Yan Yibing opened a box of oat milk and leisurely drank it while the physiotherapist massaged his sore neck.
He could clearly feel that he was getting tired faster and faster.
Even though he took great care to protect himself, the consumption was irreversible.
At twenty-five, being considered at the peak was already a gift from the heavens.
Sun Tianjiao burst into the physiotherapy room, brimming with excitement, and leaned mysteriously by Yan Yibing’s bed, arching his eyebrows, “Zuzong, I just heard a huge piece of news. Are you interested?”
Yan Yibing half-closed his eyes, and licked the milk at the corner of his lips, “Not really.”
Sun Tianjiao’s high spirits were always out of sync with his, and Yan Yibing genuinely had no interest in listening.
Disappointed, Sun Tianjiao stood up, and sighed, “Well, this is something I managed to get out of Xiao Ding with great effort.”
Yan Yibing turned his head, “Who is Xiao Ding?”
Sun Tianjiao, “Ding Jun. In return for the information I gave him, he returned me one.”
Yan Yibing disdainfully said, “As managers of two clubs, is it appropriate for you two to collude openly?”
Sun Tianjiao nonchalantly said, “This is called trade, don’t you get it? Not only do I collude with Prince, but I also collude with CNG and AXE. This way, I know the information of all three clubs.”
Yan Yibing commented, “Then they also know ours. Do you still have the nerve to complain that I leaked tactics?”
Sun Tianjiao looked sideways with disdain, “Am I that stupid? The information I give them is, of course, irrelevant.”
Yan Yibing countered, “They must be giving you irrelevant information too.”
Sun Tianjiao pondered, “Although it’s irrelevant, it’s quite explosive. I always thought Han Mo’s parents were both deceased, sigh.”
After Sun Tianjiao finished speaking, hands in pockets, head lowered, he prepared to leave.
Yan Yibing propped himself up on the bed, “What did you say?”
Sun Tianjiao turned back, puzzled yet visibly pleased, “Didn’t you say you weren’t interested?”
Yan Yibing pursed his lips, and patiently said, “I’m interested now.”
Sun Tianjiao blinked, swiftly turned around, leaned closer to Yan Yibing, and whispered, “It’s nothing, just that CEO I mentioned to you before, the one related to Han Shi. Do you remember?”
Yan Yibing thought for a moment, “The one who said esports players aren’t worth much?”
And the one Han Mo despises.
Sun Tianjiao slapped his thigh, “Yes! Ding Jun told me that the CEO is Han Mo’s dad! His biological dad! Can you believe it? Han Mo’s dad is not only alive but also wealthy. The crucial part is that his son is an esports player, yet he looks down on esports players.”
Yan Yibing deeply frowned.
He recalled the day he randomly checked Han Shi’s founder’s information.
That person’s name is Han Tang, with a wife named Zuo Yunshi. The Zuo family is a prominent literary family in Jiangbei, a wealthy and influential family, and the two have no children.
How could Han Mo be related to Han Tang?
After Sun Tianjiao finished speaking, he muttered to himself, “It’s strange. Han Mo’s dad is so wealthy, but he used to seem so miserable. I remember the brand Han Shi has been around for a long time.”
Yan Yibing got off the bed, grabbed his phone, and quickly checked.
Han Tang founded the first company seven years ago, but it wasn’t called Han Shi then; it was known as Chao Ren Tang.
At that time, Han Mo was twelve years old, and Han Tang invested four hundred thousand to build a factory. Chao Ren Tang specializes in trendy clothing for young boys and girls and has been in the market for a few years.
Perhaps the profit wasn’t satisfactory, so Han Tang renamed the company and invested in two more locations.
This money should have been funded by his current wife’s family.
Even though Chao Ren Tang wasn’t a huge success at the time, Han Tang was undoubtedly not short of money.
In other words, Han Mo should have lived a carefree and affluent life since childhood, but he didn’t.
Yan Yibing put down his phone and whispered, “Han Mo’s mother is named Bei Jingzhu, and Han Tang’s current wife is Zuo Yunshi. They should have divorced early.”
Sun Tianjiao sighed, “No wonder. I remember that Han Mo participated in the competition back then to raise money for his mother’s treatment. If that’s the case, his father didn’t… didn’t help him. It shouldn’t be like this. He should at least provide basic support since Han Mo was a minor, especially since Han Tang is so wealthy.”
Yan Yibing remembered Han Mo’s look when he stared at Han Shi’s sportswear.
No wonder.
He harbored so much hatred; Han Tang must have done something extreme.
Yan Yibing sighed softly, furrowing his brows, murmuring, “Not everyone deserves to be called a father.”
Back then, with a monthly salary of 1,500 as a youth training player, taking care of his sick mother, how did he get through it?
Apart from taking risks in gambling competitions, he probably had no other choice.
He didn’t even have the initial capital to play gambling competitions; he must have borrowed high-interest loans first, staking his future and fate.
Then, relying on his talent in the game, he probably managed to win back that 200,000 with great effort.
But even two hundred thousand couldn’t bring back a person. It must have been painful to realize that all efforts were in vain.
Yan Yibing remembered that the top floor of the cruise ship was an open casino where everyone could buy chips and enjoy various international popular games and arcade machines.
The high seas were a place without rules and laws, where gambling could also be allowed.
He heard that in one night, people lost tens of thousands of US dollars, which was the cruise company’s real money-making venture.
But Han Mo had never been there, not even once.
Sun Tianjiao scratched his head, hesitated, and said, “Ding Jun said that the relationship between Han Mo and Han Tang is indeed not good. Han Tang intended to offer two million for Han Mo to sign a promotion deal. He must know Han Mo is quite famous now, but perhaps he didn’t go to Prince first because he felt embarrassed to face Han Mo. But after failing with us and CNG, AXE, he still went to find Han Mo. In the end, he was humiliated by Han Mo.”
Yan Yibing lowered his eyes, fiddled with his phone, and whispered, “Today is the anniversary of Han Mo’s mother’s death.”
Sun Tianjiao opened his mouth in shock, “Heavens, if Han Tang went to see Han Mo today, wouldn’t that be provoking him? He’s not a father, he’s a debt collector!”
Yan Yibing irritably pocketed his phone, and threw on his clothes, “I’m going home for a bit.”
Sun Tianjiao asked, “What for?”
Yan Yibing replied, “Nothing, you carry on.”
After that, Yan Yibing quickly returned to his room, packed up his computer and phone charging cable, slung his bag, and took a taxi home.
During the ride, he pieced everything together.
Han Mo needed money at that time, but none of them knew because Han Mo never sought help.
The reason Han Mo didn’t seek help was that he believed there was someone else he should seek help from.
If his colleagues from the club, with whom he had only spent a few months, knew his father was an entrepreneur with plenty of money, and yet he still had to borrow money from colleagues, they probably… wouldn’t lend him any.
But he couldn’t explain that his biological father refused to help his mother.
Yan Yibing rubbed his temples, feeling frustrated.
Why didn’t he try to understand more back then? Why did he impulsively drive Han Mo away?
Back then, Han Mo must have needed someone to rely on.
Instead, he couldn’t be that support, and ended up hurting him even more.
The taxi driver glanced at Yan Yibing through the rearview mirror.
Yan Yibing’s hasty departure and the wrinkles on his clothes made him look somewhat disheveled.
“Young man, feeling down?”
Yan Yibing lowered his hand and mumbled, “Yeah.”
The driver smiled, “It’ll pass. Have something sweet, it’ll lighten your mood.”
Yan Yibing forced a smile, “Thanks.”
Arriving at the residential area, he hurriedly ran towards home.
But after taking a few steps, he stopped abruptly in confusion. Was that villa even Han Mo’s home?
Maybe Han Mo wouldn’t come back at all.
And the current Han Mo was no longer the kid from back then; he probably didn’t need his comfort anymore.
Yan Yibing arrived at the doorstep with a desolate expression, carrying his backpack.
After scanning his fingerprint, the door opened, and a rich scent of syrup wafted from inside.
Papa Yan set down the newspaper and chuckled, “Hey, Young Master Yan, your timing is impeccable. Your mother suddenly felt like making caramelized taro. Go check it out in the kitchen.”
Yan Yibing, feeling listless, replied, “Forget it, I’m not interested.”
Papa Yan furrowed his brows and said seriously, “Your mom rarely cooks. Compliment her, then go upstairs. Don’t come home acting like you’re staying in a hotel, not caring about anything.”
Reluctantly, Yan Yibing put down his bag and, dragging his slippers, entered the kitchen.
He sneaked up to his mom with his hands in his hoodie pocket.
The aroma of taro grew stronger.
While rinsing his hands under the faucet, he flattered, “Mom, you did a great job. It smells amazing, my mouth is watering…”
As he raised his eyes, through the kitchen window, he saw lights on in Han Mo’s house.
His mom snorted, “Your praise doesn’t feel sincere at all. You came right on time. This was grown in your second aunt’s field, completely natural and pollutant-free. Have a taste.”
Yan Yibing licked his lips, but his gaze remained fixed on the window.
He lightly patted his mom’s shoulder, “Mom, I’m going out for a bit.”
His mom asked, “What are you doing out so late?”
Yan Yibing absentmindedly replied, “To check on Han Mo. It’s his mother’s death anniversary today.”
His mother paused, her smile fading, a hint of tenderness in her eyes, “Ah, that poor child. I’ll pack a few pieces of caramelized taro for you. Take them while they’re warm and give them to Han Mo. He probably didn’t eat much today.”
Yan Yibing hesitated, “Mom, what you made…”
His mom assured him, “Guaranteed not to poison anyone.”
Efficiently, she packed seven or eight pieces into a plastic container, sealed it, and handed it to Yan Yibing.
“Go, take it for me. Let Han Mo come to our house if he’s free; we all welcome him.”
Yan Yibing hadn’t planned to take food with him; he just wanted to see how Han Mo was doing.
But since his mother had already packed it, he couldn’t refuse. He could only take the caramelized taro and head out.
Their two villas were very close; in two minutes, Yan Yibing arrived at Han Mo’s doorstep.
He hesitated for a moment, his gaze trembling slightly, then raised his hand and rang the doorbell.
After waiting for a while, there was movement inside.
The door opened, revealing a neatly dressed and calm-looking Han Mo.
Han Mo raised an eyebrow slightly, expressing surprise, then released his hand, making way for Yan Yibing.
Yan Yibing raised the plastic container in his hand, “My mom made caramelized taro; she asked me to bring some for you.”
As he stepped inside, he finally sensed something amiss.
There was a strong smell of alcohol in the room, and Han Mo had an even heavier scent of alcohol on him.
It was just that the wind was blowing from outside a moment ago, and the scent hadn’t reached him.
Han Mo whispered, “I didn’t expect you to come. Sorry, I drank a bit.”
Yan Yibing thought to himself, “More than just a bit.”
Perhaps people assume that drinking can ease pain.
But once they drink, they realize it only brings headaches and dizziness, not relief from anything.
Yan Yibing stared at Han Mo, his lips moved, yet he didn’t know what to say.
Should he mention that he learned about Han Mo and Han Tang’s relationship from Sun Tianjiao?
Should he bring up that he knew today was the anniversary of Han Mo’s mother’s death?
Or should he express that he felt a bit sorry for Han Mo?
Han Mo blinked innocently at him, seemingly waiting for his next move.
Yan Yibing cleared his throat lightly, “What’s up with the lights at your place? They’ve dimmed again after just a few days.”
They were still lit, but the brightness wasn’t sufficient. The bulbs probably weren’t of good quality, as the delivery guy might have scammed Han Mo by selling substandard ones.
Han Mo glanced at the ceiling. The effect of alcohol had slightly dulled his perception.
“I haven’t noticed.”
Yan Yibing lifted the caramelized taro, “After drinking so much, your stomach needs something. Have it while it’s hot; otherwise, it’ll stick together when it cools down.”
Han Mo’s pupils were pitch black, and the alcohol had made his eyes slightly moist.
He accepted it, examined it for a moment, then silently opened the box, “Thank you.”
After saying thanks, his movements halted.
He raised his eyes, looking at Yan Yibing, with a hint of helplessness in his eyes, “Sorry, I don’t have chopsticks at home.”
Yan Yibing: “…”
He forgot; Han Mo’s place wasn’t much better than an unfinished house. How could he possibly have prepared bowls and chopsticks?
Han Mo lowered his head, the stray strands of hair covered his eyes, casting mottled shadows on his face.
He seemed somewhat disheartened, his thin lips tight, giving a beautiful angle to his jawline.
Yan Yibing sighed.
Today, Han Mo seemed most dispirited.
He extended his slender fingers into the box, and picked up a piece of taro, “I washed my hands before coming.”
The steaming taro slightly burned his fingertip, the brownish-yellow sugar threads gradually elongating as he pulled, finally becoming a slender, transparent string floating in the air.
The sugar liquid rapidly solidified, and the scattered sugar strands were blown by Yan Yibing’s breath, entwining on the back of his hand.
He held the taro to Han Mo’s lips, “I can’t guarantee my mom’s skill; it’s her first attempt, but at least it won’t kill you.”
However, Han Mo’s gaze was firmly fixed on Yan Yibing’s fingers.
Smooth and clean fingernails covered the pale pink flesh; the fingers were curved, the joints protruding. The back of the hand had a delicate and fair complexion, and the almost invisible sugar threads resembled golden ropes, twirling around his skin.
Han Mo’s Adam’s apple moved slightly.
Yan Yibing repeated, “I washed my hands for real. If you don’t believe me, I’ll eat it first.”
After saying this, he was about to bring it to his own mouth.
Immediately, Han Mo grabbed his wrist, lowered his head, and delicately touched the taro with his lips.
Yan Yibing watched his wrist being held, his eyelashes trembled for a moment, then he raised his eyes, the corners reflecting Han Mo’s face.
Despite the heavy scent of alcohol emanating from Han Mo, he seemed to have recently showered, emitting an extra fresh lemon fragrance.
The combination of the two scents wasn’t unpleasant.
Han Mo, unhurriedly, bit into the taro.
Regardless of whether it was too hot, he still licked his lips, and as his tongue swept across, it accidentally grazed Yan Yibing’s finger.
The soft, moist touch slid over the sensitive skin of the fingertip, causing Yan Yibing to retract his hand slightly.
But Han Mo firmly grasped his wrist, tightly. He couldn’t escape.
At that moment, Yan Yibing felt Han Mo might be drunk.
This action, in his eyes, was so ambiguous that it shouldn’t be something Han Mo would do to him.
Author’s Message:
Han Mo: My wife’s fingers are sweet too 🙂
Thank you for reading! 
Hope you enjoy the rest of your day 🍀
If you like reading my translations, do consider supporting me with ko-fi🌼
