Chapter 104: Rebellious Psychology

Gu Yebai stared at his phone screen, his finger hovering above the send button, as if suspended by an invisible red thread, unable to move.

In the chat box, the words “Okay, you’re welcome to come up” lay quietly , has not been sent for a long time , (not yet sent).

His throat felt dry, and a trace of bitterness rose in his heart.

Gao Hongyi’s strikingly beautiful face involuntarily appeared in his mind.

What expression would she have?

Would she look like she was about to cry, her voice trembling as she interrogated him for breaking his promise and opening the door to someone other than her?

Or would she reveal that dangerous, sickly sweet smile, holding an exquisite collar and handcuffs, step by step advancing toward him?

Either scenario seemed entirely plausible.

Gu Yebai closed his eyes.

That morning, she had put on her navy blue school blazer, a blue-gray pleated skirt with knee-high socks, and just before leaving, she had stood on tiptoe and gently kissed his lips—like stamping her exclusive seal on her private property.

“No matter what you do, you have to report to me promptly. You must reply within one minute.”

“Otherwise… it’s hard not to suspect that Uncle Bai is cheating on me.”

He had smiled and agreed at the time.

Looking back now, that “okay” felt like a thin red thread, silently tightening around his neck.

He hated this feeling.

This unprecedented sense of being completely controlled—something he had never experienced back in Linchuan County.

Back then, life was hard.

He slept on a wooden plank bed, walked several kilometers to school, the roof leaked, and winters were so cold it felt like knives cutting into his flesh.

But back then, he could go wherever he wanted, be friends with whomever he wanted—like a bird, flying freely into the boundless blue sky.

And now?

He was locked in a gilded cage.

No need to forage for food; just open his mouth and the finest feed was pushed in.

Gao Hongyi was so beautiful, so in love with him, so obedient to him, even willing to cry and become hysterical for him.

But this love was like warm honey—poured down his throat mouthful by mouthful, so sweet it was cloying, carrying a faint sense of suffocation.

Should he report to her right now?

Say: Bai Xialin is coming up to talk about my novel.

His fingers trembled slightly.

Why did every sentence have to be so careful?

Why did meeting an enthusiastic, cheerful reader who liked his novel feel like breaking a heavenly law?

It wasn’t cheating.

He just wanted—like a normal person—to become friends with someone he thought was nice, and casually chat.

Was that really so unforgivable?

Gu Yebai curled his lips in self-mockery.

The answer was already clear.

No, it wasn’t wrong.

“Hongyi—”

He walked out of the study, facing the empty living room and the Bösendorfer upright piano, and whispered softly.

“I love you.”

“But loving you doesn’t mean I have to accommodate you in everything.”

“I will change you little by little… make you more… normal.”

As these words left his mouth, it felt like a stone pressing on his chest had finally rolled away.

Why are pebbles so easily manipulated?

Because they have no edges.

At least today, at least for this moment…

He no longer wanted to be that smooth, round, defenseless pebble worn down by life.

He wanted to try growing the first tiny, sharp edge.

He took a deep breath.

He directly closed the chat dialog with Gao Hongyi.

No more reporting.

He opened the Korean ID account with the UFO avatar, first sent a simple smiley face emoji.

Then typed four words.

[Baiye Duxing]: Okay, come on up.

The message was sent.

His heart suddenly raced, as if he had done something terribly wrong.

He really had been controlled too tightly all along.

But there’s a first time for everything.

He glanced again at Gao Hongyi’s profile picture.

They were using matching anime couple avatars, looking so deeply in love, as if they would never fight… could reality really be like that?

“I…”

“I want, even just a little bit, of small freedom.”

Gu Yebai stood at the entrance, his back against the door.

Ready to open it at any moment.

He had been in Donghai for several days now.

The face in the mirror still carried faint dark circles and an indelible air of poverty.

But suddenly, he felt that this poverty actually resembled a kind of weak stubbornness.

Some things were born in the bones and couldn’t be changed.

Gu Yebai of Linchuan County, Gu Yebai of Donghai City—after all, both were still Gu Yebai.

Outside the door, the elevator chimed with a ding.

Bai Xialin’s footsteps echoed in the corridor—light and rapid, like a little dog that had finally caught its owner’s scent, wagging its tail uncontrollably.

Dong dong dong!

The knock on the door was louder than expected, carrying undisguised excitement mixed with a hint of post-exercise breathlessness.

“Annyeonghaseyo!”

“Is anyone home~? Xiao Gu! It’s me!”

Gu Yebai took a deep breath, his fingers pausing on the doorknob for half a second, then pulled the door open.

The girl standing outside was a completely different existence from Gao Hongyi.

Gao Hongyi was a queen in a burgundy evening gown—more businesslike, more formal.

Bai Xialin, on the other hand, was sunshine wrapped in sportswear—more athletic, more casual.

She wore a black-gray fitness outfit.

Tight leggings outlined long, powerful leg lines.

The sleeves of a loose, dark gray hoodie were pushed up to her forearms, revealing slightly flushed skin.

Under the hood, her high ponytail was damp with sweat, a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead and temples.

Tiny beads of sweat glistened on the tip of her nose, shining with a healthy luster under the corridor lights.

Her pupils were startlingly bright, like two black gems moistened by morning mist.

“Hello, Bai Xialin.”

Gu Yebai’s voice was very soft as he stepped aside to let her in.

But his mind couldn’t help conjuring an absurd thought.

If this were a world of rule-based horror, he would probably be dead by now.

A system notification would immediately chime, a cold electronic voice exploding in his ears:

[Warning: Dragon Kingdom contestant Gu Yebai has violated Rule #1—’Opening the door to someone other than your girlfriend.’]

[Punishment imminent: Permanently locked in a dark room by your yandere girlfriend, never to go out again.]

[Please kneel and apologize immediately, ready to embrace the collar and chains.]

At this thought, the corner of Gu Yebai’s mouth twitched uncontrollably.

He quickly shook the thought out of his head.

But Bai Xialin had already stepped boldly through the door, completely at ease, as if returning home.

“Thanks for having me~!”

“The first time I saw Xiao Gu downstairs a couple of days ago, I thought—Wow, this guy has such a great aura! I could tell right away he was the real deal, the great author himself!”

“Who would have thought—you’re actually Uncle Gao’s own son!”

She paused, her eyes curving into crescent moons, her tone full of undisguised admiration.

“Now that I’m looking up close… you really do have an amazing aura! That quiet, slightly stubborn quality—no wonder you write detective novels. You look just like a protagonist who stepped right out of a story~”

As soon as she finished speaking, Bai Xialin suddenly stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and leaned close to Gu Yebai like a curious kitten.

Her pretty hands naturally rested on his shoulders.

Her fingertips still carried the warmth and slight moisture from her workout.

The heat of her palms pressed through the fabric of his hoodie—a thin layer of cotton, yet it felt like direct contact with his skin.

Her face was extremely close; the tip of her nose nearly touched his cheek.

Her breath carried the scent of lemon sports spray and a faint sweat fragrance—warm, with an unguarded intimacy.

Gu Yebai’s heart skipped a beat.

Really… too close.