Chapter 31: Is It a One-Sided Love?

Even though Song Xieling’s gunshot had been carefully silenced, the killers were still too close to each other—any small movement on this side immediately drew their attention.

“Someone’s over there!” A command snapped through the air, and the assassins surged forward like a swarm of angry hornets, charging straight toward where Song Xieling was hiding.

“Well, well… so you’re here after all. Hahaha! Look at you—once a proud young master, now reduced to crawling in the dirt. The world really does turn on its head, doesn’t it?” The leader stepped out with a sneer, mocking Song Xieling with cold amusement.

In an instant, the man pulled out his pistol and leveled it at Song Xieling’s head, towering over him like a vengeful god. “Song Xieling, go down below and serve someone else as a slave.”

At that moment, Song Xieling couldn’t move. His arm wound had reached its breaking point. Just as the bullet was about to fire—*crack!*—a sharp gunshot rang out from Song Xieling’s direction, followed by a scream.

Song Xieling watched in stunned horror as the killer standing before him suddenly clutched his head, blood spraying across the ground. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Realizing he’d been saved, Song Xieling staggered forward, dragging himself toward the sound.

“You two, clean up the rest,” Mo Boyu commanded from where he stood, calm and composed.

From the bushes, Mo Boyu caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. He squinted. “Song Xieling? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Run! Hurry!” Song Xieling forced his body forward, barely able to stand.

Behind them, one of the remaining assassins made a final, desperate move—pulling out a high-yield grenade and firing one last shot. The bullet tore through Song Xieling’s right leg. He crumpled to the ground again, gasping.

“Bomb! Mo少, get out now!” Mo Boyu’s men grabbed at him, trying to drag him away.

“Let go!” Mo Boyu shoved them off, sprinting straight toward Song Xieling without hesitation. He scooped him up and ran.

The explosion was massive. Even though they’d put distance between themselves and the blast site, the shockwave still slammed into Mo Boyu, knocking him sideways.

When everything finally settled, Mo Boyu roughly pushed Song Xieling away from his body. Every inch he moved made his face darken further.

Song Xieling noticed something was wrong. “Mo Boyu… did you get hurt in the back? Someone!”

“Enough! You look like you’re already dead. Focus on yourself.” Before he could finish, Mo Yao’s voice broke through—soft, trembling, and rushing closer.

Mo Boyu turned around and saw his little sister running toward him, her eyes wide with worry. His heart melted instantly. “Yaoyao…”

She dropped to her knees beside Song Xieling, frantically checking his wounds. “Song Xieling, I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Hold on, please!”

Mo Boyu just stood there, watching helplessly as his sister poured all her care into someone else—completely ignoring him.

“Yaoyao, your brother’s still here, you know!”

“Brother, I’m busy right now. Go to the hospital yourself,” she said, helping Song Xieling to his feet. Then they climbed into a car and drove off.

Left alone on the ground, Mo Boyu sat motionless. His men tried to help him up, but he waved them off with a snarl. “Get lost. I’ll go alone. Song Xieling.” His teeth clenched tight—resentment simmering beneath the surface.

At the hospital, Mo Boyu got a quick bandage for a few minor cuts, then headed straight to the surgery waiting room. “Yaoyao, when did you two become so close?”

Mo Yao paced back and forth outside the operating room, her small face still streaked with tears. “Brother… Song Xieling has so many injuries.”

As soon as she spoke, fresh tears welled up again. Mo Boyu’s heart twisted. He reached out and gently wiped her cheeks. “It’s okay, Yaoyao. He’s tough—he won’t die.”

He stayed by her side, waiting. As the hours passed, he kept glancing at her expression—her worry, her concern—until the weight in his chest grew heavier and darker.

Finally, Song Xieling was wheeled into a recovery room. The doctor said he just needed rest. Mo Yao stayed by his bedside, tending to him like a devoted nurse. Mo Boyu couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her arm. “Yaoyao, come home. You need to rest.”

“But…” She didn’t want to leave. Her entire focus was on Song Xieling.

Mo Boyu’s face hardened. “Come with me. I’ll make sure someone takes care of him.”

Knowing her brother’s stubborn nature, Mo Yao hesitated—but only for a second. “Fine.”

Back at the mansion, after a brief cleanup, Mo Boyu sat stiffly on the sofa, staring at her. “Yaoyao. What happened?”

“I… I met him earlier,” she confessed, telling most of what had happened—except for the secrets tied to Song Xieling’s past.

Mo Boyu went ice-cold. “So this kid’s been sneaking around behind my back, hitting on you?”

“Brother, what are you talking about? ‘Hitting on’? That’s not how it is!” Her cheeks flushed pink.

“That’s not hitting on what? Look at you—you’re practically falling apart!” Mo Boyu sounded like a protective father whose prized cabbage had been trampled by some reckless wild boar.

“Brother, I *like* Song Xieling. I don’t even know if he likes me back,” she whispered, voice shrinking with every word.

Mo Boyu listened in silence. Then he stood up abruptly, furious. “What?! How dare he not like you? He’s blind! I’ll break both his legs myself!”

He started grabbing his coat, ready to storm back to the hospital.

But Mo Yao stopped him. “Brother, can you please just *not* cause trouble? This is my decision. Don’t interfere.”

Her words froze him. Cold. Sharp. Unyielding.

“Yaoyao… I’m doing this for your own good.”

“For my good, you should support me. And besides… do you really think my taste is that bad?” She crossed her arms, pouting her lips like a defiant princess.

Mo Boyu stared at her—then slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Like the clouds parting after a storm.

“No,” he said softly, brushing her hair with affection. “My Yaoyao always has excellent taste.”

“Brother…”

“What?”

“Can I borrow some money?”

Mo Boyu blinked. “You’re not rich?”

“Ugh, just give it to me,” she snapped, no longer bothering to explain.