Chapter 27 She said, I'm so jealous of you.

Song Xieling stared at Mo Yao for a long time. Finally, she couldn’t hold it in anymore and snapped, “Are you going to say it or not? If you don’t, I’m leaving.”

“Wait—” Song Xieling glanced around, then stood up quietly. “Come with me.”

Mo Yao finally smirked, satisfied. She followed Song Xieling out, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” Song Xieling said simply.

To Mo Yao, that sentence felt oddly intimate. “Uh… your place? I mean, I’m alone, you know…”

“What are you thinking?” Song Xieling rolled her eyes. “I just need your help with something.”

Song Xieling’s apartment was small, nothing like the mansion she’d once lived in—but still fully functional, cozy even. “This little nest of yours is actually kind of nice,” Mo Yao said, eyeing the bookshelves and the framed photos on the wall.

“Have a seat. Want something to drink?” Song Xieling shrugged off her worn-out jacket, revealing a crisp, tailored dress shirt underneath—still perfectly pressed.

“Milk, please. Warm.” Mo Yao watched her—the same poised, sharp-eyed woman she’d always known. That faint stubble along her jawline only added a touch of dangerous charm.

Song Xieling handed over a steaming mug of milk and held out a redwood box in her other hand. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Mo Yao took the milk, but her eyes stayed locked on the box.

“This is what I need your help with.” Song Xieling opened it. Inside lay a black card. “I need you to transfer the money inside this account into yours. Then, when I send you another black card, you’ll move the funds again. Once it’s done, call me. I’ll come pick it up.”

Mo Yao hesitated. “Transferring it into my account… won’t that raise suspicion?”

“Exactly because it’s *you*—no one would suspect a thing. With the Mo family’s resources, this kind of transaction wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.”

“True,” Mo Yao admitted. “Fine. I’ll do it. But tell me—why are you doing this?”

She wasn’t just asking out of curiosity. As the daughter of a business dynasty, she knew how to read people—and motives. You didn’t survive the upper echelons without a brain.

Song Xieling reached behind the couch and pulled out a stack of documents and photographs. Mo Yao flipped through them slowly, listening as Song Xieling explained.

“I have an older brother. The family legacy was meant for him. But when he turned eighteen, he was betrayed—attacked by someone who wanted his power. He’s been comatose ever since. Before that, he encrypted the family’s core assets in a secure system—one that only his iris can unlock.”

“Recently, with help from others, I managed to wake him. He helped me access the system… but in doing so, he passed away.” Song Xieling’s voice cracked slightly. “I want to use these assets to rebuild the Song family name.”

Mo Yao looked down, thoughtful. “So… what are you planning to do?”

“A pharmaceutical company.”

“A *pharma* company?” Mo Yao nearly choked on her milk. “You’re kidding, right? Do you even know what kind of backlash they’re facing now? Your family fell apart because of drugs—how can you possibly throw yourself back into that fire?”

“Exactly *because* of that,” Song Xieling said, her eyes dark with resolve. “I need to fix it. Not just to clear our name—but for my brother. If I can make better medicine… maybe he wouldn’t have died. Maybe he could’ve lived.”

Her voice trembled with grief, but beneath it burned something fiercer: defiance.

Mo Yao picked up the black card. “Alright. I’ll help. Whatever you need—I’ll be there. Just say the word.”

“I don’t want to drag you too deep into this,” Song Xieling said, smiling warmly. “But thank you.”

The next morning, Mo Yao transferred the full amount into her own account. It was a massive sum—but she’d moved similar amounts before, for her brother. No red flags. No traces.

Now came the second black card—just as Song Xieling had promised.

As she sat on her balcony, staring at the card, she whispered to herself, “Will he actually pull this off?” She didn’t know why she cared so much. Maybe it was the way Song Xieling looked at her—like she trusted her more than anyone else.

After everything was done, Mo Yao pulled out a special phone and called Song Xieling. They met at their usual spot.

“Thanks,” Song Xieling said, taking back the card. “Go home now.”

Just then, her phone buzzed.

“Bro, what’s up?” she answered.

“Rou Rou,” Mo Bo-Yu said, laughing, “come over to Li’s place—we’re throwing a party. Might even get this guy drunk. Hurry up!”

“Bro, don’t go overboard,” Mo Yao sighed. But she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. She was already heading toward Li’s house.

Inside the grand hall, Tang Yan was bustling around, organizing drinks and snacks. Li Chuzhe stood close beside her, eyes never straying far from her face. Mo Yao had been there for ten minutes, and all he’d given her was a polite nod. Then nothing.

Frustrated, she plopped down beside her drunken brother. “Geez, Bro! I told you not to mess around! And look at you—already wasted. What good are you to me? I swear, I’m gonna explode.”

“Don’t worry, Rou Rou,” Mo Bo-Yu slurred, grinning. “Watch me work my magic. Hey, Li Chuzhe!” He waved weakly. “Come here. Got something important to talk about.”

Li Chuzhe glanced at him. “I’ll come over in a sec. Rest a bit.”

“What?” Li Chuzhe sat across from them, clearly unimpressed.

“Rou Rou wants to see some flowers. Take her to the garden,” Mo Bo-Yu mumbled, already half-dozing.

Mo Yao blushed, looking down. “Li Brother… I have something I want to say.”

Li Chuzhe looked at her, then stood. “Let’s go talk somewhere quieter.”

They stepped into the garden, moonlight painting the roses silver.

“Li Brother… do you like Tang Sister?” Her voice wavered. “Do I have any chance at all?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I love Tang Yan. Only her.”

“Got it,” Mo Yao whispered, tears welling up.

Li Chuzhe exhaled softly. “You’re a great girl, Mo Yao. Someone will come along—someone who truly sees you. I’ll have the driver take you home.”

“Li Brother… I won’t bother you anymore. Tang Sister’s been kind to me. I don’t want to hurt her. And you’ve been good to me too. I hope… I hope you two are happy.”

For the first time, she sounded like someone who’d grown up—not just a girl chasing a dream, but a woman learning to let go.

Mo Bo-Yu snored like a pig, completely unaware his sister had cried.

Lying in bed later, Mo Yao finally saw herself clearly.

“I think… I finally breathed again.”