episode 27
Less than half an hour after the meteorological observatory issued an orange alert, dark clouds gathered over S City and torrential rain began to fall.
A low-key yet luxurious silver sedan traversed the winding path, skimmed past the lush green trees, and, braving the cold rain, slowly came to a stop in front of a white-walled, black-tiled villa nestled halfway up the mountain.
The solemn and dignified black gate looked as if it had been splashed with ink after being soaked by the heavy rain. A few hibiscus flowers unexpectedly peeked out from the gaps, their wet pink and white petals swaying precariously in the fierce wind.
Mo Shilin did not get out of the car immediately. His slender right hand gripped the steering wheel, his eyes closed, and the gloomy sky immediately penetrated the glass and diffused into the car.
His handsome, aloof face was tinged with a rare weariness, as if only at times like this could he find a moment of peace. The raging storm outside was irrelevant to him, and no one knew what he was thinking.
As darkness deepened, and even the clouds seemed to be setting, and his annoying cell phone rang for what felt like the umpteenth time, he finally pushed open the door and got out of the car.
"Young Master."
A maid, over fifty years old and dressed in dark blue long-sleeved shirts and trousers, called out to him.
She must have been waiting on the steps for a while, because as soon as she saw him, she quickly came out to greet him with an umbrella.
Mo Shilin raised his eyebrows, politely called out "Aunt Wang," but did not take the umbrella from her hand. Instead, he walked into the house in the rain, looking quite dashing.
Aunt Wang had no choice but to follow Mo Shilin respectfully, carrying the umbrella. He was a grown man, and she couldn't very well force the umbrella on him. In her heart, she thought to herself that the young master was indeed not as well-behaved as he was when he was a child.
Aunt Wang was a few years older than Mu Xianglu and had been working for the Mo family even before Guan Zhiting gave birth. Naturally, she belonged to the old servants who had watched Mo Shilin grow up and believed that she was qualified to judge this young master.
When he was a child, Mo Shilin would do whatever the adults told him to do.
Things are completely different now.
Upon entering, Mo Shilin casually sat down on the dark brown sofa, his long legs crossed, lazily surveying his surroundings.
The villa's furnishings were as they always had been: rigid, serious, and uninteresting, with nothing charming or stylish to be seen. The monotony almost made him feel disgusted.
This is where he has lived for more than a decade since he was a child; outsiders might call it "home."
Unfortunately, he didn't think so; perhaps the word "prison" would be more appropriate.
The huge living room was empty except for Aunt Wang; it was so quiet that the only sound was the pounding of raindrops hitting the French windows.
Aunt Wang brought Mo Shilin a cup of Qimen black tea and explained, "The master and mistress are still busy in the laboratory."
Mo Lianshan and Guan Zhiting are both considered leading figures in the field of biology in China. Mo Lianshan also currently serves as a biology professor at a nationally renowned university in S City.
The two met through this subject when they were young.
The cliché of a female student falling in love with her teacher is nothing new; what is new is that Mo Lianshan actually married Guan Zhiting.
Perhaps it's because I'm young.
It is also more likely that Guan Zhiting was the one who admired, was most infatuated with, and listened to him the most among all the women who pursued him.
Aside from necessary activities, Mo Lianshan and Guan Zhiting spent almost all their free time in the laboratory exploring the essential laws of life phenomena. It was probably because of this painstaking study of other organisms that they lost some of their human form.
In Mo Shilin's memory, the only time these two people showed any passion towards him was when they were publishing papers in journals.
"Okay, you can go ahead and do your work."
Mo Shilin curled his lips into a smile, but his phoenix eyes remained icy: "This is my own home, after all. You don't need to guard me like a prisoner."
Aunt Wang remained calm: "Alright, I'll go to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Young master, please stay and eat with us tonight."
“I’ve already told you, don’t call me Young Master. This is the 21st century, not the Republic of China.”
“Young Master, these are the rules.” Aunt Wang’s face finally darkened.
"Rules are rigid, but people are flexible. You're so old, don't you understand such a simple principle?"
"you!"
Aunt Wang knew that continuing the conversation would be inappropriate, so she swallowed the blame that was swirling in her throat and walked away without saying a word, her face pale.
After the crowd dispersed, Mo Shilin's mood improved considerably.
He got up, wandered aimlessly around the living room, then put one hand in his pocket and went upstairs.
As he passed the laboratory, Mo Shilin only glanced at it briefly before looking away in annoyance, as if it were not his parents' beloved workshop, but a slaughterhouse filled with the stench of blood.
Indeed, he was locked up for 24 hours a day on many occasions, forced to sit in front of an electronic screen and watch dismemberment videos carefully selected for him by his parents.
The video was very long and contained all sorts of corpses: rabbits, dogs, cows, sheep, cats... almost every animal imaginable was included.
Of course, what impressed him most were...those of the same kind.
Men and women, their pupils wide open, their bodies either stiff, warm, or trembling, as a knife is sliced open, the skin and flesh tear open, blood gushing out, the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and fleshy intestines all rushing out of the wound like maggots.
What impressed me most was that heart, which was grabbed by a large hand and presented to the camera. The trembling, excited camera would occasionally pan to the person's mouth, with the corners of their lips drooping, bright red as lacquer.
After skillfully displaying the dripping blood organ, they began to suture the huge incision with needles, slowly and meticulously piercing the thin flesh, stitch by stitch.
When you insert the needle, there will be a slight jolt at first, but it will become smoother and smoother. The silver needle turns into a mottled red paste color with the insertion movement, and the speed gradually increases, repeating the cycle.
The person fell into a deep sleep, leaving only a long, thin scar that stretched from the white chest to the lower abdomen.
After the video ends, a message will appear on the black screen: "Thanks for watching, see you next time."
Thanks for watching, see you next time.
Back then, little Mo Shilin would always sit indifferently and watch the whole movie, only starting to gag when his nerves came to a complete stop.
At that time, he was not yet as adept as he would be as an adult. His fair and delicate face was stained with a twisted and disgusted expression that was not commensurate with his age. But in order to escape from this laboratory, he could only knock on the door and admit his mistake with tears in his eyes and trembling hands.
Whenever he begged for "Dad and Mom" in a hoarse voice for one to three hours, Guan Zhiting would take the key from Mo Lianshan and lead him out.
"Shilin, will you dare to make mistakes again? Mom has said it many times: as long as you listen to Dad and do what he tells you, you won't be punished."
"That kind of thing is disgusting."
Guan Zhiting, dressed in a snow-white lab coat, her long, beautiful hair styled in a high bun for experiments, couldn't help but reveal an almost pathological infatuation with Mo Lianshan on her pretty face as she spoke. "But the professor is still amazing. I don't know where he got those films from, so incredible..."
Now 29 years old, when Mo Shilin glances at that laboratory again, he no longer feels the urge to vomit, but the wave of disgust remains as strong as ever.
He knew that what disgusted him was never the gory films that stimulated his body and eyes, but rather the domineering patriarchal control that Mo Lianshan had always enjoyed.
Under the shadow of the black hand, neither he nor Guan Zhiting could escape.
The difference is that Guan Zhiting, who was terminally ill, did so voluntarily.
To be honest, Mo Shilin hadn't been back for half a year, so when he went upstairs and pushed open the door to his old bedroom, his eyes darkened for a moment.
His room wasn't the extravagant style that outsiders imagined for a rich kid, nor was it a cool, minimalist style. If you really wanted to categorize it as a hellish joke, it was more like a wasteland setting.
The walls were in ruins, ashes scattered everywhere, but a large area of the pale wall turned a dark gray cement color in the sunlight. This was certainly not a trendy renovation, but rather the result of burning.
It was burned down by Mo Lianshan.
Along with it, his storage shelf was also thrown into the fire. On it were his first computer science book, a game console that brought him some of the few joys of his repressed and gloomy adolescence, an old computer he used for his first modding project, and a model airplane that he painstakingly made by copying a design.
The kitten he brought from the outside trash can was also killed. Mo Lianshan personally performed the operation in the lab, skinning it and causing it to bleed far more than Mo Shilin had seen in the dismemberment videos.
The reason for all this was simply that when he saw his father coming home from get off work, he didn't greet him immediately or thoughtfully make him tea or pour him water.
The only thing that wasn't burned was the trophy and certificate he won when he first participated in the IOI, because he treasured them under his bed, which saved them from destruction.
Therefore, although Mo Shilin never aspired to be a business tycoon, he still had to climb the ladder.
He has to get rid of that... you know, what people often call the "family of origin" these days? Yes, he has to get rid of that entanglement, right? Although he was invited to watch quite a few bizarre and erotic performances after becoming CEO Mo.
In reality, you're not in control of your own destiny no matter where you are, as long as you're alive.
The rain gradually stopped, night fell, and the moon rose.
"Young Master, dinner is ready."
Aunt Wang, still unchanged, came upstairs and respectfully called out to young master Mo Shilin.
Her tone was exceptionally polite, but her expression was smug, her thin, raised eyebrows seeming to say, "So what if I call you Young Master? What can you do to me?"
Mo Shilin certainly couldn't do anything to her, mainly because he rarely bothered with antiques.
"I'll go down now."
He curled his lips into a smile, closed the bedroom door, and went downstairs.
At this moment, the dim yellow chandelier in the dining room was lit, and the food was brought to the table by the servants, arranged neatly according to the type of food, so neatly that it looked as if it had been cut by a machine.
Guests unaware of the inside story often praised the Mo family's servants for their quick eyes and sharp hands, handling even such small details flawlessly. In reality, only Mo Shilin knew that if the food plates were even slightly crooked, Mo Lianshan would fly into a rage, then coldly berate the servants, and he and Guan Zhiting would naturally suffer, having to endure his tirade on empty stomachs.
Mo Lianshan still sits in the main seat, like a high and mighty ancient monarch, which makes Mo Shilin's rebellious streak kick in.
He enjoys defying authority.
How interesting.
So Mo Shilin didn't even bother to say hello, and sat down to eat. While eating, he earnestly remarked to Aunt Wang who was standing to the side, "Aunt Wang, the dishes are a bit burnt today. Look at how black they are, almost as black as my dad's face."
When this outrageous bombshell was dropped, Aunt Wang was immediately terrified, but dared not speak out. She could only glance at Mo Lianshan's face in the main seat, then lower her head and back out of the restaurant.
"You bastard, what kind of things are you saying in front of outsiders?"
As soon as the servants left, Mo Lianshan lowered his voice and coldly glared at his son.
Mo Lianshan was quite good-looking, with regular features, deep-set eyes, broad shoulders, and long legs. He always wore glasses and had a strong academic air. Coupled with the influence of his scholarly family, he was very presentable. Otherwise, he would not have attracted a great beauty like Guan Zhiting, nor would he have given birth to such a handsome son as Mo Shilin.
Mo Shilin didn't respond. He slowly picked up a piece of sweet and sour fish with his chopsticks and tasted it before putting down his chopsticks, leaning back lazily, and looking at Mo Lianshan with a half-smile: "Why are you so angry? Isn't what I said true?"
The dim yellow light cast shadows on his cold, phoenix-shaped eyes, making him appear even more arrogant.
He was dressed casually today, in a gray-blue windbreaker and casual pants, which not only made him look younger but also gave him a more carefree and spirited air.
It is especially effective when going against the old ways.
Moreover, Mo Lianshan is old. People tend to become irritable as they get older because they understand that they have less and less control over their lives as they age.
Mo Lianshan's face darkened completely, his dark eyes almost wanting to tear this unfilial son to pieces.
Mo Shilin found it quite novel, because in his childhood memories, the usually impeccably dressed Mo Lianshan rarely showed such an uncharacteristic expression.
"Look at you! What are you wearing? Don't you have any decent clothes to wear? Have you forgotten all the manners and etiquette you should have for your parents?"
Mo Lianshan stared intently at his son, whom he had controlled since childhood, suppressing the anger that had been provoked within him.
Guan Zhiting, standing to the side, remained silent, only serving her husband food in a virtuous manner. Her gentleness, kindness, respect, frugality, and humility were fully displayed at this moment.
Mo Shilin glanced at the two of them sideways and smiled mischievously: "If I'm dressed improperly, wouldn't everyone at the pool and the beach be drowned in pig cages?"
"Besides—" he paused subtly, "Don't always talk about me. You think it's honorable to date, marry, and have children with your own student?"
As he said this, he inexplicably thought about what would happen if he and He Xun were together in the future, or even got married. Would the antique couple in front of him be so angry that they would jump into the river on the spot?
But then he thought that day would never come. How could he bear to use his little male servant as a tool to defy them? If they really were to be together, he would hide them away and would never let either of them touch a single hair of He Xun's.
"What right do you, a junior, have to interfere in my affairs?"
Mo Lianshan snorted coldly, his words full of disdain.
“What juniors and seniors?” Mo Shilin said. “I think the most important thing now is to eliminate the remnants of feudalism. It’s time to find someone to break the four-day rule.”
"you!"
Okay—
Guan Zhiting finally spoke gently, acting as a peacemaker between her husband and son. She patted her husband's arm reassuringly and pouted, "Don't you still have something to say to Shilin?"
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