Chapter Sixty-Four: The Darkness Before Dawn 11

After finishing speaking, he walked toward the study’s door. At the moment he opened it, He Zheyu’s cold and indifferent voice rang out once more: “From this day forward, you and I are father and son in name only. Unless you die, I will never again set foot in the He family’s house. If you refuse to give up Zhao Yiya, perhaps you can marry her yourself—or perhaps you can have Zhao Siyi marry her. Either way, it will only draw your families closer, all benefit and no harm. Who knows, after swallowing up the Zhao Corporation, you might even be able to replace me.”

As He Zheyu left the study and descended the stairs, he heard He Xuanyi’s furious curses from within: “Ungrateful son, beast—are those even words a human would say?”

When he reached the front door, he happened to run into He Yurou, who was just returning from outside. Seeing her approach him, trembling, He Zheyu walked past her without a glance. At this, He Yurou burst into tears and cried out, “Uncle, are you truly abandoning me? All because of Mo Qinghan?”

He Zheyu stopped in his tracks, his back to her, and replied coolly, “Didn’t you also turn against me for a man, colluding with the Zhao family to deal with me?”

“No, I just wanted Qingwu to see Mo Qinghan’s true colors. It was Zhao Yiya who forced Mo Qingyu to her death—it had nothing to do with me,” He Yurou sobbed.

He Zheyu ignored her and strode straight toward his car. He Yurou crouched alone in the garden, hugging her knees, and wept bitterly as she watched his figure recede into the distance.

He Zheyu had just returned to Maple Leaf Apartments and had yet to park his car when his phone started ringing. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Gu Yan. He answered, only to have Gu Yan’s anxious voice burst through: “Third Brother, did you upset the old man? He’s calling for a shareholders’ meeting.”

“What’s there to fear? Don’t you and Zhang Yu still hold five percent of the shares between you? I’ll be right there—let’s see what tricks he can pull.” With that, he hung up, glanced up at the building where Mo Qinghan lived, and stood silent for a long while before instructing Han Mo, “Let’s go back to the office.”

After waking from a nap on the rosewood rattan chair, Mo Qinghan turned off the music on her phone. She heard the sound of boiling water in the kitchen, but without getting up, she called softly, “Aunt Lin, the water’s boiling, could you turn off the stove?” When there was no reply, she raised her voice. “Aunt Lin, Aunt Lin...”

To her surprise, a woman’s voice rose behind her: “I didn’t expect you to be able to enjoy life so leisurely.”

Startled by the unfamiliar voice, Mo Qinghan immediately sat up from the rattan chair. She saw a woman in a long black dress, her slightly wavy hair swept to one side, thick makeup on her face, though it could not entirely conceal the traces of time at the corners of her eyes.

Irritated, Mo Qinghan demanded, “Who are you? Where’s Aunt Lin?”

Zhao Yiya looked Mo Qinghan up and down. She had to admit that Mo Qinghan was a rare beauty. Zhao had always considered herself a standout in the circle of socialites, but next to Mo Qinghan, she had no advantage—and in fact, felt overshadowed.

Her anger only grew, but her words were cool and measured: “Mo Qingyu couldn’t bear the shame you brought him and chose to jump to his death, while you—the one who started it all—live here in comfort, at ease with yourself. Aren’t you afraid he’ll come for you at night?”

Standing beside the rattan chair, tears welled up in Mo Qinghan’s eyes. Her voice shook as she tried several times before managing to speak: “You’re Zhao Yiya. It was you who forced Qingyu to jump.”