Chapter 31: Calm

18TH OCT 2022~ VERALUCTL

The build-up of negative emotions was the root of all evil.

Mo Cong had never believed that he was someone who was controlled by feelings. He was cold and calm, he could keep his head cool in any situation, not because he had nothing to fear or because he was wise or brave… but because in his heart, there was a bleak emptiness – or at least, what he had thought was emptiness.

Ultimately, Xiao Yu was a sensible child. Even though she had been startled by the thump from the bedroom, she didn’t ask anything after seeing An Jie pour Yang Jinling’s dumplings into a plate and cover them up with cling wrap as if nothing had happened.

She was smart, but not that curious. Sometimes she was really similar to her brother, but as a girl, she was a bit more measured. 

Mo Cong let out a quiet breath, but he was confused as to why he felt something akin to relief. So what if he was found hiding in An Jie’s bedroom, wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy? Xiao Yu wasn’t like Xiao Jin. Given her character, she would more than likely pretend she saw nothing, and if he didn’t bring it up himself when he returned, she wouldn’t mention a word of it – but that wouldn’t mean she wouldn’t take it to heart.

Even though Mo Cong knew that he was as foul-smelling and as hard as a rock in the latrine, unremorsefully and unmistakably at the vanguard of those who destroyed social security and stability, insisting on continuing until he hit the end… deep inside his heart, under so many years of obligatory and non-obligatory education, under the influence of his culture and a strong sense of morality, he knew that his actions were wrong… that they were crimes.

To be guilty of smuggling, guilty of drugs, guilty of killing, and guilty of wounding… they were things that he would have to carry until he was dead.

But when he was young, he hadn’t been so concerned about ideas like wrongdoing and repentance. He hadn’t cared at all whether his hands were clean or not.

To rebel against his father, who in his mind was worthless, he walked down this road without looking back, and with a certain pleasure similar to that of revenge.

Just who was he taking revenge against? It should have been obvious.

Afterward, An Jie would tell him that the principles of life were much simpler than the equations and formulas of science. As long as one kept their calm, there was nothing that couldn’t be figured out. What one couldn’t figure out, were emotions.

It was caused by a lacking mentor figure and twisted familial relationships, but also by his own narrow mind. An Jie had pointed out to Mo Cong, “You’re a narrow-minded and narrow-eyed person. If you keep going like this, no matter how smart you are, it’ll only be a clever trick.”

After all, his body was young. Even though An Jie was a self-taught doctor that often made the patient feel extremely unsafe, Mo Cong’s body slowly healed. After another few days, he could start to do some simple chores for his temporary landlord. 

After that breakdown which had broken the ice, he realized that An Jie’s attitude to him was slowly becoming better.

Of course, this better attitude was another disaster for Mo Cong.

Because this young man discovered that sometimes, these things called hormones were not under the control of their master – especially when their master had little experience dealing with their matters.

Reason told Mo Cong that it wasn’t good for him to constantly be distracted by and observe what An Jie was doing, that he was irrationally confused by his appearance because this man’s identity, background, and purpose were all unclear – but if reason still held control, he wouldn’t have been troubled by said actions. 

This feeling… was very strange.

And when An Jie wasn’t painstakingly doing homework or staring blankly at a map, he was more than willing to talk to this wayward young man who clearly had a desire to return home. The two’s mental ages and upbringings were vastly different, but it didn’t stop them from enjoying their chats. 

Mo Cong was extremely sharp, and An Jie knew that he was inferior in this regard. He seemed to have a natural talent for seeing the forest for the trees: as long as he wasn’t controlled by his emotions and hormones, Mo Cong could always see the roots of an issue and come up with an extremely fast and efficient solution.

Perhaps this was why that failure Xu Si was able to rise up among the many forces of the capital with just the Chancellor. 

For An Jie, this was a brand new sort of thinking style. He had to admit that he was old, bored, and reluctant in many things, preferring to maneuver around trouble rather than pull his knife out and cut through it.

For example, he thought with chagrin, if he hadn’t tried to balance the forces when dealing with Cao Bing and had killed that irritants with one shot, it would now be much safer for the two Mo sisters, and he wouldn’t have to stay here playing old mother hen with them.

Mo Cong’s mentality was in an even stranger state. He felt that there were two cleanly divided sides arguing messily against each other, one tempting him to look at the exposed neck of his young landlord and his features which didn’t look too dashing at first glance but had no problems upon closer inspection.

And the other side spat on his face: you prefer someone who’s homely and petite, you like those who are simple, kind, gentle, and understanding… not a wolf in sheep’s skin like him… Ahem, how did he not realize before how pretty An Jie’s eyes were?

Oh no, he went off track again.

And so this story spoke a tale: those who constantly acclaimed the wonders of youth were old men and women who had already passed that time, simply watching them for amusement.

Mo Cong gave himself a hard pinch, focused, then knocked on the open study door courteously. 

An Jie acknowledged him with a hum and placed down an atlas with local photos in it somewhat reluctantly – perhaps it was because he couldn’t go, but he had formed quite a deep obsession with Afghanistan. 

“Mmm… I want to borrow the book Xiao Yu returned last time.” Mo Cong pointed to the bookshelf, his brows a little furrowed. “I saw something in there… that a kid her age shouldn’t really have.”

An Jie stood up and pulled it out for him, a rare smile on his face. “Then you’ll be disappointed, I don’t have light novels in here.”

Mo Cong felt a little helpless after taking a look. It was a copy of ‘The Thirty-Six Stratagems’ with modern Chinese edits.

An Jie sat down on his rattan chair, crossed his legs, and said slowly, “I suggest you have a chat with her when you go back home. Xiao Yu is not the type to speak about what’s on her mind, but you are her brother after all, and Xiao Jin – your father’s death was a great shock to her.”

Mo Cong sighed and put the book to the side. “Xiao Jin’s the only one in the entire Mo Family, including Li Biyun, who’s true to her nature.”

“Nature… Everyone will more or less be controlled by their emotions, Mo Cong.” An Jie looked at him sharply, unconsciously shifting to a lecturing tone. “But if you want to become a real man, you need to get rid of them – some people are naturally able to stay true to their nature because they’re pure of heart, but you’re not.”

Mo Cong disliked An Jie’s current tone and expression from the bottom of his heart. It gave him a sense of inequality like this person was putting up airs, deliberately distancing himself from him. It would be accurate to call this version of him a fake. He frowned and instinctively retorted, “Then what about you?”

“Me?” An Jie was stunned by his accusative reply and shrugged. “I’m an imperfection.”

This again. Mo Cong snickered. “I wonder, Mr An Jie, in your entire career as a high school student, how many puddles have you seen from farmlands?1”

An Jie’s eyes drifted to the top shelf of the bookshelf. In a small frame hanging there was a yellowing photograph. It was a failure of a photo, a girl who was fairly pretty on close observation seemed a little funny and strange because of her awkward movements and expression, and the comedic background. An Jie smiled at him half-heartedly. “I would be boasting if I said I was old enough to be your dad, but if I wasn’t so conservative back then, and if I stretched the legal age of marriage a little… it would have been technically possible.”

He lowered the corner of his lips as if looking down on his past self for abiding by the law. 

Mo Cong faintly loosened his tense shoulders and from out of nowhere, asked an odd question. “What’s your type?” He tried to keep his expression straight but for some reason, he felt a little nervous.

An Jie paused, not expecting a hardworking person like Mo Cong to have such unprofessional genes. “This… I don’t have any standards. It’s not as if I’m trying to buy something and I have to find the right model. It’s fine as long as I feel something.”

Mo Cong repeated this sentence in his mind in a daze. It’s fine as long as I feel something…

Only to hear An Jie add, “If I have to have a preference, I don’t need much. Basically, if they’re a woman, alive, preferably a little understanding, petite, and homely.”

Mo Cong’s first reaction was that this person’s taste was pretty similar to his.

His second was that it turned out in the ‘not much’ requirements An Jie had, the only one he matched was… ‘alive’.

The way forward was long and difficult, tch…

At that moment, An Jie’s door was swatted loudly. Normally, visitors would press the doorbell; it was more polite, and people inside could hear it easier.

This person, however, knocked as if they were being chased by ghosts. The two of them looked up, Mo Cong quickly going back to the bedroom as An Jie opened the door.

A teary-eyed mess of a girl stumbled into his arms. Yang Jinling could hardly say anything, her words stuttering over each other so much that only one could be understood. “Help.”

An Jie changed his shoes as he comforted her in a low voice while attempting to understand what was going on. He grabbed his jacket and followed her outside.

As the door slammed behind them, Mo Cong came out from the bedroom and leaned against the bedroom door, his face dark as he thought. ‘Mm. Female, alive, understanding, petite, homely… Look at that, she was right there.’

Author’s notes: Little Momo is jealous, ohohohohoho~~

Jiang Nan that hole digger2~~~ I’m so mad~~~ 

1lit. How long do you think you’ve lived?

2Jiang Nan is another writer, most notable for creating Dragon Raja, AND WHO HAS NOT FUCKING UPDATED IN YEARS. A hole digger meaning literally ‘he who digs holes for people to fall into.