MCFEM C49

Chapter 49 – Long Time No See, Young Master…

Yu Bai practically floated back into the classroom with a wooden expression on his face.

When he sat down at his seat, he still felt a hollow daze, as if his soul had left his body.

Xie Wu walked over, sighing, and patted his shoulder.

Meeting the faintly pitying gaze in his eyes, Yu Bai instantly realized—he had heard it too. In fact, the entire class had heard it.

Haha, wasn’t that perfectly normal? After all, they were sitting so close.

He forced a smile, but two clear tears slowly slid down from his vacant eyes.

Xie Wu was startled, his expression shifting several times before he finally, out of loyalty, pulled Yu Bai’s head against his shoulder. “Go ahead and cry. Once you’re done, just forget about him.”

Gu Yang, puzzled, glanced over at Yu Bai—who just minutes earlier had been confiding in him—and now was sobbing like he’d short-circuited. He couldn’t help but shoot him a look reserved for lunatics and ask, “What’s wrong with you?”

What else could it be?

Sometimes Xie Wu really felt like he was going to choke to death on his own secrets. After what had happened in Class Eleven, he thought his ability to keep things under wraps had leveled up to the next stage.

Now his mouth was sealed tight. He only put on a mysterious air and said, “Nothing. The kid’s grown up—he’s got his own troubles.”

Lu Ran watched the whole farce with cold eyes.

Pathetic.

Making a spectacle of himself over something so trivial.

It only irritated him further.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the empty seat nearby. Nie Ying still hadn’t shown up today.

Who knew if he had followed through on what he promised.

Then his gaze slid to the desk in front, where Lu Ji sat, and he couldn’t suppress the malice rising in his chest.

Disgusting. Why hadn’t he just died already?

—

Just before dismissal, Lu Ji received a phone call.

The caller ID read: Madam Lu.

His eyes dimmed. After letting it ring for several seconds, he finally stepped outside and picked up.

On the other end, a warm but hoarse voice called gently, cautiously:

“Xiao Ji…”

Lu Ji answered lightly, “Mm,” and said nothing more.

Madam Lu hesitated a few seconds before forcing herself to continue: “Earlier, your brother and father tried calling you. Why didn’t you pick up?”

“Didn’t hear it.”

“Oh, I see.” Madam Lu quickly filled in, “Well, yes, you’re still in school. It’s normal not to notice.”

“Xiao Ji, I called this time to ask if you’d come back home to stay.” Perhaps afraid he would hang up, her words came faster. “I asked about your school dorms—they’re doubles, you have to share with someone else, that must be inconvenient. At home would be so much better.”

“It’s not inconvenient. At least here, no one’s an eyesore.” Lu Ji shot back icily.

On the other end, Madam Lu drew a soft, trembling breath.

She knew exactly who his barb was aimed at, but now—she couldn’t muster even a single excuse.

Just two days ago, a man had shown up at their door, demanding they return Lu Ran to him.

She recognized him instantly as the gambling addict from the Huo family. Xiao Ji had suffered enough in that household; naturally, she wouldn’t give that man any courtesy.

All the more so—how could they possibly send Ranran back to such a hellhole? Even if he were their biological child, it would be unthinkable. They had dealt with him that very day using money.

But the reek of alcohol on him, the words he spewed—each one more shocking than the last.

First, he half-mockingly thanked the Lu family for raising his son for so many years, saying it balanced out the debt from when the Lu Group had ruined his business.

At that, Lu Zhenxing’s face had changed. He hadn’t connected the dots before, but hearing that, coupled with the surname Huo, he remembered everything.

Then the man had gone on to curse filthily—that despite being sent off to live in luxury, the child was ungrateful, never even visiting his parents after learning the truth, just clinging to higher branches.

He ranted that he no longer cared to keep the secret, that he’d drag the boy back to “discipline him properly.”

From his tirade, the entire truth had been laid bare. How could the Lus not understand?

All these years, they had unknowingly been raising the child of a defeated rival. And back then at the hospital, there had been no accident—no mix-up. It had been deliberate.

Madam Lu had once believed her son’s suffering all those years was due to bad luck, to the misfortune of ending up in a failing family.

But looking back now—it was likely purposeful cruelty.

The Huos had always known he wasn’t theirs. With old grudges festering, they had taken it out on the innocent Lu Ji.

Just the thought left her heart in unbearable pain.

So much pain it grew into resentment.

The Huos were heartless. If they wanted their child raised in wealth, why couldn’t they treat another family’s child with equal decency?

“Xiao Ji, we’ve learned the truth now. Please come back. Let me make it up to you.” Overwhelmed again with guilt, she pleaded softly.

No matter what anyone said now, she wouldn’t believe otherwise. She would stay by his side, shower him with all the love she had withheld, and never let him suffer again.

“What about Lu Ran?” Lu Ji asked.

The line went dead silent.

And with that silence, Lu Ji’s heart sank—unsurprised, unexpectant, only falling further into the abyss.

“Your father and I discussed it,” Madam Lu said, forcing steadiness through her guilt. “It’s unfair to you, having Ranran at home. After he graduates, we’ll send him abroad for university. We’ll support him until he finishes, but after that, there will be no further contact.”

She should be grateful Xiao Ji didn’t know the full truth. Thankfully, that drunkard had shown up when it was only her and her husband.

But she herself no longer knew what to do with Ranran. In the end, after so many years of mother-son ties, she couldn’t harden her heart completely. The plan she had just spoken of was her final compromise.

When she had borne her second child, the delivery had been difficult—the baby breech. Nearly collapsing from exhaustion, she had finally brought him into the world.

At the sound of his strong wails, her taut nerves had at last relaxed, and she had passed out.

When she awoke, her husband told her the child was well. They’d held him up for her to see.

But for some reason, when she looked at the baby she had fought so hard to deliver, no warmth stirred in her heart—only a faint dread.

She hadn’t known why, only thought it fatigue. Her husband thought so too. Rest would heal it, he said.

But the feeling never went away.

She couldn’t bring herself to hold him, to soothe him. Even feeding him filled her with aversion.

Her husband assumed it was trauma from the birth, reassuring her gently that a nanny could take over.

But she knew otherwise.

Her heart brimmed with motherly love, but it would not flow toward this child.

Until the day Ranran wandered into Ye family’s private clinic storage, and came home burning with fever.

So young, yet his temperature soared past forty degrees, and no antipyretic would bring it down.

She had nearly thought she would lose him.

Because of her neglect.

For days and nights she stayed at his bedside, clutching his tiny hand, praying without rest.

At last, his fever broke, though he was left with asthma.

Only then did she fully accept her role as his mother, pouring all her pent-up love into him.

And just when she had learned to embrace the child who had once felt like a stranger—she was told her real son was someone else.

But she only had one heart. How could it be split?

Still, the other end of the line remained silent. Only the wind whispered faintly. Madam Lu wanted to caution him not to stand out in the cold.

At last, a quiet reply came: “I understand.”

And then the call ended.

She remained frozen, still holding the phone to her ear.

Even after all this, it wasn’t enough?

Lu Ji hadn’t imagined the human heart could tilt so far.

A new message flashed across his screen—from an unmarked number.

【I did what you told me. Hurry and send the money.】

【Don’t go back on your word, or next time I’ll side with Lu Ran, and you’ll regret it!】

Lu Ji lowered his eyes. His fingers trembled, but he still forced himself to transfer fifty thousand yuan.

【What’s this measly amount supposed to be? You’re living it up as a Lu young master now, after I raised you all those years? And now I’m even helping you against my own son, and you think a few tens of thousands will shut me up?】

【One million. Three days. Or else you’ll pay.】

Just chatting with him online made Lu Ji nauseous, the shadows of years past still clinging. He steadied his breathing, then opened his notes app.

Inside was a list of tasks—plans he had compiled from what Gu Yang had told him.

Between Madam Lu’s favoritism and the gambler’s greed, his mind was so overloaded with emotion he couldn’t think straight. Gritting his teeth, he ticked off the task of unleashing his gambler father.

As if clinging to a lifeline.

Afterward, he finally exhaled, relieved.

“Were you just on the phone with Mom?” From the start of the call, Lu Ran had secretly followed him, and now he rushed out. “What did she say?”

Realizing his tone was too sharp, he softened it awkwardly: “I just wanted to check on you.”

Since Nie Ying had promised to help him deal with his enemy, all Lu Ran needed was to feign goodwill, to stage an inside-outside pincer.

Lu Ji lifted his head, his gaze dim. He gave no response to the sudden kindness, no suspicion either. Instead, he said without warning: “Will you come with me somewhere?”

Believing his olive branch had been accepted, Lu Ran didn’t ask where. With his own schemes in mind, he nodded.

They hailed a cab. But the further they drove, the more uneasy Lu Ran felt. Too remote.

Was Lu Ji planning to beat him up somewhere deserted?

Fortunately, they stopped in a residential block. Forcing himself, Lu Ran followed him up.

It was a dilapidated neighborhood, no property management, the stairwell grimy.

Lu Ran’s fastidiousness screamed. How could anyone live here?

He could hardly imagine ever setting foot here again.

Lu Ji stopped at one door, retrieved a key from under a worn doormat, and unlocked it.

Lu Ran gaped. “Why would you keep a key there? What if someone broke in?”

Lu Ji gave him a strange look. “What’s there to steal? The most valuable thing inside is a life.”

Then, in a soft, mocking murmur: “And if that could be stolen, maybe it’d be a blessing.”

As the door swung open, stale air and greasy fumes wafted out.

Lu Ran wrinkled his nose tighter, baffled why he’d been brought here.

At the noise, someone came running out—a tall, gangly young man.

He must’ve been eating; rice clung to his lips, oil slicked his hands.

Smiling, he clapped and called out, “Brother.”

His tone was coarse, his manner odd—clearly not right in the head.

Lu Ran stumbled back, bumping into a broken chair with two legs missing. The floor was cratered with cracks.

Lu Ji stared at him. “The father here is a gambler. Every time he lost everything, he’d come home demanding money—smashing things at best, beating people at worst.

The mother was the only breadwinner, working herself ragged from dawn till dusk, yet still had to cook. Because the elder brother was simple-minded, unable to care for himself.”

His voice was calm, but beneath it pressed unbearable weight.

Lu Ran’s eyes widened. Hesitantly, he asked, “This… this is your home?”

“No. This is your home.”

The words fell like a stone. Whatever flicker of sympathy crossed Lu Ran’s face instantly twisted into terror. “No—you’re lying!”

“My father is Lu Group’s chairman! My brother isn’t some idiot like this! I’ll always stay in the Lu family!”

All the pent-up humiliation and anguish erupted. Looking at Lu Ran’s still unrepentant face, Lu Ji’s malice burst free.

Step by step, he advanced, forcing Lu Ran back. “Your future will be here. Just like mine was.

You’ll care for a brother who can’t manage even his own body—who sometimes loses control, fouling himself, and you’ll clean it up.

You’ll bear your mother’s complaints, her venting every time she’s humiliated outside.

You’ll inherit your gambler father’s mountain of debts. Every day, collectors will come banging at the door. Some will break it down with iron rods, slam your head against the wall, force you to kneel on shards of glass.”

Lu Ran, born and raised in luxury, had never faced anything like this. Terrified, his face drained as he imagined it all too vividly.

“Lu Ran, I’ll make this place your home.”

Lu Ji declared.

A declaration of war, shoving their stalemated relationship into irretrievable ruin.

Blank with horror, Lu Ran fumbled the door open and fled like a beaten dog.

—

The next day, when he returned to class, Lu Ran’s complexion was still ghastly. He’d barely slept all night.

Back at home, his parents—once so indulgent—had treated him coldly. Lu Zhenxing had been unusually distant, and Madam Lu avoided him entirely.

His mind replayed the horrors at the Huo household, gnawed by dread, too afraid even to close his eyes.

His expression screamed trouble, and Ye Chen, noticing, asked gently: “What happened? You look awful. Don’t tell me you’ll end up in the hospital again.”

Lu Ran didn’t have the strength to respond. But he did notice several cameras set up around the room, with staff adjusting equipment, while He Ming’an oversaw with a smile.

His nerves, frayed, twitched at the change. “What’s going on here?”

“Cheng Zishi’s filming his new program. He wanted our class as the backdrop,” He Ming’an said cheerfully. “He asked yesterday—everyone agreed.”

“Isn’t it fun?” Xie Wu chimed in. “Better than being bored.”

“Yeah, we’ll get to bask in some star power.” Ye Chen grinned.

“Why didn’t I know about this?” Lu Ran snapped, unraveling. Another scheme, another disruption—he was losing his mind. “Why did you agree?”

“Why not? Everyone’s interested,” He Ming’an replied smoothly, unfazed by the outburst. “And the agency’s paying for the space. Enrollment season’s coming—it’s free publicity.”

His motto: if I like it, and everyone else likes it, it’s good.

Lu Ran’s face darkened. But just then, Cheng Zishi himself said: “When we talked yesterday, you weren’t around. It wasn’t intentional. Besides, the program’s already been approved by the company.”

Citing the company silenced Lu Ran instantly. And oddly, today Cheng Zishi seemed unusually friendly toward him.

Though uneasy, he couldn’t stop it now. Bitterly, he swallowed his words.

Cheng Zishi watched him leave, a cold sneer curling his lips.

He Ming’an, ever the peacemaker, added kindly: “It’s all pre-recorded. If anyone dislikes how they look, Zishi promised to cut it out.”

Once the crew finished and left, He Ming’an returned to his seat, glancing at Gu Yang, who hadn’t looked up from his phone.

Finally, he asked: “Yang, who are you texting?”

“Song Yinxing.” Gu Yang’s brow furrowed faintly. “He says he wants to quit tutoring me.”

“Why? Didn’t I pay enough?”

He was already about to add a zero to the offer when He Ming’an stopped him: “Don’t. You’ll only stress him more.”

After a pause, he explained: “Ying said she saw Gu Qingxu picking trouble with him. Maybe that’s why he’s avoiding your place.”

Gu Yang didn’t know what conflict lay between them, but recalling Gu Qingxu’s usual behavior, he instantly assigned him all blame.

And having identified the cause, he promptly found a solution.

【Then I’ll come to your house.】

The reply came after a long minute, just an echo: 【You want to come to my house.】

Gu Yang’s logic was simple: 【Why not? You’ve been to mine. Isn’t it unfair otherwise?】

After another long silence, a single word appeared: 【Fine.】

Gu Yang set his phone down, screen visible. He Ming’an saw it clearly, smiling, but with a subtle, unreadable note.

“You, voluntarily visiting someone else’s home? That’s rare.”

“I’ve never seen it. I’m curious.”

The novel had droned on for so long without describing Song Yinxing’s home. Gu Yang decided to see for himself.

After school, Song Yinxing texted that he was waiting outside.

Gu Yang and He Ming’an found him by the gate.

He Ming’an greeted him first.

Seeing him brought back memories of that car ride—how He Ming’an, grinning like a nosy auntie, had chatted him nonstop from departure to arrival.

Asking about his dream university, career plans, three-year goals, five-year goals—even when he wanted to date, marry, have kids.

Now, Song Yinxing could barely look him in the eye.

“Looks like you rushed here, Xiao Song,” He Ming’an observed, noting his labored breathing.

Of course, Song Yinxing couldn’t admit he’d hurried home

to clean, then rushed back.

He deflected, turning to Gu Yang. “Shall we go?”

Only then did He Ming’an notice he was on a bicycle.

The temperature had plunged below freezing. Everyone else wore down jackets, yet Gu Yang was in just a coat, oblivious to the cold.

He Ming’an was about to suggest his driver take the bike in the trunk, when Gu Yang climbed onto the back seat.

Helpless, He Ming’an tugged Gu Yang’s fashionable but impractical scarf over his face. “Don’t catch cold.”

Having finally caught his breath, Song Yinxing noticed too. “I’ll call a car for you.”

“And you’ll chase me on your bike?” Gu Yang drawled, then chuckled at the image. “Forget it. Let’s go. I won’t freeze to death.”

Not far away, Gu Qingxu lowered his car window, watching Gu Yang ride off without sparing him a glance.

From the driver’s seat, Uncle Huang murmured with a sigh: “It’s been so long since I’ve seen the young master smile like that.”

At those words, Gu Qingxu finally couldn’t suppress a cold laugh.

Good, Gu Yang.

You’d rather shiver in the cold on a bicycle than sit in a warm car with me.