Chapter 97: The Frontier Town

On the way back, Bian Yang’s phone kept ringing.

It began with just text messages, then calls, and soon calls came one after another without pause. Even the taxi driver was annoyed by the noise; seeing the young man growing restless, hanging up again and again while the other party persisted, he advised him, “Maybe it’s something important. Why don’t you answer?”

Bian Yang’s expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on the ceaselessly chattering screen.

Finally, he swiped to answer, pressed the phone to his ear, and spoke with a cold tone, “Hello.”

Perhaps surprised by his sudden reply, the caller paused briefly before speaking respectfully, “Young master, the old master asks you to return home. He says he needs to speak with you.”

Bian Yang lowered his eyes and looked out the window. “I’m not coming back. Tell him I’m already dead.”

This person always managed to drag his mood down, no matter how good it was.

The taxi driver couldn’t help glancing at him.

The boy spoke calmly, though his irritation was visibly growing.

A sigh sounded from the phone. “Young master, the old master found out about you using Deputy General Li for personal matters. He says if you don’t return to the capital within three days, he’ll send someone to bring you back. Also, he’s not been well lately…”

“Let him try, then,” Bian Yang cut him off, uninterested in hearing more. “Let’s see if he really has what it takes to bring me back.”

There was a long silence before the caller spoke again, “Young master, lately the old master has been sorting through the lady’s belongings. There are things she left for you…”

“Tell that old bastard not to touch my mother’s things!”

Something seemed to snap in Bian Yang; his voice rose sharply, his dark eyes filled with biting cold.

Realizing his own overreaction, he closed his eyes for a moment, breathed deeply, and turned to the driver.

“Please take me to the nearest airport.”

“The airport’s quite far—might cost two hundred,” the driver said.

“Yes. Please get me there as soon as possible.”

Bian Yang hung up. The flickering glow of streetlights outside reflected off his shifting expression, making him seem even colder.

He closed his eyes and leaned back, exhausted, the phone clenched tightly in his palm, veins standing out as he struggled to control his turbulent emotions.

Two and a half hours by taxi, five hours by plane, and finally he landed in the capital.

Dawn was just breaking. As the plane touched down, a black Rolls Royce that had waited near the terminal for some time slowly approached.

Passengers still aboard were surprised to see a private car drive into the restricted area.

A middle-aged man dressed in a black suit stepped out and stood respectfully at the aircraft door.

When he saw the young man emerge from the cabin, he immediately moved to take his belongings, but was brushed aside.

“I’ll do it myself.”

The driver’s hand fell empty. He glanced at the several large plastic bags—seemingly filled with local specialties—and withdrew, bending to open the car door. The young man slid inside, placing the bags on the seat beside him.

Outside, neon lights streamed past, the river of traffic flickering, city center scenes saturated with hedonistic splendor.

The black Rolls Royce steered clear of the bustling streets and headed toward Nan Chi Zi Avenue, slowly entering the western district.

Bian Yang half-opened his eyes, glanced at the passing streets, and withdrew his gaze. “Why are we going there?”

The driver gripped the wheel, his gaze flicking briefly into the rearview mirror before replying, “Sir is with the old lady. She missed you and told us to bring you as soon as you landed…”

“Go to Bamboo Creek Garden.”

He kept his emotions in check, his voice flat and unruffled.

The driver glanced at the rearview mirror uneasily, but continued onward, his speed noticeably slower.

Bian Yang repeated, “I said, go to Bamboo Creek Garden.”

“But sir—”

Bian Yang sneered, “I came to see my mother’s belongings, not him.”

He tapped the armrest beside him, his voice calm but sharp as a blade. “Either you take me to Bamboo Creek Garden, or I get out. Your choice.”

After their marriage, Bian Cheng and Qi Mingwan moved out of the family’s old residence. Since Qi Mingwan worked at Qingbei Medical College, they bought a marital home in Bamboo Creek Garden, the closest to the college for her convenience.

Bian Yang was born there. Though the couple owned countless properties, the three of them lived there for nearly nineteen years.

The driver knew Bian Yang was not one to bend, so he gritted his teeth and turned around.

Yet while waiting at a red light, he quietly sent a text to the other side.

The car eased into the villa district of Bamboo Creek Garden. Bian Yang got out, carrying his things.

It was seven in the morning; the neighborhood was already stirring.

Most residents were veteran professors or deans from Qingbei Academy who’d watched Bian Yang grow up. They greeted him warmly, asking about his life.

Bian Yang had no mind for pleasantries but couldn’t ignore these elders. After a brief conversation, he reluctantly parted with half his bags before escaping.

Standing at the entrance, he gazed at the four-story house for a long time. Greenery had already crept up the sides, tiger vines scaling halfway up the wall towards the windows. The swing in the yard swayed gently in the morning breeze. Until he was seven or eight, his mother would hold him on the swing every year at this time, reading together.

He stood there for a while, until his eyes stung, then slowly lowered his gaze and entered, fingerprint recognition unlocking the door.

Uncle Wang, the housekeeper, heard the commotion and rushed out, visibly moved. “Young master, you’re back.”

Bian Cheng and his wife had always been busy, rarely home. After Bian Yang was born, they’d hired Uncle Wang to care for him.

After Qi Mingwan passed away, Uncle Wang was entrusted with managing the house.

Bian Yang handed him a few bags. “Uncle Wang, these are for your health.”

“Ah.” Uncle Wang wiped away tears as he accepted them, placing the gifts on the living room table while Bian Yang headed upstairs.

Everything was as before; not a single furnishing had changed.

He stood before a door, holding the key, lifting his hand several times before finally unlocking it.

Before leaving for Liangcheng, he had placed all of Qi Mingwan’s belongings in this room; only he and Uncle Wang had keys.

The desk was spotless. Aside from routine cleaning, nothing had been touched.

A sound came from downstairs, and Bian Yang’s lashes quivered. He stepped out, locking the door behind him.

Bian Cheng tossed his suit jacket at Uncle Wang, loosened his collar, and drained the glass Uncle Wang handed him.

“Where’s that brat?”

Uncle Wang’s lips moved, but before he could answer, footsteps sounded on the staircase.

The young man stood above, hands in his pockets, looking down from the stairs.

Bian Cheng looked up at him, at the face so closely resembling his wife. He suppressed his temper, “So you finally remembered to come home!”

Bian Yang descended nonchalantly, seeing that his mother’s belongings had been untouched, ignoring his father as he headed for the door.

Just as he reached it, a loud crash—glass shattered at his feet.

“Stay right there! Where do you think you’re going?!”

Bian Yang tilted his head back, closed his eyes, his tall figure still relaxed. The dim light obscured his expression.

Sensing things were going poorly, Uncle Wang hurried to intervene. “Sir, the young master has just returned. Let him rest a bit.”

“What’s he got to rest for? Left a mess for me a month ago and vanished. Besides, I can touch my wife’s things if I damn well please—who is he to dictate?”

Bian Cheng’s voice grew lower and colder, each sentence heavier, clearly barely containing his anger.

The atmosphere was taut, on the verge of eruption.

Bian Cheng stared at Bian Yang’s back. “Your mother arranged your school for you, and you refused to go. Insisted on leaving for overseas studies. Fine, I let you. But what the hell were you doing in Liangcheng? You canceled your application to study abroad, started fighting with street punks, and even ended up at the police station?”

He laughed humorlessly, not hiding his sarcasm.

“Didn’t you swear you wouldn’t use my connections before you left? Yet in the end, you asked Li Qi to dig up information for you, and Qin’s kid to bail you out with the police. Bian Yang, you’ve managed to disgrace me all the way to Liangcheng. Aren’t you something!”