The timeline rewinds to an hour earlier.
"Where have you been?"
The young man spotted the person approaching in a wheelchair from afar and immediately ran over.
He scanned the person from head to toe, relieved to see no injuries.
"Just taking a walk. No need to worry."
Chen Mo allowed his subordinate to drape a thicker blanket over him. He tilted his head, covering his mouth as a violent cough overtook him.
His mind drifted to the little girl he had seen under the streetlight earlier.
Her face was even more striking than in the photo—black hair, green eyes, a petite face—a miniature version of Ji Tingzhou.
Just one glance had made his stomach churn, an involuntary wave of disgust washing over him.
"Ji Tingzhou has arrived. Gu Jing has already used the medication we sent. It won’t be long before we receive news," the subordinate reported proactively, noticing Chen Mo’s silence.
"Mm."
Forcing himself to shake off the unpleasant memories, Chen Mo raised his eyes.
"Let’s go."
Once in the car, the subordinate handed him warm water and medication.
As the weather turned colder, Chen Mo’s health deteriorated during winter, especially his legs, which ached intermittently and sometimes lost sensation, causing him to collapse and sustain frequent bruises.
To avoid such incidents, Chen Mo often opted for a wheelchair when going out, sparing himself the humiliation.
The car slowly pulled away. Unnoticed, snow had begun to fall outside, visible only when passing through illuminated areas.
Chen Mo stared absentmindedly.
The last time he had seen his sister was during this season.
That year, after a heated argument with his parents over his decision to pursue a band, he had stormed out with only fifty yuan to his name—not even enough for a night at a hotel. He had no choice but to call his sister.
She lived alone and had just gotten off work. Upon receiving his call, she drove over an hour from another district to pick him up.
Chen Mo still remembered how she looked that day.
She was driving a Porsche, dressed in a black trench coat and red high heels, her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders.
Seeing her younger brother, who had been away from home for a year, disheveled and down on his luck, she didn’t ask questions. Instead, she simply patted his shoulder, ushered him into the car, and handed him a warm roasted sweet potato.
Having gone hungry all day, Chen Mo didn’t say a word, devouring the sweet potato ravenously.
His sister asked, "Is it good?"
Chen Mo shook his head, mumbling between bites, "Not really."
His sister frowned skeptically. "The old man claimed his roasted sweet potatoes were the best in the world."
Chen Mo held out the sweet potato, urging her to try it.
Without hesitation, she took a bite.
Then, with a disgusted expression, she remarked, "It’s sweeter than poop but less sticky."
Chen Mo nearly choked.
"Cough... cough..."
"Can you stop talking about poop and pee? You’re thirty now. Be a little more refined, or no one will want to marry you," Chen Mo said, exasperated.
His sister flicked her wavy hair dismissively. "Don’t give me that nonsense about marriage. What era are we living in? I’m not buying into the idea that women must get married."
"I don’t plan to marry anyone, so don’t worry."
Chen Mo remained silent.
The siblings were quite the pair—one inheriting the family business but refusing to marry, the other obedient for over twenty years only to suddenly join a band. Their parents were constantly worried, losing sleep over them.
As he pondered this, his sister suddenly said, "But I do want a child."
Chen Mo turned to look at her so sharply it felt like he might snap his neck.
His sister gave him a look of disdain. "Why that face?"
"Just because I don’t want marriage doesn’t mean I don’t like children."
"I’m considering artificial insemination. A boy or girl is fine, but I’d prefer them to look like me and have my personality."
Chen Mo remembered being too stunned to respond at the time. The car was filled with the scent of white tea, her favorite fragrance.
He had felt carsick and soon vomited the half-digested sweet potato.
His devilish sister, faced with her pitiful younger brother, first lamented the state of her car before bluntly comparing his vomit to poop, joking that it looked like he had defecated in the vehicle.
Chen Mo had been tempted to vomit on her face in retaliation.
The memory faded, and he let out a slow exhale.
What had seemed ordinary at the time now felt like sugar-coated arsenic.
The next time he saw his sister, it was her lifeless body and the baby who had stopped breathing at birth.
His gaze shifted, and Chen Mo suddenly caught a flash of bright red outside the window.
"Stop the car!"
The subordinate beside him was startled, and the driver slammed on the brakes, equally confused.
Chen Mo, ignoring his wheelchair, struggled to his feet and stepped out of the car, his subordinate quickly following.
The moment they exited the vehicle—
*Boom!*
A deafening explosion erupted ahead, the shockwave and heat hurling Chen Mo backward, his body slamming hard onto the ground.
...
Meanwhile, Gu Jing and Ji Tingzhou had concluded their discussion.
Especially after learning what Ji Tingzhou had done, the rest of the conversation proceeded smoothly.
They quickly reached an agreement.
Ji Nian, leaning against her father’s arm, appeared to be dozing off.
But in reality—
[*Wait, that’s billions of dollars?*
*Huh? What? The princess is asking for more? I don’t get it. Billions are just the appetizer? What’s all this other stuff?*]
Ji Nian’s head spun.
The discussion had started with money, but Ji Tingzhou’s subsequent demands were beyond her comprehension.
As a researcher, she couldn’t make sense of the technical jargon.
Pretending to be sleepy turned into actually falling asleep.
When Ji Nian woke up, she found herself no longer at the Gu residence but in a car, a blanket draped over her, her legs sprawled across Ji Tingzhou’s lap.
"Mmm..."
She rubbed her eyes and sat up.
Glancing back, she saw Shen Qingtang curled up on the rear seat, breathing steadily.
"Awake?"
Noticing the child looking around, Ji Tingzhou reached out to touch her warm, sleep-flushed cheek.
It bore the imprint of the seat, making her look adorably silly.
Ji Tingzhou had removed his jacket, wearing only a shirt, and held Ji Nian’s hairpin in his hand.
He must have taken it off while she slept to prevent it from pressing into her head.
She yawned and snuggled closer to Ji Tingzhou.
The man moved the laptop from his lap and pulled the child into his arms.
Resting her head against Ji Tingzhou’s chest, Ji Nian murmured drowsily, "Dad, you still haven’t helped me find him."
Even half-asleep, she remembered her request.
Little troublemaker.
"Find who? It’s either him or me. Who do you choose—your dad or that wild man?"
*Wild man*...
Such harsh words.
When Ji Nian didn’t respond, Ji Tingzhou narrowed his eyes, his tone darkening. "Is it that hard to decide?"
Ji Nian sighed. "Of course, I choose you, Dad."
Ji Tingzhou was somewhat satisfied.
Now wide awake, Ji Nian blinked and asked, "Dad, do you know who poisoned Gu Xiuyuan’s grandmother? Was it the same person who hurt Wei Yang?"
If she could think of it, Ji Tingzhou surely had as well.
The moment something happened to the Gu family matriarch, the Chens had rushed over, seemingly unafraid of Ji Tingzhou’s involvement.
If the perpetrator was indeed the same person who had targeted Wei Yang, they wouldn’t be so careless as to expose themselves so easily.
Logically, that made sense.
But what if the Chens had anticipated his reasoning and deliberately acted this way to mislead him?
Either the poison supplier was merely a vendor, unaffiliated with any specific faction, or the mastermind behind both attacks on Wei Yang and the Gu family was the cunning Chen Mo.
Ji Tingzhou, adhering to the principle of rather killing the wrong person than letting the guilty go free, and considering Chen Mo’s past antagonism toward the Ji family, had taken direct action against him.
"It’s still unclear."
Though Ji Tingzhou said this, his expression hinted that he had some leads.
So, it was still uncertain?
Ji Nian wasn’t worried.
Having leads was better than having no clues at all.
