Chapter 10: Seeing Through Everything Memento mori

Back when the Huo Family was in decline, it was only through Xie Qingman’s mother that they managed to regain their former glory. Unfortunately, after achieving success, the bond forged through adversity became the most shameful past the Huo Family wanted to erase. When her brother was alive, his iron-fisted methods made him the standout among the younger generation. With the elders placing their hopes in him, no one dared to entertain any improper ambitions.

When news of his death reached the country, the malice that had been lurking beneath the surface began to surge violently, swallowing the facade of calm.

The old lady, who usually recited Buddhist scriptures and appeared compassionate, turned a blind eye when trouble arose, tacitly allowing her two uncles and Zhou Yu to join forces in their haste to push her out of the picture.

For fame, for profit—everyone had their own calculations.

Xie Qingman had been too well-protected before, so it wasn’t until the day of the funeral that she realized she was the only one in the entire Huo Family who felt like an outsider.

Coincidentally, the lawyer handling the will met with an accident. The police, following procedure, launched an investigation and froze most of the assets, buying time for the acquisition of shares. Unfortunately, by then, staying in Hong Kong had become meaningless for her—if she wanted to overhaul the upper management, regain a voice in the boardroom, or set traps to uncover the assets of other Huo Family members, many things couldn’t be done openly.

At least for now, she couldn’t proceed under her own identity.

After all, as long as she remained, she was a living target.

The Huo Family’s assets won’t be frozen forever. The interim leader will eventually be confirmed, Xie Qingman said, her tone gentle yet calm. We’ve poured so much capital into this. If my two uncles and Zhou Yu are still in power by the shareholders’ meeting, the situation will become very ugly.

She picked up the champagne glass beside her, smiling faintly and sarcastically as she retorted, If we lose the lawsuit, how do you plan to handle it?

Losing doesn’t matter. This lawsuit is just a stopgap measure, the voice on the other end remained relaxed, with a careless nonchalance. It’s just that if you want to wipe them out completely, it’ll take me some time.

Xie Qingman paused, her fingers stilling as she vaguely guessed something. She didn’t press further, only letting out a cold laugh.

Me?

She took a sip from her glass, feeling it was inferior to the Dom Pérignon P2 opened by the brand at yesterday’s reception.

All her interest vanished.

As she ended the call, Xie Qingman pushed the champagne glass aside.

Beep—

Her screen lit up suddenly with yesterday’s friend request.

It had just been accepted.

Following it was a new message:

Where?

Just two words, abrupt and contextless.

Much like Ye Yansheng’s temperament and behavior—unpredictable, dictated entirely by his whims.

She seemed like nothing more than a passing amusement to him.

Xie Qingman didn’t react much, only curling her lips slightly in a smile tinged with mockery.

She tapped on his profile picture.

It was minimalist in style—a nearly pure black background with a white arc positioned slightly to the left.

His Moments were set to three-day visibility, but his personal signature stood out prominently:

「Memento mori」

Latin.

Roughly meaning remember you must die, that all things must come to an end;

It also meant living with death in mind.

Xie Qingman lowered her brows slightly, lifting a hand to smooth her long hair, her expression still cool and detached.

She turned off the screen.

More than two hours later, after the plane landed at Pudong International Airport, she unhurriedly snapped a random photo.

Aww, what bad timing! It’s exam week, so I had to return to Shencheng first. I’ll have to pay you back next time.

[I should’ve treated you to a meal before leaving.]

The message was sent while Ye Yansheng remained at the Ye family ancestral residence.

The snow in the capital had fallen all night before finally ceasing, layering the six-courtyard siheyuan compound in thick, dense whiteness. In the depth of winter where flowers and trees stood bare, dark pines stood resilient while cultivated Dragon’s Swim plum trees twisted through the cold, nestled among artificial mountains and flowing streams – an ancient, tranquil scene. The landscape of Qianhe Garden blended seamlessly, majestic and opulent.

Snow crowned the yellow glazed tiles, where carved dragons and painted phoenixes adorned upturned eaves. Passing through the long corridor, one could see vibrant paintings leaping to life.

Ye Yansheng nearly collided with Ye Zhengjun who was heading out.

Father.

His calm voice broke the garden’s serenity as ripples shimmered beyond the Floating Leaves Pavilion, where koi fish traced patterns in the water.

Ye Zhengjun stared at his son, brow furrowing. When did you return?

Yesterday.

Months apart hadn’t softened their relationship; encounters still sparked like lit firecrackers. Though not currently explosive, Ye Zhengjun’s expression darkened immediately.

Before he could voice his displeasure, someone hurried over – his father’s subordinate, whom he’d met before.

Passing Ye Yansheng, the man respectfully addressed Second Young Master before turning to Ye Zhengjun: The guests have arrived in the banquet hall.

The conversation ended there.

Ye Yansheng hadn’t wanted to return, already anticipating his father’s words – disappointment in his perceived lack of ambition, displeasure at his career shift from military to business, viewing his abandonment of the family’s chosen path as cowardly and shameful.

Unpleasant memories simmered beneath the surface, irritation rising until he found himself at the nearby shooting range.

The facility was spacious and substantial. This approval-only, membership-based shooting range rarely opened to the public. Only a select few ever visited.

Though the firearms here weren’t standard-issue weapons with their powerful recoil, they came in various models and styles.

Ye Yansheng habitually adjusted the scope, then suddenly remembered something, his eyes clouding with gloom.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to live, just… just wanted to live properly…

Shoot! Shoot!

Where’s my son? I’m asking where my son is!

Why you… Why should it be you!

Haha, should you see your expression now? I told you – risking your life for such trash would eventually destroy everything in your hands.

Bang, bang, bang –

Bullets seemed to transcend time, piercing through memories as they repeatedly struck the same spot on the target until it nearly tore through.

Ye Yansheng’s hand holding the gun showed distinct knuckles, remaining naturally steady throughout.

Light fell at an unusual angle, illuminating his cold profile and sharply defined jawline.

Not an ounce of rustiness.

After all this time, nothing seemed changed – some things had etched themselves into bone and marrow, becoming instinct.

Yet he knew these were lifeless things.

Young Master Ye, shall I time and call your shots? a staff member tentatively inquired.

The muzzle swung around, aiming at the figure behind him.

The staff member froze.

Though the gun was empty, the gesture remained dangerously unsettling.

No one noticed his trembling hand.

Subtle, yet lethal.

The hand gripping the gun tightened momentarily, knuckles turning white from excessive force, veins bulging prominently.

Ye Yansheng’s eyes and brow seemed shrouded in a layer of gloom, a turbulent ferocity barely restrained, chillingly cold and terrifying.

Get out.

The gun in his hand lifted slightly. You’re not needed here.

The staff member’s expression relaxed slightly as they retreated.

Silence enveloped the surroundings once more, and Ye Yansheng’s expression was grim to the extreme. Just then, his phone vibrated and lit up.

It was a friend urging him to come out.

You’re back in the capital, right? Let’s set something up, come hang out.

The noise on the other end was grating, irritating Ye Yansheng. He pressed his fingers to his temples, his tone equally cold.

Maybe later.

He disassembled the gun parts with one hand.

Young Master Ye is such a busy man, putting on quite the act, the other person sneered sarcastically. How come when He Jiu calls, you go, but not for me? Are we even brothers?

Ye Yansheng paid no mind to the provocation. He let out a faint, derisive laugh and repeated the same two words, Maybe later.

Hey, you—

He muted the call and hung up. Only then did Ye Yansheng notice a message from Xie Qingman in the chatbox.

Ahh, such bad timing! It’s exam week, so I had to go back to Shencheng first. I’ll have to pay you back next time.

I should’ve treated you to a meal before leaving.

Her tone was neither distant nor intimate, but it was accompanied by a sticker—a pitiful, eagerly waiting kitten.

It seemed as though she was blaming him for leaving her hanging for so long.

Ye Yansheng raised an eyebrow slightly.

His previously gloomy mood suddenly lifted by half. He walked out, casually opening the photo she had sent:

On the airport moving walkway, a hand pulled a suitcase—clean, fair, and delicate as soft jade.

A casual snapshot, entirely unforced, yet it effortlessly pulled him back to the scene from yesterday—

When she had tugged at his sleeve, her eyes clear and bright, focused solely on him. And when she realized the atmosphere had shifted, her timid gaze held both annoyance and a hint of probing.

Three parts genuine, seven parts feigned—a rather clumsy little trick.

Ye Yansheng’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

It was hard to say what it meant.

The deceitful depths of human hearts were crystal clear to him. Yet, he still found himself thinking of that exquisitely beautiful face amidst the swirl of incense smoke.

The chat conversation sank without a trace, but she passed the first round of auditions for Asking the Throne, and the production team sent a notice for the final audition. Coincidentally, it was scheduled after exam week. Xie Qingman was busy finishing her thesis, group assignments, and various exams.

By the time she stepped out of the auditorium, it was already evening.

Xie Qingman was dressed lightly.

An embroidered strapless gown with a voluminous, vibrant, and extravagantly colored skirt, draped with a black cashmere coat that accentuated her graceful figure and radiant beauty.

She tightened her coat, lost in thought, when a black Lykan HyperSport suddenly pulled up in front of her.

Her steps halted, and she froze for a moment.

It was Ye Yansheng.

Shencheng’s winter always carried a damp chill, gloomy and gray, with a biting cold that seeped deep into the bones.

Yet the twilight glow was beautiful—the evening clouds at the horizon blazed like fire, casting a slanting light on the massive, cold skyscrapers. The thick, fiery clouds rolled magnificently, brilliant and vibrant.

The car’s interior was steeped in shadow, the twilight filtering unimpeded through the bare branches, casting dappled light over Ye Yansheng.

With one hand on the steering wheel, he tilted his chin slightly. Get in.

Disheveled strands partially veiled his brow and eyes, including the faint break at the end of his left eyebrow. Beneath his black shirt were lean, powerful arms with distinct blue veins—she remembered last time she saw him, he wore a Richard Mille RM056 tourbillon watch on his wrist; this time, it was bare, nothing at all.

The untouchable aura that usually surrounded him had faded.

What are you doing here?

To see you. Ye Yansheng lifted his eyelids, his gaze dark and heavy as it fixed on her. Get in.

Xie Qingman didn’t move.

Honestly, she hadn’t expected him to come straight to Shencheng.

After just two seconds of hesitation, she saw Ye Yansheng frown slightly. Apparently impatient with her delay, he pulled the car door open.

Light swept across his features, cold and brooding.

As he strode toward her, Xie Qingman instinctively stepped back. Still holding her Kelly bag, she thrust it forward, blocking his path.

This doesn’t seem like a simple friendly visit.

Ye Yansheng raised a brow lightly.

Xie Qingman’s cool, detached eyes swept over him, her voice lowering—part caution, part subtle mockery:

Someone like you looks more like a debt-collecting kidnapper showing up at the door.

He let out a careless, low chuckle. Maybe I am collecting a debt. Weren’t you going to treat me to a meal?

There was that.

But wasn’t that just a polite remark?

Before she could think further or refuse, the black Kelly bag between them was plucked from her grasp.

First time kidnapping, still getting the hang of it. His voice dropped, cool and deliberate as he stared at her. Are you going to cooperate and come willingly, or do I have to make you?

He carried himself with a lazy, almost indifferent posture, his smile ambiguous and roguish, exuding an inexplicable allure.

Xie Qingman’s brow twitched.

She had to admit—some people possessed an extraordinary aura, ruthless to the core, yet blessed with a face that made others willingly fall. Even with his intimidating distance, if he paused even briefly, plenty would rush toward him like moths to a flame.

People kept streaming out of the auditorium. After just a short exchange, subtle glances were already drifting their way.

Too conspicuous.

Not wanting to become fodder for gossip, Xie Qingman stepped around him, lifted the hem of her dress, and slid into the passenger seat.

Quietly, she smoothed her skirt.

But two seconds later, the faint rustling stopped. As if remembering something, she made to rise.

The moment she shifted, Ye Yansheng gripped her elbow and pulled her back. Going somewhere?

His grip was too strong—she could barely move.

Wherever he’d pressed sent a faint numbness up her arm, all the way to the tip of her little finger.

Their eyes met. Xie Qingman’s expression was sincere, innocent, and helpless. Your umbrella—forgot it?

What umbrella?

His patience seemed spent, his expression cooling into one that clearly said, wasting my time.

With one hand holding her in place, he tugged the seatbelt with the other, securing her firmly in the passenger seat. His gaze swept over her.

You think I came all this way for a damn umbrella?

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