Momo's Gradual Change - VOL. 1

C110. Big Brother Arrives.

Chapter 110: Big Brother Arrives

Transferring ownership of a house is no simple task, and there are several ways to go about it. When Song Zhi called last night to finalize the arrangement, he insisted on a sale transfer. But Song Yimo dismissed the idea without a second thought, firmly demanding a transfer by gift.

Song Zhi argued that a gift transfer would cost more, to which she coolly replied, “Then the house stays; it’s your call.”

Song Zhi was determined to claim this house, knowing that securing it would be his triumph. Besides, the extra money now was nothing compared to the house’s potential future value, so he chose not to argue further. The thought of finally owning the property put him in high spirits on the way there, enough that he even tried to stay amicable with Song Yimo.

She, however, didn’t spare him so much as a glance.

Once the business was done at the notary office, she didn’t wait for Song Zhi to offer a ride but flagged down a taxi and helped her grandmother into the back seat.

Song Zhi ran over, holding the door. “What’s the rush? Afraid I’ll insist on dropping you off?”

“Anything left to handle is your responsibility now. Just let us know if Grandma’s presence is needed.” She met his gaze with a steely calm. “Can we close the door?”

Pleased with her answer—and relieved to skip the trouble of dropping them off himself—Song Zhi shrugged and released the door, grinning as though he’d forgotten his own mother sat in the car with his niece, the mother who had borne and raised him.

Grandma Song, too, had become indifferent, turning her head away, unwilling to cast another glance.

The ten o’clock sun was still bearable.

They got out at the neighborhood gate, and as they strolled home, Song Yimo supported Grandma Song, greeting neighbors with unhurried warmth. They collected more than a few words of praise, and at last, with sweat on Song Yimo’s back and satisfaction in Grandma Song’s heart, they reached the front door.

As Song Yimo pulled out her key, the door opened from inside.

She looked up, stunned, to see the man who was supposed to be in a glass tower in Shanghai right now, busy in meetings. A single word—Dage—stuck in her throat, as if it were held there by a hand clamped around her voice.

“Muyang?!” Grandma Song exclaimed, peering over Song Yimo’s shoulder.

All of Song Yimo’s senses rushed back to her; she quickly stepped aside to let Grandma enter and kept her head slightly bowed.

Zhai Muyang, ignoring her reddened eyes, first helped Grandma inside, then drew Somg Yimo in as well.

"Once I wrapped up work, I naturally came back. Thought I’d get a warm welcome—who would’ve guessed no one was home?"

Grandma, wise in her years, knew perfectly well he had hurried back for them, though she didn’t say so. She simply patted his hand with fondness. “We had to take care of something. How long have you been here? Yimo had her phone—why didn’t you call so we could hurry back?”

“Not long at all. I was about to call when you arrived,” Zhai Muyang said, guiding Song Yimo to a seat. “You were at the property office?”

“No,” Song Yimo replied with a light cough, striving for calm. “We went to the notary office. I refused to transfer ownership by sale and insisted on gifting, which requires notarization first.”

Zhai Muyang raised his brows. “A gift transfer costs more than a sale. Song Zhi agreed to it?”

Song Yimo scoffed, “If he wants the house, he has to. There’s no negotiating with me on this.”

“Well done.” Zhai Muyang had rushed back fearing that Song Zhi might act quickly and cause trouble for Yimo and Grandma, but it seemed his worries had been needless. She’d anticipated it all.

Hearing his praise made Song Yimo feel a bit of satisfaction; she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to hide her smile, then lowered her voice slightly. “Song Zhi pulled some strings, so it’ll likely take only a few days to change the deed. We need to start renting a new place quickly. I won’t stay in his house even a day.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t spend a single day here under his roof.” Zhai Muyang placed a hand on her head, feeling a pang of tenderness.

He couldn’t imagine how other children might handle a situation like this, but surely none with such calm or resolve as Yimo. Most would struggle to let go as she had.

On the way here, he’d almost hoped she would cry or lash out at him—anything to let him share in her sorrow. But she had only reddened her eyes and let it pass. Her strength made his heart ache all the more, and he’d give anything to lift her burdens.

*

The sun still cast a heavy heat well into the afternoon, but by now it was bearable to step outside.

As they drove, Grandma Song gazed out the window at the familiar streets. “Muyang, where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there.” Zhai Muyang replied with a smile, though his gaze rested on Yimo, whose expression betrayed a hint of something more. He had a feeling she might already be piecing it together, perhaps suspecting that he’d had plans to find a place before summer ended.

The community guard glanced at the car and waved them through. Zhai Muyang drove smoothly to a stop in the garage under Building Four, his movements practiced.

In this neighborhood, the layout was typical—garages on the first floor, with the living quarters starting on the second. The stairs were gentle, and Grandma Song climbed them easily.

Muyang opened the door to Apartment 201 and, with a smile, gestured for them to step inside.

Grandma Song’s eyes widened as realization dawned. She looked at her grandson with astonishment. “Is this…?”

“I’ve been watching the market since after New Year’s,” Zhai Muyang explained, glancing over at Song Yimo’s thoughtful expression. “This was an unfinished property I bought from someone else. It’s close to the old neighborhood, so it’ll be even easier to visit Grandma Miao than before. And Yimo won’t have to worry about you being home alone while she’s at school and I’m at work.”

Grandma Song’s lips trembled, and all she could manage were soft murmurs. She’d just been wounded by her own son, only to be doubly cherished by her grandson who wasn’t even has blood ties. It stirred something deep within her.

“It’s been three months since the place was finished,” Zhai Muyang continued. “I used the best materials I could, but it’s had time to air out, so now it’s safe to move in. Grandma, let me show you your room. Yimo, feel free to explore. The room to the right is yours.”

“…Alright.”

Song Yimo stood in the middle of the living room, taking in the fresh surroundings.

The four-bedroom layout was warm and inviting, with a soft beige as the primary color scheme and touches of blue that added a quiet charm.

Yet Song Yimo felt she was overlooking something.

She turned toward the dining area, and her gaze locked on the table—its edges padded with soft fabric. Then her eyes drifted to the television cabinet, the coffee table… Every sharp corner in the house was cushioned.

It was clear who these details were for.

Song Yimo realized that even she might not have thought to consider all this so carefully.

Just then, Zhai Muyang emerged from one of the rooms. “Why didn’t you go check out your room? Don’t like the setup out here?”

She looked at him, silent.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping closer. “Not happy with it? Or does it feel uncomfortable, knowing it’s my house?”

Song Yimo shook her head. “I just didn’t expect this.”

“I did mention wanting to buy a place here, remember?” He took her by the hand, guiding her further inside. “I thought this would be a nice surprise for you, and it turns out we could use it right away. Go ahead, open the door, and see if you like it.”