Chapter 158: The Mohist Dispute (I)

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Far away in West Gate City, a car drove straight into a luxurious garage. The man who stepped out wore sunglasses, with a small scar now marking his face. After sneezing two or three times, he thought he might have caught a cold and rubbed his nose.

“Back already? Don’t you know the boss has been waiting for you a long time?” Han, dressed entirely in black as always, asked. No one knew when he had started favoring this style.

Cold Blood didn’t spare Han a glance. The new scar was self-inflicted—he didn’t want Qianyin to recognize him again, nor did he want to cause her pain. Though he thought of her constantly, there was no longer any possibility of them being together.

He went back inside and briefly met with the boss. When the boss saw the scar on Cold Blood’s face, he was shocked. Cold Blood was capable of such cruelty to himself, even to the point of disfiguring his own face.

“Anything else? No? Then I’m going back to rest. I’m a little tired,” Cold Blood said expressionlessly, then turned and left without waiting to see if the boss had more to say.

Han stood silently at the doorway, watching. His face showed no emotion, but inwardly he thought: This guy is ten times colder than me. It seems that after losing Qianyin, he’s reverted to his old self.

The boss was very satisfied with this outcome. In his hand, he still held the seven-colored luminous jade, on which a small worm seemed to be growing larger. Sitting nearby, Mo Fan closed his eyes and appeared asleep, utterly still. If not for his upright posture, one might have thought he was dead.

Lately, the boss had been busy. He had taken every necessary step; his evil influence was slowly dissipating. Wherever he went, the darkness was gradually awakened from the depths of the heart. But because nurturing this worm was draining his life bit by bit, his time was running short.

From time to time, he predicted changes in the Mo family, only to find his abilities diminishing. A growing unease stirred within the boss’s heart. Everything was shifting too rapidly. He had no choice but to move things from that other space to this one, but the more he moved, the faster his powers faded. Perhaps he had gone too far—bringing things from that world over was a mistake.

“Do you need me to do anything? I’ve been bored lately,” Han said, deciding to check on Qianyin and stir things up a bit. He looked toward the boss, hoping for permission to go out.

“No need. Just train those people. You don’t have to concern yourself with anything else,” the boss said coldly, then turned and went upstairs, leaving Han alone on the first floor.

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Han suddenly remembered that the flower thief had been missing for a long time. Had he gone off to do something and been discovered and expelled by the boss? Now, he couldn’t go out and had to face that cold group of animals every day. The thought made Han’s heart chill. He sat down on the sofa, intending to sleep and ignore these boring people.

The Mo family’s company was in turmoil after Mo Lan and Qianyin’s disruption. No one from the Mo family had received any calls since, and everyone stayed quietly in the company. On the surface, all appeared calm, but beneath, currents swirled.

Mo Lan and An Feng began handling business affairs, while caring for the elder Mo patriarch was left to Qianyin. Mo Lan had taken several days off, it was time to report back. Taking too many days off would affect Mo Lan’s future registration with the advanced police bureau, resulting in point deductions.

Old Xian faithfully brewed the medicine every day and brought it over, along with a bowl of Lingzhi soup. Looking at the old Mo patriarch lying in bed, he sighed. There was no one left to play chess with him. When would this old man wake up?

Qianyin took the medicinal soup, carefully testing its temperature. She placed a cloth in front of the old man, gently propped him up, and fed him, just as Mo Lan had done before. She soon realized how difficult it was to feed him and furrowed her brow deeply.

“It feels hard to feed him now, but Mo Lan fed you for several days before,” Old Xian teased gently while watching the old man’s sleeping face vigilantly.

Qianyin turned and coughed, then sat back down, carefully feeding the medicine without uttering a word, not wanting Old Xian to find fault. After all, Old Xian still cared for the Mo family deeply, especially the old patriarch, with whom he had formed a friendship.

The two stayed there all morning. Occasionally, they could hear the patriarch’s voice from the other room. It seemed his health had improved enough to get out of bed and walk, but he hadn’t come over to see them.

Qianyin set the bowl down and quietly listened to the voices, her heart burning with anger. He really was an unfilial son. After raising them for so many years, the old man was truly pitiable.

“You say this guy is better, yet he can’t even come see his own father. What an unfilial son. We shouldn’t have saved him in the first place—he should have been left to die there,” Old Xian exclaimed in indignation, pacing angrily nearby. He was fiercely protective and couldn’t tolerate such behavior.

“Let’s not meddle in other families’ matters. After all, we poor souls don’t understand the complexities of familial bonds,” Que Yin said solemnly to Old Xian. They were outsiders, and discussing such things brought them no benefit.

Old Xian was at a loss for words, sighed repeatedly, and returned to the courtyard, his figure solitary and disappointed.

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Mo Lan and An Feng worked all day. After work, they hurried back to the Mo residence, carrying supplies. Their footsteps were heavy and loud, suddenly waking Qianyin from her thoughts.

Mo Lan carefully set down the items, looking apologetic. “Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine,” Qianyin rubbed her eyes, smiling as she stood and glanced at the two of them, waving her hand. “No problem.”

“Here, these are your favorite little cakes,” Mo Lan said, handing them to Qianyin before sitting down to watch the old patriarch’s still-sleeping face.

Qianyin accepted the cakes and immediately began eating them. Since An Feng was here, he no longer fed Mo Lan cakes so recklessly. This kind of sisterly bond was something ordinary people wouldn’t understand.

With a bang, the door was pushed open. The old Mo patriarch stormed in angrily, pointing at Qianyin and Mo Lan as he shouted, “Who told you to go to the company? Who told you to cause trouble?”

Mo Lan and Qianyin blinked in confusion, unsure what was happening. Had he taken the wrong medicine? Coming to cause trouble so late at night? Who had whispered poisonous words in his ear? If he didn’t care about his health, fine, but to come here and scold them was outrageous.

The old patriarch seemed furious. He slapped Mo Lan across the face. An Feng, unable to stop him in time, grabbed his hand in anger, pushed him to the ground, and then helped Mo Lan up. Seeing Mo Lan shocked and hurt, his heart ached.

Qianyin jumped up, angrily pointing at the old man. “You call yourself unfilial? You really are. If you cared so much about the company, why didn’t you answer the phone? We’ve handled everything now. Who are you putting on a show for? The old patriarch isn’t dead yet. Are you trying to seize the inheritance outright?”

Mo Lan leaned dazed against An Feng. The disbelief in her eyes shattered the last hope she had ever held for this father.