Lyn Xia stared at Yang Mo in disbelief. "You told me to get lost?" She pointed at herself, her beautiful eyes wide with shock.
"Shiao Mo, calm down. As long as you can heal Big Sister's hand, we can agree to any conditions. Or... you can name your price." Lying hurriedly intervened, sensing the growing tension.
Yang Mo sneered. "Fine. Ten million dollars. Transfer that amount to my account, and I'll tell you how to cure her hand."
"Ten million?!" Lyn Xia and Lin Niao exclaimed in unison, their voices laced with shock. Given Yang Mo's current financial situation, they thought he'd be impressed by an offer of a hundred or two hundred thousand, but ten million?
Lyn Xia's expression darkened. "Yang Mo, I'm warning you. Don't push it. Do you even understand the methods our Lin family can use?"
Her voice carried a hint of menace. In the past, whenever she was angry, Yang Mo would immediately try to pacify her, sometimes even kneeling to beg for forgiveness. But now, he merely smirked.
"Oh, you're threatening me? Twenty million." Yang Mo's expression turned icy. "One more word, and I won't heal her at all. And don't blame me when tomorrow, her hand becomes completely untreatable."
Lin Niao trembled with anger, unable to formulate a response.
"Twenty million?" Lying took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll pay. But first, heal Big Sister. The transfer has to go through the company, but I'll send it as soon as we return. You have my word."
Yang Mo studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright. Just don't forget."
With that, he turned and walked into the house. A few moments later, he emerged holding an embroidery needle and a lighter. As he sterilized the needle with the flame, the sight sent shivers down their spines.
"Yang Mo, what are you doing?" Lying's voice wavered. "You're not actually going to stab Big Sister's hand with that, are you?"
She had seen acupuncture before, but those used delicate, professional needles—not crude embroidery needles.
"Yeah, what's the problem?" Yang Mo replied indifferently. "Give me your hand."
Lin Niao hesitated. "Are you serious?"
"If you don't want to be treated, then leave. I'm not here to entertain you." Yang Mo's patience was running thin, and he moved to close the door.
"Big Sister, should we let him try?" Lying whispered, unsure.
Lin Xia clenched her fists. "I... I'm a little scared."
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, but ultimately, she extended her hand. "Fine. Just get it over with."
Yang Mo took her wrist in one hand and, without hesitation, pricked a few precise spots on her palm and fingers. The whole process took less than ten seconds.
"Done. Go home and rest for two days. It should recover completely. Don't forget the money."
He wiped the needle clean and turned away.
Lin Xia blinked. "That's it? That easy?"
She had expected an elaborate procedure, but Yang Mo had barely done anything—just a few casual stabs. She clenched her fist experimentally.
"Wait, Shing! I... I can feel my hand again!"
Lin Xia's voice trembled with astonishment. The numbness was gone. She lifted her arm, fully regaining control. Lying's mouth fell open in shock.
"Impossible..." she whispered.
The best neurology specialists had failed to treat Lin Xia's hand, yet Yang Mo had cured her in mere seconds. If the medical world knew about this, it would be earth-shattering.
Yet only Yang Mo understood the truth. The method he used was something he had learned in the spirit space. It wasn't just about knowing where to place the needles—it had to be precise, with continuous and unerring technique to clear the meridians.
"Brother... come back with us," Lying suddenly said. "If you apologize to Mom and Dad, they won't say anything. I swear—"
Yang Mo shook his head, sighing. "Apologize? Fine. Then tell me, Miss Lin, what exactly did I do wrong?"
Lying opened her mouth but found herself at a loss. She searched her mind for any fault of Yang Mo's but came up blank.
For years, they had treated him as an outsider, dismissed his pain, and turned a blind eye to his suffering. Now, with him gone, a strange emptiness lingered.
Finally, she blurted out, "You shouldn't have threatened us with the paternity severance letter. And... little Coen is your brother too! How could you suggest cutting ties with him? Do you know what he did when he found out—"
Yang Mo scoffed, cutting her off. "You all have serious problems if you believe that nonsense. Don't you see? Lin Coen's only goal has always been the Lin family fortune. You're blind if you think otherwise."
Memories of his past life surfaced. After his death, Lin Coen had seized full control of the family, stripping his sisters of their authority, freezing their bank accounts, and ultimately transferring the entire Lin fortune to his name. The once-proud Lin family had crumbled, its members left to fend for themselves.
And now, in this life, they were still defending him.
"Shouldn't you be the one accused of wanting the family's fortune? You're still framing little Coen!" Lin Niao snapped, fiercely protective of her younger brother.
"Believe whatever you want," Yang Mo said flatly. "Now leave."
Just as he was about to shut the door, Lying's eyes flickered toward the table inside the house, where a cake sat untouched.
"Yang Mo... is today your birthday?"
Yang Mo's expression remained unreadable. "Can you leave now?"
Lying froze. It hit her then—Yang Mo's birthday was the same as Lin Coen's.
Every year, the Lin family had lavishly celebrated Lin Coen's birthday, booking restaurants and throwing parties. Yet, in all those years, no one had even asked when Yang Mo's birthday was.
The door shut with a bang, leaving them in stunned silence.
Lin Xia's hands trembled. "Big Sister... all these years, while we celebrated Lin Coen's birthday, Yang Mo must have felt horrible. He watched us enjoy ourselves while no one even acknowledged him."
Lying swallowed hard. "Do you think... we went too far?"
Regret began gnawing at her heart. They had always assumed the worst about Yang Mo, seeing him as an outsider, a troublemaker. But now that he was gone, they couldn't ignore the emptiness he left behind.
Lin Xia clenched her fists. "It doesn't matter. Today is Lin Coen's birthday too. We should hurry back."
Just as they turned to leave, the door next to Yang Mo's creaked open, and an elderly woman stepped out, holding a vegetable basket.
She paused upon seeing them, then suddenly stepped forward, gripping Lin Xia's sleeve with trembling hands.
Lin Xia flinched, startled. "Old lady, do I know you?"
"You don't know me," the old woman said, her eyes kind yet firm. "But I know you."
Lin Xia stared at her in confusion.
"Five years ago, you fell into the canal and nearly drowned," the old woman continued. "I was there. I called a young man nearby to save you."
Lin Xia's breath caught. That incident had been a turning point in her life. She had nearly drowned, only to wake up and find Lin Coen at her bedside, telling her he had saved her.
The elderly woman smiled gently. "You should thank the real person who saved you. It wasn't Lin Coen. It was Yang Mo."
Lin Xia felt her entire world shatter.