episode 30
He Xun found it amusing, but he wouldn't tell Mo Shilin the truth.
He pursed his lips: "I didn't know when I would offend you, and now you have to ask Aunt Mu to pass on a message."
Mo Shilin looked at him with a half-smile: "I didn't mean anything by it, I just saw that you were having a hard time on the third floor, don't overthink it."
It's too tiring, don't overthink it, I didn't mean anything by it.
So Mo Shilin could use such a perfunctory excuse to talk to him.
“I didn’t think much of it.” He Xun paused for a moment, then looked up and gave Mo Shilin a steady smile. “How could I dare?”
"He Xun..." Mo Shilin finally suppressed his smile and stared at him, calling his name in a low voice, his cold, phoenix-shaped eyes containing a warning.
He Xun met his gaze calmly: "Did I say something wrong?"
So, they finally couldn't keep up the pretense anymore?
He Xun suddenly felt it was very ironic.
Although he had long known that the humility and good temper displayed by someone like Mo Shilin were mostly a facade, he was still stung by the occasional hint of arrogance that the other party revealed.
Especially since the culprit who killed Ding Xiabing was Mo Wenjin, the uncle of the man in front of us.
With Ding Xiabing's body barely cold, it was difficult for him to keep his emotions from becoming twisted and out of control, and it was also too difficult for him not to extend his anger to Mo Shilin.
"That's true. In the eyes of people of your status, they are probably right no matter what they do or say, and they can't tolerate others questioning them."
He Xun smiled mockingly, his tone sarcastic, and his words turned sharp: "Did you know that the little starlet who was with your uncle died?"
Mo Shilin stared at him for a long time after hearing this before letting out a cold laugh. He seemed to have misunderstood something, and he said quickly, suppressing his displeasure, "Is this why you're throwing a tantrum at me now? So what if I know, so what if I don't? He Xun, who is he to you? You care about him that much?"
“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” He Xun’s eyes curved slightly, his long, thick eyelashes casting a shadow beneath his eyes. “I just thought that you must have been bothered by the media a lot lately because of this, right? It must have been very tiring, so I wanted to express my sympathy.”
This statement could almost be described as provocative.
Having probably never been so blatantly offended before, sure enough, as soon as he finished speaking, Mo Shilin leaned down and grabbed He Xun's chin tightly.
He Xun winced in pain, the ice cream cone in his hand slamming onto the floor. Half of his body was trapped in the sofa, the dim light casting shadows on his handsome but haggard face, making him look pale and pitiful.
"He Xun." Mo Shilin's face darkened, and he tightened his grip, causing red marks to gradually appear on the fair skin beneath his hand, and the bones made a slight cracking sound. He gripped He Xun's chin tightly and lifted it up, forcing He Xun to look him in the eye from above. "Do you really think that I won't get angry no matter what you say?"
He Xun's entire face was numb and sore, and two physiological tears were forced to spill from his pupils, flowing down his bruised eyelids to his chin and soaking into Mo Shilin's hand.
The cool, damp watermarks spread across the clear lines of his palm against his skin, but Mo Shilin remained unmoved, his eyes cold.
"I never thought that way." He was self-aware.
He Xun forced a laugh, his voice hoarse, but his tone refused to show the slightest weakness. His dark eyes flickered slightly, unable to conceal his mockery: "I'm just curious... Has Mr. Mo seen those videos and photos? Did he see what your own uncle... did? Mr. Mo... what are your feelings and opinions about those videos? And how... did Mr. Mo manage to turn a blind eye?"
He didn't mean to provoke Mo Shilin; he just hated him too much.
I hate these high and mighty capitalists, I despise these upper-class people who squeeze the living space of ordinary people, I despise them for covering up and suppressing things, and even for interfering with news reporting that should prioritize the truth.
From a small mountain village to a first-tier city, from a poor middle school where even desks and books couldn't be provided to a top-tier media university in the country, from a pure and sincere campus to the chaotic entertainment industry, from being naive to gradually learning to be hypocritical, he has seen too many people who have nowhere else to turn.
Migrant workers owed money by real estate developers but with no recourse for their complaints; news of a kindergarten teacher being gang-raped and murdered never making headlines; ordinary people exploited to the extreme in the entertainment industry but afraid to resist; the bad driving out the good; hardworking aspiring actors eating leftovers and sleeping on the floor while being looked down upon; wealthy but immoral individuals receiving exorbitant salaries and being treated like honored guests by the media; when casting roles, production teams don't consider whether you have formal training or acting skills, but rather how well you serve in bed, how adept you are at handling situations, how well you understand social etiquette, and whether you have connections.
Celebrity status, center position, and social standing—capital and media collude like a biological weapon, attempting to destroy and rebuild the public's world and aesthetic values. The words of journalists are no longer sharp knives for criticizing human nature, but rather convenient tools for writing false praises for them.
Actually, becoming an entertainment reporter wasn't He Xun's first choice, but in the end, he discovered that all crows are black.
A young girl who had been lured into the entertainment industry before her was found kneeling at the entrance of a club, begging him not to report her ordeal.
Because she was afraid of implicating her family.
It will implicate your family.
He thought that such a phrase would only come from the mouth of women in feudal society.
He hated it to the core.
I wish I could tear them apart, and nail their souls and bodies to the deepest hell so they could never be reborn.
He did not want to be a slave imprisoned by their spirit. His body was not under his control, but his spirit was the only remaining pure land, which he would not allow others to trample on.
News must prioritize the truth, and he is also prioritizing the truth.
So he had to say it, he had to say it now, and he had to say it in front of Mo Shilin.
Because that's just who he is; he doesn't want to hide even the slightest bit from Mo Shilin.
"Are you... angry?" He Xun reached out with difficulty, his fingertips resting on Mo Shilin's forearm, looking up at the other's gloomy eyes.
Mo Shilin's dark eyes surged, the veins on his arms bulged, and a complex fire burned in his heart.
He realized he was wrong. He Xun wasn't the kind of actor willing to act in a melodramatic love story with him; he was more like an aggressive outsider.
Tonight, the two perfectly masked figures finally tore off their enormous fake skins together, revealing a bottomless, sticky swamp beneath the cracks.
Mo Shilin closed his eyes, let go of his hand, and turned to leave, but the next second someone grabbed his arm again.
"You haven't answered my question yet." He Xun's posture remained ramrod straight. His voice was hoarse as he asked, each word laced with mockery, "What did you feel? What did you see?"
He's determined not to give the other party a chance to give him the cold shoulder.
The anger, deliberately provoked, spread through his body once more. Mo Shilin finally couldn't bear it any longer, turned around, grabbed his collar, and roughly slammed him against the wall. He Xun's injuries from his previous fight with Liu Ye had not yet healed. His back rubbed violently against the wall, and the dark purple scabs tore open with a ripping sound, instantly oozing blood that stained the snow-white wall and his T-shirt red.
Mo Shilin grabbed his hair with one hand, glaring at the glaring red, and said sarcastically, "You're like a tattered rag doll yourself, and you still have time to care about others?"
"Then you don't need to worry about me anymore. Can you please not have someone follow me?"
Caught off guard by this sudden revelation, Mo Shilin's expression froze for a moment. He was momentarily at a loss for how to react, followed by a hint of annoyance, as if it were a sign that he cared about him too much.
Fortunately, besides being Mo Shilin, he was also President Mo, so he quickly let go and sat back down on the sofa with a relaxed air: "You seem to be really not afraid of losing this job at all."
The conversation shifted back to a superior-subordinate dynamic, and the air suddenly turned cold. He crossed his legs, finally adopting the posture of a superior.
He Xun felt a little uncomfortable in his heart, but still said, "Yes, I am the kind of person who doesn't know what's good for me."
"What a pity, how come I didn't notice it at first?"
"Now you know." The pain spread rapidly across his back, and He Xun's voice finally began to tremble slightly.
The ice cream cone that just fell on the ground has completely turned into a puddle of murky water. If it's not cleaned up, it will probably attract flying insects in less than an hour. Just like their relationship, as soon as neither of them is willing to maintain the surface peace, it will immediately become a muddy mess.
He Xun barely managed to brace himself against the wall, thinking that Mo Shilin was indeed as cold-hearted as his face. He really didn't feel anything when he saw those things. For a moment, his already sensitive heart was violently shaken. A sense of grievance and grief suddenly rose from his heart, and pain and dizziness came at the same time, plunging his brain into chaos once again.
Actually, he really wanted to ask a question.
If... one day I were treated like that... would you also ignore me...?
Then everything went black and I collapsed.
*
When He Xun woke up again, he was already lying in bed.
The ceiling was unfamiliar, but upon closer inspection, it became clear that this was Mo Shilin's room.
The air conditioning was on full blast, the gray bedding was soft and comfortable against the skin, the dark curtains were tightly closed, and the air was filled with the very faint woody scent that Mo Shilin often wore.
His mind went blank for a moment, and he struggled to sit up, supporting himself with his hands on either side.
"You're awake, young man?" The doctor, who was tidying up his medical kit, quickly pressed down on his arm and instructed, "Don't move around too much. I just treated the injury on your back. Rest a little longer."
He Xun had always had an inexplicable awe of people wearing white coats since he was a child, and upon hearing this, he immediately stood still.
The doctor nodded in satisfaction, picked up his medicine box, stood up, and turned to Mo Shilin to instruct him: "There's nothing seriously wrong, it's just that there's nothing in his stomach and he's having a hypoglycemic episode. He also doesn't seem to be in a good mood. If he's depressed, his health will definitely suffer. Tell him to pay more attention to relaxing his mind and body."
As she spoke, she glanced at He Xun on the bed and said, "Young people need to eat on time. Food is essential for life. How can you survive without eating? Look how thin you are. Your arms are so rough to the touch. If it weren't for your kindness, Mo Shao, you would have fainted in the middle of the night." As if that wasn't enough, she added a threatening remark: "Don't underestimate low blood sugar. Sometimes it can kill you."
He Xun knew he should thank Mo Shilin, but he had just had an unpleasant argument with him before he fainted, and now that he was awake, all that was left was embarrassment. He didn't know what to say, so he simply pursed his lips, nodded, and remained silent.
Mo Shilin didn't look at him, and politely asked the doctor to leave: "I understand, thank you for your hard work."
After seeing the doctor off, Mo Shilin returned with a bowl of porridge shortly afterward, while He Xun sat up and leaned against the headboard, silently watching him.
He Xun was like a well-behaved cat again, showing no trace of the fierce and aggressive demeanor he had displayed just moments before.
His gaze swept over He Xun's bloodless lips before quickly shifting away. He placed the porridge on the bedside table, his voice flat: "Eat something. It's not appropriate to wake Aunt Mu and the others this late. I ordered takeout."
The light porridge grains lay quietly in the white porcelain bowl, emitting a faint aroma of steam and rice.
"Are you this nice to everyone?" the person on the bed suddenly asked.
What do you think?
"I have no idea."
"have no idea…"
Mo Shilin repeated the three words with a hint of mockery.
Such a smart person, and he said he didn't know.
"What happened to your forehead?" He Xun suddenly frowned and asked him.
He Xun's intention in saying this was clearly to ease the tension, but for some reason, it only made Mo Shilin more annoyed. He didn't want to stay a second longer and immediately got up to leave.
Halfway there, he turned back. Perhaps because he was in his own room and didn't need to pretend, a hint of weariness finally appeared on his usually aloof face.
He used to think that even if He Xun didn't like him, he could force him, but now he realized that he had overestimated himself and underestimated He Xun.
The person in front of me is actually hard everywhere except for his face.
The other party is already willing to question him on behalf of others, so why should he force them to do anything? He's not that shameless.
"He Xun." He leaned down and gripped He Xun's shoulders, his eyes cold and deep. "Remember this: whether it's a person or a thing, if it's not given to me willingly, I won't take it."
He Xun was taken aback, but he understood his unspoken message: Mo Shilin didn't want to play this adult game anymore.
But an innocent and lovely face still involuntarily flashed through his mind. With a kind of inexplicable desire for revenge, he looked up at the other person and said firmly, "Yes, you are right, and everyone has their own destined destiny, and so do you."
Mo Shilin gripped his shoulder, raised an eyebrow, and silently gazed at him, seemingly savoring the implied meaning in his words.
He Xun turned his head away, not giving him time to do his reading comprehension, and calmly pushed his hand away, barely managing to get out of bed.
Tonight, I really had a huge argument with Mo Shilin. It's past midnight, Cinderella's pumpkin carriage is about to stop working, and their conversation should end now.
"I'm sorry about tonight. I couldn't control my emotions. I said those things without thinking. Please don't take it to heart." He resumed his professional expression as a dedicated male servant, his attitude impeccable. He leaned on the door frame with his right hand and didn't turn around. "I won't disturb you any longer, Young Master Mo. I'll go back now. Young Master Mo, please get some rest as well."
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