The study continued the luxurious style of the entire mansion.
A massive redwood desk, bookshelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, filled with books and art pieces—it all radiated a cold and distant atmosphere.
Xi Zhenbang walked behind the desk and sat down, gesturing toward the chair opposite him.
“Sit.”
Xi Liye sat down as instructed.
“Liye,” Xi Zhenbang finally began, looking at him. “I know you harbor resentment toward this family… toward me.”
Xi Liye said nothing.
He simply looked at him quietly.
“What happened when you were little… your mother and I neglected you. We wronged you.”
For once, Xi Zhenbang brought up the old matter, his voice somewhat strained.
“Then your mother passed away… and I…” He paused. “In any case, I failed as a father.”
He stopped, seeming to hope for even the slightest reaction from Xi Liye.
But Xi Liye’s expression remained calm and unreadable.
Disappointment flashed through Xi Zhenbang’s eyes.
Still, he quickly adjusted his emotions and got to the point.
“But no matter what, you’re my son. You’re the future of the Xi family.”
“The past can’t be changed, but the future can still be planned.”
“I know you like medicine, and I won’t force you to change careers immediately anymore.”
Xi Zhenbang assumed a compromising posture.
“But you can’t focus only on your personal interests. The Xi family has such a large business empire. Someone will eventually have to take over.”
“You’re still young, so you can afford to be willful now. But sooner or later, you’ll have to come back and shoulder that responsibility.”
“I know.”
Xi Liye’s tone remained indifferent.
“I’ll take over your company eventually. It’s the life’s work of both you and Mother.”
“But not now.”
What belonged to the Xi family belonged to him.
He would never hand it over to anyone else.
Deep in his bones lay an intense sense of territory and control.
Anything that was his, he would never allow others to touch.
But studying medicine was also his choice.
And he had never been someone who gave up halfway.
“You…”
Xi Zhenbang opened his mouth as if wanting to say something.
Yet he realized he could no longer pressure his son with absolute authority like he once had.
After what happened during Xi Liye’s childhood, the distance between them had become permanent.
In the end, he only let out a heavy sigh.
“Fine. I understand.”
“As long as you know what you’re doing.”
“You may go.”
Xi Liye said nothing more.
He gave a slight nod, stood up, and left the study without the slightest hesitation.
Walking out that door brought no relief.
The air in this mansion was always so heavy it felt difficult to breathe.
He strode down the hallway.
Then he ran into Xi Yunchuan.
Xi Yunchuan was genuinely afraid of Xi Liye.
He had always been afraid.
The fear had rooted itself deep in his bones, mixed with the inferiority and awe he had felt as a child when he first entered the Xi family and looked up at the cold-faced young master.
But an even greater fear came from something he had once accidentally witnessed.
He remembered it clearly.
It was a gloomy summer afternoon.
Hidden behind a dense cluster of bushes in the garden, he had seen Xi Liye crouching alone beneath an old tree.
In his hand was a knife gleaming with a cold light.
His face expressionless.
He was dissecting a dead sparrow.
Blood stained both his hands and the blade.
At that moment, young Xi Yunchuan had been so terrified that he nearly forgot how to breathe.
His entire body had gone cold.
He had caught a glimpse of something beneath Xi Liye’s calm exterior.
Something chilling.
Something completely incompatible with the normal world.
From that day onward, he knew Xi Liye wasn’t normal.
Yet he still disguised himself as calm, disciplined, and exceptional.
Just like now.
Disgusting.
The emotion churned violently inside Xi Yunchuan’s chest.
“Brother.”
Xi Yunchuan forced out something that barely qualified as a smile.
“Finished talking with Dad? Doesn’t seem like it went very well.”
“Move.”
Xi Liye spoke.
His voice carried an undeniable chill.
Xi Yunchuan’s forced smile faltered.
Instead of stepping aside, he moved half a step closer and lowered his voice.
“I heard you’ve gotten yourself a little girlfriend lately.”
“You seem pretty invested in her. You’ve even skipped family dinners because of her.”
“I never thought someone like you would have a girlfriend.”
“I wonder, though… if that little girlfriend of yours found out what you’re really like, would she still stay with you?”
Xi Liye listened quietly.
His face remained expressionless.
“My affairs aren’t your concern.”
“Mind your own business, Xi Yunchuan.”
“The lesson from a year ago seems not to have been memorable enough.”
His tone was calm.
But the pressure behind it was overwhelming.
Xi Yunchuan’s face alternated between pale and green.
He instinctively took half a step back.
The confidence he had painstakingly gathered instantly dissipated.
The fear of being effortlessly sent abroad by Xi Liye a year ago resurfaced.
Back then, all he had done was take one of Xi Liye’s cats.
And for that, Xi Liye had designed a scheme that got him shipped overseas.
The resentment still lingered.
Xi Liye didn’t spare him another glance.
He walked past him and left.
By the time Xi Liye settled into his car, the insignificant hallway encounter had already been forgotten.
Although he generally didn’t care about family matters, dealing with them repeatedly still left him irritated.
His phone had died earlier.
After plugging it in and turning it back on, notification sounds immediately began ringing nonstop.
Every single one came from the same person.
His girlfriend.
Looking through Wen Chu’s messages—from her initial excitement to her growing frustration when he failed to reply—his gaze finally settled on her last message:
【ChuChu Hiding: Xi Liye, you’re really not replying, huh? You’re done for!】
Inside the dim car, only the glow of the phone illuminated half his face.
Those eyes that were usually calm, distant, and emotionless now looked slightly different.
He reread the entire progression of Wen Chu’s emotions—from excitement, to anxiety, to adorable irritation.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
The lingering irritation and heaviness left behind by the old residence melted away like thin ice beneath sunlight.
Replacing it was a strange, pleasant itch.
He liked it.
He liked the feeling of Wen Chu’s emotions being affected by him.
Raising a hand, he changed her contact name to:
“Little Ball of Fur.”
Then he tapped the screen and finally began replying to the girl who had declared that he was “done for.”