good at studying.” But the clarity was short-lived. He turned his face away, tucking the report card back in. “But I can’t remember a lot of what I learned in high school now.” Putting the book back, he picked up another one. Pei Mingshu withdrew his hand. “That’s normal. The brain only remembers what’s most useful for the present self.”

Mo Yin flipped through the book. “Is this bookshelf convenient?”

“Very convenient.”

After Pei Mingshu’s response, he said, “Do you want me to buy you one and set it up myself?”

Mo Yin smiled again, “It’s not LEGO, and I’m not a child.”

“It’s actually quite fun; you should try.”

“No, I’m busy.”

“Oh? What are you busy with? By the way, Lao Ding said you’re getting quite involved in company matters now?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Mo Yin’s voice trailed off, pausing before continuing, “…learning as I go.”

Pei Mingshu stood with his hands in his pockets, thoughtful. “After school starts, you should focus on your studies.”

“Okay.”

“For company matters, if there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask me.”

“When should I ask?”

Mo Yin asked quickly, then immediately lowered his head.

Pei Mingshu had intended to suggest that he could come to his study whenever he had time, but seeing Mo Yin bow his head, the words he was about to say changed on his lips to “anytime.”

The room fell silent again. Mo Yin’s palm pressed against the book, his fingers long and fair, slightly curled. Dust particles danced in the harsh sunlight of summer, and Pei Mingshu, who liked peace and cleanliness, frowned slightly at the sight.

It seemed that after he last cleaned here, no one had come in for a long time, hence the dust.

Mo Yin and Pei Qing often returned here, but they never cleaned it properly. Only the living room seemed presentable. Had Mo Yin never let Pei Qing into his room?

As Pei Mingshu pondered this, his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Mo Yin calling him.

“It’s about time,” Mo Yin’s face reddened. “I should go.”

“Okay.”

With his hands in his pockets, Pei Mingshu looked outside, lost in thought. Mo Yin accompanied him to the door, and Pei Mingshu said, “I’ll carry you downstairs.” He made it as if to bend over, but Mo Yin pushed the wheelchair back slightly. The embarrassment on his face finally had an explanation. “No need, Pei Qing…” his voice was low, a little hoarse, “…will be here to pick me up soon.”