Chapter 9: The Cold-Blooded Zhan Family

After finishing with his last patient, Chen Shen saw nurse Xiaomi enter the office and place a note on his desk. She said, “This is a note left for you by Miss Xu Yueyao from the VIP ward.”

Chen Shen opened it and read:
“I’ve been discharged. Thank you for taking care of me these past few days. Let’s have a meal together sometime.”

As he read the note, he recalled the fleeting glimpse of her silhouette when he looked up earlier. Smiling, he tucked the note into a book and stared at the apple she had given him yesterday, lost in thought.

Meanwhile, at Liyuan, Zhan Feng received a report from two men who had returned from their task. He learned that Xu Yueyao had been discharged that day.

“Zhan Shao, we can depart now,” Zhan Feng said to Zhan Rongxuan, who stood by the window, his back to the light, his shadow stretching long. Dressed in a black suit with a black shirt underneath, he radiated an indescribable sense of solitude. His face was sharp and defined, with a straight nose and tightly pressed lips. Yet, when he turned around, his deep-set eyes seemed to light up the entire world.

“Let’s go.” Zhan Rongxuan put on his sunglasses and strode out, followed closely by Zhan Feng and four other men, all dressed in black.

They arrived at the funeral of Zhan Yunzhen. The atmosphere was solemn and silent. Everyone was dressed in black, their heads bowed. Zhan Rongting and Zhan Rongjing stood to one side, with Zhan Rongjing quietly sobbing.

Zhan Rongxuan, clad entirely in black, exuded an aura of cold elegance and noble detachment. He stepped forward and placed a white flower before the portrait of Zhan Yunzhen. The corners of his lips curled into a smirk.

“Second Uncle, if you see your elder brother and sister-in-law, be sure to kneel and beg for their forgiveness. That’s my final advice to you.”

Zhan Rongxuan then turned to face Zhan Rongting. Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

“Big Brother…” Zhan Rongjing called out, her eyes red from crying.

“Ah Jing.” Zhan Rongxuan gently patted her shoulder. Unable to contain her emotions, she leaned into his embrace and wept softly.

“Rongxuan, you’re here.” Zhan Rongxuan turned and saw his third uncle, Zhan Yunye, standing there in a black suit. Beside him was his daughter, Zhan Rongjun, who was dressed in a sharp, androgynous style with her short hair neatly trimmed.

Zhan Yunye greeted him warmly before turning to Zhan Rongting. “A-Ting, have you investigated properly? Was Second Brother’s death truly an accident?”

Expressionless, Zhan Rongting replied, “Yes, Third Uncle.”

“Sigh… Who would have thought he’d suffer the same fate as Big Brother and Sister-in-law back then?” Zhan Yunye’s tone was heavy with grief. His words, however, carried a double meaning, causing the expressions of those present to subtly shift.

Zhan Rongxuan’s gaze turned icy, his fists clenched tightly. He spoke to Zhan Rongting, “Grandfather is looking for me. I’m heading to the old residence.” With that, he turned and left.

Zhan Rongting nodded. As he inadvertently glanced at Zhan Rongjun, he caught a fleeting glint of ruthlessness in her eyes before she quickly lowered her gaze.

On the way to the old residence, Zhan Rongxuan stared out the window and asked Zhan Feng, “What have you found?”

“Third Master has always been meticulous, leaving no traces behind. In recent years, most of his dealings have been handled by Zhan Rongjun. Her methods are identical to Third Master’s—clean, discreet, and without a trace. She’s been subtly winning people over within the corporation.”

“The most docile snake often carries the deadliest venom. No wonder Zhan Rongting finds her such a headache and is desperate to shift my focus away.”

“What should we do next, Zhan Shao?” Zhan Feng asked.

“Ever played Whack-a-Mole? Keep an eye on them. The moment one of them pops up, we strike—ruthlessly, without mercy.” Zhan Rongxuan closed his eyes, pressing his long, pale fingers against his temple.

“Understood,” Zhan Feng replied. He had initially intended to inform him about Xu Yueyao’s discharge but, seeing his exhaustion, decided to remain silent.

At the old residence, Zhan Rongxuan went to his room, removed his black attire, and took a shower. When he stepped out, he was dressed in casual wear. The relaxed outfit accentuated his tall, lean figure, exuding an effortless confidence and composure. His slightly tousled bangs added a youthful charm to his appearance as he made his way to his grandfather Zhan Zhenting’s study.

The old man was finishing a painting of a galloping horse. Zhan Rongxuan stood silently by the side, watching until he completed the piece. Only then did he take the painting to dry and neatly put away the brushes.

“I heard you have a woman now?” The old man sat down at the Go table.

Zhan Rongxuan’s hand, holding the brush, paused slightly. He hadn’t expected his grandfather to bring this up. Placing the brush aside, he took a seat across from him. “Yes.”

The old man picked up a black Go stone, placing it on the board as he spoke. “A man shouldn’t be without a woman, but he also shouldn’t have just one. If you want to accomplish great things, don’t let a woman hold you back.”

Zhan Rongxuan, holding a white stone, focused on the game, saying nothing. He understood his grandfather’s implications. His father had been too deeply in love, devoted entirely to his mother. That disappointment had led Zhan Zhenting to dismiss his father’s death as an accident, never pursuing the truth.

Zhan Zhenting glanced at his favorite grandson—the heir he had meticulously groomed. He knew that all these years, Zhan Rongxuan had been investigating his father’s death. Today’s results pleased him. Unlike his father, Zhan Rongxuan was cold, decisive, and confident—everything a true successor should be.

Thinking back to the prophecy that the Zhan family’s next generation would be sparse, the old man had worried about Zhan Rongxuan’s indifference to women. Now that he had finally taken an interest in someone, Zhan Zhenting felt reassured.

On the way back to Liyuan, Zhan Rongxuan gazed at the passing scenery. He had expected his grandfather to question him about Second Uncle’s death but was met with complete indifference. His own son had died, yet the old man remained unfazed. Once again, Zhan Rongxuan was reminded of the Zhan family’s cold-blooded nature. His grandfather always said he wasn’t like his father—that he resembled him. But deep down, Zhan Rongxuan knew he was more like his father. He, too, despised this heartless family.

Closing his eyes in pain, he slowly reopened them, regaining his usual composure. Remembering his grandfather’s words, he asked, “That woman… Xu Yueyao. How is she?”

“Zhan Shao, she has been discharged and is now at Hua Mansion,” Zhan Feng replied.

“She’s discharged? When?” Zhan Rongxuan frowned, recalling her tear-streaked face. Had her wounds healed?

“She was discharged today on Young Master Chen’s recommendation,” Zhan Feng reported.

“Are we heading to Hua Mansion?” Zhan Feng cautiously inquired.

“No. Is everything arranged there?”

“Yes. Before Miss Xu moved in, a driver and housekeeper were already in place. All clothing was prepared to her measurements. Jewelry, handbags, and other accessories were personally selected by the mall manager—all this season’s latest. I also transferred her living expenses today.”

Zhan Rongxuan paid no attention to these details. Recalling her words about people coveting her beauty, he simply instructed, “Assign someone to watch over her.” Then, he closed his eyes once more.

Zhan Feng studied his expression. From the way he spoke, it seemed he had no romantic feelings for Xu Yueyao—only suspicion.

“Understood, Zhan Shao. I’ll make the arrangements.”