๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
659 ๐๐๐ฅ๐ซ๐จ๐ฌ๐, ๐๐ข๐๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ข๐ ๐๐จ๐ฌ๐ฆ๐๐ง,
๐๐ฒ๐๐ง๐๐ฒ, ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐.
Slowly, he slipped out of the ๐ง๐๐ฏ๐ฒ-๐๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐ค๐ข๐ฌ๐ก ๐ฌ๐ก๐ข๐ซ๐ญ he was wearing and tossed it onto the ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ก๐ข๐๐ซ๐ ๐๐ง๐๐ซ๐๐๐ญ๐ญ๐ข ๐ฌ๐จ๐๐ in his spacious bedroom.
He studied his handsome, slightly flushed face in the mirror, frowning faintly as his fingers brushed over his right cheek, where a single stubborn pimple had appeared the day before...annoying enough to ruin his mood and keep him from going out.
With a quiet sigh, he removed his white underwear and headed to the bathroom, dropping them into the laundry basket before reaching for his toothbrush and toothpaste. As he brushed, his eyes remained fixed on his reflection, irritation lingering over the blemish on his skin.
When he finished, he stepped into the ๐ฃ๐๐๐ฎ๐ณ๐ณ๐ข, letting warm water cascade over him. His eyes drifted shut as the heat eased his tension and calmed his thoughts.
After a few minutes, he emerged, a brown towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one around his hair. His skin glowed...clear evidence of rest, comfort, and the careful use of ๐ก๐ข๐ ๐ก-๐ช๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ ๐ฌ๐ค๐ข๐ง๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ฉ๐ซ๐จ๐๐ฎ๐๐ญ๐ฌ.
He sat before the mirror, switched on the hand dryer, and began drying his hair, which he had undone from its bob-marley braids the previous evening.
He slipped into a lightweight ๐ ๐ซ๐๐๐ง ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ฒ๐ฌ๐ข๐๐ง ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐ค ๐ฌ๐ก๐ข๐ซ๐ญ and a pair of ๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐๐๐ซ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ฌ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐ฌ, then stepped out of his bedroom with his phone in hand, about to place a call.
The scent of his ๐๐๐ซ๐ฌ๐๐๐ ๐๐ซ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐๐ซ๐ฒ๐ฌ๐ญ๐๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ announced his presence as he entered the wide, elegant living room.
๐๐ฎ๐๐๐ข, their housekeeper...who had worked with them since Singapore and had been sent by Mr. Shang, Zhan's friend...lifted her head from adjusting the large humidifier after finishing the house cleaning. Her eyes followed him, and she smiled politely.
"๐บ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐."
Yibo glanced at her with calm eyes and replied simply, "๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐ข๐๐๐."
He looked toward Yuli's bedroom and asked, "๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐๐ ๐๐ค๐๐๐?"
"๐๐๐ , ๐ ๐๐," Zubbi answered as she moved to set up Yibo's breakfast on the dining table before heading into their spacious Australian-style kitchen.
Yibo walked straight to Yuli's room, opening the door as he spoke.
"๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐๐, ๐ผ ๐ค๐๐'๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ก ๐ก๐๐๐๐ฆ. ๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐ค๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐โฆ"
Yuli was seated on a soft ash-colored sofa that matched the room's light, elegant tone. She wore clear-framed glasses and was reading a book, dressed in a long, light-pink Swiss cotton gown of fine quality.
She looked up at him with care and unmistakable affection...an affection that had long become part of her very being. Setting the book aside, she focused on him completely.
"๐๐๐๐๐ฆ, ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐๐ข๐ ๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ก, ๐๐๐๐.
๐โ๐ฆ ๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐ ๐ก๐ข๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ค? ๐ท๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐กโ๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐ข'๐ฃ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ค๐ ๐๐๐ฆ๐ ?
๐๐๐ข'๐๐ ๐ ๐ก๐ข๐๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐...๐๐๐'๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐กโ๐๐ก. ๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐'๐ก ๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐ ๐ก๐๐๐๐ก๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐ค๐๐ฆ. ๐ด ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐ก๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข '๐๐๐๐.' ๐น๐๐๐๐ โ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ก ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐โ๐๐๐."
Yibo sat beside her, his face scrunching as he tried to speak, but she stopped him gently yet firmly.
"๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐ค ๐๐๐ก๐ก๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฆ๐๐๐ โ๐๐ค ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐กโ๐๐ ๐ค๐๐ข๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐๐ข๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ค๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐ค๐๐กโ๐๐ข๐ก ๐ ๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐. ๐ผ ๐๐๐'๐ก ๐ค๐๐๐ก โ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐๐ข๐ ๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ."
"๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐๐, ๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐ค ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐, โ๐ ๐ค๐๐ข๐๐๐'๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ฆ."
"๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐. ๐ต๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ข๐๐ก๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐๐ค๐๐๐ ๐ ๐โ๐๐๐. ๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐ค โ๐๐ค ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐กโ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ข๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐ข๐๐๐ก๐๐๐. ๐ผ'๐๐ โ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐โ๐ก?"
He nodded, stood up, and said as he moved toward the door,"๐บ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. ๐ผ ๐๐๐๐'๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐คโ๐๐ ๐ผ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐."
A faint smile spread across Popo Yuli's face as she admired the smooth, glowing skin visible at Yibo's neck beneath his shirt. With a light laugh, she said,
"๐บ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ก๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐โ๐๐."
Yibo turned back toward her with a small smile. His friends often called him that, and Popo Yuli did as well, from time to time. He went to the dining area and sat comfortably, enjoying a cup of black tea, two slices of toasted bread, and eggs.
Once he was done, he left the table and returned to his room, dialing his father again. He had been trying to reach him since earlier, but this time the call finally went through.
Zhan was seated in the living room of his well-appointed duplex in Singapore, holding a meeting with CM Shang, his trusted best friend and business associate. They were discussing plans for a new company whose branch had just been opened in Shanghai, China.
He sat on a two-seater couch, dressed in a soft, sky-blue English suit that reflected both elegance and wealth. His phone lay beside him. When it lit up with an incoming call, he turned calmly to look at it.
His pale eyes shifted briefly toward CM Shang, and he said quietly,
"๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ข๐ก๐."
He picked up the phone and brought it to his ear. His voice, naturally deep and controlled, softened instantly. His only son...his most precious possession in the world...always drew out that gentler tone.
"๐๐๐, ๐๐ฐ๐ฉ๐ถ."
Yibo let out a small breath as he sat on the edge of his bed, his voice filled with affection and longing.
"๐ฎ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐ซ๐๐ ๐ ๐."
Zhan glanced at the ๐๐๐ญ๐๐ค ๐๐ก๐ข๐ฅ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ ๐ฐ๐๐ญ๐๐ก on his wrist, then briefly at CM Shang. He knew Yibo would want to talk for a while, and CM Shang had a flight to China at eleven. Still, he replied with warmth and care.
"๐ฎ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐.
๐ซ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐?"
"๐ฐ'๐ ๐๐๐๐. ๐ซ๐๐ , ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐?
๐ฏ๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐๐?
๐พ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐?"
Calmly, Zhan answered,
"๐ฐ'๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ช๐ด ๐บ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐ฐ'๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐? ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐."
"๐ถ๐๐๐, ๐ซ๐๐ . ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐.
๐ฐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐."
Zhan ended the call and set the phone down before looking back at CM Shang, who had been waiting patiently. He was already showing signs of concern...everyone knew that whenever Yibo called, important meetings could easily be delayed or interrupted.
It was no secret among those close to Zhan: when it came to Yibo, Xiao Zhan's judgment often softened, no matter how critical the business at hand was.
Yibo was Zhan's one true weakness...something no one fully understood except Shang and Popo Yuli, the only two who truly knew how deeply his son lived in his heart.
At the same time, Yibo was also the source of Zhan's strength.
All the wealth and success he had accumulated meant less to him than a single day of his son's happiness.
Yibo himself knew he was the light of his father's life, just as everyone knew that Zhan's love for his son was beyond measure. He was not only Yibo's father...
he was his mother, protector, guide, and the center of his world.
CM Shang let out a slow breath as he looked at Zhan. He had assumed he would be kept waiting while Zhan finished his call, but fortunately, Zhan kept it brief.
Zhan noticed the tension CM Shang was in, so he quickly wrapped things up.
Calmly, he picked up the documents requiring his signature and began signing as he said,
"๐โ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐จ๐ฐ๐จ ๐๐๐๐ข๐๐๐๐ก๐ ๐ค๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ข๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐'๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ก๐ข๐๐, ๐๐ข๐ก ๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐ค. ๐ป๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ โ โ๐๐ ๐ ๐ก๐ข๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ก. ๐น๐๐ ๐๐๐ค, ๐๐๐ก'๐ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ก๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ."
"๐ด๐๐๐๐โ๐ก," CM Shang replied.
They parted ways at ten o'clock, after one of their staff members escorted CM Shang to the airport.
At 11:30, Zhan boarded his own flight with his secretary, leaving Singapore for Australia.
Even though Yibo had no real desire to go, he prepared for school and left the house. Before leaving, he spoke with his friend...who felt the same way about school. Neither of them had much interest in academics; they preferred leisure and luxury, living the carefree lives of privileged youths.
Although Yibo often claimed he disliked studying, that never meant he neglected his work once he was in class. Whenever he attended school, he focused seriously, and with his sharp intelligence, he had never failed. His grades were always good. It wasn't that he lacked ability...he simply lacked passion.
What truly interested him was marriage. He dreamed of leaving school behind and living life on his own terms: shopping, visiting beauty salons and spas, and traveling freely to any country he pleased.
That was already close to the life he lived. He had no occupation beyond shopping trips, spa visits, and body care routines. Personal grooming was extremely important to him, and it showed...his skin always glowed with health, rest, and meticulous care.
He rarely traveled alone. Most of the countries he had visited were alongside his father or Popo Yuli.
Even after their lives changed drastically, Zhan still did not allow him complete freedom to roam as he wished, no matter how little time Zhan himself spent at home. His rules remained firm wherever he was. Because of this, Yibo desired marriage far more than education...especially a modern, comfortable marriage that would allow him to live freely, without pressure or stress. Love itself fascinated him; it was something he longed to experience fully.
That was why, after his father and Popo Yuli, there was no one he loved more than his boyfriend, ๐๐ซ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐.
Erland held a deep place in Yibo's heart, just as he cared deeply for Yibo. Their lives were strikingly similar. Erland also came from a very wealthy family; his parents lived in China, and he was originally from Shanghai. Though he studied abroad, he had spent much of his childhood in Western countries before his parents returned home and left him to continue his education.
Like Yibo, Erland was a refined, privileged young man, raised in comfort and elegance. Because their lifestyles matched so closely, their bond grew strong and intense.
Zhan was fully aware of Yibo's lack of enthusiasm for school and knew that marriage mattered more to him than academics. However, he pretended not to notice, refusing to give Yibo any opportunity to justify skipping his studies. He called that feeling to ๐๐๐๐ง๐๐ ๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ฆ๐จ๐ง๐๐ฌ.
Zhan's stance was firm and unwavering:
There would be no marriage until Yibo completed his education.
โกโกโก
In the next morning, Yibo did not linger in bed. He woke up around nine o'clock, remove his clothes, tossed them onto a chair, and went straight into the bathroom, wrapping a towel around himself.
He took his time in the shower, as usual, indulging in the soothing ritual. After several minutes, he came out with a soft milk-colored towel wrapped around his body and a smaller one around his hair.
The clean, calming scent of his ๐๐๐๐๐ shower gel lingered on his skin. He glanced at the small bedside clock and noticed it was almost ten, so he moved directly to the mirror to get ready.
He applied a light layer of ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ moisturizer, followed by oil and the rest of his skincare routine, carefully massaging everything in until his skin felt perfectly balanced.
Before he even stepped out of the bathroom, Zubbi had already tidied his room, turned on the humidifier, and sprayed fresheners that filled the space with a gentle fragrance. She had taken the clothes he removed to the laundry and quietly left.
He slipped into an ๐๐ฅ๐๐ซ๐ shirt and dark-brown ๐๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐๐ง๐๐ซ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฅ๐ฌ. As he walked out, the scent of ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ญ blended softly with the air around him.
He headed straight to Popo Yuli's room, knowing she would still be asleep.
Ever since she began aging, she had never stopped supervising Zhan's meals whenever he was in the house. It had become a habit...if she wasn't seen in the kitchen, it meant Zhan was away. Once she finished preparing his breakfast and ensured everything was set on the dining table, she would return to bed until noon, then wake, bathe, and later assist Zubbi with lunch preparations.
As Yibo expected, Popo Yuli was asleep. He left her room quietly and went toward the dining area. Just as he entered, Zhan was walking in.
Yibo lifted his eyes, lined subtly with expensive eyeliner, and looked at him. The scent of Zhan's cologne overpowered his own, making him pause before sitting.
With calm respect and deep affection, he greeted him,
"๐บ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐ท๐๐. ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐."
Zhan looked at him quietly, pulled out a chair, and sat down slowly, studying Yibo's relaxed posture. He replied evenly, "๐บ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. ๐ท๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ค๐๐๐? ๐ป๐๐ค ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐๐? ๐ผ๐ ๐ โ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐?"
"๐๐๐ , ๐ โ๐ ๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐," Yibo replied as he sat.
Yibo served Zhan breakfast before pouring his own and settling down to eat. Zhan ate quietly...brown paste served with fried potatoes and liver. Popo Yuli knew well that he did not care much for pastries; he preferred proper meals over fancy, decorative food.
Yibo kept stealing glances at him, wanting to talk about the request he had made the previous day, but he hesitated. He feared that the rules Zhan had already set might become even stricter. The night before, Zhan had scolded him seriously over skipping school and had imposed new boundaries.
Unable to hold back, Yibo set his fork down and looked up weakly.
"๐ท๐๐โฆ"
Zhan picked up a tissue, wiped his mouth, then raised his eyes and fixed them on Yibo, waiting.
Under that steady gaze, Yibo lowered his head. Fake tears welled in his eyes, and when he looked back up, they spilled down his cheeks.
"๐ท๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐โฆ ๐ผ'๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฆ. ๐ผ ๐ค๐๐'๐ก ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐ผ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐. ๐ต๐ข๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐'๐ก ๐ ๐ก๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ก ๐๐ ๐ฃ๐๐ ๐๐ก๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ."
Zhan watched the tears fall and let out a brief, unexpected smile. Seeing his son...whom he had raised with his own hands...trying to soften him with tears amused him. How old was Yibo, really? When had he grown clever enough to think he could manipulate him this way, knowing well that he could never stand his tears?
Yibo hadn't grown up with a mother, yet somehow he had learned this tactic all on his own.
Zhan's smile widened slightly as he studied Yibo's genuine tears. In the past, they would have shattered him instantly. Now, he felt more surprised than anything else at how capable Yibo had become.
He exhaled softly, took another tissue from the table, and handed it to him.
"๐โ๐๐ก'๐ ๐๐๐๐ข๐โ. ๐โ๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข'๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐ฆ. ๐ผ'๐๐ ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ก๐ ๐ ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐ก๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ผ ๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐."
Yibo wiped his tears with the tissue, relief washing over him. Nothing made him happier than knowing his father could never endure seeing him cry.
He stood up, grabbed his channel bag, and followed behind. His phone buzzed in his hand...Erland's name flashing on the screen.
He didn't answer. Instead, he slipped the phone into his bag. For now, all he wanted was to soften Zhan's heart enough to let him continue going wherever he pleased.
They left the house in a black BMW 7 Series, with Zhan driving himself and Yibo seated in the front passenger seat. The interior of the car was filled with the rich scent of their expensive perfumes, but since it was Zhan's car and he used it more often, his fragrance naturally dominated the space.
Zhan dropped Yibo off right at the school gate, ignoring all the pleading and silent requests Yibo had been making along the way. After parking, he turned to look at him, his expression softening slightly as he spoke in a gentle but firm voice.
"๐๐๐๐."
Yibo lifted his head, trying unsuccessfully to summon tears that refused to come.
"๐๐๐ , ๐ท๐๐," he replied quietly.
"๐น๐๐๐ ๐ก๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐ค๐๐๐, ๐ผ ๐๐๐'๐ก ๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐ก๐ ๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐," Zhan said calmly.
"๐โ๐๐ก'๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ก ๐ก๐ ๐ ๐ค๐๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐กโ๐๐'๐ โ๐๐๐๐ก? ๐ผ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ก๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ , ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ก๐๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ข๐๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ก๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข โ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐ค๐๐ฆ?"
Yibo shook his head weakly, looking hurt.
"๐๐, ๐ท๐๐."
"๐๐, ๐๐๐๐. ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐ก๐๐ข๐กโ," Zhan insisted.
"๐ผ ๐๐๐๐'๐ก ๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ฆ ๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ๐ค๐๐ฆ. ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐ข๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐ข๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ก๐ . ๐โ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ก ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ผ ๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐ก๐ ๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ก, ๐๐๐๐ฆ?"
Yibo nodded, holding back the tears that stubbornly refused to fall.
Truthfully, he had no real reason to cry. God had blessed him with everything he needed through his father. The only thing missing in his life was a mother...a topic he never mentioned, neither carelessly nor deliberately, in front of Zhan or behind his back. Zhan's visible anger and bitterness whenever the subject arose had long seeped into Yibo's own heart, leaving him with the same quiet resentment whenever he remembered that he did, in fact, have a mother.
Whether she had abandoned him and his father during their hardest days or left because she could not endure Zhan's difficult personality, Yibo didn't know. What he did know was that only him and Popo Yuli truly understood how to live with his Daddy, knowing exactly what he liked and what he could not tolerate.
Yibo was not used to disappointing his father, and he could never bear the weight of Zhan's anger. He reached out gently, touching his father's hand as he spoke softly.
"๐ผ'๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฆ, ๐ท๐๐. ๐ผ ๐ค๐๐'๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐."
Zhan nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Yibo's head.
"๐ด๐๐๐๐โ๐ก. ๐บ๐ ๐๐๐ค, ๐๐๐'๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐๐ก๐. ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐๐ ๐๐๐."
Yibo smiled faintly.
"๐๐๐๐ฆ. ๐ต๐ฆ๐, ๐ท๐๐. ๐ป๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐ก ๐ค๐๐๐."
He stepped out of the car, waved once, then turned and walked away.
Neesah, who had been waiting for him, joined him, and together they headed inside while Yibo complained lightly about how his father had completely canceled their spa plans.
Once they were gone, Zhan drove off, ignoring the students who stood nearby admiring him. He was used to the stares and the whispered comments...some of which openly suggested they would gladly become Yibo's stepmother. He only smiled when he heard such remarks.
Only then did he pick up his phone, start the engine properly, and head toward his office.
****
That day, Yibo went straight home after school. There was no usual hanging out or wandering around. Neesah also had no choice but to return home, even though neither of them wanted to. Yibo simply could not disobey his father or risk upsetting him.
For two days, they stopped going out and focused entirely on their studies, especially since they were already far behind. Even Popo Yuli found herself praising Zhan's new rules. In the whole world, he was the only one capable of controlling Yibo's outings. Yibo disliked staying indoors, especially when Neesah was around, so the days began to feel unusually dull....school and straight home, nothing more.
Zhan, however, kept a close watch on all of Yibo's movements. He never considered separating him from Neesah. From the beginning, his investigations had shown that Neesah had a good upbringing. She was simply a girl who had been given too much freedom by her parents. Shopping trips, beauty spas, outings with friends...that was the extent of it. She had no involvement in anything reckless or dangerous, which was why Zhan allowed the frienship to continue. After all, Yibo was bound to grow up with friends around him.
Time passed like this until they reached a two-week break. That was when Erland began pressuring Yibo relentlessly about marriage.
He was very direct, insisting that he wanted to get married because his desire for physical closeness had grown stronger.
At first, they argued fiercely. Yibo told him bluntly to stop comparing himself to friends who treated life carelessly, living in luxury and excess. Erland eventually took his advice and distanced himself from ๐๐๐๐ค๐ฌ for a few days...the same friends who constantly fueled his desires.
Their living situation didn't help. The three of them shared a large house, each with a spacious bedroom, private bathroom, and walk-in closet. They had been friends since childhood. Zacks was Black American, while ๐๐ฎ ๐ ๐ข๐๐ง was practically family due to their long-standing family friendship.
They lived comfortably, surrounded by money and privilege. Women came and went constantly; there was hardly a night without someone staying over. If Zack didn't bring someone, ๐๐ฎ ๐ ๐ข๐๐ง did. Over time, this environment began to weigh heavily on Erland, especially as his desires intensified.
After two days of struggling, he started pressing Yibo again about marriage. Yibo had already made his stance clear...they would only be intimate after marriage, as he wanted to avoid any chance of pregnancy.
That day, they nearly argued again. Frustrated and overwhelmed, Yibo finally said,
"๐ต๐๐๐ฆ, ๐ผ'๐ฃ๐ ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข...๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐ ๐ค๐๐'๐ก ๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ผ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ๐ข๐ ๐๐๐ค. ๐ท๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ก ๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ โ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ก ๐กโ๐๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐๐? ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ข๐ก ๐๐ก. ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐, ๐๐ก'๐ ๐๐๐ก ๐๐ข๐ ๐ก ๐๐๐๐ข๐ก ๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐. ๐ผ'๐ ๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐กโ๐๐. ๐ผ๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข ๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐๐ก ๐๐๐คโฆ ๐ผ ๐๐๐'๐ก ๐๐ ๐๐ก. ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐, ๐๐๐ก'๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ ๐ก๐๐๐๐. ๐ผ๐ก'๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ก."
Erland was upset, but he didn't push further. Instead, he turned to his own father, pressing him insistently about marriage. Eventually, his father had no choice but to approach Zhan with the proposal, hoping that, if possible, the marriage could happen soon, since the children engaged already.
