Chapter 16 Part 2

“Boss,” Chen Jiaming’s voice called from outside just then. “Elder Mr. Huo wants to see you.”

It was like a pinprick to a balloon. With Chen Jiaming’s arrival, the taut, suffocating tension around Zhu Ran snapped. Air flowed again, and the distant clamor returned.

“Got it.” Huo Boyan turned and left.

Behind the screen, Zhu Ran let out a long breath.

·

Huo Boyan entered the elevator and straightened his already neat tie in the mirror. Then he asked Chen Jiaming beside him: “What does Grandpa want?”

“No idea,” Chen Jiaming said. “But Elder Mr. Huo just met with Huo Zhixiao.”

Huo Boyan’s expression didn’t change. He nodded. “Got it.”

The elevator stopped on the second floor, the entire level converted into Huo Tinghua’s living quarters.

Huo Tinghua had visibly aged. A year ago, he’d turned his bedroom into a medical room, installing all sorts of expensive equipment. A dozen caregivers watched him around the clock, with top global doctors checking in regularly.

On his birthday, Huo Tinghua had moved from the sickbed to a chair. He’d put on fresh clothes, gotten a haircut, done everything to look younger—but he couldn’t halt the decay.

As Huo Boyan entered, Huo Zhixiao was just coming out. Their shoulders bumped; neither spoke.

Huo Zhixiao brushed off his shoulder with a cold laugh. “Nephew hasn’t claimed the throne yet, and you’re already itching to take a swing at me?”

“Can’t compare to you, Second Uncle—one foot in the grave, and you still run to Daddy to tattle.” Huo Boyan shot back. “Those of us who lost our fathers as teens have to fend for ourselves.”

“You—” Huo Zhixiao started to flare up.

“Bo Yan, come in.” An aged voice called from inside, heavy with a lingering gloom—perhaps from the distance or the thick carpet.

Huo Boyan crossed the sitting room and stopped at the bedroom door. Grandpa’s fourth wife and head nurse, Anna, opened it and stepped out.

A graduate of a top foreign medical school, she was only forty-two but looked barely over thirty, young enough to pass for Huo Boyan’s sister.

She smiled warmly at him and updated him on Elder Mr. Huo’s condition, ending with a reminder to keep things gentle given his frailty.

Huo Boyan didn’t respond and walked straight into the bedroom.

A strange, cloying sweetness hit him—medical drugs, incense, and the scent of old age mixed together. It grew thicker inward, nauseatingly so by the bed.

But Huo Boyan showed no reaction. He approached Huo Tinghua, bowed to the man in the chair, and greeted respectfully: “Grandpa.”

Huo Tinghua lifted his heavy eyelids. His cloudy eyes fixed on Huo Boyan. Before he could speak, a wrenching cough tore through him.

The machines blared shrill alerts, but the staff were used to it. Anna deftly helped him catch his breath and soothed: “Rest first. We can talk later—your health comes first.”

Huo Tinghua shook his head stubbornly, pushing away the oxygen mask. To Huo Boyan, he said: “Bo Yan, are you still investigating that old case?”

Huo Boyan looked up. “Grandpa, what are you getting at?”

Huo Tinghua sighed, his voice raspy like sandpaper-scraped: “Take my advice. It’s been so long. The dead can’t come back—focus on living well from here on.”

Huo Boyan suddenly smiled. “Did Second Uncle kneel to you again?”

Huo Tinghua: “Am I supposed to watch you two tear the family apart?”

“Grandpa,” Huo Boyan said calmly, “I just want the truth.”

Huo Tinghua fell silent for nearly a minute before speaking: “Do you know how vast the Huo Corporation’s empire is now?”

Huo Boyan didn’t answer.

The Huo Corporation’s holdings spanned the globe—ports, real estate, healthcare, finance, media, and more. Its wealth rivaled small Southeast Asian nations.

But at that moment, the scale didn’t matter. What did was the implication behind the question.

“Bo Yan,” Huo Tinghua sighed, seeming to age years in seconds. “Promise me you’ll keep the family harmonious from now on, and I’ll hand the empire to you.”

Huo Boyan paused, then smiled mildly. “You’re covering for him?”

“It’s for your own good!” Huo Tinghua slammed the chair arm in fury, coughing again. Anna moved to intervene, but he waved her off, gasping as he told Huo Boyan: “You have no evidence. All these years, what have you dug up besides mutual destruction with your second uncle? The police stamped it closed. What more do you want?”

Huo Boyan: “I only trust what I uncover myself.”

Huo Tinghua: “This is the result!”

“Does my dad know?” Huo Boyan asked.

“What?” Huo Tinghua blinked.

“Does my dad know you’re shielding his killer?” Huo Boyan stepped forward. He must have been furious, brimming with years of pent-up rage, pain, and vengeful venom. Yet he kept it all under a mild facade, even smiling as he continued: “Grandpa, when you go down and see my dad—his body mangled under that truck—can you tell him, ‘Zi Lang, family harmony is all that matters, right?'”

“You—” Huo Tinghua convulsed with rage at the insolence. Everyone braced for a coughing fit, but he held it back, clutching his chest: “Huo Boyan, I’ll ask you once: What evidence do you have that your second uncle did it?”

Huo Boyan stayed silent.

“If you find even a shred, I’ll haul him to the cops myself without a word. But you don’t have any—you’re just being irrational! Go see a shrink yourself, cough cough cough—”

The monitors erupted in alarms again. Caregivers rushed in.

Huo Boyan turned and pushed through the crowd, heading the other way.