Momo's Gradual Change

C129. Big Brother's Father.

Chapter 129: Big Brother's Father

Yang Shusheng glanced back. Yan Chengyun caught his meaning and withdrew, taking his post by the door.

“I’m Yang Shusheng, Muyang’s father.”

From the moment she saw him, Song Yimo had already guessed. Hearing his introduction confirmed it, but it didn’t surprise her.

Closing her laptop, she set it aside and offered him the center seat. “Please, Mr. Yang, have a seat.”

Yang Shusheng sat down, not bothering with pleasantries. It was just an ordinary sofa, but his commanding presence made it feel like a grand executive chair.

Song Yimo poured a cup of warm water in a disposable cup and placed it in front of him, then took a seat on the adjacent sofa. She didn’t initiate conversation, merely sat quietly, waiting.

She wasn’t sure how Zhai Muyang’s father viewed her, but she’d resolved to stay calm, braced for anything he might bring.

Yang Shusheng noted her composed stance, a mix of respect and strength, and found himself a bit taken aback.

He’d thoroughly investigated the Song family and knew all about Song Yimo’s character and past actions. But he hadn’t expected such poise from a sixteen-year-old girl. Either she was extraordinarily self-possessed or she simply had no ulterior motives.

No wonder she’d caught Muyang’s eye. Compared to her peers, she indeed stood out.

“You don’t seem surprised. Were you expecting me?”

“You resemble him, so I guessed.”

Yang Shusheng liked this answer. Out of his three sons, Muyang was the one who looked and acted most like him.

“Has he ever mentioned me?”

Song Yimo met his gaze directly. Though she felt a bit tense facing such a powerful figure, her eyes held no fear.

This man was indeed her big brother’s father. But he was also the father who had let him suffer, whom her brother had never truly acknowledged.

Naturally, she was on her brother’s side, and she intended to regard Mr. Yang simply as an elder.

“I met Zhai Muyang when he came to borrow money from me,” she began. “He was hurt, bleeding, with no ID or wallet. He was in a hurry to return to S City because someone was targeting his life and his business, going after his people. I was scared, thought he was dangerous, so for my own safety, I gave him all the cash I had.”

Yang Shusheng’s face remained impassive, his hands clasped tightly, only he knowing how much strength it took to keep steady.

“Where were you, Mr. Yang, at that time? When you learned of what happened to him, what did you do? ‘Father’ isn’t just a title.” Song Yimo offered a faint smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t know what a father should be, since I don’t have one, either.”

Her small word, “either,” suggested a shared understanding. That was the subtle message she delivered.

Yang Shusheng’s eyes dropped. “Are you standing up for Muyang?”

“He doesn’t need that. Proud people don’t throw tantrums because they lack love; they make themselves stronger, unbreakable. One day, when they meet their old acquaintances, they can stand tall and say ‘hello.’”

He understood: every word, every sentence from Yimo was on Muyang’s behalf. And yet, he had no counterargument.

Should he say he’d always cared for Muyang?

That every time Yang Ting or Yang Yan made things difficult for him, he’d repaid them twice on Muyang’s behalf?

Even if he wanted to say such things in self-defense, he knew she’d only respond, “Wasn’t that your duty?”

“Old acquaintances…”

Yang Shusheng shook his head, half-smiling. “Muyang has never given me the chance to be one. He’s twenty-five now, and I could count the times he’s agreed to see me on one hand. Even when we’re just a floor apart, if he says he won’t see me, I can only leave.”

Song Yimo let out a soft chuckle. “Ordinary fathers get to see their children every day. They can proudly walk side by side anywhere, not needing to hide their relationship or worry about betrayal. Even if a parent is a street cleaner, so long as they’re there, a child feels secure. When my Dage was less capable, when he needed his family, where were you?”

Yang Shusheng fell silent.

Song Yimo couldn’t hold back now. “Mr. Yang, with your extensive influence, I’m sure you’re aware that Grandpa Zhai has never accepted my brother. When he was seven, his mother passed away. Yes, Grandpa Zhai provided for him, but life isn’t just about food and drink. Grandpa hated you, and since my brother looks like you, even his kindness couldn’t stop him from harboring some resentment. Can you imagine what it was like for him growing up in that environment? The fact that he didn’t turn out badly is already remarkable.”

Getting involved with a gang abroad—wasn’t that “turning bad”?

Starting from nothing after he returned, going grey in the process?

How many white hairs did he have?!

But now, when he looked back, those worries felt like fond memories. Shusheng couldn’t deny that, deep down, he was proud of his son, a son so hard to even meet.

Without relying on the Yang name, Muyang had built his own empire by age twenty-five, a standout in his generation.

Yang Ting and Yang Yan combined couldn’t match him.

“I’m sorry; I spoke out of turn,” Song Yimo tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know why you’re here. If you’re worried about him, rest assured he’s doing well. If there’s anything else… Mr. Yang, I won’t be on your side, nor will I be helping you.”

Yang Shusheng picked up the paper cup, staring down at the half-full water. “I don’t need to ask you about him. With his stubbornness, doing so would mean he’d never speak to me again.”

Then he looked up, a hint of helplessness in his expression. “I know you’re family now. Since he won’t bring you to meet me, I had to come and meet you myself.”

“I'm afraid I've disappointed you, Mr. Yang—I’m just a small figure, nowhere near as remarkable as my brother.”

“You’re doing well. Muyang’s care for you hasn’t been wasted.” Yang Shusheng rose, moving to the bedside to check on Wu Ting. Noticing her IV was nearly empty, he pressed the call button.

Song Yimo stood as well.

Yang Shusheng stepped closer to her, pausing by her side. “I know what he wants most, but it’s something I can’t give him. When I learned about you, though, I felt a little reassured—knowing he’d have someone to bring him happiness. Yimo, may I call you that?”

“Of course, you’re his elder,” she replied courteously.

“Yimo, I didn’t come to ask anything of you or to gain something in secret. I know how capable you are, and your character speaks for itself, but I still wanted to see for myself to feel at ease. I’ve owed Muyang too much. I don’t expect him to acknowledge me, nor would I presume to interfere in his life. I have neither the right nor the courage to do so—our relationship is strained enough as it is; there’s no need to make it worse.”

He paused at the door, turning back with a gentle smile. “Next time we meet, call me Uncle Yang.”

———
TN:
Yimo, badass!

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