DYH | Chapter 13

The day Bai Wei was discharged from the hospital, Zhao Xuan and Wang Ning came together to pick him up. The two friends helped him clean up his place before leaving early, wanting him to get some rest. However, not long after they left, there was a knock on Bai Wei’s door.

This time, the visitor was Li Lang—and he had a suitcase with him.

“The pipes in my apartment burst. I need a place to stay for a while,” Li Lang got straight to the point, skipping any unnecessary pleasantries.

Of course, they both knew that wasn’t the real reason. But at least, it was a way in. A step he could take.

Bai Wei remained silent for a long time before finally letting Li Lang inside. “Thank you, Ah Lang.”

An Tianming watched as Li Lang entered the room—someone who had come here specifically because he was worried Bai Wei might be scared of being alone. And yet, all An Tianming could feel was bitter resentment.

Because Li Lang was someone who deserved Bai Wei’s trust and care far more than he ever did.

After helping Li Lang settle into the guest room, Bai Wei hesitated for a moment before blinking at him expectantly. “Ah Lang, do you want to play a game with me?”

Li Lang raised an eyebrow. “A game?”

Bai Wei nodded. “The spirit board game—Bi Xian.”

For a long moment, Li Lang was speechless.

Bai Wei explained, “I’ve actually thought about it before. If I really want to communicate, this would be a good way to try. But, well… playing it alone is kind of scary. So, I was hoping you could help me be a little braver.”

For the first time in this house, he openly admitted that he believed it was haunted. Now that the topic had been brought up, he didn’t hold back.

“Movies always make it seem like people who play these games are just asking for trouble. But Ah Lang, you know plenty of capable people—if something did happen, I’m sure you could find a master to deal with it,” Bai Wei said, making sure to let his unseen guest hear this as well.

Then, as if to soften the blow, he added, “Besides, if there really is a ghost here, maybe it needs our help.”

A stick, followed by a carrot. Finally, he concluded, “So, I think… we should at least try talking to it.”

Li Lang gave Bai Wei a long, complicated look. “To be honest, I’m an atheist. But if you have to believe in ghosts and spirits, Xiao Bai, I at least hope you understand this—” His voice was steady, serious. “You shouldn’t assume ghosts are good.”

“Ghosts were once human. That means they should be reasonable, right?” Bai Wei countered.

“But you do realize that humans can be completely unreasonable, don’t you?”

Bai Wei lowered his head, his voice laced with quiet self-mockery. “Ah Lang, of course I know that.”

Of course he knew. Because he had encountered the most unreasonable person in the world.

Bai Wei would never understand why An Tianming had treated him the way he did. And that was inevitable—because even An Tianming himself couldn’t explain why he had so easily trampled on something that, in his heart, had mattered more than anything else.

Realizing he might have said too much, Li Lang hesitated, guilt flickering in his gaze as he watched Bai Wei closely. “Xiao Bai…”

But before he could figure out what to say, Bai Wei had already put on his usual bright, easy-going smile.

“Don’t worry, Ah Lang.” He reassured him. “Even if the whole world refuses to be reasonable, I’d still choose to be someone who is. At the very least, it gives me the satisfaction of knowing I’m better than the rest.”

When everyone ignores the rules of the road, what’s the point of following them alone?

When no one else knows how to speak, what’s the point of mastering every language? But Bai Wei insisted on being someone who played by the rules.

From three years ago until now, he had never wavered. An Tianming thought back to the moment Bai Wei had once said to him—“No matter how much I hate you, I will never become like you.”

He had told An Tianming, “I will look down on you for the rest of my life.” And he had every right to.

The vast, insurmountable gap between them meant that Bai Wei would always stand above him—and An Tianming would remain forever beyond his reach.

“Tsk, listen to yourself,” Li Lang finally said in mock complaint. “The whole world isn’t unreasonable, you know? At the very least—” He paused, then spoke with deliberate clarity.

“I’ll stand with you. I’ll be reasonable with you.”

A flash of emotion flickered in Bai Wei’s eyes.

“You’re my most trusted friend,” he said sincerely. “Maybe… even more than Xuan Zi and the others.”

Then, just as quickly, he plastered on an exaggeratedly sweet smile. “So, will you play ‘Pen Fairy’ with me?”

Li Lang sighed in mock defeat, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re buttering me up so much—how could I possibly say no?”

At midnight, the Pen Fairy game successfully “made contact.”

At first, An Tianming was just trying it out. Recently, he had occasionally been able to touch some objects, so maybe he could actually hold the pen this time. With that thought in mind, he focused all his energy on grasping the pen that Bai Wei was trying to get a response from. And to his surprise, he found it incredibly easy.

“Excuse me, Pen Fairy, is that you? If it is, please draw a circle,” Bai Wei asked in a soft voice.

Ever since he had fallen off that cliff, this was the first time An Tianming could communicate with Bai Wei. Suppressing his excitement, he controlled the pen and drew a circle on the blank sheet of paper.

Bai Wei’s eyes lit up, and he exchanged a glance with Li Lang, who was sitting across from him. “Pen Fairy, can you tell me your last name?”

Holding the pen, An Tianming hesitated for a long time before writing.

Finally, stroke by stroke, he wrote the character “Bai”.

Bai Wei raised his eyebrows in surprise and delight. “Your last name is Bai too? You knew my last name was Bai?”

An Tianming didn’t draw a circle. Instead, he continued writing—

“Ancestor.”

Bai Wei immediately caught on. “Pen Fairy, are you saying that you’re my ancestor?”

An Tianming had once sworn to himself that he would never lie to Bai Wei again. But now, he was doing it anyway. He drew a circle on the paper.

Bai Wei frowned slightly, confused. “So… you came specifically to see me?”

This time, the circle was truthful. An Tianming really came to see Bai Wei. At that moment, he had suddenly realized that no one could see or hear him—but he hadn’t paid much attention to that. The only thing that mattered to him was whether he could find Bai Wei. He hadn’t even known where Bai Wei was, yet somehow, he had still ended up by his side.

“Ancestor, do you need me to do something for you?” Bai Wei tried asking.

This time, An Tianming drew an X.

Bai Wei kept guessing. “Then… are you here to do something for me?”

A circle.

“Am I about to face some huge crisis? Did you come to help me overcome it?” Bai Wei asked, puzzled.

An Tianming drew an X.

He didn’t wait for Bai Wei to ask more questions. Controlling the pen felt surprisingly easy, but he couldn’t write too many words. So after some thought, he kept it simple and wrote just two characters—

“Marriage Fate.”

Faced with that phrase, Bai Wei instinctively let out a small laugh. But then, realizing that laughing in front of his “ancestor” was probably disrespectful, he quickly apologized.

“Sorry, Ancestor, I didn’t mean to laugh.” He carefully considered his words before continuing, “But I don’t think I really need help in that area.”

An Tianming used all his strength just to write four words—

“You need a home.”

Each word weighed like a thousand pounds. He, the one who had once destroyed Bai Wei’s family, had no right to say this. And yet, he did. An Tianming knew exactly how ironic it was.

Bai Wei was stunned, staring at those words in silence for a long time.

An Tianming held onto the pen, which was getting heavier and heavier. When he wrote the next two characters, he had the urge to scribble them out over and over again. But in the end, he didn’t. He left them there, clear and undeniable on the white paper—

“Li Lang.”

The moment he let go of the pen, he felt drained, as if all his strength had left him. He stared at the answer he had given. What hurt the most was knowing it was the right one.

A deep silence filled the room.

Bai Wei sat there in a daze, staring at Li Lang’s name on the paper. Li Lang, after shaking off his initial shock, quickly reassured him, “Xiao Bai, trust me, I wasn’t secretly controlling the pen.”

Bai Wei lifted his head to look at him. “Of course, I believe you.” His tone was firm, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. For the first time, there was something else in his gaze—uncertainty, hesitation, and a fragile hope he wasn’t sure he dared to hold on to.

Li Lang gradually calmed down. Since Bai Wei didn’t continue asking questions, he took the initiative to end the game properly.

“Pen Fairy, let’s stop here for today, okay?”

An Tianming didn’t want to respond to Li Lang—the man he had envied and hated the most in life.

And yet, even without his control, the pen slowly moved on its own, drawing a perfect circle.

…So, was this really fate?

He thought he was matchmaking Bai Wei and Li Lang. But in reality, this was fate itself, using An Tianming’s hands to give Bai Wei a final warning—before it was too late, he should cherish the one man who might truly be worthy of him.

Bai Wei’s hand finally moved away from Li Lang’s. The game was over. But every word, every message left behind still lay clearly on the white paper.

Li Lang.

The final answer.

“We’re different,” Li Lang spoke slowly. “I don’t believe in fate, but you do. Yet right now, I want to believe in destiny—I want to believe this is meant to be. At the same time, I don’t want you to accept this just because you think it’s fate. Xiao Bai, when you make your decision one day, I want it to be purely your own will and judgment.”

Bai Wei looked at him quietly. “You’re afraid I’ll act on impulse now and make a decision we’ll both regret?”

“I’m afraid you’ll act on impulse and make a decision you will regret,” Li Lang corrected him calmly.

An Tianming wanted to leave. He wanted to run away. This was the outcome he had set in motion, yet he couldn’t even bear to watch it unfold.

“I really am afraid of regret,” Bai Wei admitted. “I’m afraid of giving you hope… only to disappoint you in the end.”

“If that’s the case, then don’t give me hope—just give me a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance to go to the movies together, to have dinner together, to spend an entire lazy afternoon on the couch watching TV or playing games… Or right now, you could close your eyes and let me give you a light kiss.”

“I can’t agree to a kiss,” Bai Wei said seriously—then suddenly laughed. “Maybe my ancestor is still watching. I’m not really into public displays of affection. But, we can go to the movies. And if the theater is dark enough… maybe we can give that kiss a try there?”

Li Lang reached out, his hand crossing over the sheet of paper where his name was written, and gently held Bai Wei’s left hand, which was still resting on the table.

“I’m sorry, Xiao Bai… for everything I did that year. But I want you to know—in my heart, I’ve never kissed you, never touched you before…”

…He had wanted to run away. An Tianming didn’t know why he was still standing there. The only thing he knew for certain—was that his heart had never really left.