Chapter 2: Go home and write a novel

Gu Yebai tilted his head back slightly.

Today, the sky looked like a piece of glass that could never be wiped clean—perpetually overcast, gray, and carrying the scent of coal cinders and damp rust in the wind.

Linchuan was a city whose industrial resources had long since been exhausted.

Even if his mother had not passed away today, the sky would still be just as dim.

Standing before the funeral parlor, Gu Yebai tilted his head and whispered softly, “This world really isn’t gentle enough for me.”

No one responded.

The memorial hall was empty.

Gu Yebai quietly stared at his mother’s funeral portrait.

His mother had been very beautiful.

It wasn’t the kind of sharp, aggressive beauty, but rather the sort that made anyone who saw her feel an instinctive fondness.

If a woman like her had wanted to, she never would have had to stay in a city like Linchuan to suffer alongside his father.

There would have been plenty of men who liked her, yet she had never regretted a single moment of the path she chose.

She chose love and remained loyal to it.

The price was a lifetime of poverty, yet she found joy in it nonetheless.

Gu Yebai still remembered her final wishes.

His father had passed away only one month ago.

His mother had been lying in the hospital bed, clutching Gu Yebai’s hand.

“Xiaobai, you’ve really suffered this past year.”

“Mom, I’m not suffering.”

“I only have one wish. After I die, bury me with your father…”

“Mom, we still have money for medical bills. We can still treat this. I’m writing webnovels and earning royalties; it’ll be fine.”

“Silly child, I know my own body better than anyone. I wanted to stay with you forever, to see you grow up and start a family, but…”

“So, Mom, you have to pull yourself together!”

her fingertips were so light they carried almost no strength, yet they still lingered on the back of his hand for a moment.

“But it’s okay. I’ll be watching over you from heaven.”

Gu Yebai clenched his fists.

The balance in his bank account was like an invisible hand, strangling his throat and making it hard to breathe.

Aside from his parents’ meager social security, they had relied entirely on Gu Yebai’s royalties to sustain his parents’ lives.

Gu Yebai was not some best-selling author.

Linchuan was merely an eighteenth-tier small town.

Aside from suggesting “observation at home,” the doctors couldn’t offer any constructive advice.

After thoroughly researching the information online, Gu Yebai ended up knowing more about his parents’ conditions than the attending physician did.

But what could he do?

He couldn’t afford a major hospital.

Big hospitals would save a villain, but they would never save a poor man.

That was reality.

The moment he learned the name of the illness, Gu Yebai knew—even if he refused to admit it—that the final countdown for his parents’ time with him had begun.

He remembered his dad’s self-deprecating, carefree smile before he died.

“It’s fine. Saving this money means your mother can at least survive.”

“Don’t buy me a headstone, either. Just scatter my ashes in that little river you pass every day on your way to school.”

“That way, I can watch you go to and from school every day.”

The man had been covered in tubes, enduring agonizing pain, yet he still managed to raise his hand to pat his son’s shoulder.

“From now on, you aren’t Xiaobai. You’re Laobai.”

“Be a man.”

“Take care of your mother. This is a promise between us men.”

His father was gone.

Now, his mother was gone too.

When they left, they were still thinking of each other and worrying about Gu Yebai, full of attachment to this world and regret for many unfinished things.

Now, Gu Yebai had fulfilled his mother’s final wish, burying her alongside his father.

A basic headstone could be bought for a little over 1,000, but Gu Yebai had chosen to take out an online loan to buy a granite one.

The entire funeral cost 30,000.

Now, he was truly penniless.

Gu Yebai walked to the tombstone.

He felt that as a son, he should be squeezing out tears, but aside from a feeling like his heart was being carved by a blunt knife, no tears came.

Through a year of fighting the illness, Gu Yebai’s tears had completely dried up.

He could no longer cry.

“Time to go home,” Gu Yebai muttered to himself.

But after saying it, he hung his head helplessly and looked at the sky.

‘Where is my home?’

The more accurate way to put it was “back to where I live.”

He no longer had a home.

After lighting a stick of incense, Gu Yebai left the cemetery.

Sitting in the car, he was in a daze the whole way, immersed in the past.

Sometimes, Gu Yebai wished he had been born into an unkind family.

If that were the case, he wouldn’t be hurting as much as he was now.

He pulled out his Redmi Note 9, its screen cracked and leaking ink, and looked at the photo of his parents.

In the blink of an eye, he arrived home.

Opening the rusted door, he subconsciously said, “Dad, Mom, I’m home.”

There was no response.

Whatever.

These days would continue for a long time.

He walked into the master bedroom.

Their wedding photo hung at the head of the bed; they, too, had once been full of happy visions for the future.

“I should probably write my novel first.”

For a brief moment, Gu Yebai suddenly didn’t know why he was still writing.

Previously, he wrote for the royalties, to sustain his parents’ lives and pay off hospital bills.

Now, he didn’t quite know what he was working for.

He was like a lost lamb.

A wave of lethargy washed over him.

Gu Yebai just wanted to sleep.

As for tomorrow, whatever happened, happened.

“You have to get out. Leave Linchuan Town and go see the wider world.”

“You must stay strong, Xiaobai.”

Gu Yebai lay on the bed.

He remembered the first short story he wrote.

It was about a cowardly hero who mustered the courage to pick up a sword, overcame obstacles to defeat a demon king, and married a princess.

His parents were his first readers.

They hadn’t told him he was wasting his time.

Instead, they appreciated his work.

They asked if there was a sequel and encouraged him to keep writing.

“Xiaobai, you will definitely become a great novelist.”

Their voices felt both far and near.

“Ah!”

Gu Yebai suddenly snapped his eyes open.

It was already 11:00 PM.

His phone was flooded with various messages.

In his reader group, several people were mentioning him.

[Yukino]: @LoneNightWalk Is Xiaobai updating today?

[Yukino]: Don’t you dare flake!

[Yi]: @LoneNightWalk Uncle Bai is probably still writing.

[Night Silver Party]: @LoneNightWalk Flakers get a spanking.

Hurry up and put your hair up.

[Yi]: @Night Silver Party Don’t mess with my husband qwq.

[Kamisato Ayaka’s Cat]: @LoneNightWalk It’s 11:00. You don’t want to lose your daily attendance bonus, do you?

[Ai]: @Yuyuko /today’s fortune.

[Yuyuko]: @Ai Maiden praying (~▽~“)… Your fortune for today is…

Wealth: 99

Romance: 99

Career: 99

“Heh…”

Gu Yebai couldn’t help but laugh.

He was being needed.

There were still people waiting for his work, waiting to see how the plot of the story would unfold.

Through fictional stories, Gu Yebai and his readers stood together, exploring that completely unknown fantasy world.

He suddenly realized that he wasn’t alone.

A smartphone really was the greatest invention in the world.

It could be used to write novels and earn money, and it allowed him to meet strangers from every corner of the globe.

There are many people in the world, as many as the stars in the sky.

When they recognize each other, they are always shining.

It was truly beautiful.

He remembered now.

What he had originally sought wasn’t royalties, but the simple joy of creation.

His parents’ happiness because of his novels and his unbridled imagination had always made Gu Yebai feel incredibly fulfilled.

Gu Yebai pulled back the curtains.

The sky was very dark.

But wasn’t a night like this perfect for writing?

“Dad, Mom, I’ll finish the rest of the journey on my own.”

At the same time, he left a message in the reader group.

[Lone Night Walk]: Family, I just got off work.

I’m starting the chapter right now.