Chapter 162: Yan Yan, Do You Hate Me That Much?

Translator:

Larbre Studio

Editor:

Larbre Studio

“Wow, there’s some over there, and there too!”

“Dear, quickly pick those up…”

The people down below were in a frenzy and they all suddenly wished that they could have an extra pair of arms so that they could grab more money.

Some of the residents nearby realized what was going on and rushed over at a speed that made it seem like they were sprinting at a hundred-meter race.

In less than 10 minutes, all the money had been collected and those who managed to collect the money were beaming delightedly. They felt as though they were walking on air since they had collected at least a few hundred dollars each.

“Boss, give us more! Give us more!” They waved at the building. They weren’t sure who had flung these bills on the floor, but they knew that an idiot with far too much money lived upstairs.

Mo Yixuan laughed coldly and blew out a dense ring of smoke from his mouth.

An ironic expression spread across his cold face.

He thought to himself that those who collected his money must be overjoyed. That’s right, he was the only unhappy one during this festive occasion.

He had brought this unhappiness upon himself.

His phone rang then, and when he dug it out he saw that his mother had sent him a couple of messages –

“Son, happy Lunar New Year! You must eat well and look after yourself even though you’re home alone. I miss you!”

She then sent over more than a dozen photos. Some of these photographs were pictures of his mother and his other relatives and there were also a few photos of food but obviously a large majority of these photographs were of his precious son.

After she sent these photographs, she also sent a short video clip.

He opened it and saw that it was a video of his mother playing with his son.

“Come, Little Ye, wish your father a happy Lunar New Year!”

Mo Ye was dressed in a new cotton-padded jacket and a small round hat. His face was round and chubby and although he wasn’t considered a good-looking child, he looked rather cute when he smiled.

Mo Yixuan’s lips curved into a smile and a faint smile finally appeared on his cold face. He only truly felt happy when he saw his own son.

He saved his son’s picture into his camera roll. There were already a few hundred photographs in his phone and a large majority of his son.

If only this child was He Xiyan’s, then they wouldn’t have gotten divorced and they would live happily ever after as a family and grow old together. Then, he wouldn’t be spending this festive season alone.

“Have…you been well?”

Mo Yixuan typed out a text message and sent it to the number he had long since committed to memory. After he sent out the message, his gaze never left the screen.

He hoped that she would reply. It didn’t matter if she scolded him like the previous time.

He Xiyan was currently lying in bed resting. Ye Hao had gone home to collect some things so she was all alone in her ward.

She turned over when she heard her phone ring and reached out to grab her phone from the drawer by her bed.

She read the message and saw that it seemed like a simple greeting but her brows knitted together when she saw the number from which the message was sent.

She didn’t save this number but had formed a lasting impression of this number.

She re-read the message once more and felt her heart clench after reading the message once more. She felt terrible, as though worms were biting her.

She thought for a moment but could only heave a soft sigh, ultimately deciding not to respond as she deleted the message.

A few minutes later, her phone rang once more. It was a text from the same number.

“Yan Yan, do you hate me that much? Is that why you won’t send me a reply? I’m sorry for not treating you well in the past.”

He Xiyan felt helpless and her heartbeat became irregular. These words seemed to hurt her eyes and caused tears to form at the corner of her eyes. She bit her lips tightly, and a complex range of emotions ran through her.

This time, she finally opened up the text box and typed out a response.