Even though Mohan had acted as Bai Ziyan’s substitute for seven years, perhaps in Duan Cang’s eyes, the two of them were actually completely different.
During these seven years, Duan Cang and Bai Ziyan had practically no contact. When they occasionally did connect, they discussed the recent developments of their companies and shared childhood memories. Their interactions were restrained and courteous, so much so that no one could pick out even a hint of ambiguity.
They rarely talked about the events happening in their own lives. Consequently, under Duan Cang’s deliberate concealment, Bai Ziyan knew nothing about Duan Cang’s physical condition.
But Mohan was different.
Duan Cang never discussed work matters with him, yet he would occasionally vent complaints to Mohan—grumbling about which supervisor was derelict in duty or who was lining their own pockets. Mohan only understood these things half-and-half, but Duan Cang didn’t need him to fully comprehend them.
Compared to Bai Ziyan, Mohan seemed smaller and more fragile. Before an absolute sense of control, Duan Cang could boldly display his less-than-perfect, somewhat vulnerable side.
Thinking of this, Duan Cang’s gaze turned dark.
Perhaps he had made a mistake; he shouldn’t have let Mohan leave.
A substitute who had witnessed all his unglamorous moments should be locked firmly by his side so that he wouldn’t spill those past secrets to others.
Duan Cang made a prompt verdict on his own restlessness.
He could not accept his vulnerabilities being exposed before others, so he had to find Mohan back as soon as possible.
Whether locked up for a lifetime or sent to an uninhabited island, in short, he could not be allowed to appear in front of other people.
Listening to Duan Cang’s narrative of these past years, Bai Ziyan felt a slight daze, yet it lacked the heartache for Duan Cang that the other man had anticipated.
As Duan Cang spoke, Bai Ziyan’s feeling of “heartache” gradually transformed into a massive stone that sank heavily into his chest.
How intelligent he was.
Combining Duan Cang’s experiences with the various subtle clues from before, Bai Ziyan discovered that a certain part seemed to be missing from Duan Cang’s narrative—
The part about someone properly caring for Duan Cang’s body and soothing his emotions was deliberately omitted in Duan Cang’s account.
Duan Cang had moved out of the old family residence long ago, living alone in a villa under his own name. Logically speaking, someone who had lived alone for many years should be quite adept at taking care of their own health. However, in this nearly one month since they had reunited, he discovered that although Duan Cang had a stomach condition, he paid no heed to his diet.
For instance, when ordering food earlier, Duan Cang had unhesitatingly chosen heavy, oily, and spicy Sichuan cuisine, and last night, he had finished off an ice cream cone in just a few bites.
Furthermore, last night Duan Cang’s hair hadn’t been completely dried, and he had forgotten to close the window before sleeping, leading to a cold and fever.
These matters indicated that by Duan Cang’s side, there should have been one or multiple people taking care of his daily diet and living needs, sparing him from having to direct his attention to such trivial affairs.
Yet clearly, this presence had recently departed, directly causing Duan Cang’s condition to suddenly deteriorate.
This presence most likely wasn’t a hired housekeeper or a selected personal butler, because Duan Cang had no reason to fire someone capable of taking care of his living arrangements with utmost competence.
Even if there were some reason forcing him to let them go, he wouldn’t need to refrain from hiring other housekeepers or butlers ever since, letting his own physical health suffer as a result.
With the resources of the Duan family, half a dozen people could be found within a single day to take care of him.
Yet Duan Cang had not done so.
The reason behind this gave one food for thought.
This omitted presence easily led Bai Ziyan to associate it with another name that could not be spoken.
Mohan.
Coupled with their resembling appearances and that photo at the amusement park, Bai Ziyan’s heart sank lower and lower.
Even so, he still attempted to overturn his own deduction, pretending to ask casually, “A-Cang, I heard your condition was very dangerous last night. You weren’t feeling well yet stayed at home alone, and nobody even knew when you fell ill. Should we hire a couple of housekeepers to cook for you?”
Hearing this, Duan Cang thought to himself that Mohan had only dared to come see him in secret; if housekeepers were hired, he probably wouldn’t show up at all, and then how would he lock him away?
Therefore, Duan Cang smiled and declined, “Ziyan, you know I don’t like too many strangers in my living environment. I promise you, this is the last time I’ll be hospitalized.”
Bai Ziyan’s heart plummeted to the absolute bottom.
Mohan, who shared a resemblance to his own face. A photograph of the two of them with a tender atmosphere at the amusement park. A name that was deliberately erased.
A hypothesis was ready to burst forth—
Perhaps Duan Cang had once treated Mohan as his substitute.
This hypothesis bordered on the absurd. Bai Ziyan felt a bit like laughing, yet he couldn’t laugh at all.
He recalled an increasing number of details.
For instance, the manager at Deep Blue didn’t seem surprised at all when Duan Cang and Mohan dined together. At that time, the atmosphere between him and Duan Cang had been extremely close, entirely unlike the antagonistic tension Duan Cang claimed had existed between himself and Mohan.
Or take Duan Cang’s brothers, who let slip an involuntary “Mohan” upon seeing him. Although their tones carried a haughty disdain, they weren’t surprised that “Mohan” was lingering by Duan Cang’s side; they were only surprised that Duan Cang had actually brought “Mohan” along to their gathering of brothers.
Perhaps his expression truly looked too ghastly, as Duan Cang noticed something was amiss and hurriedly asked, “Ziyan, what’s wrong? Your face is so pale. Are you alright? Should we call a doctor?”
Bai Ziyan raised his head. Seeing that the deep affection and concern in Duan Cang’s eyes did not seem fake, his heart felt all the more a tangled mess of complex emotions. Emotionally, he believed Duan Cang would never do such a thing, but rationally, he knew Duan Cang had likely concealed something indeed.
The teenage Duan Cang possessed a natural pride. Although his actions carried a hint of stubbornness, he was upright, open, and straightforward, never lowering himself to lying or concealment.
This was precisely one of the reasons Bai Ziyan had fallen for him.
Bai Ziyan had a severe case of emotional mysophobia.
The love between Bai Ziyan’s parents was wonderful; their romance, as sung in every sweet love poem, was so exquisite it felt almost illusory.
This consequently led Bai Ziyan to believe from a young age that love ought to be just like that.
Having seen the vast oceans, nothing else could compare. His romantic nature and definition of sacred love, having witnessed his parents’ romance, made him forever unable to tolerate any fast-food style of affection.
Otherwise, given Bai Ziyan’s looks and family background, it would have been impossible for him to reach the present day without a single prior romantic experience.
During his years abroad, because he couldn’t let go of Duan Cang, he hadn’t bothered with anyone else, simply thinking of returning home someday to check on Duan Cang and see how he was doing.
When he went abroad, he didn’t know if he would ever return, so he had rejected Duan Cang’s confession, never leaving Duan Cang with any excess lingering expectations, and naturally never asking Duan Cang to wait for him throughout all those years he spent abroad.
In truth, even if Duan Cang had already married and had children, it wouldn’t have mattered; Bai Ziyan would have offered his sincere blessings. He had anticipated every kind of ending on the day he left the country, as long as Duan Cang lived happily.
He never expected Duan Cang to give him such an unexpected joy—
Waiting for him for ten years.
The entire circle knew how deeply affectionate Duan Cang was.
Bai Ziyan was moved to the extreme, feeling as though the ten years spent striving abroad—working desperately hard to stabilize the company in hopes of returning home sooner—had all transformed into medals rewarding their sincere devotion.
Yet now, it seemed he had discovered that these ten years might not be as pure as everyone else believed them to be.
Bai Ziyan forced a smile at Duan Cang. “I rushed over too hurriedly without eating breakfast, so my blood sugar dropped a bit.”
Duan Cang kept mulling over Bai Ziyan’s reaction just now, feeling that something wasn’t quite right, yet his mind was occupied by another matter.
He was waiting for the fingerprint analysis results on his phone.
For some reason, although he could be certain he had seen Mohan last night and guessed that Mohan had hidden himself away simply because he didn’t dare show his face before him, a lingering unease still persisted in his heart.
It was already dusk. Irritably, Duan Cang closed his laptop.
He picked up the new phone equipped with his old SIM card, his fingertips slowly sliding across the screen as a chill crept upward from his fingertips.
He remembered last night was just like this someone had held his finger, letting him feel the cool sensation transmitting from the screen.
Assistant Li arrived belatedly, pulling a stack of appraisal certificates from his jacket and handing the phone back to Duan Cang. “President Duan…”
Duan Cang wasn’t in the mood to flip through that stack of professional documentation, asking only, “What are the results?”
Assistant Li pressed his lips together. “President Duan, there is only your own fingerprint on the phone.”
“The footprints you asked us to extract from your house were also gathered. There are footprints belonging to seven people in total precisely the six emergency rescue team members who entered your house and your own.”
Duan Cang frowned, flipping through the stack of materials and growing increasingly irritable with every page.
The phone genuinely contained only his own fingerprints. Not a single extra footprint was found.
Recalling how Mohan had held his finger to unlock the phone and stood quietly by his bed to take care of him, he thought: Could Mohan be so vigilant that he didn’t leave a single fingerprint? Not a single footprint?
Seeing Duan Cang’s expression turning nearly ferocious, Assistant Li swallowed hard, steeling himself as he spoke, “President Duan, you might have experienced discomfort last night due to a mild fever. Do you need a doctor to examine you once more?”
“No.”
Duan Cang fell silent for a fleeting second before asking once again, “Are you certain that last night, I was the only person in the house?”
Assistant Li thought carefully for a moment and hesitated. “The sounds were very loud at the time; if anyone else had been there, they should have come out to check the situation.”
“Meaning you didn’t search the entire villa.”
Duan Cang abruptly flipped over and swung his legs out of bed.
“P-President Duan…”
“Process my discharge. I’m going home.”
Duan Cang hurried back toward the villa. He had no idea why he was feeling this anxious and unsettled, as if something important was about to vanish forever.
Upon rushing home, his objective was crystal clear: he headed straight for the kitchen. Seeing the measuring cup knocked over on the floor and wolfberries scattered all across the ground, his tightly tensed spine slowly relaxed.
He spotted the bag of rice placed off to the side and reached out to grab it; it was a newly opened bag of millet with a straight, even cut across the opening.
The scissors hanging on the wall had been touched, their position shifted slightly.
He never touched these items himself, so it could only be Mohan.
“Mohan…”
Mohan…
Bai Ziyan sat back on the sofa with his eyes closed, facing upward.
He recalled that near the end of Duan Cang recounting his past experiences during the day, the sharp and decisive aura of the youth in his memory had inadvertently revealed an unsettling, terrifying quality. It was as if recalling something deeply exhilarating, causing him to momentarily forget to conceal his sharp edge.
Clutching his phone, he drew in a deep breath.
“Hello, Xinzi? Help me look into someone.”
He knew that the moment this name was spoken aloud, it represented the trust he placed in Duan Cang a trust that could never be restored to its original state again.
“……Duan Cang.”
“Help me look into Duan Cang.”