A week before New Year's Eve, Chu Yilan took a phone call. After hanging up, he fell quiet for a moment. Shen Lian noticed, put down his book, and walked over. "What's wrong?"
Chu Yilan slipped an arm around his waist, his thumb gently stroking a sensitive spot on Shen Lian's body through his clothes. It didn't tickle. It actually felt rather nice.
After thinking for a moment, he said, "A... relative, I suppose."
"Relative" was a deeply unfamiliar word to Chu Yilan, but the man was indeed a descendant of his maternal grandfather's younger brother. By family seniority, Chu Yilan should have called him "Uncle," yet he hadn't done so once in seven or eight years. On the rare occasions they met, he only called him "Mr. Ming."
There was no other reason for it: back when Chu Changqi had pressed him at every turn, striking with vicious cruelty, none of these people had stepped forward to shield him. Of course, when disaster struck, everyone looked out for themselves. He understood that. But in that case, they shouldn't expect Chu Yilan to do them any favors.
Before his maternal grandfather passed away, his instructions to Chu Yilan had also been, "Help them if you can. If you don't want to, leave them be."
Later, when Chu Yilan regained control of Hengtai, a few of them had come to his door asking for help, trading on their connection to his maternal grandfather.
It was strange. Chu Yilan felt no affection for them whatsoever, yet knowing they shared his maternal grandfather's surname, Ming, gave him the illusion that his grandfather still had countless ties to this world. For that reason alone, Chu Yilan had left Sun Binghe to handle things as he saw fit, without giving them too much. His so-called