While Fatty Tang was still fumbling with his words on the stage, dramatically waving the poor potato as though it were a royal scepter, Jun Mo Xie, seated at the top floor, could no longer hold back a sigh.
He rolled his eyes heavenward. He turned away from the sight and shifted his attention toward the small figure beside him, to the Prince Equivalent's son, Yang Mo.
Jun Mo Xie leaned back, crossing his legs with lazy elegance. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he teasingly said, "How's your mood, Little Miss Yang?"
The boy's pretty, delicate face fell in an instant. He bit his lip hard, the title Little Miss stabbing directly into his wounded pride. Normally, Yang Mo would endure such mockery with forced calm, pretending it didn't bother him. But this time, his patience was at its end. He snorted sharply and turned his head away, refusing to even look at Jun Mo Xie.
He might only be ten years old, but Yang Mo was sharp, cunning, and as mischievous as a cat. Yet, even a clever child's heart could bruise easily. He had already been humiliated earlier, and not a single person had comforted him since. How could he possibly keep pretending it didn't hurt?
Jun Mo Xie eyed the boy's sulking profile, his tone light yet cutting.
"It's no use getting angry," He said, his voice dripping with casual authority. "You know, if you can only glare and pout when someone bullies you, then you're no different from a little girl. Might as well not waste your temper when there's no gain in it."
"What's the use of controlling my anger if there's no gain in it?" Yang Mo's voice cracked as his eyes reddened. His lip trembled, and before he could stop himself, tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks.
Jun Mo Xie's gaze darkened with disdain. "Hmph. Calling you 'Little Miss Yang' wasn't wrong after all. Crying already? What are you crying for? A man who sheds tears over every little thing loses respect. Crying won't solve your problem... it'll only make others despise you more."
He picked up a large, polished apple from the table beside him, cutting a slice with deliberate slowness. "If crying could fix anything, the world would be run by weeping children. Go on, cry somewhere else if you must, but don't expect me to follow and console you. I won't help you vent your anger either."
"I—I won't cry," Yang Mo stammered, hurriedly rubbing his sleeve across his face, though his small shoulders still trembled. His eyes were red and puffy, but he tried his best to stop the sobs.
He hesitated, then whispered in a small, desperate voice, "Dad said elder brother Jun is very clever… Can you please tell me what I should do? Those three have bullied me since I was little… Every time I see them, I get scared… I just want to run away. Elder Brother Mo Xie, please tell me how to make them stop… or how I can get revenge and vent my anger!"
Jun Mo Xie took another bite of the apple, speaking around the crisp crunch. "Taking revenge to vent your anger, eh? That's not a good way."
His tone was almost indifferent, yet his eyes carried a faint, knowing gleam. "They're the Emperor's sons. And tell me, who's the greatest in the world?"
"The Emperor…" Yang Mo murmured softly.
"Exactly." Jun Mo Xie's voice deepened, calm and precise. "If the Emperor's sons want to bully you, what can you do? Your family isn't as powerful as theirs. You can't touch them. So, you endure it. That's reality."
Yang Mo bit down hard on his lip, the frustration and injustice churning inside him until his small fists clenched tight. "I don't want to bear it anymore! Elder Brother Mo Xie, Dad said you're the smartest — that no one can ever stump you. Please, give me an idea!"
"Stop shaking my arm, you little rascal," Jun Mo Xie muttered, pushing the boy's hands away with mild irritation. "Their father is the Emperor, yours is not. No amount of cleverness can fix that. This problem can't be solved by brains. You want me to help you? There's no chance. We don't have the means."
Yang Mo blinked, stunned by the blunt rejection. For a long moment, he sat motionless, and then, the tears welled up again. His lips quivered, but before the sound could escape, something flickered in his eyes.
The tears stopped. His gaze sharpened, like a spark catching fire.
"Elder Brother Mo Xie," He said suddenly, voice low and serious, "you said their father is the Emperor, while mine is not… but why?"
Jun Mo Xie raised a brow, amused. "Why?"
"Yes! Why isn't my father the Emperor?" Yang Mo's voice rose slightly, trembling not with fear, but with awakening defiance. "Their father and mine are both sons of my grandfather, the previous Emperor. I am also the blood of the old Emperor. So why can they bully me? Why can't I rebel?"
Jun Mo Xie leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, his expression unreadable. "You just said it yourself... it's your family's internal matter. How would I know 'why'?"
He let out a faint, mocking chuckle. "Your father didn't have prospects, just like you. He was bullied when he was young, and instead of fighting back, he learned to endure. Habits like that sink deep. Even now, I'd wager he'd rather suffer in silence than raise his head. Naturally, he didn't become the Emperor."
He tilted his head toward the boy, voice cool and deliberate. "And now his son follows the same path, bullied, weeping, and powerless."
Yang Mo's fists tightened so hard that his knuckles turned white.
"I mustn't be bullied again!" He burst out, trembling with raw determination. "When I grow up, I won't be bullied! And neither will my descendants!"
Jun Mo Xie looked at him with faint approval, though his tone remained lazy. "Mm. That's a fine declaration... but the problem isn't so easily solved."
Yang Mo looked up eagerly. "Is the Emperor the only one who isn't bullied? If I become Emperor, will no one dare to bully me?"
Jun Mo Xie sighed as though the matter bored him. "I don't know. I really don't know."
Yang Mo's eyes burned with fierce conviction. "Then I'll become the Emperor one day! Just like you told me, alright?"
Jun Mo Xie chuckled softly. "You? You're the previous Emperor's grandson, so you're naturally qualified."
He paused, eyes glinting with quiet mischief. "Yes, you have the bloodline, but not the traits. You're still far from being qualified."
"Then please tell me, Elder Brother Mo Xie," Yang Mo leaned forward earnestly, "how do I change that? I don't ever want to be bullied again!"
Jun Mo Xie was just about to answer when a loud, deliberate cough exploded from behind him, deep, thunderous, and entirely unnatural.
Cough! Cough!
The sound was powerful enough to make the table tremble, echoing like a drumbeat through the private room.
Jun Wu Yi sat there with a composed smile, though his eyes carried warning. His cough sounded exactly like that of a man dying of tuberculosis.
--- ✦ ✦ ✦ ---
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