Most of the time, Gu Yebai’s novels were nothing more than castles in the air.
He was, after all, only a high school student with pitifully little social experience.
He had never known a life-and-death romance, nor had he experienced a sudden fall from the clouds into the mud.
So, unfortunately, he was stuck on his writing again…
The bus bumped gently.
He sat in a window seat, his gaze drawn to the street scenes flickering past the glass.
His mind was constantly acting out how the next part of the plot should be written, which character should be at which location, and who would meet their fate of life or death.
A few more stops passed.
There were many elderly people in this small county town, so Gu Yebai went from thinking while sitting to thinking while standing.
Art comes from life, but life was stingy to him.
Recently, some readers said Gu Yebai’s writing always carried a faint sense of sadness.
That probably wasn’t an illusion.
After his parents passed away, when he returned home alone and found no one waiting for him, his writing was inevitably affected by the loneliness…
He wanted to write many kinds of stories.
For example, science fiction.
He had read the works of many sci-fi masters, but when it came to writing it himself, he found he couldn’t even find the right path.
He lacked the creativity and boldness required to press the universe onto the page.
For example, the supernatural.
But how should ‘horror’ be written?
How should a ghost be described to make the reader’s skin crawl?
He had flipped through the Hundred Ghost Stories of Japan and even asked a Chinese student reader in Tokyo named Yukino to help him collect urban legends, yet he still couldn’t capture a terrifying atmosphere.
Then there was the underworld genre.
Well, he didn’t even need to think about that one.
Gu Yebai was not a man of the “underworld.”
If he really wanted to give up on himself and drop out of school to join a gang, he might one day be able to write a book titled My Bloody Past, but he didn’t want to live that way.
Therefore, the only thing he could write was school-life stories.
They were plain and trivial, filled with domestic trifles.
In theory, the story could extend in any direction, yet there was no button that could turn back the hands of fate.
‘If only this dull life… were a bit more dramatic.’
The flight from Donghai Pujiang International Airport to Shencheng, the capital of Dongling Province, landed.
The wind carried the characteristic chill of the north, slipping through the cuffs of Gao Hongyi’s trench coat.
She looked up at the dreary sky of Shencheng.
It felt heavy with a sense of twilight, making her feel depressed.
Even the provincial capital was like this.
What would the county towns under it be like?
Gao Hongyi hardly dared to imagine.
“Hongyi, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Dad.”
“The journey was hard on you. Anyway, let’s find a place to rest first.”
Gao Hongzhi had already arranged everything perfectly.
At his level, he had friends everywhere.
Upon arriving in Shencheng, there was no need to pull out a phone to call a ride-hailing service.
“Old Gao! Over here!”
In the crowd, a slightly chubby, somewhat world-weary but elegantly dressed man waved.
He had a familiar smile on his face as he walked over quickly.
“Senior, it’s been a long time.”
Gao Hongzhi smiled as well, his tone carrying a rare sense of relaxation.
Gao Hongyi habitually stood half a step behind her father and nodded in greeting to the man.
The family got into the father’s old classmate’s BMW X6.
The car drove onto the elevated highway, the neon lights and streetlamps outside blurring into streaks of light.
The two men in the front seat spoke as if they wanted to make up for all the years of silence in one breath.
They discussed the current situation, international relations, and the absurdities of their student days.
They even laughed about who skipped class or who had a crush on whom back then, as if if they didn’t talk about it now, they would be too old to remember their youth at all.
“I have to say, Old Gao, you were a real romantic,” the senior remarked.
“So many people were chasing you back then, but you treated them all like air.”
“Because I already had Xinyao,” Gao Hongzhi chuckled.
“By the way, Senior, do you regret your choices back then? Your grades were much better than mine.”
“Sigh, don’t even bring it up.”
The senior sighed, one hand on the steering wheel while the other gestured with five fingers.
“NVIDIA’s offer back then was this amount, plus stock options.”
“$500,000?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, the elders in my family threatened to kill themselves if I went. They said the States were dangerous, that it was like real-life CS every day. I was a submissive and sensible child growing up, so I was used to listening.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t.
“And the result? My papers were plagiarized by my supervisor. After I entered the system, my expertise was completely forgotten. I didn’t know how to give toasts or play the social game, so I ended up in a position that’s neither high nor low… Forget it, old classmates shouldn’t spend their time complaining, but seeing you makes me want to vent. There’s a saying that one’s virtue doesn’t match their position — that’s probably talking about someone like me.”
“Your family must regret it too, right?”
Gao Hongzhi asked.
“Hardly. They still act like my benefactors, telling everyone that my entering the system was the best choice. I make about 250,000 a year. I told them that if I had joined NVIDIA for $500,000 plus stock, I might be worth over 100 million now, and they just started arguing with me about purchasing power.”
He paused, a bit of sincerity suddenly entering his voice.
“Old Gao, you’ve reached where you are today because of your choices, but also because you’ve always worked hard. I’m happy for your success.”
“Senior, everything will get better in time,” Gao Hongzhi replied warmly.
They chatted all the way until the car slowed to a stop in front of the hotel.
The Shencheng Yunjing Hotel was a local five-star establishment.
Throughout the journey, Gao Hongyi had barely said a word.
While her father and his old friend laughed and talked, she had been constantly refreshing the page of her novel app, waiting for an update from [Lone Night Wanderer].
The screen brightened and dimmed, dimmed and brightened, but her fingertips were met with disappointment every time.
“Hongyi, we’re here,” Gao Hongzhi said suddenly.
Gao Hongyi finally looked up from her phone and gazed at the skyscraper standing in the CBD.
The glass curtain wall reflected the gray sky in even colder tones.
“Old Gao, I heard you came this time to find relatives in Linchuan?”
The senior parked the car and turned around.
“I have another car in my garage. If you need it, I’ll drive it over for you later.”
“No need, Senior.”
Gao Hongzhi shook his head with a smile, polite but firm.
“Everything is arranged. I can’t trouble you anymore. Next time you come to Donghai, I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“Alright, then I wish you success!”
Gao Hongzhi didn’t like owing favors.
Before arriving in Shencheng, a car had already been booked by his butler: the paperwork, the pickup point, insurance, and the route.
Even where to refuel and park before tomorrow morning’s departure had been calculated.
It was a Volvo XC90.
Tomorrow morning, he would drive this car and take his wife and daughter south along the highway to Linchuan.
However — that child was still an unknown.
Gao Hongzhi didn’t have many expectations.
He didn’t demand academic excellence or shrewd competence.
He had only one wish.
He hoped that the child who had been swapped at birth all those years ago was a kind-hearted child.
That was all.
“Husband,” his wife, Ya Xinyao, suddenly asked, “should I buy a gift for young Gu? What would a 16-year-old boy like? A game console or something?”
“Young Gu?”
Gao Hongyi tilted her head.
“Ah, I haven’t told you yet,” Gao Hongzhi explained.
“Young Gu is the name of the boy in Linchuan, Gu Yebai. That surname is quite rare.”
“Gu Yebai… Gu Yebai…” Gao Hongyi repeated the three words softly, as if testing the feel of them.
“This name…”