Chen Mo smoothly registered at the emergency room, where the doctor was extremely thorough, asking about every symptom in great detail. It wasn’t until about half an hour later that he was hooked up to an IV.

By the time all four IV bags were finished, the sky outside had already started to brighten.

Chen Mo was roused from a brief nap by a nurse. The moment he saw the calendar on the wall, his heart skipped a beat.

The fever had receded like the tide, and the soreness in his limbs had lessened. As the pain subsided, he could feel the vitality of his youthful body gradually returning.

It was mid-September, and the early morning breeze was cool. The sunlight spread over the rooftops of the tall buildings in the city, the clouds parting. Outside the hospital entrance, street cleaners were sweeping fallen leaves, their rustling sounds blending into the honking of the city’s traffic.

Everything seemed the same, yet entirely different from the day before.

After having breakfast, Chen Mo hailed a taxi.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Mingjing Bay."

"Whoa, that’s over ten kilometers away." The driver started the meter, glancing at him before striking up a conversation, "Just out of the hospital at this hour? Were you sick?"

"Just a cold," Chen Mo replied.

"Yeah, these past couple of days the temperature’s been fluctuating a lot between morning and night, it’s easy to catch a cold," the driver, a chatty middle-aged man, continued, "You’re still in school, right? Got sick and your family didn’t come with you?"

Chen Mo smiled faintly. "At my age, it's long past the point where I’d go crying to my parents when I’m sick."

"That’s not quite right," the driver said, showing him a family photo that was stuck to the dashboard. There was a note of bitterness in his voice, but it was mostly pride as he explained, "My daughter’s about your age. She’s doing pretty well in school, taking the college entrance exams next year. Her mom quit her job just to take care of her full-time, and even then, she still complains. But what can you do? I’m out here working all the time to make ends meet, you know?"

Chen Mo’s gaze lingered on the photo. "Your daughter’s very lucky."

"Lucky? We’re just a regular family. She’ll have to rely on herself in the future," the driver said, glancing at him again in the rearview mirror. "But hey, if you’re living in Mingjing Bay, your parents must be pretty busy, right? They probably worry about you, just don’t have the time to show it."

Chen Mo, surprisingly, found some comfort in that and laughed softly. "Maybe."

But in truth, he didn’t need it.

The ride to the villa district was smooth.

Chen Mo got out of the car, but was stopped at the gate.

The security guard at the entrance gave him a once-over, seemingly evaluating the worth of his outfit before saying, "Your name’s not in the resident records. You’ll need to register."

Chen Mo wasn’t surprised.

Mingjing Bay was a large place. Ever since he moved in, he had always come and gone by car.

With the Yang parents constantly busy and a Yang Shule who lost his appetite after learning of Chen Mo’s true identity, it was almost expected that no one would remember such small details about him.

After registering, he entered through the gate.

It took him about ten minutes to walk to the entrance of the Yang family’s three-story villa.

The scene outside the door was lively.

It was exactly the same as in his previous life.

The Yang family members, along with the kitchen staff, drivers, and servants—nearly a dozen people—were gathered at the entrance.

At the center of the commotion stood a young man about 1.75 meters tall.

His naturally curly, slightly blonde hair, large eyes, and freckles made him look youthful, even when angry.

"Give it to me!" he shouted, his neck flushed with frustration.

The housekeeper, Mr. Xu, who was in his fifties, moved the suitcase a little farther back with a helpless expression. "Xiao Le, stop making a scene, you’re still not well."

A middle-aged man standing about two meters away looked furious. "Let him go! Let’s see how long he can keep this up."

"Yang Qian'an, are you crazy?" The woman standing next to him, elegantly dressed with a pearl necklace, looked anxious. "The doctor already said he has low blood sugar. He’s never even washed a dish in his life, how do you expect him to survive out there?"

Yang Shule’s eyes reddened at his father’s harsh words, and he shouted back, "I’m not even your real son! I have no right to stay here!"

For a moment, the scene fell silent.

Zhou Yaoqiong immediately burst into tears. "You were so sick as a child, always on medication. We’ve raised you with such difficulty, and now you’re breaking our hearts?"

"Mom," Yang Shule cried too, "I heard it myself. Chen Mo said he won’t let you drop the lawsuit unless I leave. Dad’s been working overtime every day because of the company. I don’t want this. So many people say I stole everything that was supposed to be yours. Fine, I’ll give it all back!"

"Alright, alright," Yang Qian'an, as a father, placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. "Those people are just talking nonsense."

"But Chen Mo is your real son, and he can’t accept me. You and Mom will keep fighting."

Yang Qian'an said, "That’s just anger talking. We’ll explain it to him."

Zhou Yaoqiong chimed in, "Yes, Xiao Le, in our hearts, you’re both the same. You’re both our children."

"It’s not the same," Yang Shule shook his head, retreating a few steps. "I know it’s not the same anymore."

As he backed away, he bumped into Yang Zhi, who supported him from behind.

Yang Zhi, who had already entered the workforce, was taller than their father, Yang Qian'an.

Frowning, he scolded the teary-eyed Yang Shule, "Look at the state you’re in."

"You don’t understand!" Yang Shule punched his brother’s arm, his eyes reddening again. "It’s easy for you to say because this didn’t happen to you!"

What a touching family drama.

The strict father, the gentle mother, the silent, reliable older brother, and the seemingly rebellious but deeply considerate younger son.

Anyone who saw this scene would likely think, "If it weren’t for Chen Mo, this family would be so harmonious."

But the world is never so kind.

Just then, someone suddenly said, "Chen Mo’s back."

Everyone’s eyes turned toward him.

Only then did Chen Mo take a step forward.

Yang Zhi instinctively pulled Yang Shule behind him, perhaps not even realizing the defensive nature of the gesture. Yang Zhi had a clear bias, weighing his two brothers on an internal scale that heavily favored one over the other. He knew his spoiled younger brother wouldn’t be a match for someone as difficult as Chen Mo.

However, Chen Mo simply walked past them, completely ignoring everyone.

"Wait!" Yang Zhi called out, frowning. "Didn’t you see Mom and Dad are here? Aren’t you going to greet them? And what’s with ignoring my texts and calls last night? What are you up to?"

Chen Mo halted and raised an eyebrow.

He glanced back at Yang Zhi, then gave a brief nod toward Yang Qian'an and Zhou Yaoqiong. "Dad, Mom."

The Yang parents were visibly startled.

This was the first time Chen Mo had ever addressed them as "Dad" and "Mom" since he’d returned.

There was no emotional reunion, no heartfelt recognition of familial ties.

Only an awkward, tense silence filled the space.

The servants whispered among themselves.

"Now he decides to call them Mom and Dad."

"Did he come back just to kick us while we’re down?"

"Is Xiao Le really going to leave? I saw he already packed his suitcase."

"Mr. and Mrs. Yang won’t let him go."

"Not to mention, the eldest son dotes on his younger brother. No way he’ll let him get bullied."

…

Chen Mo, who appeared to be the aggressor in this situation, turned to Yang Zhi. "I’ve greeted them. Anything else?"

"Xiao Mo," Zhou Yaoqiong suddenly stepped forward, holding onto his arm.

She had been born into a life of luxury and had never known hardship. When she first learned the truth, she had been devastated.

The first time she saw Chen Mo, he had been fighting with his adoptive father, his gaze murderous.

He spoke with a rural accent.

His hands were calloused from carrying water with ceramic jugs.

Is this really my son?

She had asked herself that countless times.

But alongside the truth came the company’s crisis, and her long-standing marriage was once again on the verge of collapse.

In contrast, the son she had raised with care only seemed more thoughtful and affectionate. He might argue with them one moment but would turn around and act sweetly, asking for this or that. Raised in comfort, he was naive and playful, making her laugh with handmade gifts for Mother’s Day. He would tease his older brother, yet always turn to him first for help in difficult situations.

No matter what, letting Xiao Le leave the house and live on his own was out of the question.

Zhou Yaoqiong looked at Chen Mo and said, "Your father and I know you’re angry. Dropping the lawsuit is only temporary. It’s hard to predict the risks it could pose to the company. You’re still young, so you might not understand—"

"I understand," Chen Mo interrupted. "Running a company isn’t easy. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place. If you drop the lawsuit, then drop it. After all, Li Yunru did raise me for seventeen years. I remember that."

"Do you really think that way?"

"Of course."

Seeing her relax, Chen Mo maintained his sincerity.

Zhou Yaoqiong hesitated, then cautiously asked, "And…your brother, can he still live with us?"

"Sure." Chen Mo nodded. "As long as you’re happy."

It was as if the person who had been so adamant just days before wasn’t him.

Was he being sarcastic?

Everyone silently questioned his change of heart, but then they heard him ask, "Anything else, Mom?"

The word "Mom" made Zhou Yaoqiong freeze.

She realized that the boy had changed a lot today. Not just in how he spoke, but in his overall demeanor. Though everything he said was reasonable, for some reason, she felt like something was missing.

"N-no, that’s all," Zhou Yaoqiong stammered.

But just as Chen Mo turned to leave, Yang Shule suddenly stepped forward from behind Yang Zhi.

"Chen Mo, I’ll move out. I don’t need your charity."

The servants, all on edge, were prepared to intervene if necessary. Rumor had it that Chen Mo had a history of getting into fights at his old high school, and they were watching him closely as he paused, massaging his temples before turning back.

He approached.

"Chen Mo," Yang Zhi reached out to stop him.

Chen Mo glanced at the arm blocking his chest but didn’t force it away. Instead, he crooked a finger at Yang Shule. "Come here."

Zhou Yaoqiong was nervous. "Xiao Mo—"

Yang Qian'an added, "Don’t start anything. Let’s talk this out."

Yang Shule stared at Chen Mo for a long moment, the voices around him giving him enough courage. He brushed off his brother’s arm and stepped forward.

"I’ve never thought I owed you anything," Yang Shule said. "And if you try to hit me today—"

But the rest of his words got stuck in his throat.

Chen Mo simply straightened Yang Shule’s collar.

Chen Mo was half a head taller than him, and as he rested his arms on Yang Shule’s shoulders, he appeared completely relaxed. With his head slightly lowered, he spoke softly, "How could it be charity?"

Yang Shule’s eyes widened in shock. "What are you doing?"

Chen Mo didn’t move, but he subtly restrained Yang Shule’s resistance, his tone casual. "I must have been out of my mind before. We’re family. Why make distinctions between you and me? You were born later than me, so you’re naturally the younger brother. It was narrow-minded of me. Don’t take it to heart."

Yang Shule, clearly startled, smacked Chen Mo’s hands away.

Chen Mo shrugged and looked around. "Was my apology not sincere?"

Everyone else: "..."

Chen Mo continued, "It seems like everyone’s satisfied. Now, can I go without being called back? I really just want to get some sleep. I’ve been up all night, and my mood is hanging by a thread. Let’s just tolerate each other for now, alright?"

Finally, in the midst of this strange atmosphere, Chen Mo left.

He went upstairs, showered, and went straight to bed.

He slept deeply.

The bed was soft, the air conditioning was set to the perfect temperature, and the gentle hum of the humidifier was soothing.

With peace of mind, he slept until noon.

When a knock sounded at the door, he had just woken up, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

"Master Mo, lunch is ready," a servant called.

Chen Mo opened the door, still tying the belt of his bathrobe. As he walked out, he said, "Don’t call me that. It sounds weird."

The maid gave a low response.

Despite his aversion to being called "Master," he looked every bit the part. Wearing slippers and a loosely tied bathrobe, he absentmindedly tousled his slightly messy, freshly washed hair, yawning lazily as he descended the spiral staircase, looking every inch the master of the house.

He casually took a seat at the dining table.

"Walking around like that in the middle of the day," a voice commented.

Chen Mo glanced up at the person who had spoken and scoffed. "Anyone would think you were my dad."

Yang Zhi, dressed in a suit and seemingly ready to head out after lunch, sat across from him. He looked at Chen Mo, as though trying to figure out why he had suddenly changed his tune. "You wouldn’t want Dad to get involved."

Chen Mo had sparred with Yang Zhi for years and knew him all too well. "Don’t try to scare me with him. He’s probably feeling guilty about me right now."

As if to prove his point, Chen Mo’s phone pinged.

He glanced at it and chuckled. "See? Compensation money, right on time."

Yang Zhi ignored his carefree attitude and said, "Tomorrow’s Sunday. Shule’s invited some classmates over."

Chen Mo speared a piece of broccoli with his fork. "Why are you telling me this?"

Yang Zhi had heard the rumors circulating at school recently and had been thinking of warning him not to make a scene. But as his gaze drifted downward, he suddenly noticed the small bruise and needle mark on the back of Chen Mo’s hand.

Yang Zhi froze.

"What exactly did you do last night?"

"Last night?" Chen Mo smiled lazily. "I was being all Zen. Otherwise, do you think there’d be two people sitting at this table right now?"

The servant bringing the food didn’t dare breathe too loudly.

It was becoming more and more apparent that a storm was brewing in the Yang household.