Qin Jia didn’t wait until the banquet was over—she left in a hurry right after Huang Xiaotong spoke to her.
Lauren Shaw watched her go with a thoughtful look and asked, “What’s up with her?”
Yancy Shaw didn’t seem to care. “Probably her grandfather from the Qin family called and told her to come home.”
“Oh,” Lauren Shaw said, understanding immediately. “Did you call him?”
“Nope. Yuan Ran did.”
She nodded—this man certainly got things done efficiently, which she appreciated.
After the banquet, Lauren Shaw sat in the car, turning to look at Yancy Shaw, eyes shining uncertainly. She asked, “Aren’t you curious what Mo Qinglin said to me at the door earlier?”
Yancy Shaw kept his eyes on the road, playing along. “What did he say?”
Finding it strange, Lauren Shaw recounted the conversation. "He said I look like someone he used to know, and then he emphasized that he meant no harm, he just wanted to talk to me heart to heart."
If someone else had said that, she would’ve thought it was just an excuse to hit on her, but Mo Qinglin didn’t seem like the type with such motives.
Yancy Shaw frowned. “Baby, that man does not have any good intentions toward you.”
Lauren Shaw caught a whiff of jealousy and couldn’t help but laugh. "Not necessarily. I think he definitely has some kind of agenda."
If she could sense that, Yancy Shaw certainly could too. His frown eased. “Go on.”
“Plus, I think there’s some secret between Mo Qinglin and Mo Fan.”
Her gut told her that Mo Qinglin kept showing up in her life and seemed unusually interested in her, possibly to cover something up. She wasn’t sure whether Mo Qinglin and Mo Fan got along, but either way, Mo Fan’s attitude toward her was pretty odd too.
At a red light, the car slowed to a stop. Yancy Shaw took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.
“You’re clever—you guessed right.”
She really had. Mo Qinglin was hiding a lot of secrets, and things were far more complicated than they appeared on the surface.
Yancy Shaw gave her a serious warning. “Whatever they’re up to, all you need to do is stay far away from them. The Mo family is nothing but trouble.”
Lauren Shaw nodded in earnest. “Okay.”
“I’m still looking into the situation with Mo Qinglin and Mo Fan,” Yancy Shaw said firmly as he drove. “No matter what they’re after, as long as it involves you, I won’t let them get their way.”
Lauren Shaw was his bottom line. No matter who it was, if anyone tried to hurt her, he would never let it slide.
—
That night, Mo Qinglin appeared at Mo Fan’s bedroom door.
He forced his emotions into check, rang the doorbell, and waited. After a while, the door swung open. Mo Fan stood there, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, water droplets still clinging to his skin. A woman’s voice rang out from inside the room. “President Mo, who is it?”
Mo Fan didn’t answer, his eyes shadowy.
“What is it?” He wiped the water from his face with a towel, faint marks from the woman’s touch still visible on his collarbone.
Mo Qinglin’s hands tightened, but his expression remained calm. “Uncle, I need to talk to you about something.”
The woman in the room came to the door, casting a disdainful look at Mo Qinglin in his wheelchair before turning to cling to Mo Fan. “President Mo, I don’t want to leave yet.”
“Be good. I have business to discuss.”
Whatever warmth was in Mo Fan’s voice, it never reached his eyes. His tone brooked no refusal.
The woman pouted, dissatisfied, but obediently left the room anyway.
Mo Qinglin glanced at the departing woman.
“Can’t sleep this late?” Mo Fan asked.
Mo Qinglin said nothing, dropping his gaze.
Mo Fan let out a mocking chuckle. “Right, I forgot you’re not able to find a woman to pass the time with.”
His words were full of ridicule. Mo Qinglin clenched his teeth at the humiliation but let Mo Fan taunt him.
Mo Fan continued, “Don’t take it to heart. I speak bluntly. So, what do you want to talk about?”
Mo Qinglin sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the sea of lights outside, looking somewhat desolate. After a moment, he pulled himself together and spoke softly, more to himself than anyone else. “Today is Tian Rui’s death anniversary. Five years since she passed away.”
His voice was low, but Mo Fan, standing behind him, heard every word. For a moment, he paused, then quickly collected himself. “Yeah, time flies. Five years, just like that. Qinglin, you should let it go.”
Mo Qinglin closed his eyes for a moment, forcing down the hatred that flickered in them, then turned to face Mo Fan. “You’re right. I should let it go.”
“So what brings you up here tonight?”
“Nothing important,” Mo Qinglin said, forcing a self-deprecating smile. “Just wanted to talk a bit. Ever since my legs got ruined, I don’t sleep much.”
His flawless face carried a touch of sorrow.
Mo Fan patted him consolingly on the shoulder, then went to the bar to pour himself a glass of wine. He took a sip before responding.
“Didn’t your grandfather arrange a specialist for you recently? They say he’s the best, might be able to cure your legs. You’ve been overworking yourself lately—leave Ancheng’s affairs to me for now and go home to focus on treatment. Maybe you’ll recover before long.”
Mo Qinglin shook his head, hopeless. “It’s no use. I’m just a broken man now. The doctors have all said there’s nothing more they can do.”
He glanced sidelong at Mo Fan, catching the hint of a smile at the corners of the latter’s lips. The person happiest about his ruined legs was, without a doubt, Mo Fan.
Five years ago, he and his fiancée, Tian Rui, went for a drive. The brakes failed—they went off the cliff together. Tian Rui died on the spot. He survived, but was told he’d never walk again.
For five years, he’d been like a living corpse.
Mo Fan tried to comfort him: “Don’t talk like that, Qinglin. Don’t give up so easily. You never know what the future holds.”
The phone on the table rang. Mo Qinglin glanced at it—it was Mandy Snow calling.
Mo Fan picked up the phone and stepped out onto the balcony.
After a moment, having spoken to whoever was on the other end, he shot Mo Qinglin a thoughtful look before coming back inside. With a sigh, he said, “Qinglin, I know it isn’t easy for you. But the dead are gone. You need to move forward and stop living in the past.”
To Mo Qinglin, these insincere words were a joke, but he kept his head lowered, hiding whatever thoughts passed through his mind.
Mo Fan’s gaze grew darker. “I have some other matters to deal with tonight, and it’s getting late. You should go back to your room and rest.”
The implication was clear—he didn’t want to keep talking.
Before Mo Qinglin could respond, he was already wheeling him toward the door, clearly eager to get rid of him.
Just as the door opened, a woman stood outside.
Mandy Snow stared in surprise at Mo Qinglin. She was about to turn and leave, but it was already too late—Mo Qinglin had seen her.
She met his gaze, unflinching.
A mocking smile flickered across Mo Qinglin’s face. “Miss Xue.”
Mandy Snow nodded to him. “Young Master Mo.”
“It’s late. Did you come looking for my uncle because…”
“Qinglin.” Mo Fan cut him off. “Miss Xue and I have something to discuss. You should head back to your room.”