MCFEM C53

Chapter 53 – “You Can Hear It Too?”…

Seeing Xie Wu’s face pale, looking as though he might faint at any moment, Xie Kai could not help roaring in anger: “Where’s the doctor? Where the hell is the doctor?”

“If my brother isn’t treated, I’ll make every one of you pay with your lives!”

Yu Bai had only ever seen this kind of scene in short dramas. Terrified, he swallowed hard and pointed cautiously at himself. “Us too?”

He couldn’t help it. He’d heard in Gu Yang’s inner voice before—that when Nie Ying had hired thugs to trouble Song Yinxing, Xie Wu had rushed in to help and ended up dying by accident. And Xie Kai, in seeking revenge, had targeted Song Yinxing instead.

Was that even remotely logical?

What if this time he decided to bear a grudge against all of them in this circle?

He should never have come to watch this mess.

And this time, almost everyone was here.

Lu Ran was here for Lu Ji, of course. Ye Chen, that shit-stirrer, just thrived on chaos. He Ming’an was, as usual, trying to save everyone. And Gu Yang…

Why was Gu Yang here? Didn’t he hate crowded places the most? And he’d even brought Song Yinxing.

Why was Song Yinxing here? Did he even know Xie Wu?

Lu Ji stepped forward. “This started because of me. Xie was only injured because he tried to help me. I truly apologize—”

Before he could finish, Xie Kai was already jabbing a finger at his nose. “Of course it’s your fault! If anything happens to my brother, I will never let you off!”

As unreasonable as expected!

Yu Bai muttered inwardly.

Were they all going to be buried together here?

Lu Ji lowered his head without arguing. After all, it was undeniable that Xie Wu had been dragged into this because of him.

If not for that helmet…

It would’ve been different.

So thought Song Yinxing.

The circumstances were almost the same, but in his memory of the previous life, Xie Wu had died when he, surrounded by thugs, was rescued by Xie Wu—only for Xie Wu to be struck from behind with an iron rod.

This time it had been Lu Ji in the alley. And Xie Wu had survived.

His gaze slid to the side, to the helmet now smashed and warped beyond recognition.

Did ordinary people really carry such things around with them?

Had someone deliberately warned him?

Xie Wu finally managed to shake off his dizziness, trembling as he tugged his brother’s hand, trying to stop him from making a scene in the hospital.

His brother was fine in every other way, but when it came to him, he always lost his head—and often embarrassed himself.

Once he’d steadied himself, he scrutinized his brother from head to toe.

So the reason his brother liked Zhou Qinqin was because she was a widow?

Social death wasn’t the issue anymore—he desperately needed to think of a solution.

He’d always assumed it was Zhou Qinqin scheming to seduce his brother. In that case, all he needed to do was watch out for women approaching him.

But he never expected this. That his brother’s kink was exactly that—widow plus a child. Zhou Qinqin was practically tailor-made for him.

He feared that the moment she showed her face, his brother would pounce to kiss her.

As Xie Wu still wrestled with worry and silence, the Lu couple arrived.

The moment she entered, Madam Lu ignored everyone else and rushed straight to Lu Ji, checking him over anxiously. Only when she confirmed it was just superficial injuries did she finally exhale in relief.

“What happened? Xiao He said you were hospitalized, so we came at once. But isn’t it nothing serious after all?” Lu Zhenxing asked.

Before Lu Ji could answer, Lu Ran cut in: “It was just a fight with some street punks. Because it involved a lot of people, the class monitor thought it serious enough to notify you, so I rushed over as well.”

Hearing this, Lu Zhenxing’s expression grew darker.

In his eyes, brawling was hooligan behavior. For his son to be involved in such a thing—wouldn’t that be a laughingstock if word got out?

As expected, nothing good could come from that kind of family.

Lu Ji watched coldly as Lu Ran performed, and as Lu Zhenxing’s face shifted subtly. He no longer expected anything from this family, and so felt no sorrow.

Madam Lu, however, was filled with dread. People from that world had no sense of restraint.

“Come to think of it, those punks have already been arrested. I do wonder, though—we haven’t really offended anyone, so why were you ambushed in that alley? Could it have been one of Lu Corporation’s rivals?”

Lu Ji’s cold words gave Zhenxing a new train of thought. With the truth of the baby swap still fresh, he was deep in suspicion.

If that were true—if today they’d come for his son—then wouldn’t they one day come for him as well?

He immediately resolved to look into it. Madam Lu, meanwhile, used the opportunity to bring up again the matter of Lu Ji returning home.

This time, Lu Ji did not refuse. He slowly nodded.

This time, he would reclaim everything that was his.

Lu Ran was frantic, but it was clear there was no room for him to speak.

The Lu couple’s cold indifference to him now was so severe that he didn’t even dare act out, afraid of making things worse.

Finally, Xie Kai snapped, issuing a blunt order to leave. “Since he’s fine, you can all go now.”

He truly had no words for this couple. Could they not see his brother still lying in the bed?

They hadn’t even asked after him once.

If not for Xie Wu clinging to him desperately, he might have kicked them out himself.

“This matter—you Lu family must give me an explanation,” Xie Kai said bluntly. “Otherwise I will never let it rest.”

Being lectured by someone much younger left Lu Zhenxing furious, but this time they truly were in the wrong. He had no choice but to choke it down and reply stiffly, “Understood.”

A faint, mocking smile tugged at Ye Chen’s lips.

So many years, and they still hadn’t changed a bit.

They only ever rushed to the feverish child who cried, never sparing a single glance for the woman who had died silently.

If the Xie and Lu families clashed, it would be a marvelous show.

Now that the family was here, there was no need for the classmates to linger.

Catching Lu Ji’s glance back at him, Xie Wu patted his chest and grinned, signaling he was perfectly fine.

Then his eyes flicked—and he found someone else watching him.

It was Gu Yang’s… sweetheart? Wait—what even was their relationship now?

Dizzy as he was, Xie Wu couldn’t make sense of it.

Though he didn’t know why this person seemed to care so much—since they weren’t even that close—Xie Wu, ever fair, gave Song Yinxing a smile as well.

Song Yinxing quickly turned away, not wanting him to see anything unusual.

In the previous life, Xie Wu had simply been unlucky—dragged to his death because of him. Even when Xie Kai had come for revenge afterward, he had borne it in silence, never crying out once, even though he knew it was unfair.

Now the cold wind outside cleared his scattered thoughts a little, but his left ear began to buzz again.

The scars of the past still lingered in the present, reminding him never to forget that bloody death.

This was all Nie Ying’s debt.

It had been that way last time.

And this time?

Had Xie Wu escaped his destined calamity?

Rebirth had brought too many variables. Song Yinxing felt lost, adrift on a boat whose destination was unknown.

Gu Yang walked steadily forward, as though unaware someone was missing from his side.

Would he be the one at the helm?

Song Yinxing stared fixedly at that back, his heartbeat pounding louder than the cutting wind.

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lay everything bare to Gu Yang. Unconsciously, he stepped forward, wanting to draw closer.

But He Ming’an moved sideways to block his path.

No longer smiling, his face in the night looked shadowed and complicated.

Song Yinxing had never seen such an expression on him.

Not even in their past life, during the nationwide sensation of the student’s suicide that had dominated trending searches.

In front of chalk-drawn outlines and shocking splatters of blood, He Ming’an had only stood silently, head lowered, his inward expression betraying nothing.

Now, after a long silence, He Ming’an spoke softly.

“You can hear it too?”

Hear it?

Hear what?

Song Yinxing froze. “What do you mean?”

That bewildered expression looked genuine. Studying him, He Ming’an let the smile slip back onto his faintly cracked face. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you hear it? Sounds like sirens. Who knows what’s happened out there again.” He gestured casually toward the air.

Song Yinxing stared at him with suspicion. He was certain that wasn’t what He Ming’an had meant to say.

But he had no time for this now—he needed to find Gu Yang.

Yet He Ming’an didn’t move aside. Instead, with his usual smile, he slowly raised a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence.

—

“Have you seen it? That video going around online?”

“What video? Did I miss something?”

“I sent it in the group. Seriously, I’m dying—Nie Ying really embarrassed himself this time.”

Clicking the link, Nie Ying’s voice immediately blared.

“…What kind of dump did you pick? So shabby I lost my appetite the moment I sat down.”

On screen, a boy’s face was filled with arrogance, while before him stood a simple, timid-looking woman, twisting her fingers and bowing her head.

Then the boy summoned the owner, and, with a flourish, flung a wad of cash at him, demanding to rent out the whole place.

The video already had millions of likes on Douyin, even hitting trending topics.

Scrolling the comments, nearly all were mockery.

“God, so this is the daily life of a dragon-descended young master? Who dares breathe near him?”

“This is insane. Think having a bit of cash makes you something?”

“Look at the details—he even left a bunch of cigarette butts on the table. Are we supposed to admire his wild, rebellious, cash-flinging young-CEO-in-training vibes?”

The internet never lacked for jokesters. Before long, there were already several remix edits, complete with electronic beats.

Playing one rap version had several classmates collapsing on their desks in laughter.

Everyone was laughing at him—and he was the funniest of all.

As the video spread wider, mocking voices were joined by others.

“Wait, was that woman his mother? Why do they look so mismatched?”

“Could it be he’s some leeching parasite, sucking his own family dry for his cushy life?”

“Now that’s going too far.”

As the comments took this turn, a user with a generic ID popped up under the top comment, replying with lengthy detail about the boy and the woman’s tangled relationship—complete with allusions to old grudges between wealthy families.

Yu Bai’s expression twisted as he clicked the ID. Then, face numb, he lifted his eyes toward Ye Chen, who was typing away gleefully.

He’d seen that alt account before. Ye Chen had shared videos with it, and the chat logs were still there.

Of course.

Even Nie Ying wasn’t spared his fuel-on-the-fire antics—at least he was fair.

“It’s a pity Nie Ying spends all his time busy with life, hardly ever online. Who knows when he’ll see this.”

Despite the bandages around his head, diagnosed with a concussion, Xie Wu still stubbornly came to class.

He truly didn’t think it a big deal—and he didn’t want Lu Ji to feel guilty.

“If he sees it, he’ll just rage and curse and then get the videos taken down. And that’d ruin the fun,” Ye Chen said cheerfully.

“True enough.” Yu Bai didn’t agree outright in public, but muttered his own assent. “Online mocking is one thing—it won’t really affect him much, right?”

“Don’t underestimate the internet,” He Ming’an said with meaning. “Even if each person leaves just one comment, in the end, the weight is terrifying.”

Recalling countless cases of cyberbullying leading to suicides, Yu Bai nodded in agreement.

But Nie Ying’s case was the very definition of “play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” Not worth sympathy.

Ying Jiayi, watching the video, could not laugh.

Yu Bai, noticing, asked with concern: “It’s hilarious—why aren’t you laughing? Something on your mind?”

She murmured, “It just reminded me… my family once considered pairing me with Nie Ying.”

Yu Bai: “…”

Talk about unlucky romance prospects.

The chatter in class eventually prompted Gu Yang to lift his head. He beckoned to Yu Bai, intending to watch the video from his phone.

Just as Yu Bai was about to hand it over, his sharp eyes caught a fresh comment appear in the feed.

“The rich really are a mess. Didn’t a marketing account once post gossip about a certain G-family scion? That Weibo vanished, the account got deleted. Better enjoy these videos while they last.”

Quick as a flash, Yu Bai pulled his phone back and even downvoted the comment.

“Never mind, nothing worth seeing. Just Nie Ying throwing a tantrum—we’ve all seen that before.”

Gu Yang propped his chin on his hand, sitting up straight, his expression tinged with curious amusement.

Yu Bai realized belatedly he’d just spoken ill of Nie Ying in a panic—out of character for him. And Gu Yang was sharp enough to catch verbal slips.

Resigned, he ruffled his golden hair.

“Your roots are showing,” Ying Jiayi remarked.

“Oh? Obvious? Guess I should touch it up soon.”

“Better not,” He Ming’an advised kindly. “Light dye is brutal on hair.”

Yu Bai had only said it casually anyway. The blond hair was from a punishment during a game of Truth or Dare, when he’d drawn a dye card to give their homeroom teacher a hard time.

Gu Yang, flipping through a magazine then, had suggested the color, insisting it would suit him.

Resigned to becoming a tacky yellow-haired punk, Yu Bai had agreed—only for Gu Yang to lend him a salon card, producing a surprisingly good shade.

When he returned to school, classmates had reacted with wide-eyed wows—even Ying Jiayi couldn’t help saying it suited him.

Only their math teacher, walking in, had nearly stumbled out of his glasses.

Now, Gu Yang stared at his roots in a daze.

With easy bravado, Yu Bai said: “If you like it, I can always keep it dyed.”

“No need. I’m already tired of it,” Gu Yang drawled.

“You can just dye it again for my funeral someday. Save the dreary gray from being so ugly.”