Duan Cang’s brows knitted even tighter, and he stated decisively, “Impossible! I didn’t make the call; the ambulance was called by him.”
“I saw him.”
Recalling the hazy memories of last night, Duan Cang remembered someone with icy fingertips gently lifting his finger to tap against the screen. He had felt that presence was deeply familiar, so he had struggled to open his eyes and seen Mohan standing by the bed, just like every other time he had fallen ill in the past.
Duan Cang’s brow smoothed out. “I told him to go stew porridge for me. Ask if it’s done yet.”
Last night, he had clearly watched Mohan go to the kitchen.
With zero news for two months, the moment he fell ill, the person appeared. Perhaps he was hiding somewhere nearby, watching him in secret.
Thinking of this, Duan Cang felt a trace of annoyance mixed with disgust, though he failed to notice the slight upward curve of his own lips.
Assistant Li said with a troubled expression, “President Duan, we confirmed it when we went to your house—you were the only one there.”
Duan Cang knew his assistant wouldn’t lie. Since the assistant said that, it could only mean they truly hadn’t seen Mohan.
Could it be that Mohan had left first?
Yet he clearly remembered that after Mohan turned toward the kitchen, he never came out.
That cripple couldn’t possibly have climbed out through the window.
Duan Cang felt a slight headache coming on. “Didn’t you make a phone call last night? Bring me the recording.”
Assistant Li immediately instructed someone to pull it up, and in less than five minutes, the recording was presented before Duan Cang.
Duan Cang tapped to play it. As he listened, his expression gradually grew grim.
In the recording, there was only the dispatcher’s increasingly urgent inquiries; apart from that, there were no other sounds.
An inexplicable restlessness welled up in Duan Cang’s heart. He asked, “Where is my phone?”
Assistant Li stepped forward and handed over a phone wrapped in a white handkerchief.
Just as Duan Cang was about to take it, he withdrew his hand. “Go run a fingerprint analysis.”
Assistant Li didn’t ask for the reason, simply executing the order with crisp efficiency.
Dawn was just breaking at that moment, the sky outside showing a gloomy, dim white. Duan Cang looked out the window, feeling a sense of restless irritation for no apparent reason.
A nurse from the Duan family arrived carrying breakfast, speaking respectfully, “Your stomach needs to be nurtured right now; you shouldn’t eat anything overly oily or spicy. Do these breakfast items suit your palate?”
On the white porcelain plate were seven or eight small dishes that were easy to digest—small in portion yet exquisite along with a bowl of golden millet and wolfberry porridge.
Duan Cang instinctively wanted to push it away, but thinking of something, he took it instead.
He picked up the porcelain spoon, scooped a spoonful of millet porridge, and frowned the moment it entered his mouth.
The nurse was on tenterhooks. “President Duan, does it not suit your taste?”
Didn’t they say President Duan likes millet porridge, which is why that person used to make it for President Duan often when he was still around?
After taking a single bite, Duan Cang put the porcelain spoon down. “Tastes awful.”
With that, he waved his hand in disgust and refused to look at it any further.
The flavor was wrong, and the temperature was wrong, too—it tasted like absolute garbage.
At the Duan family’s own hospital, they served this kind of trash to their premium patients?
It was even worse than what Mohan made.
The nurse asked in terror, “Then what would you like to eat? I’ll go have the kitchen make it for you.”
Duan Cang waved a hand dismissively. “No need. Someone will bring it to me later.”
The nurse wanted to advise him further, but remembering Duan Cang’s iron-fisted methods in the business world, she didn’t dare say another word.
Before long, Assistant Li returned. “Your phone has been taken by a specialist. If we have it processed on an expedited rush, the results should come out in about a day.”
“Mhm.”
Duan Cang closed his eyes.
Remembering the nurse he had encountered at the door, Assistant Li bit the bullet and advised, “President Duan, is there really nothing in the kitchen that suits your taste? Your condition isn’t very good; you need to eat something.”
Duan Cang said impatiently, “It’s too terrible.”
Assistant Li secretly groaned internally. With a crowd of people and so many pairs of eyes yesterday, none of them had seen Young Master Mohan. Why was President Duan so convinced that Young Master Mohan was the one who helped make the emergency call last night? If Young Master Mohan didn’t show up at all today, was President Duan really planning to go a whole day without eating?
Assistant Li’s mind raced. “President Duan, the news of your hospitalization surely couldn’t be hidden from Young Master Bai. He’ll probably rush right over soon you should eat at least a little something, otherwise Young Master Bai will worry when he finds out.”
At the mention of Bai Ziyan, Duan Cang’s expression softened slightly.
That’s right. If Ziyan finds out about my condition, he’ll definitely worry. Besides, Mohan probably knows I can’t stand him and that he’s even less suited to appear in front of Bai Ziyan, which is why he hid himself away. At least he still has some sense.
That’s right, it’s better for Mohan to stay far away. Otherwise, if Ziyan found out what I did in the past, he’d probably be heartbroken.
Seeing Duan Cang seemingly relent, Assistant Li quickly struck while the iron was hot. “President Duan, I’ll order a portion of porridge from that restaurant you frequently eat at. What do you think?”
Duan Cang nodded and added, “No millet and wolfberry porridge.”
Although Mohan was a good-for-nothing, he had spent seven years making that stomach-nourishing millet porridge for him, adjusting it until it matched his exact preferences. No matter how well other master chefs made it, to his taste it always lacked a certain something—he’d rather not eat at all.
Assistant Li was right; Bai Ziyan had indeed rushed over the moment he heard the news, arriving in a hurried rush shortly after.
“A-Cang, how are you feeling? Is your condition alright?”
Leaning against the head of the bed with a laptop open before him, Duan Cang smiled gently as he saw Bai Ziyan approach. “Much better.”
During the short journey from the hospital entrance to the ward, Bai Ziyan had already learned of Duan Cang’s condition from a nurse. Seeing his pale face, he couldn’t help feeling a tinge of self-reproach. “I had no idea your stomach was so poor. You even ate two ice cream cones with me last night.”
If he had known, he definitely would have stopped Duan Cang.
Looking at Bai Ziyan’s worried expression, a wave of warmth spread through Duan Cang’s chest. “It’s not the ice cream’s fault; my stomach has been an old issue.”
“An old issue? Since when?”
Duan Cang said, “Probably starting from when I was eighteen.”
Quietly seated on a chair near the door, Mohan listened as Duan Cang recounted his past.
In truth, although Mohan and Duan Cang had been together for seven years, he hadn’t really understood Duan Cang’s affairs thoroughly.
Just like right now, listening to Duan Cang’s past from another perspective was an entirely brand-new experience.
The union of the head of the Duan family and his wife was a pure commercial marriage devoid of any affection between them.
They had agreed before marrying that each would play their own game afterwards, with only two conditions that had to be strictly observed.
First, no illegitimate children could be fathered outside.
Second, they must produce a child a child carrying the bloodline of both of them to inherit the Duan family.
That child was Duan Cang.
True to the expectations of both families, this child was exceptionally brilliant, demonstrating superior business talent at a very young age. His existence made the allied relationship of the two families increasingly unbreakable.
Until Duan Cang was fifteen years old, a woman leading a young boy appeared before the gates of the Duan family, demanding to have their lineage recognized and their names entered into the family registry.
The woman wore a cheap white dress and garish makeup. Standing before Madam Duan, she made Madam Duan look as defeated and wretched as a stray dog.
Duan Cang flew into a rage, rushing forward to drive this shameless woman away, only to be blocked by his father.
His father protected that mother and son right then and there.
Duan Cang looked at them in disbelief, unable to fathom why the father who had always treated him with rigid, professional formality could care so deeply about them. And the young boy receiving this care looked to be not much younger than himself.
He instinctively looked toward his mother, but his mother did not look back at him.
The next day, his mother also brought back a child who bore a certain resemblance to herself.
They each kept illegitimate children outside.
They had quarreled fiercely that day. The comical part was that both of them felt their own creation of an illegitimate child was completely excusable, while the other’s was entirely unforgivable.
Duan Cang didn’t know how they handled it; he was taken away by the elders of the family.
Half a month later, the illegitimate children, men, and women had all vanished. His parents remained as courteous to each other as guests, and he remained the sole heir of the Duan family.
Two years later, however, a new crisis arose.
Perhaps having made an appearance before the public, Mr. Duan simply grew uninhibited and reckless. Over the past two years, he had given a substantial amount of money to that illegitimate child in private, swelling the illegitimate child’s ambitions.
The illegitimate child wanted a piece of the Duan family’s assets, and his lover kept whispering poisonous pillow-talk in his ear.
Naturally, Mr. Duan would not agree.
Though he was a womanizer and fancied himself deeply affectionate, the gap between Duan Cang and the illegitimate child was like mud versus clouds. Duan Cang was fully capable of leading the Duan family to even greater heights; Mr. Duan had no intention of trading away his own profits just to buy a beauty’s smile.
It was the elders of the household, instead, who brought the illegitimate children from both sides back into the Duan family compound, assigning them certain positions and allowing them to begin taking over Duan family affairs.
They were immensely thrilled, unaware that they were merely sharpening stones chosen for Duan Cang.
At that time, Duan Cang was eighteen years old. Having just taken over the Duan family, he was immediately shoved into the ring with two hard stones.
These two illegitimate children used despicable methods, stopping at nothing, which exhausted the teenage Duan Cang to the extreme—he was even nearly drugged on one occasion.
Yet the elders did not soften their hearts; in their view, all of this was mandatory.
They needed to select the absolute best heir for the two families.
Faced with this, Duan Cang chose a do-or-die approach.
He sent people to investigate both Mr. Duan and Madam Duan.
As expected, Mr. Duan had countless flings, leaving seven or eight other illegitimate children outside.
Madam Duan only had this one illegitimate child, but her lovers were enough to form a soccer team.
Duan Cang had his people inform those illegitimate children of their “good fortune” within the Duan family.
And so, they all came knocking on the door.
The scene grew chaotic to the extreme. Duan Cang simply stuffed all these people into the company, then stood back to watch them tear into each other coldly.
Until they bit and clawed at each other, dragging one another down to mutual destruction.
Duan Cang used this opportunity to completely purge the elders’ influence from the company. It took him five years to bring the corporation entirely under his thumb, and those old folks who had forced those illegitimate children into the company back then never had the qualification to interfere with him again.
His stomach condition was contracted during that period.
Before meeting Mohan, Duan Cang’s stomach condition had deteriorated to the absolute worst.
After meeting Mohan, he regulated his diet across three meals a day. Even though the subsequent “battles” grew far more intense, his stomach never acted up again.
Duan Cang paused, falling into a sudden daze after finishing his account.
He realized with sudden, poignant clarity that during the hardest times of the past, the person accompanying his side had not been Bai Ziyan who was thousands of miles away opening up markets abroad but Mohan.
The illegitimate child he despised the most.
The sharpening stone he looked down upon the most.