Chapter 74 The Pain of Relics
——Mother’s belongings returned with “accusations”, as if mocking her powerlessness.
Ruan Xingchen curled up on the sofa in the study, reading a medical journal. Beside him, behind the desk, Mo Xiaohan was working on a document, his cigar burning crimson between his fingers, the smoke blurring his stern features.
“Knock knock—”
There was a sudden knock on the door, and the housekeeper came in quietly holding a package: "Madam, your expedited delivery."
The package was wrapped in thick kraft paper. There was no sender information, only a printed label with the address and Ruan Xingchen's name clearly printed on it.
Ruan Xingchen felt something strange in his heart, and the moment he opened the package, his breathing suddenly stopped.
Inside lay a bloodstained silk scarf.
The dark brown bloodstains had long since dried on the creamy white silk base, and the small "QY" embroidered on the edge, half-hidden by the blood, stung her eyes. This was a gift she had given her mother before she left for her mission in Yemen.
"Bang!"
Her elbow hit the edge of the table, and the teacup beside her fell over. Broken porcelain pieces mixed with dark red tea spread on the floor, looking like congealed blood on a silk scarf.
Mo Xiaohan suddenly raised his head from the documents. The moment the cigar was crushed between his fingers, he had already seen the scene on the sofa clearly. Ruan Xingchen was trembling as he pulled out a yellowed photo from the bottom of the package.
In front of the field hospital in Sana'a, Yemen, Dr. Nguyen, wearing a white coat, smiled at the camera with the badge of Doctors Without Borders pinned on his chest. On the back of the photo was written in Arabic: "A certain day five years ago."
"Mom..." Ruan Xingchen's pupils dilated slightly, and his voice trembled, "This is Mom's..."
Mo Xiaohan's eyes instantly darkened like a cold pond, and he immediately pressed the communicator on the corner of the table: "Investigate the source of the expedited package just delivered to Madam, immediately."
He took a few steps to her front, pinching the photo with his cigar-scented fingers. "Xingxing, can you contact Dr. Ruan now? I'll send someone to pick her up immediately."
Ruan Xingchen's tears finally fell.
“…She died.” Her voice was as soft as a wisp of smoke. “Five years ago…in Yemen.”
Mo Xiaohan tightened his grip on the photo slightly.
Five years ago, he slaughtered the Mohist sect and murdered his father to ascend to power. Shortly after assuming power, he sent people to search for Ruan Xingchen and her daughter using the contact information and address Dr. Ruan had given him.
But for years, all he received was the vague response that "Doctors Without Borders' whereabouts are uncertain." He assumed it was due to China's strict protection of citizens' personal information, the war and disruptions in overseas mission areas, and the resulting communication difficulties. He never imagined it was actually due to...
If I had found her sooner...
If we can protect Dr. Ruan before anything happens...
Even if I can't... at least I can accompany her through the darkest night...
He hugged Ruan Xingchen into his arms, pressing his palm against the back of her head, and said with rare regret in his voice: "I'm sorry, Xingxing... I should have found you earlier..."
Ruan Xingchen buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt.
"The embassy said... Mom was attacked in the hospital in Sana'a..." She choked up, her voice breaking. "The entire hospital was flattened... The body couldn't be brought back... The news was completely blocked... There wasn't even a proper memorial service..."
Memories gushed out like a torn wound - she was in her third year of high school that year, and during evening study, she received an encrypted call from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The voice on the other end of the phone was cruelly calm, saying that the medical team her mother served had been attacked by an air raid and the field hospital had become a ruin.
Ruan Xingchen clutched the front of his shirt tightly, as if grasping at the only piece of driftwood: "Why...why would someone send this now..."
Mo Xiaohan wiped Ruan Xingchen's tears, rubbed her red nose with his fingertips, and asked, "Did your mother... mention the details of the mission in Yemen?"
Ruan Xingchen shook her head, tears still hanging on her eyelashes. "She never mentioned anything dangerous. Every time we talked on the phone, she only asked if I was eating well and if I was doing well with my studies."
"I will find out." Mo Xiaohan's voice was calm and firm, and his fingertips gently pressed on the top of her head.
A private estate in the foothills of the Alps, Switzerland.
Victor was playing with a platinum pocket watch. When the cover opened and closed, an old photo embedded inside was revealed - an old man with a gloomy face was hugging two teenagers, one of whom had blond hair and blue eyes and a flamboyant smile, while the other mixed-race boy with gray-blue eyes stood quietly in the shadows, with a hint of gloom between his eyebrows.
"My dear brother died such a tragic death." He chuckled, stroking the blond boy's face in the photo with his fingertips. "But thanks to him, I was able to find out that the female doctor I killed back then..." He looked up at the video of Ruan Xingchen on the wall screen. "It turned out to be Little Rose's mother."
Five years ago, he had orchestrated the "accidental" death of his adoptive father's legitimate son, Ferdinand Berg, the legitimate heir to the Berg family, in Yemen. Unexpectedly, before his foolish brother died, a troublesome female doctor risked her life to protect him.
How did you handle it at that time?
Oh, right—
He broke her neck with his own hands and then disguised it as a bomb attack. However, because the female doctor was a Chinese citizen and a doctor with a high reputation in the international medical field, the family mobilized political power to suppress the matter, preventing the murder from causing more trouble.
"How interesting." A cruel amusement flashed in Victor's gray-blue eyes. "Both mother and daughter died at my hands... wouldn't that be even more perfect?"
The confidant stepped forward and reported in a low voice: "The package has been delivered. The Mohist people traced all the logistics nodes and could not find any trace of us.
"Of course." Victor walked towards the French window. Snow-capped mountains were outside, but there was a fire burning in his eyes. "My little rose must be crying bitterly right now... and Mo Xiaohan will find out the truth."
He turned around, his nonchalant manner carrying a hint of menace. "Time to create a bit of an away-field disadvantage for Mr. Mo."
As the night deepens, the rain from Bangkok seeps in through the window frames.
Ruan Xingchen huddled by the bedroom window, his fingertips sliding across the tablet screen, lingering on his mother's last email:
"Xingxing, Mom is going to Sana'a this time. There are many children there who need help. Remember to eat on time, don't stay up late to review, and take good care of yourself. - Love your mom."
The email was sent on the morning five years ago that changed everything.
Mo Xiaohan pushed the door open and came in, holding a cup of hot milk. He sat down beside her silently, his fingertips brushing the corners of her red eyes, the tears on her face still not completely faded.
"Xiaohan..." Ruan Xingchen suddenly grabbed his hand, "If one day you find out that my mother's death might not have been an accident..."
Mo Xiaohan clasped her five fingers with his backhand, and the silver ring dug into her fingers: "Then I will let the murderer experience it alive-"
"What does it mean to be worse than death?"
Outside the window, heavy rain poured down. The rain blurred the world outside the window, but made the blood-red color in the memory even clearer.
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