Chapter 5: The Courtyard

Mo Yu’s sudden appearance went unnoticed by Chi Chi for some time. Chi Chi curled his short, chubby little legs and sat in a hidden corner by the wall, his hands tucked under his knees, his small face buried deep within them.

A sharp ache seized Mo Yu’s heart—tenderness, guilt, and self-reproach all at once. She approached quietly, only then realizing that Chi Chi was still softly sobbing, his tiny shoulders quivering pitifully. Mo Yu wanted to embrace him, but paused half a step away, listening to his murmured words.

“Wuu... Sister must not like me... that’s... that’s why... hic... she left... no, it’s... it’s because... because she went... went to the bathroom, so... so she left... hic... just for a little while... wuu... Sister... I won’t make you angry anymore... hic... please come back... hic... come back, please... wuu wuu~~~”

Chi Chi was deeply aggrieved, and Mo Yu’s heart ached for him. She had been gone for less than five minutes, and Chi Chi had already awakened—proof of how deeply he relied on her.

“Chi Chi, be good, Sister didn’t leave. Don’t cry.” Mo Yu scooped him up in her arms and carried him back to the bed like a princess.

“Sister, I’ll be good, don’t leave.”

“Mm, Chi Chi is the best, Sister won’t leave. Sister will always stay with you, alright?”

“Okay.” Chi Chi’s soft voice sounded, and soon enough he fell asleep again in Mo Yu’s arms.

Mo Yu, still holding Chi Chi, tried to enter the space, and succeeded—she was delighted. Using her spiritual sense, she discovered her parents had already reached the hospital, so she brought Chi Chi out again.

Now her spiritual sense could reach up to two hundred meters.

Mo Yu unlocked the door and lay back down on the bed.

After a little while, she heard the door open and turned her head to gaze at her parents.

Her mother felt Mo Yu’s forehead and sighed softly.

“Mom, I want to go home.”

“No, the doctor said you need to be observed for a few more days.”

“Mom, I don’t want to stay here anymore.” Mo Yu had no choice but to make up an excuse.

“That’s still not possible.”

“My head is dizzy, my head hurts, my stomach hurts, my belly hurts!” Mo Yu finished and felt embarrassed—how had she become so childlike?

In truth, Mo Yu didn’t realize that in front of Mo Changfeng and Di Zilan, she would always be their little girl—never quite grown up. That’s what parents are, that’s what parental love is.

“Changfeng, take care of your daughter!” Seeing her child act spoiled, Mo Yu’s mother only wanted to indulge her, and Mo Yu’s father was no different.

“It’s alright, Zilan. There are doctors at the old man’s compound, nothing serious.”

“Well, alright then.”

In the end, her mother relented.

They packed up and called the old man’s driver. It wasn’t that Mo Changfeng didn’t want to drive himself, but the military compound’s security was strict; ordinary cars were not permitted entry.

“Sister, hold me.” Chi Chi had woken up, his white, chubby face resembling a little dumpling.

Mo Yu was in great spirits, all her worries forgotten.

Leaving the hospital, they were greeted by the old man’s security guard and driver.

They climbed into a black sedan. Mo Yu’s excitement slowly faded into calmness.

She had more important matters to consider.

She had awakened on July 5th; today was the 6th. The college entrance examination was already over. The anxiety and restlessness of her previous life were gone, replaced by only that one thing...

“Xiao Yu, we’re at Grandpa’s house. Why are you spacing out?” Her mother nudged Mo Yu, who was holding Chi Chi and staring blankly.

“Ah... oh.”

“Could she have hurt her head?” Her mother whispered secretly to her father.

“Sister, did you hurt your head?” Chi Chi asked, placing his little paw on Mo Yu’s forehead. Mo Yu twitched her lips, pulled his hand down, and bit it gently. “Sister didn’t.”

“Oh.” Chi Chi leaned against her shoulder, his voice soft and aggrieved.

Mo Yu rubbed her forehead. Was this really her little brother?

She rang the doorbell, and the door was opened by the family’s old housekeeper, Aunt Zhao.

Aunt Zhao was now over fifty, and should have retired, but couldn’t bear to leave the familiar home.

Mo Yu had grown up under Aunt Zhao’s care and was deeply loved by her. Mo Yu, though she had the airs of a young lady, only showed them to strangers. Once familiar, it was clear she fiercely protected her own. Unlike Mo Qing, whose temper was directed at everyone except her elders, regarding others with disdain—a trait that made her unpopular, though Mo Qing seemed to wear it as a badge of honor.

“Oh! Young master, madam, miss and young sir are back!” Aunt Zhao exclaimed in delight as she opened the door, ignoring Mo Changfeng and Di Zilan, and spun Mo Yu around in a comforting embrace. “Goodness, Xiao Yu, thank heavens you’re alright! Otherwise I’d worry myself sick! How could you be so careless?”

Seeing her parents’ faces darken, Mo Yu quickly acted spoiled with Aunt Zhao. “Auntie, I want your Beijing-style shredded pork. It’s been so long.”

“Alright, alright! Didn’t you just have it the other day? How could you forget?”

“Auntie!”

“Alright.” She turned to the kitchen.

Mo Yu stood holding Chi Chi, thinking—how many years had it been since she’d tasted Aunt Zhao’s cooking?

But she only paused a moment, then went to her parents.

“Mom, Dad, I’m alright now. I won’t do anything foolish again.”

“Good, never lose your dignity again. My daughter is the best!” Mo Changfeng affectionately stroked her hair, took Chi Chi from her arms, and said, “Go lie down a bit. We’ll call you for dinner. Have a good sleep.”

“Okay, then I’ll go.” She turned and headed upstairs.

Once inside her room, Mo Yu gazed at the familiar yet strange surroundings, overwhelmed with emotion. She tipped her head back and collapsed onto the soft bed, savoring the hard-won happiness.

Hmph, she really had to thank Lin Mo for that push. Mo Yu thought with a hint of sarcasm.

How could she have ever fancied such a beast in her past life? She must have been blind! Enough of that—there was no point dwelling on it. In just a month, August 6th would arrive.

Darkness, despair, the apocalypse—all would descend. Who could still care about romance and poetry then?

The room was strangely quiet, as if foreboding danger.

Danger, was it?

Heh...