Powered off?
Duan Cang refused to give up and continued to call.
It was still powered off.
Duan Cang looked at the phone screen in disbelief for a long time, as if only then reacting, before angrily throwing the phone onto the floor.
The phone screen took the full force of the impact, and spiderweb cracks instantly spread across the entire display. The screen turned into a colorful, mottled mess, with only the automated notification sound ringing mechanically over and over again.
[The number you have dialed is powered off…]
[The number you have dialed is powered off…]
How dare Mohan block his phone number?!
Duan Cang strode into the house and contacted his assistant, “Go buy a new SIM card and call Mohan.”
The assistant on the other end paused for a moment before answering, “Alright, President Duan.”
In less than five minutes, the assistant called him back, a hint of difficulty in his tone, “President Duan, the prompt over there says it’s powered off.”
Duan Cang’s expression eased slightly. Could it really be powered off?
But it was only 9:00 PM right now.
However, Mohan, that good-for-nothing, was at odds with the Mo family, so the Mo family naturally wouldn’t take the initiative to look for him. Moreover, he didn’t have many friends around him; after leaving him, there wouldn’t be anyone else contacting him.
Not to mention turning it off early, even if he kept his phone off for a whole day, probably no one would notice.
Duan Cang casually tossed the phone onto the sofa and turned to walk toward the bathroom.
Mohan probably didn’t have much savings. The Mo family didn’t value him, and during the years they were together, he seemed to still be doing part-time jobs. Later, feeling that Mohan doing odd jobs outside dragged down his dignity as a young master of the Duan family—making it look as though he couldn’t even support his own little kept lover—he had shoved a bank card at him and told him to spend whatever he liked.
Over the years, the bank had automatically transferred money into it, and he hadn’t paid attention to how much Mohan spent either. But when Mohan left, he didn’t take this card; it was left right on the bedside table.
As long as Mohan didn’t have much money left on him, he would need to go out and work, and as long as he worked, his phone would definitely be turned back on.
By then, he could just have his assistant contact Mohan; there was no need to spend too much mental energy on a plaything.
Duan Cang walked into the bathroom, took off his outer clothes, and the moment he turned on the showerhead, the cold water mist rushed against his face, completely relaxing him.
He was accustomed to cold showers, and he was also accustomed to reviewing the day’s events while rinsing off to avoid any oversights—the chill always kept one clear-headed.
Yet this time, as he closed his eyes, that scene from the roller coaster resurfaced before him. He saw Mohan holding tightly onto Bai Ziyan’s waist amidst the roaring gale; his complexion was pale, and his lips lacked any color, making him look like a flower swaying precariously in a violent storm, on the verge of shattering at any second.
He had thought it was merely a hallucination, but this scene was clearly growing sharper and clearer before his eyes.
Combined with his powered-off phone, that terrible possibility from earlier resurfaced in his mind.
Yet how could that possibly be?
No matter how unfavored Mohan was, he was still a child of the Mo family. If he had truly died, the Mo family would definitely have made some noise; it wouldn’t be this dead quiet.
Especially that Mo Fu, who would stop at nothing to climb higher—if Mohan had truly met with an accident, he would definitely have notified him to attend Mohan’s funeral, trying to use this opportunity to snatch a piece of fortune from his hands.
Thinking this, a wave of inexplicable palpitations washed over him.
His mouth was still lingering with the taste of artificial flavoring. Even after brushing his teeth, he still felt he could smell that sickeningly sweet sugary taste, as if it were welling up from his stomach.
His stomach began to ache dully once more.
Mohan quietly followed behind Bai Ziyan.
He was very tired.
This time it wasn’t a psychological exhaustion, but a weariness originating from the deepest depths of his soul.
Perhaps as a warning that the dead could not meddle in the destinies of the living, his ghostly form had become slightly more translucent than before as a punishment.
He sat beside Bai Ziyan, watching him press his temples with a headache after putting down his phone.
Bai Ziyan was always composed and calm; this was the first time Mohan had seen him display such an expression.
The car carried Bai Ziyan and Mohan all the way to University A.
Looking at University A, Mohan felt a wave of nostalgia.
He used to be a student at University A as well.
His professors had once placed high hopes on him, saying they hoped that one day they would see him bring folk art to the world stage.
Pity that his hands were ruined first, and then he lost his life at the bottom of a cliff, ultimately failing the expectations of his respected mentors.
Bai Ziyan walked hurriedly inside, with Mohan following closely behind him the entire way.
Bai Ziyan was exceptionally tall with extremely long legs, drawing curious glances from passing pedestrians. Mohan noticed that quite a few students pulled out their phones as if wanting to come forward to ask for contact information, but hesitated out of caution, seeing Bai Ziyan’s hurried expression and fearing they might disturb him if he had an urgent matter.
And so, he watched Bai Ziyan march briskly all the way until they reached the faculty office building. Adjusting his clothes, Bai Ziyan knocked on one of the doors.
“Hello, Professor Ma.”
Bai Ziyan shook hands with the professor.
Stepping inside, two students were standing against the wall nearby, both of them sporting bruises and cuts on their faces.
Mohan recognized one of them.
It was none other than the Mo family’s youngest son, Mo Shengshan.
Mo Shengshan looked exceptionally disheveled at the moment; his pretty silver hair was a complete mess, ruffled up like a bird’s nest. The black hair tie that always bound the ends of his hair was nowhere to be found, and the silver necklace around his neck had even dug a bloody scratch into his skin. As for his clothes, needless to say, it looked as though he had rolled around in the dirt. The skin exposed to the air was stained with a mixture of scratches and mud, making one’s heart skip a beat in alarm.
The boy standing beside him had a neat crop of black short hair, with a ruby stud earring in his left ear. This boy looked equally wretched; even his pants were torn open with a huge hole, and a ring of bruised black encircled his left eye.
At first, he still maintained a devil-may-care attitude, crossing his arms and chewing bubblegum. But upon seeing Bai Ziyan, he immediately straightened his arms down by his sides, putting on an obedient, pious look of staring at his nose and heart. Judging his age and appearance, Mohan guessed this must be the Bai family’s third son, Bai Ziyan’s younger brother, Bai Ziyan.
Judging by the situation, the two of them had probably just gotten into a fight—a fight so fierce it had reached the level of summoning their family guardians.
At that moment, a doctor pushed open the door and began treating the two of them for their injuries. Evidently, brawling was an everyday occurrence for them; the Bai and Mo families had even registered medications commonly used by their children at the campus clinic when investing in it. The two school doctors had just gone to fetch those exact supplies.
The required medications were first shown to Bai Ziyan for inspection. After confirming there were no issues, the school doctors began tending to the two youths’ wounds.
To avoid showing favoritism, even the school doctors had two people prepared.
Stepping in right behind the two school doctors was Mo Qing.
Seeing Bai Ziyan, Mo Qing paused for a moment, then nodded at him and sat down beside Bai Ziyan.
Seeing that everyone had arrived, Professor Ma said with a bitter smile, “Sorry, you two. I know you’re busy, and normally if the two kids and the school can handle things, we wouldn’t call you. But you can see the state they fought in this time—it’s quite severe. If the physical education instructor training students nearby hadn’t happened to pull the two of them apart in time, something terrible might have happened.”
Hearing this, Bai Ziyan and Mo Qing turned to the two school doctors, thoroughly familiar with the ensuing procedure. The doctor examining Bai Ziyuan’s body announced, “Rib fracture.”
Meanwhile, the school doctor examining Mo Shengshan chimed in with his report, “Soft tissue contusion on the leg.”
Bai Ziyuan raised an eyebrow defiantly at Mo Shengshan, as if communicating, “Looks like I’m still the tougher one.” Mo Shengshan’s temper instantly flared up, and he raised his fist, ready to resume the fight they hadn’t finished earlier.
“Xiao Yan!”
“Mo Shengshan!”
The two of them spoke simultaneously, and the tense, trigger-happy pair instantly froze.
They glared at each other like two competing bulls, yet didn’t dare to make a move.
In this situation, even Bai Ziyan and Mo Qing felt awkward.
On one side, Mo Qing was discussing business cooperation with Eldest Brother Bai, while on the other side, their respective younger brothers started picking fights with each other.
Both younger brothers were already in their early twenties and were about to graduate from university to work in their family companies. No matter how one looked at it, they couldn’t brush it off by claiming they were still young and ignorant.
Knowing he couldn’t intervene in this matter, Professor Ma offered some earnest parting advice: “Fighting all the time isn’t a solution either,” before stepping out of the office to leave some space for the two of them to negotiate.
Amidst a round of official, polite pleasantries, the two sets of guardians reached a reconciliation and forced their respective younger brothers to bow their heads and apologize.
Anyone could tell that neither of them apologized willingly, but there was no help for it—commercial cooperation still required maintaining a surface-level decorum.
To express their apologies for the trouble caused to the school, the Bai and Mo families each donated half of an experimental building, combining to make an entire building. On the surface, it was meant to demonstrate friendship between the two families, but in reality, it was to prevent the incident from blowing up too ugly.
The two families parted ways with polite civility. As soon as the Bai family members left, Mo Shengshan’s face darkened completely.
Without even raising her head, Mo Qing busied herself organizing documents, her face cold. “I’m very busy right now; don’t cause trouble for me.”
Mo Shengshan looked out the car window. “Who asked you to come? The moment I think about having to apologize to that disgusting bastard, I feel completely uncomfortable all over.”
“What was it about this time?”
Mo Shengshan closed his mouth and stayed silent.
Mo Qing’s voice was cold and detached. “You’re not young anymore; you need to realize that what you represent outside right now is not just yourself, but also the Mo family. Right now, the Bai family and the Mo family are engaged in cooperation, and the younger generation of both families cannot afford to have conflicts even if we only maintain a surface-level harmony.”
Looking at the dark circles under Mo Qing’s eyes that even foundation couldn’t hide, Mo Shengshan irritably scratched his hair.
His injuries were still aching dully, but Mo Qing simply dropped him off at home, made a call for a family doctor to tend to his wounds, and then hurried back to the company in a rush.
The villa was empty and desolate. Mo Shengshan sat down irritably, letting the doctor check his wounds, feeling as though a breath was stuck in his chest.
“Auntie, get me a glass of lime juice.”
The cook stepped out from the kitchen and said, “Young master, the previously frozen lime juice is out. Would it be alright if I freshly squeezed some for you right now?”
Mo Shengshan waved his hand indifferently, but after taking a large gulp, his facial expression instantly contorted.
“It’s too sour, Auntie. I want the kind we had before.”
The cook took back the glass in bewilderment. “Those previous ones were all made by Young Master Mohan and stored frozen in the refrigerator. I don’t know the recipe for that kind. Shall I contact Young Master Mohan and ask him?”
“No!”
Mo Shengshan cut off the cook’s words, took another sip of the lime juice, and frowned deeply, irritated by the sour and bitter taste.
Seeing this, the cook apologetically suggested, “Young master, how about I add some more honey?”
Mo Shengshan couldn’t swallow it anymore and had no choice but to say, “Alright.”
He added, “Put more in.”
However, the lime juice with added honey tasted excessively sweet, yet the flavor was still wrong. Even with ice cubes added, it wasn’t as refreshing as what he had drunk before.
He hated overly sour flavors, nor did he like things purely sweet; only the beverages mixed by Mohan suited his palate best.
Seeing his displeased expression, the cook asked cautiously, “Shall I change you to another drink instead?”
“No need.”
He refused to believe it—was Mohan’s lime juice really that irreplaceable?
Mo Shengshan viciously gulped down a large mouthful of lime juice, his throat burning from the overly sweet taste, yet he forced himself to finish it anyway.
To hell with Mohan.
The taste of the lime juice made Mo Shengshan feel thoroughly uncomfortable, and the lingering pain from tending to his wounds only made him even more irritable.
“Alright, alright, you don’t need to treat it anymore.”
The family doctor, however, was very insistent. “Young master, if we don’t treat it, you might get an infection.”
Mo Shengshan roared fiercely, “I told you not to treat it anymore, are you deaf?”
Standing there, the family doctor remained unruffled and upright, saying, “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have no choice but to call Miss Mo. Please don’t make things difficult for me, Young master.”
Thinking of Mo Qing, Mo Shengshan could only wave his hand dispiritedly. “Fine, fine, then be gentle.”
The pain from the wounds being touched, combined with the discomfort of not getting his favorite drink, made him think of that person he detested to the core.
He and Bai Ziyuan had loathed the sight of each other since childhood, engaging in countless fights growing up. Bumps and bruises were inevitable, but fearing reprimands from Mo Qing and his father, he had never bothered to call the family doctor to tend to them, just leaving them be. Whenever Mohan discovered this, he would walk over with gauze and medicine.
He despised this person, yet felt that having this illegitimate child serve him wasn’t a bad deal either.
Mohan was foolish; seeing that his wounds were allowed to be bandaged would make his eyes light up, probably mistakenly thinking he had accepted him.
In truth, he merely treated Mohan like a servant to be ordered around.
When Mohan tended to his wounds, his movements were very gentle; sometimes he would even fall soundly asleep while the other was treating him. Once, after waking up refreshed and relaxed from a nap, he found that he had actually leaned against Mohan, and by that time, his wounds had all been treated and didn’t hurt as much as before he fell asleep.
Only, ever since he had abandoned Mohan at the bar, Mohan had never applied medicine for him again.
Thinking of this, a sudden, sharp pain from his wounds made him frown.
Hmph, so what if he stopped applying medicine for him?
What kind of doctor couldn’t he, Mo Shengshan, find? Did he really need a half-baked amateur like him?
Still, this doctor was treating his wounds way too painfully—it hurt so much he wanted to kick out and send this person flying.
Even though Mohan wasn’t a medical professional, he could always treat his wounds with such gentleness, whereas the person in front of him made it hurt this much. He must be a quack doctor; he was going to tell Mo Qing to fire this guy later.