Chapter Thirteen: Misfortune from the Heavens

The moon is fullest in one’s hometown, and the wine there tastes richest. Only when Nie Yunyang drinks himself into a stupor does the piercing longing buried deep within him surge forth, compelling him to shout with all his might the words he has long hidden in his heart.

The three roommates all knew Nie Yunyang’s background. He had grown up without parents, raised in an orphanage, and had vanished without a trace after graduating from high school.

“Boss, what happened to your master?” Zhuang Zhengqing asked.

Nie Yunyang shook his head. “The old man has passed away.”

Those words stunned the three of them into silence. They exchanged glances, but only Yuan Wei understood—this was Nie Yunyang’s only relative.

Hou Yueping immediately embraced Nie Yunyang. “Boss, since entering society, the only friends I can reach now are the three of you. I recognize you as the eldest not just because you’re the oldest, but because I truly admire you from the bottom of my heart. Though the old gentleman has passed on, you still have us.”

“Boss, we’ll always be by your side.”

Yuan Wei and Zhuang Zhengqing echoed the sentiment.

“Let’s drink—keep drinking, drink till we’re merry!”

Nie Yunyang, rare in his happiness, threw caution to the wind.

The three burst into laughter, and the cups kept flowing.

They drank until none of the four could stand, eventually sprawling on the floor in all directions, their snores rising and falling in waves.

Late at night.

Inside the Jin Ke Jiu Qu He villa.

In just a few days, Mu Bailin’s hair had turned increasingly white, yet sleep eluded him. At this moment, he sat in his study, smoking, with a treasured bottle of Tangluofang wine on the desk.

The room was thick with smoke. Mu Bailin had lost count of how many cigarettes he’d smoked, feeling decades older, as if one foot had already stepped into the grave.

This crisis might be impossible to overcome.

As matters spiraled out of control, Mu Bailin sank deeper and deeper. Even losing everything he owned wouldn’t quell his enemies’ wrath.

The best outcome now would be to serve a long sentence inside. But would these foes truly let him go?

From a poor boy in Zhen’an, Shaanxi, he had climbed to where he was today. He had gained what he deserved, enjoyed what he could—his life held almost no regrets. His only worry was his daughter.

Mu Bailin knew that once he fell, the fortune he had painstakingly built over the years would vanish in an instant.

When the nest collapses, how can any egg remain intact?

Mu Qingyao had always lived safely under Mu Bailin’s protection, never facing hardship or trouble. If he were gone, could his daughter withstand the storms alone?

His heart reflected like a clear mirror. If he didn’t make a decision now, not only would his fate be tragic, but he wouldn’t even be able to protect his own flesh and blood.

The mastermind behind it all had been sending people to harass Mu Qingyao as a warning to Mu Bailin—if he truly tore things apart, who knew what unspeakable acts they might commit?

There is an old saying: each generation has its own fortune. If Mu Qingyao desired a simple, ordinary life, then so be it.

Sitting on the sofa, sipping his wine, Mu Bailin reflected on his life. He owed so many people—debts he would never repay.

Suddenly, his mind wandered back to years ago in Jiangxi, when he met the most interesting young man—Nie Yunyang.

At the time, it had been just a joke, but unexpectedly, the boy actually sought him out.

Some young men are like fine steeds, not lacking talent but opportunities. Five years ago, he might have been willing to be a mentor, but the chance never came.

As dawn’s rosy fingers crept over the horizon and the sun gradually rose, Mu Bailin finished the Tangluofang wine and smoked his last cigarette.

He took out the potassium cyanide he had prepared long ago and swallowed it, then lay back on the sofa, waiting for the final moment to arrive...

Morning.

When Nie Yunyang finally stirred from his hangover, it was already ten o’clock. They had drunk until four the previous night, and the other three were still sound asleep.

His head throbbed fiercely as he got up from the floor. Looking at Yuan Wei, Hou Yueping, and Zhuang Zhengqing lying in various sprawled positions, he couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

Nie Yunyang washed his face with cold water to clear his head, then took out his phone, only to find a dozen missed calls—all from Mu Qingyao.

He was baffled. Why was she calling?

Could she be in danger?

The thought sent a shiver through him as he quickly dialed her number, but the line was already switched off.

With no other choice, Nie Yunyang called the butler, Guo Cheng.

Before he could speak, a strange voice came through the phone: “May I ask who you’re looking for?”

“And who are you?” Nie Yunyang countered.

After a brief silence, the voice said gravely, “I’m Chang Zhicheng, Master Mu’s driver. Miss instructed you to return to the Jin Ke Jiu Qu He villa as soon as possible. The entire Mu family is in chaos.”

“What happened?” Nie Yunyang pressed.

Chang Zhicheng hesitated, then said, “Master Mu has died.”

The news stunned Nie Yunyang—his mind went blank. It was like a thunderclap on a clear day.

Mu Bailin was dead?

How did he die?

Who wanted him dead?

Confusion filled Nie Yunyang’s heart, but the line had already gone dead, leaving him with no answers.

After calming down, Nie Yunyang shook Yuan Wei hard, trying to wake him.

Yuan Wei, bleary-eyed, asked, “Boss, what’s going on?”

“Second brother, I have urgent matters. I need to leave first. You guys keep sleeping, call me when you wake up,” Nie Yunyang said.

Half-asleep, Yuan Wei waved goodbye.

Nie Yunyang hurriedly left East Yuan Hushan Yue, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for Jin Ke Jiu Qu He.

When Nie Yunyang arrived at the Mu residence, the driveway was filled with cars, and everywhere were bodyguards, all with grave expressions, vigilantly watching every passerby.

He grabbed a random guard and asked, “Where’s Mu Qingyao?”

“Upstairs in the living room,” the guard replied.

Nie Yunyang ran upstairs but was stopped just before reaching the living room by two burly men.

Furious, he shouted, “Step aside, or I won’t hesitate to fight.”

“No matter who you are, you can’t go in right now.”

“Do you really think you can stop me?”

At that moment, a man in a white shirt approached and asked, “Are you Nie Yunyang?”

“Yes. And you are?”

The man’s face was calm. “I’m Chang Zhicheng, Master Mu’s driver. The young lady said to wait for you in the study.”

“All right.”

Led by Chang Zhicheng, Nie Yunyang went to the study where the police and forensic team had already been.

“How did Uncle Mu die?” Nie Yunyang asked.

Chang Zhicheng’s tone was flat. “He poisoned himself. There’s still potassium cyanide residue on his fingertips.”

“Suicide?”

Nie Yunyang was shocked. He had thought Mu Bailin was murdered, but it turned out he had taken his own life.

He couldn’t comprehend what kind of plight could drive such a seasoned titan, who had weathered countless storms, to choose the path of despair.

Deep in thought, Nie Yunyang struggled to accept the grim reality before him...