Breaking the Taboo (1v2, Blood Uncle and Nephew) - Chapter 2

Li Mohan’s body went taut. In a thin voice she said, “Working.”

Han Yezhen’s gaze shifted slightly. “You can go.”

His tone didn’t betray a single emotion.

Li Mohan bowed a little and backed out of the room, taking care to pull the door softly closed behind her.

The club’s air-conditioning was plenty cold, but she’d still broken out in a sweat—so much that it dampened the back of her shirt.

The Han family did big business. Even if she wasn’t welcome in that house, she knew a little—things that couldn’t stand the light of day.

Back then she’d thought those things were very far from her.

At fourteen, she’d accidentally seen Han Yezhen ramming a half-cut pineapple into a man’s mouth. While the man was still howling, he clamped his hands around the man’s jaw.

With a crack, he twisted the man’s neck broken.

Because of that, Li Mohan had nightmares for a month straight.

Later she learned the Han family’s helm had passed to Han Yezhen. Whenever she saw him, she didn’t dare lift her head; her neck always felt cold.

The whole night, Li Mohan drifted through her shift in a fog. She finally made it to clock-out and got a call from Wenhua.

“Mohan, I need to tell you something. There’s trouble at my place. You probably won’t be able to stay with me for a while.”

“What happened?” Li Mohan asked, worried.

Hesitation on the other end; after a moment: “It’s hard to explain over the phone. Let’s talk at school tomorrow.”

Li Mohan gathered her things and left the club. It was late at night.

Backpack on her shoulders, she didn’t even know which way to go.

She didn’t want to go back to the Han house.

Old Master Han had made his fortune in the Nanyang, marrying the daughter of a local gang leader. They had one daughter and one son.

That son was Han Yezhen.

Li Mohan’s mother was the child of Old Master Han and another woman—an illegitimate daughter.

A child born to an illegitimate child was, naturally, illegitimate.

If her mother hadn’t died and her father hadn’t gone missing, if the Old Master hadn’t taken pity on how young and alone she was, she might never have set foot across the Han family’s threshold.

She thought about getting a room for herself, but checkout would be at seven in the morning. Not worth it.

She didn’t have much money on her, either.

Over the years the Han family hadn’t shorted her on food or clothes, but they’d never given her any money.

As she weighed her options, a car came toward her.

The headlights made her squint. She half-closed her eyes, trying to look against the glare; she couldn’t see the people inside clearly.

She didn’t know the make, only that the car was all black, like a panther crouched in the dark from a distance.

Before she could make sense of it, the car rolled to a stop in front of her.

The window slid down, revealing a hard, cold-jawed profile.

Li Mohan didn’t move. A tight string hummed in her chest. “Little Uncle.”

She called softly.

Through the half-lowered window, Han Yezhen looked out. The hand holding his cigarette rested on the edge of the glass.

Pale-blue smoke curled up, veiling the cut of his features.

The gaze he laid on her was still and cool, yet impossible to ignore.

“So late—where are you going?”

She meant to lie and say a classmate’s house, but then she remembered the scene from before. Her hand lifted to rub her neck without thinking. “Home.”

Cigarette still between his fingers, Han Yezhen flicked off the ash and fixed her with a look. “Get in.”

He meant they would go back to the Han house together.

It was deep into the night. Even if she couldn’t be more reluctant to go back, she didn’t dare go against him now.

Though her mother and Han Yezhen were half-siblings by their father, he spent very little time at the Han residence. He’d spoken no more than ten sentences to Li Mohan in total; there was no affection there.

If she angered him, him snapping her neck like it was nothing wasn’t impossible.

She pinched the strap of her bag, then turned to circle the rear of the car. She opened the door and got in, taking the seat beside him.

“Drive,” Han Yezhen told the chauffeur.

The car pulled away, slow and smooth.

He didn’t speak. The cabin was quiet—so quiet it made it hard to breathe.

Staring straight ahead, Li Mohan pressed close to the window, wishing she could sink into the glass, put as much distance between them as possible.

“Why aren’t you wearing the watch?”

His voice sounded good—clean, with a low, smoky edge.

She didn’t know what he meant at first and turned her head on instinct.

The light inside the car was dim. Streaks of passing glow threw his face into half shadow. Black hair fell over his brow; his expression was hard to read.

She could see bl00d on his collar. Several shirt buttons were open, showing those straight, defined collarbones and a strong chest. There was a wildness to him.

A silver chain hung at his neck, the little cross on it catching a faint cold light.

An odd unease pricked through her. “What watch?” she asked, timid.

“The eighteenth-birthday present I gave you.”

At that, she remembered—she had received a watch, sent by international courier.

She knew it was from him. She’d figured it was just for show, so she hadn’t thought much of it.

But she couldn’t say that to his face. So she started to bluff, voice soft and obedient: “It’s too expensive. I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

Silence from him. She couldn’t tell if he believed her. Her heart swung up and down, caught somewhere in her throat. She snuck a glance at him.

In the half-light, his brows and eyes were a little wintry.

After a long time, he said, “If you lose it, I’ll send you another.”

Which meant she was to wear it.

“Okay.”

She answered quietly.

They sank back into suffocating silence.

Finally, just as the next turn would take them onto the road to the Han estate, Han Yezhen spoke, abrupt: “That night, when I got drunk at the Jiman—was that you…”