After Rebirth, The Real Young Master Began to Maintain His Health

Chapter 15

This Friday afternoon, school let out early with no evening self-study sessions. The other two students in Chen Mo’s dorm had already gone home, leaving Chen Mo alone to retrieve a package from the security office. Before he could open it, a message from a recently added anonymous friend popped up on his messaging app.

“Did you send the money?”

Chen Mo glanced at the screen, waited two seconds, then replied: Just doing a good deed.

Not expecting the other party to believe him, he added: I saw your post on the community forum asking for help.

A quick response followed: “That’s too much money.”

Chen Mo: Aren’t you a university student in a programming major? Who knows, you might be a big name in the industry one day. Consider it an investment—I’m not in a hurry for a return, five or ten years would be fine.

After about half a minute, another message arrived: “Thank you.”

Chen Mo replied: You’re welcome.

Looking at the now silent phone, Chen Mo smiled. He had no intention of revealing his real identity—who would believe that a high school sophomore could send that much money?

In truth, 28-year-old Chen Mo wasn’t only busy squabbling with Yang Zhi like two roosters in a fight. He also owned a small tech company, still in its early stages, but few people knew about it since he wasn’t listed as the legal representative.

His business partner was a genius in AI technology, none other than the university student with the paralyzed mother who couldn’t afford her medical bills. In the future, this person would become known as “Old K,” a man of few words and a no-nonsense attitude—just as he appeared in the text messages.

When the accident happened in Chen Mo’s past life, he didn’t feel much regret. The only thing that nagged at him was leaving Old K behind, having just started their company. Chen Mo, as the investor, had died, leaving things unfinished, with limited funds. He didn’t know if Old K ever found another investor after his death.

What Chen Mo could do now, though limited, was at least something.

He glanced at the investment portfolio he had been managing. The returns were finally showing signs of progress, even if it felt like cheating, relying on knowledge he had acquired in his previous life. He didn’t feel guilty, though; after all, he wasn’t running a lottery for billions of dollars—he didn’t remember those numbers anyway. Still, leaving money on the table would be a fool’s mistake.

Without any guilt, Chen Mo logged out of the app.

Soon after, a message popped up, this time from a familiar contact—an avatar of a husky dog.

Guo Yiyang: “What are you up to?”

Guo Yiyang: “I heard you didn’t go home.”

Guo Yiyang: “Wanna grab dinner? It’s still early.”

Guo Yiyang: “...Asleep?”

Chen Mo: “Who else is coming?”

Guo Yiyang: “Oh, you’re awake! Just the usual crew.”

Guo Yiyang: “Remember those guys from the internet cafe? They’ve been waiting for you to treat them to dinner since last time, but don’t worry, we’re just hanging out—no schemes.”

Chen Mo recalled that night at the internet cafe, where they had planned to eat barbecue but ended up in the hospital instead.

Chen Mo thought for a moment, then replied: Alright, I’ll come. Send me the address and feel free to “scam” me.

Guo Yiyang sent back a giant thumbs-up emoji.

Half an hour later, Chen Mo met up with Guo Yiyang and the others at a night market, just two streets away from the internet cafe. There were about ten or so people, including some familiar faces, along with a few girls.

“Over here, Mo-shao!” someone called out to him from a distance.

Chen Mo walked over and sat next to Guo Yiyang, glancing around. “Everyone here?”

“Just waiting on you,” Guo Yiyang said, placing a bottle of beer in front of him.

Chen Mo pushed it aside. “I don’t drink. Order whatever you want, it’s on me.”

This was met with a round of cheers.

The warm evening breeze carried with it the smell of sizzling barbecue, the sound of clinking beer bottles, and the lively chatter—quintessential elements of summer.

Chen Mo, as usual, didn’t talk much. He picked at the skewers in front of him, listening to the others chatter. The conversation flowed from school gossip to stories from neighboring schools, which was when he realized the girls at the table were from another school.

One of the girls, who had been eyeing him since he arrived, finally couldn’t resist and whispered to the person next to her, asking who he was.

Among the rowdy group of guys drinking and swearing, Chen Mo stood out, despite his quiet demeanor.

He was dressed simply, in a plain white T-shirt and jeans. Under the dim lights, his skin appeared almost unnaturally pale. His slightly tousled hair and lean frame, from the delicate wrist bones resting on his knee to the faintly visible collarbones beneath his shirt, made him stand out effortlessly. He sat quietly, occasionally responding to someone’s question but mostly chatting with Guo Yiyang.

When the girl asked about him, one of the guys chuckled. “Don’t even think about it—Mo-shao isn’t someone just anyone can pursue. If you check out our school’s forum, it’s all about him these days.”

“Really? He’s that famous? Like Xie Siyan?” the girl asked, her face flushing slightly at the mention of the other boy’s name.@@@@

Chen Mo couldn’t help but marvel—Xie Siyan was popular even at other schools.

Turning to his nephew leaning against the wall, he bared his teeth. “Half an hour more and you’d have been picking up my corpse! Where were you?”

“I could still pick out a nice plot for you,” Xie Siyan replied, putting away his phone.

Xi Jianxing nearly coughed up blood.

Tonight, his good nephew—Xie family’s eldest son—had been dragged to some fancy banquet, dressed in a crisp white shirt and trousers, with his hair gelled neatly. He looked devastatingly handsome.

But still devoid of any humanity.

“Can you walk?” Xie Siyan asked, grabbing his uncle by the arm as he swayed. “The driver’s waiting.”

“If I can’t?” Xi Jianxing grumbled.

“Then crawl.”

Xi Jianxing took a deep breath, glaring. “Your classmates should see what you’re really like under that pretty face.”

Xie Siyan walked leisurely behind him. “You mean, the face of someone kind enough to leave a banquet even Grandpa was attending, just to save you?”

“Bah!” There was no hint of respect in the way Xi Jianxing talked to his nephew. “You can drop the good son, good grandson act. Haven’t you had enough of playing the perfect role all these years?”

Xie Siyan stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If that’s what you think, there’s not much I can do.”

“Save your player lines for your future wife and see if she slaps you in the face!”

As they reached the lower floor, passing the restroom, Xi Jianxing leaned against the wall, groaning that he needed to vomit.

Xie Siyan waited outside the restroom.

Ten minutes passed.

When Xi Jianxing finally emerged, he saw his nephew, now visibly impatient, frowning. “What, did you fall in?”

“Nah,” Xi Jianxing laughed. “I got distracted.”

Before Xie Siyan could ask, Xi Jianxing launched into an explanation. “Didn’t expect today’s high schoolers to be so wild. I overheard two boys in the bathroom—one was throwing up, and the other was comforting him. The poor kid got publicly outed by a girl confessing to him, and apparently, he’s secretly in love with someone else. He drank himself sick. It was heartbreaking.”

Xie Siyan: “Are you leaving or not?”

“I’m going, I’m going. What’s with the rush? I’m telling you, those boys were from your school.”

Just as they were about to leave, the boy who had been comforting his friend came rushing out of the restroom, pale-faced.

Xi Jianxing stepped aside, only to see his nephew suddenly reach out and grab the boy.

“Guo Yiyang.”

“Huh?”

Guo Yiyang, still in a daze, looked up and nearly burst into tears upon seeing his class president.

Xie Siyan frowned at him. “What’s going on?”

It took Guo Yiyang a moment to collect himself before pointing back to the restroom, his voice shaking. “It’s Chen Mo. He’s not doing well. I need to get help.”

Inside, Chen Mo was leaning against the sink, one hand clutching his stomach.

His vision was starting to blur.

When he had downed that drink, he hadn’t felt anything off at first, but the heavy barbecue meal from earlier, combined with the alcohol, hit him hard. Within three minutes, a familiar, intense pain gripped him.

He had thrown up violently, leaving his stomach completely empty.

Chen Mo wanted to tell Guo Yiyang to calm down, but right now, the future surgeon—who would one day wield a scalpel with precision—was still just a high schooler who got easily scared. Seeing Chen Mo’s deathly pale face and the sweat streaming down, Guo had probably thought he was on the brink of death.

It would pass soon, Chen Mo thought.

Once the pain subsided a little, he would make sure to stop by the pharmacy on the way back and stock up on some medication.

As these thoughts passed through his mind, Chen Mo leaned back against the sink, trying to crouch down to ease the pain.

But before he could lower himself completely, someone grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him up.

Chen Mo’s nose hit a firm shoulder, his hand brushing against the rolled-up sleeve of a shirt that was of far better quality than he was used to. As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of a familiar jawline before a voice sounded above him.

“Second time.”

“Need a lift to the hospital? Should I carry you?”