Although Li Wenhui had come to take Su Mo (ostensibly Ye Qingyi) away under the pretext of Ye Zhongwen wanting to see his daughter, Yang Jie knew the situation was far more complicated than it appeared.
Su Mo’s performance in the ruins had been witnessed by everyone—especially his accomplishment of something even two B-rank experts couldn’t achieve.
With talent like that, the Red Leaf Society would undoubtedly covet him, not to mention his publicly recognized A-rank potential.
And the Ye family had ties to the Red Leaf Society to begin with.
So Yang Jie immediately reported the matter to the Elder Council, seeking instructions. The order he received was clear: keep him here at all costs.
Yang Jie found himself in a dilemma. He could delay Su Mo with bureaucratic procedures, but he couldn’t outright forbid him from going home.
So he summoned Su Mo to hear his thoughts.
A knock sounded on the office door.
“Come in.”
“Commander Yang, you wanted to see me?” It had been three days since returning to camp, and Su Mo had been to this office more than once.
“Sit.” Yang Jie motioned for him to take a seat, then glanced at Old Li beside him.
Only three people were present in the office—Old Li had been specifically called in by Yang Jie, and no one else was included in this meeting.
“Ye Qingyi, we’d like to ask you a few questions,” Old Li said, his voice warm and soothing, exuding an affable charm.
“Please go ahead, Elder Li.”
Since they’d called him here, questioning was inevitable. Su Mo had already prepared himself.
“What do you think of our Beidou organization?”
Su Mo answered without hesitation: “It’s good.”
His response was brief, lacking any embellishments, but it was straightforward and to the point.
Old Li seemed satisfied and handed him a document, explaining:
“Given your outstanding performance and significant contributions to the organization, the Elder Council has decided to directly confer upon you the rank of captain, with the corresponding authority.”
Su Mo was taken aback. “But I haven’t even officially joined Beidou yet, how—”
Old Li chuckled. “It’s just a matter of signing a piece of paper and stamping a seal. Easy.”
With that, he pulled out another document and pointed to the bottom right corner. “All that’s missing is your signature.”
Su Mo accepted the file with slight bewilderment but signed his name without hesitation.
Seeing the signature, both men seemed to relax. Yang Jie spoke up:
“According to Beidou regulations, this period should be dedicated to training, and no one is allowed to leave the base without authorization. But considering your merits, going home isn’t out of the question.”
Su Mo nodded, feigning reluctance—though in truth, he didn’t even need to act. His natural demeanor was enough.
Who knew what Ye Zhongwen wanted with his daughter now? According to Ye Qingyi, her father didn’t oppose her joining Beidou—otherwise, he wouldn’t have let her stay this long.
Leaving the office, Su Mo met Ye Qingyi waiting outside, and the two walked back to camp together.
“Remember,” she instructed as they walked, “when you see Ye Zhongwen, don’t act timid or overly enthusiastic. It’ll look suspicious.”
“Got it,” Su Mo replied with a sigh.
Ye Qingyi drilled it into him again: “The colder you act, the better.”
Back at camp, Su Mo called Ye Wenhui to arrange a pickup at noon. He spent the remaining time memorizing dossiers on the people he might encounter.
A little past eleven, the two met at the designated spot and boarded an unfamiliar black business car, speeding off.
The car held four people—the driver, an assistant (who might as well have been a bodyguard, though with Ye Wenhui present, extra security was unnecessary), and the two of them.
They arrived in Jiangcheng a little after four in the afternoon, and Su Mo was dropped off at Ye Qingyi’s private villa.
“Rest well. Your father is hosting a welcome dinner tonight—a driver will come to pick you up.”
Li Wenhui left as soon as he dropped him off, not even staying for tea.
The spacious villa had once housed only Ye Qingyi. Even when she was away, cleaning and maintenance staff kept the place spotless, so Su Mo didn’t find a speck of dust.
“The rich really have it good,” he couldn’t help but mutter.
Just then, his phone rang. It was Ye Zhongwen.
Following Ye Qingyi’s instructions, Su Mo let it ring a few times before answering.
“Mn. I’m here.”
“No need. You go ahead and eat without me—I’m tired.”
He decisively declined the welcome dinner, both to adhere to Ye Qingyi’s warnings and to minimize unnecessary interactions.
Still, he wasn’t completely heartless, responding in a neutral tone. After all, this was Ye Qingyi’s father. He had even considered whether this might be a chance to mend their strained relationship.
But not now. The first meeting had to be handled carefully to avoid suspicion.
After hanging up, he immediately opened WeChat, where Ye Qingyi had sent a flood of messages:
“Be extra careful around Ye Qingwen—she’s never gotten along with me and will likely give you trouble.”
“Also, my aunt might drop by. We’re very close—she’s like a second sister to me. Don’t be cold to her.”
“There’s a dedicated training room on the second floor. Facial recognition will get you in.”
…
Over eighty messages later, Su Mo’s perception of the wealthy was thoroughly refreshed.
“The rich really have it good.”
He replied: “Copy that. [Salute]”
Su Mo wandered around, familiarizing himself with the layout. Before long, dinnertime approached.
The kitchen was stocked with fresh vegetables, meat, and every seasoning imaginable—all newly prepared. He decided to cook himself a simple meal.
Then the doorbell rang.
Su Mo frowned. Who would visit at this hour?
The door opened, and a petite figure slipped inside. Su Mo instinctively moved to block her, but stopped when he saw her face.
“Qingyi! My dear niece! You’re finally here—I’ve missed you so much!”
A soft body crashed into him, nuzzling against his chest.
“A-Auntie,” Su Mo greeted, slightly stiff, though she didn’t seem to notice. “You came alone?”
“Of course! It’s not far anyway.”
She deftly swapped her shoes for slippers and tugged him toward the kitchen. “Something smells amazing! What are you making?”
“Just some home-cooked dishes. They’re not ready yet.”
Su Mo quickly adjusted, slipping into the role of the niece—even though this “aunt” was only thirteen years old.
“Home-cooked dishes?” She blinked. “What’s that? I’ve never had it before… slurp!”
Su Mo held back a laugh. “Just regular meals. Go play for now—I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“No! I want to help you cook!” She marched into the kitchen, only to freeze at the sight of the sizzling pan, unsure what to do.
“Let me handle it. You just wait and enjoy.”
“Fine.”
She scampered off to the training room upstairs, her movements so practiced it was obvious she’d been here countless times.
Su Mo whipped up a few of his best dishes, snapped a photo, and sent it to Ye Qingyi with the caption:
“See? My highest standard. Didn’t neglect her at all.”
No immediate reply—she was probably still training.
“Auntie! Dinner’s ready!”
“Coming!”
The rapid thud-thud-thud of footsteps followed as she sprinted to the table, immediately grabbing a piece of meat and shoving it into her mouth. A blissful expression spread across her face.
Su Mo smiled, pleased to see her enjoying the food—until her expression suddenly froze.
She squinted at him, the food in her mouth forgotten.
Su Mo’s heart skipped a beat.
Had she noticed something off?
He’d been acting perfectly in character, though…
Keeping his voice casual, he took a bite of rice and asked, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Chewing slowly, she mumbled:
“Qingyi… you’ve changed.”