Chapter 13
Because she hadn't slept well, Ye Shiyu went back to bed after getting up early and didn't wake again until almost noon. Yan Huan had already returned.
"Shiyu, you're up!"
"Co try the crè caral your little brother made—it's delicious."
As she ca downstairs, Shiyu saw small golden custards sitting on the table in front of Ye Lan and Auntie Chen. Each was flawless: glossy tops, amber crowns of caral, a faint wisp of vanilla in the air. They looked almost too elegant for a week-day breakfast.
Auntie Chen waved her over for a taste while Ye Lan snapped photos of the desserts.
Shiyu reached the dining area and glanced toward the kitchen. Yan Huan had just hung his apron on the wall hook. He carried another plate toward her, smiling.
"Sis Shiyu, this one's for you. I found the molds and ingredients in the pantry, so I thought I'd treat everyone."
Ho.
The word hung in the air—he spoke as though the house were already his. Shiyu's gaze dropped to the black porcelain rakin in his hand, her na written on it in neat icing. Frost gathered between her brows, but Ye Lan's voice drifted in from behind.
"Shiyu?"
"...Thanks."
The frost didn't vanish; it only retreated behind her eyes. She took the custard and sat.
Ye Lan tasted a spoonful and sighed happily. "Mm, perfect sweetness. Xiao Huan, you really can bake?"
"Only what I learned at work. It's a small bar that serves desserts—nothing fancy, but we can whip up fries or custards without a problem."
"A bar? Sounds rough."
Ye Lan's brows knitted; she'd always distrusted such places. Yan Huan's smile never wavered. "It's just a cozy tavern with live music. The staff look out for , and the pay's decent."
"That's good to hear. You're working so hard, Xiao Huan."
Ye Lan's face softened. What choice did a high-schooler have, juggling tuition and living expenses? She assud he was there for the money—an easy mistake; Tong's tavern was actually quite respectable.
While the adults talked, Shiyu lifted her spoon. The custard was flawless, yet on her tongue it tasted like bitter bark and needles. Yan Huan's attentiveness only deepened her disgust.
Her gaze flicked between him and her mother, the mask of indifference slipping mont by mont.
Yan Huan glanced at her—just long enough to confirm that the Modifier let him read her mood even more sharply than Ye Lan could. Still, he kept chatting, answering questions, coaxing laughter.
Then he steered the conversation.
"By the way, Sis Shiyu, have you picked your electives on the school portal yet?"
"Electives?"
Ye Lan looked up, puzzled. "Does your school even have those? Don't all students take the sa classes?"
"In Longguo, yes. Here we have five required courses and two electives, usually in the afternoon. You can study with students from other grades or classes."
"Principal Hers didn't ntion it."
"He probably will when you visit the registrar in person. They explain each course face-to-face—sothing you miss if you register online. That's why he didn't send an e-mail yet."
Yan Huan smiled at Ye Lan. "But I know the offerings. I can walk you and Sis Shiyu through it right now."
"Great. Shiyu, go fetch my laptop so Xiao Huan can help you pick classes. I'd like to see how it's done here."
Shiyu stopped carving trenches in her custard, nodded, and climbed the stairs.
As soon as she left, Auntie Chen excused herself to prep lunch. Yan Huan offered to help.
"Don't you worry about that. You stay here and help the girls choose classes. After a custard this good, Auntie Chen will whip up sothing special. Any dish you fancy?"
"Really? Then I'd love the ribs—I saw them in the fridge."
"Ha! Noticed those, did you? All right, ribs it is."
"Co sit, Xiao Huan. Tell us how the courses work."
Listening from the landing, Shiyu's steps slowed. The house felt warr, livelier than when she was ho alone—usually she stayed in her room with her dolls, and the air stayed tepid.
Maybe he fit this family better than she did.
A strange thought after last night's movie, but the feeling lingered.
She gripped her phone tighter and disappeared up the spiral stairs.
After lunch and a short rest, Yan Huan opened the Far Moon course-selection site on Ye Lan's laptop, logged in with the account Principal Hers had provided, and pulled up the catalog. Most of the conversation flowed between him and Ye Lan; Shiyu simply thought, nodded, and murmured, "I have no opinion," until the process resembled Yan Huan choosing classes for himself.
They finally settled on two electives—one of them, "Hands-On Crafts," happened to coincide with Yan Huan's own schedule.
Ye Lan glanced at the clock: almost two. Before she could speak, Auntie Chen leaned out from the kitchen.
"Miss, we're short on groceries. The market's a bit far—could you drive ?"
"I was planning to take the kids out for a movie and dinner. I'll give you the spare key."
Ye Lan did have a car—so why had she used a driver yesterday?
"Oh, forget it. My Linn license isn't ready, and I'd rack up points the mont I hit the road. I'll take a cab later. But if you're not eating in tonight, what about the ribs?"
She disappeared back into the kitchen.
Turned out Ye Lan was a paper-license driver. Color rose in her cheeks; she shot Yan Huan a sheepish look.
"Xiao Huan, Shiyu, how about a movie later? Pick anything you like."
"I'm fine either way."
Shiyu had no real interest. She rarely watched films; yesterday had been an exception. But if her mother insisted, she would go.
Yan Huan glanced at her and suggested, "How about we swing by the supermarket instead? We can buy groceries for Auntie Chen and eat in tonight."
"Such a thoughtful boy."
Ye Lan ruffled his hair, then narrowed her eyes playfully. "Or maybe you just want those ribs?"
"Mainly trying not to waste food. Nothing to do with ribs—honest."
Ye Lan laughed again and turned to Shiyu. "What do you think? Want to see a movie?"
"I'm fine either way."
Shiyu's gaze, flat as a dead lake, fixed on Yan Huan. He pretended not to notice, his smile brightening.
Locking the doors won't be enough, he thought.
Ye Lan changed her mind and called toward the kitchen, "Auntie Chen, what do we need? We'll pick it up."
"No movie?"
"Ha! Xiao Huan loves your ribs."
"Poor boy—must be starving in Linn."
"Co on, list the groceries. We'll head out soon."
Auntie Chen rattled off the list. Ye Lan grabbed the keys and led Yan Huan and Shiyu to the garage.
The garage door rolled up to reveal a tiny, bargain-basent electric car parked inside—barely larger than a plate of chopped-pepper fish heads.
Yan Huan glanced from the dinky vehicle to the beaming Ye Lan beside him.
You're the president of the Linn branch of Ye International—worth a fortune—and you drive this?
Dumbfounded, he followed Ye Shiyu into the back seat. The mont he sat down, Ye Shiyu buckled herself in.
Before he could make sense of anything, the car whirred to life.
"Ready to roll!"
Then the whole car lurched backward and crunched nose-first into the garage wall with a sharp bang.
Clunk!
Yan Huan swayed and flopped back against the seat. Ye Shiyu beside him remained unflinching, as steady as Mount Tai—clearly this happened a lot.
Oh.
He now understood why President Ye's ride was a cheap, disposable runabout.
Ye Lan twisted round, looking mortified. "Sorry, wrong gear. All fixed—off we go!"
"Sure thing, Auntie Ye."
Yan Huan clicked his belt, the smile on his face a little forced.
"Ha-ha-ha, Miss Ye, you nearly scared Xiao Huan half to death!"
At the dinner table, Auntie Chen poured drinks for everyone. Seeing Yan Huan still looking shell-shocked, she burst out laughing.
Ye Lan pouted. "I'm way better than I used to be. Apart from hitting reverse in the garage, everything else was fine, right?"
Right—if you ignored the drifting, zero-fra lane changes, random throttle bursts, and the general sense of racing for your life. The instant torque of an electric car only made things worse; Yan Huan—who never got carsick—was now a nauseous shade of green.
Still, he managed a wan smile. "No problem, Auntie."
Auntie Chen laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes. "Here, have so spare ribs and keep your mouth busy."
Ye Lan placed a rib in Yan Huan's bowl, then another in Ye Shiyu's, and the table settled into cheerful chatter.
Only Ye Shiyu stayed quiet. Yan Huan turned to her and said, "Compared to you, Shiyu sis is amazing—doesn't seem scared at all."
Silence.
Ye Lan filled the gap with a grin. "Big Sis always indulges —unlike you, Xiao Huan."
"Shiyu's used to it. She used to get woozy, too."
Still no answer. Conversation limped on until the al ended.
"Auntie Chen, let help."
This ti Yan Huan rose first and cleared the table. Ye Lan rested her chin in her hand, smiling at his retreating back.
After a mont she crossed to a living-room cabinet and began rummaging inside. The cabinet held stacks of photo albums.
Ye Shiyu's eyes darkened. She knew what was coming.
Those albums held pictures from long ago—including ones of Yan Huan's parents.
Yan Huan had said he would stay the weekend. The mood had been perfect; he was already fitting into the household.
All Mother needed was to open the past, and he would stay forever.
"Mom, I'm going upstairs to sew."
With that, Ye Shiyu rose expressionlessly and climbed the stairs.
"Go ahead, dear."
Ye Lan, still flipping through albums, found the one she wanted and settled on the sofa.
Yan Huan spent a long while in the kitchen. When his hands were clean, he carried out two bowls of double-skin milk pudding he'd just made.
Seeing only Ye Lan in the living room, he asked, "Auntie, where's Shiyu sis? I made dessert for you both."
"She went upstairs to sew."
Ye Lan patted the cushion. "Co here, Xiao Huan. Let show you sothing."
"On my way, Auntie."
He set the bowls on the coffee table and sat beside her. Ye Lan opened the thick album and turned the pages, stopping at a photograph of two young won.
In the picture, a short-haired Ye Lan—smile a little stiff—stood next to a long-haired woman with a sunny grin and two fingers raised in a V-sign.
The mont Yan Huan saw the woman next to Ye Lan, his eyes flickered.
The resemblance was unmistakable—especially when she smiled.
He knew who she was.
"See? This is your mom—Wang Yulu, my college roommate."
Ye Lan's finger traced the photos as she continued, voice soft.
"When we started university, my family's business was in free-fall. We were broke. Don't be fooled by how well I dress now—twenty years ago, I was so poor I could barely afford food."
In several photos her clothes were clearly hand--downs, too big for her.
"Young people need more than just study, right? We want fun, friends, dates. But I had no money for anything—no new clothes, no snacks, no gadgets. Even my makeup was borrowed."
Beside her in every picture, Wang Yulu bead—sotis striking silly poses, sotis flashing peace signs. The joy leapt off the paper.
"She was my roommate. When she saw I had nothing decent to wear, she lent her own clothes. When I had job interviews or dates, she shared her makeup. She taught skincare, dragged out to exercise, studied with , introduced to friends."
"Your parents t during that ti. Look—here's your dad. They were the golden couple of the literature departnt."
Another photo: Ye Lan, Wang Yulu, and a bespectacled young man smiling at the cara around a dinner table, other classmates in the background.
"Your mom was the kindest, most genuine person I've ever known. Without her, I'd probably have had a breakdown during those six years of undergrad and grad school."
"She was my best friend. After graduation, she and your dad chose to develop their careers in Linn. They flew all over the world; half the ti their phones were out of service. anwhile, my marriage collapsed and the family business kept chained here."
"Over the years I'd send the occasional ssage, but I never got a reply. I thought they were just too busy... who knew..."
Ye Lan's eyes reddened. She turned the page, then stopped, afraid to look—afraid the sight of Wang Yulu's face would make her cry.
Yan Huan silently handed her a tissue.
The album now showed a photo that caught his breath: Wang Yulu leaning over a crib, laughing in delighted surprise while a baby Ye Shiyu clutched her little finger.
Below the photo was a caption:
"Shiyu's first eting with her godmother."
Yan Huan's pupils shrank. Ye Lan smiled through her tears.
"Your mom and I promised each other we'd be godmothers to each other's children. That's what I've always told Shiyu. So... Xiao Huan, I hope you'll forgive for being overwheld when we first t. Maybe I ca on too strong, too affectionate—made you uncomfortable."
"I just... I couldn't help it. Even seeing your na—she'd said if she ever had a child she'd na him that, because she loved to laugh and said her baby would surely love to laugh too..."
Yan Huan handed her another tissue, but Ye Lan was beyond noticing. He gently wiped her tears himself.
"Auntie Ye..."
She caught his hand and looked up at him, eyes shimring.
"So, Xiao Huan—will you stay? Live here with us? I'll treat you like my own child, take care of you in your mom's place. Please?"
Silence.
Looking into Ye Lan's tear-filled, hopeful eyes, Yan Huan opened his mouth, a naless emotion swelling in his chest.
It was an offer he could neither refuse emotionally nor rationally. After two days it felt inevitable—like water flowing downhill.
Perhaps he had already accepted in his head. After all, the president of Ye International's Linn branch carried serious weight.
A benefactor who drops from the sky—no matter how dense you are, you understand the weight of the word "yes."
Everything Ye Lan had just said ca straight from the heart.
No lodramatic triangle, no soap-opera vendettas.
Just a hand held out when he was cornered, just months of shared mornings and evenings.
When she laid every precious mory bare—even a transmigrated orphan like Yan Huan couldn't stay unmoved.
Because he felt the truth in her words, he hesitated.
Sensing his wavering, Ye Lan's tear-rimd mouth drooped again.
The sight crashed over him like a flood; refusing her felt like the one unforgivable sin in the world.
"Auntie."
Yan Huan's gaze slid downward, away from her face.
After a long silence he gave a wry smile.
"I can't stay."
Ye Lan blinked, disbelief flickering across her face.
"Why? Does Auntie make you uncomfortable?"
"Of course not."
"Then is it your sister? She just hasn't spent much ti with people—she's not a bad person at heart. I'm sure if you're here, Xiao Huan, she'll open up."
"It's not your sister either, Auntie. I've never thought that."
"Then what is it? Auntie has enough money to solve plenty of problems. If there's anything you're unhappy with, just tell ."
Her expression grew more bewildered, sorrow and hurt brimming over.
She searched his eyes, following his evasive gaze until it had nowhere left to hide.
No point running, Yan Huan.
Bla the damned Modifiers for forcing my hand.
He kept his smile, but his eyes lifted to et Ye Lan's squarely.
There was no disgust in them—only quiet resolve.
Sunday evening, 7:30 p.m., inside the mansion in Jinghe District.
Looking straight at Ye Lan, Yan Huan spoke with equal sincerity.
"Sorry, Auntie Ye.
I can't stay here. I have to return to the South District."
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