YiZhanwangxian2026

THE MAN WHO NEVER AGES 💚❤️

PART 4

A sharp trill broke the quiet. Zhan reached for his phone on the bedside table, squinting at the screen. “Sir,” her secretary’s voice came through, crisp and professional, “a reminder sharp nine, we’re leaving for the mountain expedition contract. Some staff are already at the company waiting for you.”

Zhan rubbed his temples, trying to shake the remnants of the previous night: the balcony, the whisper, the weight of that presence. He pushed it aside, focusing instead on the day ahead. “Prepare all the documents I asked for. I’ll be there shortly,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease that lingered.

He ended the call, letting the silence settle again. For a moment, his reflection in the dark glass of the window stared back at him pale, composed, yet shadowed by the faint echo of a voice that refused to leave his mind.

Wei Ying.

He could still hear it. Still feel the chill of that night air on the balcony, the ghost of an embrace that felt too real to be a dream. His fingers brushed the back of his neck, the skin prickling as if remembering that presence. He shook his head sharply, dismissing the thought. “Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath.

He moved to the bathroom, steam filling the space as he stepped under the shower. The warmth did little to chase the strange heaviness that had followed him since last night. When he emerged, he was already in motion every movement deliberate, disciplined. His bags were neatly packed from the night before; they would stay in the mountains for five days, maybe longer. Contracts, permits, surveys, safety plans all ready.

This trip was more than a retreat; it was a strategic move. The company’s latest venture, a tourism and eco-resort project, required his oversight, and Zhan would be there in person to ensure every detail was perfect. He glanced briefly at his watch, noting the time each second a reminder that schedules, deadlines, and precision were the pillars of his world.

Even as he prepared, his mind flickered back to the previous night the fleeting shadow, the helmeted figure, and the presence that had tugged at him in ways he couldn’t explain. The sensation was sharp, insistent, a pull he could neither name nor resist. Today demanded focus. Today required order. And yet, beneath the surface of his careful routine, a quiet curiosity stirred, an echo of something familiar hidden in the recesses of memory, whispering that some mysteries were meant to be followed.

Still, as he went over the last batch of documents at his desk, his mind kept wandering. His hand brushed against something small near the edge of the table the tear-shaped wooden necklace. He paused, picking it up between his fingers. The grain was smooth, warm, the hollow core glinting faintly in the light.

A strange heaviness washed over him, almost like grief though he couldn’t explain why. “What are you?” he murmured, turning it over. Almost on impulse, he fastened it around his neck. The weight was light, yet grounding, a quiet tether he didn’t fully understand. He stepped away from the table, the necklace resting just above his chest, its presence both comforting and unnerving.

Outside, the city was already awake. The morning rush thickened the streets, cars honking distantly, sunlight glinting off glass towers. Zhan slid behind the wheel of his black sedan, adjusting his tie with one hand before starting the engine. Halfway through the drive, his phone buzzed again the car’s Bluetooth lit up, connecting automatically.

“Where are you?” Haoxuan’s voice came through, lazy but teasing.

“On my way,” Zhan replied, keeping his tone neutral.

“Take care,” he said.

Zhan nodded faintly. “Okay.” He ended the call, eyes returning to the road ahead. But his mind wasn’t as calm as his tone. The scene from last night replayed behind his eyelids the voice that had whispered against his ear, I miss you. The weight of unseen arms around him. The feeling of being watched.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “It was just a dream,” he told himself again, this time out loud, as if saying it might make it true. But the moment he whispered the name “Wei Ying” the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

He could almost feel it again the air turning colder, the soft brush of something unseen. He turned his head sharply toward the rearview mirror. Nothing. Just the empty road. He shook his head, forcing the unease away as he pulled into the company driveway.

After a moment, Zhan stepped out of his sleek car, the morning sun glinting off its polished surface. The city’s hum felt distant as he walked briskly toward the company’s main entrance. His mind was already running through the agenda for the next five days every detail mattered. An expedition in the mountains was no casual outing; it required precision, discipline, and clear authority.

He took the elevator to the top floor. The buttons lit under his fingertips, and the elevator glided upward in near silence. When the doors opened, the corridor stretched ahead, lined with glass panels and the faint scent of polished wood. At the entrance to the boardroom, his secretary stood waiting, a stack of folders in her arms.

“Everything prepared?” Zhan asked, voice crisp, eyes scanning her face.

“Everything, sir,” she replied with a nod. “Documents, itineraries, equipment lists all ready for your review.”

He gave a short, approving glance and stepped inside the boardroom. Fifteen staff members sat around the large oval table, papers and digital tablets neatly arranged in front of them. Their faces reflected a mixture of respect, curiosity, and anticipation; this was not just any expedition, and Zhan’s presence demanded attention.

At the head of the table, Zhan’s partners for the project. Jingyu, Ziyi, and Cheng were already present. They acknowledged him with subtle nods, their expressions calm but unreadable, hinting at the experience and ambition that had made them ideal collaborators for this venture.

Zhan cleared his throat, his eyes scanning the room. “Before we leave for the mountains, there are rules to set. For the next five days, while we are on-site, all decisions regarding safety, logistics, and schedules fall under my authority. I expect cooperation, focus, and full accountability. We cannot afford missteps in an environment like this.”

The room was silent except for the faint rustle of papers as everyone nodded. Zhan continued, outlining timelines, responsibilities, and contingencies. Every staff member knew the mountains were unforgiving a single mistake could derail the entire expedition.

As he spoke, his mind occasionally wandered to the memory of the previous night. The fleeting shadow, the pull of a presence he couldn’t explain… he pushed it aside. Focus. Discipline. Today required nothing less.

The discussion lasted over an hour, precise and detailed, ensuring no ambiguity remained. By the end, the staff were prepared, the documents finalized, and the plan for the five-day expedition clear. Jingyu, Ziyi, and Cheng shared quick, discreet glances experienced professionals already considering how the execution would unfold.

Once the meeting concluded, Zhan stood. “We leave at ten sharp,” he said firmly, straightening his jacket. “Everything must be ready by then. This isn’t just a business trip; it’s a test of efficiency and judgment. Mistakes aren’t an option.”

As he walked out of the boardroom, the hum of the city below felt distant once more, but beneath the surface, a quiet tension lingered. Something unseen, something unspoken, tugged at the edges of his thoughts a reminder that the mountains would bring more than just business challenges.

On the other side of the city. Yibo was doing what he always did before a trip: trying to get rid of unnecessary noise.

“Come on, Yibo! You’re really going alone again?” Yang Yang leaned against the doorframe, his tone half-annoyed, half-pleading. “We could use a little adventure too. A few days in the mountains won’t kill us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Li Qin muttered from behind him, arms crossed. “I’m not climbing anywhere without a hot shower and Wi-Fi. But still letting him vanish for days? It’s weird.”

Yibo didn’t look up from the small backpack he was methodically packing. “Exactly why I’m going alone,” he said evenly, his voice low but firm.

Yang Yang groaned. “You say that every time! No signal, no location, no clue where you disappear to how do you expect us not to worry?”

“You worry too much.” Yibo zipped the bag shut and slung it over his shoulder. “Besides, you’d just slow me down.”

Li Qin raised an eyebrow. “Slow you down? We barely even see you anymore. At least tell us where you’re headed.”

Yibo met his gaze for a moment, eyes unreadable. “Somewhere quiet.”

“That’s not an answer,” Yang Yang shot back.

Yibo gave the faintest smirk one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s the only one you’ll get,” he said as he gently pushed them outside his apartment.

“Come on, man! Just let us tag along!” Yang Yang’s voice echoed again through the narrow hallway. “It’s just a few days! You can’t keep disappearing like some ghost every time you go hiking!”

Yibo didn’t even glance back. The door shut with a solid click, the lock turning a second later. “Good reason to go alone,” he muttered through the door, his tone flat.

Li Qin snorted. “You’re no fun, great-grandpa.”


#yzwx2026 #yizhanff #fanfiction

14 hours ago | [YT] | 575

YiZhanwangxian2026

A GOOD LOVER 💚❤️

PART 37

Zhan managed a faint nod, his throat too tight for words. Yibo reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and handed it to him. "It's midnight," he said quietly. "Try to rest." But Zhan glanced down at his clothes still the ones from the hospital and shook his head. "I'll... take a shower," he murmured.

"Alright," Yibo replied. "I'll get you something to wear."

While Zhan disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soft behind the door, Yibo moved toward his walk-in closet. He chose a fresh shirt and soft trousers that would fit Zhan's frame, his fingers pausing briefly over the fabric. He lingered longer than he meant to, eyes distant. The image of Zhan's tired face, the faint tremor in his hands, the way he'd clung to him in his sleep all of it stayed with him like a shadow he couldn't shake.

He exhaled quietly and finally stepped out of the room. The hall outside was dim, the air still holding traces of rain from earlier. His steps were unhurried but firm as he descended the wide staircase to the first floor. The house was silent, servants already dismissed for the night, though one or two lights still glowed softly along the corridor.

In the kitchen, he found the meal that had been prepared earlier something he'd ordered the staff to ready just in case Zhan woke hungry. The food was still covered neatly, the aroma faint but comforting. Yibo rolled his sleeves and turned on the stove himself, reheating the dishes, watching the steam rise.

The quiet hum of the kitchen filled the space, broken only by the gentle clatter of porcelain. As he stirred the soup, his thoughts drifted, not to anger, not even to the confrontation at the Jiangs, but to the man upstairs. The one who had cried in his sleep. The one he'd carried through a storm of humiliation and still tried to smile.

When the scent of warmth filled the air, Yibo glanced at the clock. Almost one in the morning. He set the table on the balcony candlelight flickering against the glass doors and waited.

By the time Zhan stepped out of the bathroom, the air had shifted. The soft glow of candlelight spilled across the balcony, the faint aroma of food filling the quiet night. Zhan paused, adjusting the bathrobe loosely tied around his waist. He hadn't realized Yibo had gone to such lengths.

When he stepped out, Yibo looked up and the world seemed to pause.

For a moment, Yibo forgot to breathe. Water still dripped from Zhan's hair, sliding down the line of his neck before vanishing into the soft fabric of his robe. He wasn't doing anything, no deliberate motion, no trace of awareness yet something about that unguarded simplicity struck deeper than any intention could.

It wasn't seduction, but it carried the weight of it. Zhan's quiet presence, the faint flush on his skin, the way the dim light touched his damp hair it was all too human, too intimate. Yibo felt the air shift, the distance between them shrinking until even silence seemed to hum. His heartbeat stumbled, rough and fast, betraying the composure he'd spent a lifetime mastering.

For a heartbeat longer, he just looked the man before him no longer the wounded soul he'd carried upstairs, but someone achingly real, dangerously close to something he couldn't name.

Then Zhan cleared his throat softly, a small sound that broke the stillness. Yibo blinked, as if pulled from a trance. He straightened too quickly, the chair scraping faintly against the floor.

"Ah...you... you're done," he said, the words coming out uneven. "Come.. sit here, so we can eat."

He didn't mention the robe, didn't dare suggest he change. His gaze dropped to the table instead, pretending to busy himself with the dishes, though the echo of that moment of water, warmth, and the quiet pull between them refused to fade.

The dinner passed quietly, the soft clinking of cutlery the only sound between them. Every now and then, Zhan mentioned the project scheduled to start filming next week his tone calm, composed, but beneath it Yibo could hear the fatigue that no amount of acting could hide.

“If you’re still not ready, we can delay the shoot,” Yibo said, his voice low but firm. His gaze lingered on Zhan’s face the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged when he thought no one was watching. “The doctor said you still need to rest.”

He set his utensils down, leaning slightly forward. “From now on, you don’t have to work so hard. If you’re tired, rest. We’re married now what’s mine is yours.” His tone softened, but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words.
“I didn’t build an empire just to watch my husband exhaust himself.”

Zhan froze, caught off guard. The words felt foreign kindness that sounded too close to a promise he didn’t deserve. His chest tightened, and he quickly averted his gaze, fingers tightening around his fork.

Seeing the shift in him, Yibo reached across the table and took his hand his touch steady, deliberate. “Look at me,” he said quietly.

Zhan hesitated, then obeyed. His dark eyes met Yibo’s uncertain, searching.

“I don’t know everything about what you’ve been through,” Yibo continued, voice calm but edged with something fierce. “I don’t know who hurt you… or what kind of life you had before.” His thumb brushed over Zhan’s knuckles, grounding him. “But from now on as long as you wear my name no one touches you. No one hurts you. I’ll be your shield, Zhan. Always.”

He paused. The warmth in his gaze shifted, darkened like a storm gathering beneath calm skies. “It might sound too soon to say this, since we barely know each other beyond what fate forced on us. But I’m not the kind of man who says things lightly.” His voice dropped lower, carrying a quiet threat beneath its steadiness. “When I give myself to someone… I do it completely. I protect them with everything I have.”

Then, just as softly, almost like a confession:
“But if that person betrays me I can be a demon the world has never seen.” The air stilled between them, the candlelight flickering across Yibo’s features, turning his calm expression into something sharper dangerous, magnetic.

Zhan didn’t move, couldn’t. His breath caught, his heart pounding in a rhythm that didn’t feel like fear but something heavier. He couldn’t tell if it was the intensity of Yibo’s words or the certainty behind them that shook him more.

Yibo’s gaze softened again, the storm fading back into still water. He lifted Zhan’s hand and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss against the back of it not tender, but claiming. “I love you,” he murmured, the words low, almost reluctant, as if they’d slipped past his control.

Zhan said nothing. He only looked at him, eyes unreadable part awe, part unease as the air between them settled into a silence that wasn’t peace, but a calm before something neither of them yet understood.

Yibo didn’t press further. He only nodded, though something in his chest tightened.

After a while, the plates were cleared away, replaced by a quiet bottle of wine and two glasses. The night breeze drifted in through the open balcony doors, carrying the faint scent of rain and city lights.

Zhan leaned lightly against the railing, facing the view, one hand resting on the cool metal while the other held his glass. The robe he wore was loosely tied, the candlelight brushing against the curve of his neck and the hollow of his collarbone.

Yibo stood beside him but opposite his back to the railing, eyes half on Zhan and half on the reflection of the city in the glass behind him. For a long time, neither spoke. The silence was fragile, like the thin rim of crystal between their fingers.

Then Yibo broke it. “Do you want to ask anything?” His tone was low, even but there was something in it that hinted he already knew what was coming.

Zhan turned his gaze from the skyline to Yibo, studying his profile under the soft light. He didn’t speak right away. He took a slow sip of wine, gathering courage that trembled somewhere deep in his chest.

“Where’s Yuyu’s mother?” he asked finally, voice quiet but steady.

Yibo’s grip on his glass tightened slightly. He’d expected this but it didn’t make it easier. He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow drink before lowering it again. “I don’t know,” he said at last, almost to himself.

Zhan’s eyes flickered toward him, curious, searching. And Yibo knew that look the need for truth hidden behind quiet eyes. So he spoke again, his voice more grounded this time.

“She wanted her career more than a family,” he said simply. “She walked away.”

Zhan nodded faintly, the reflection of the candlelight trembling in his wine.

“We were married six years ago,” Yibo added.

The words seemed to fall heavily between them. Zhan’s fingers tightened around his glass just enough that it almost cracked. “Who is she?” he asked softly, but there was something strained in his voice, as if the question itself cost him air.

Yibo hesitated. “Wen Qing.”



#yzwx2026 #yizhanff #fanfiction

19 hours ago | [YT] | 792

YiZhanwangxian2026

A GOOD LOVER 💚❤️

PART 36

The car slid through the city like a shadow. Streetlights streaked across the windows in soft flashes of gold and white, tracing fleeting patterns across Zhan's face. He sat quietly beside Yibo, eyes half-open, his exhaustion visible in every breath he took. The adrenaline from earlier from the confrontation, from the humiliation had drained out of him, leaving only a deep, aching fatigue.

Yibo glanced sideways. The man's head was tilted slightly, lashes trembling, his lips parted just enough to catch a weary breath. For a moment, Yibo simply watched him, his chest tightening with emotions he couldn't put into words. He shifted slightly and said in a low voice, "Lean here."

Zhan blinked, startled by the gentle tone. "What?"

Yibo tilted his shoulder toward him, eyes still on the road ahead. "You're tired. Rest for a while."

Zhan hesitated. The words felt too kind, too personal but when he looked at Yibo again, at the faint smile softening his usually stern face, resistance melted away. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned into Yibo's shoulder. The warmth hit him instantly steady, grounding, real. Yibo didn't move, didn't even breathe too loudly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace between them.

Across from them, Yuyu giggled behind her hands. "Bobo, Zhanzhan's sleeping on you," she whispered like it was the most delightful secret in the world.

Yibo turned his head slightly, lips curving. "Then don't wake him," he murmured, though there was a fondness in his tone that he didn't bother to hide.

Zhan's lips curved faintly too. He could hear them through the haze of exhaustion, the soft murmur of father and daughter, the small warmth in their voices. It felt foreign and comforting in a way that almost hurt. His mind drifted back, slowly, like pages turning in a book he'd tried to burn. "Until when will this last?" he wondered. "Until when will they care for me like this?" He had learned, long ago, that affection was dangerous. It made you hope. Hope made you weak. And weakness weakness got you hurt. He thought of his past, the road that had led him to this moment.

Four years ago, he wasn't anyone. Just a boy with a scarred heart and a name no one remembered. Jiang Entertainment had offered him a debut project a carefully packaged opportunity wrapped in conditions he didn't fully understand. At the time, it felt like salvation. It wasn't.

They didn't see talent; they saw obedience. They didn't see a dream; they saw profit.

He remembered the blinding studio lights, the long nights of rehearsing until his throat bled, the smile he learned to wear even when he wanted to collapse. The cameras captured his beauty, but no one ever saw the truth that every frame of his success was paid for with sleepless nights, loneliness, and the quiet ache of being owned. And yet, he worked. He worked until they couldn't ignore him, until his name became something that echoed on screens, on billboards, and around the world. He rose not because he loved it, but because he refused to be nothing again.

Now, as the city's glow passed over his face, Zhan realized something chillingly calm: he didn't care if it all disappeared. His fame, his image, everything they had built. Let it all crumble. Because now, he had something else. A purpose sharper than ambition...revenge. He would make every person who destroyed his peace suffer more than he ever did. Slowly, quietly, mercilessly.

The thought soothed him like a dark lullaby. His breathing slowed. The hum of the car, the warmth of Yibo's shoulder, the soft scent of cologne and leather it was enough to pull him under. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Yibo felt the shift the subtle weight of Zhan's head resting fully on his shoulder. He turned slightly, looking down at the young man whose face had lost its tension in sleep. For the first time that day, Yibo's own anger eased. He brushed a strand of hair from Zhan's forehead, his fingers careful. Then he looked up and caught Yuyu's wide eyes watching him.

Yibo lifted a finger to his lips. Yuyu nodded solemnly, zipped her mouth with a dramatic gesture, and whispered, "Okay, Bobo." The corners of Yibo's mouth lifted.

By the time the car rolled through the iron gates of Wang Estate, the sun was sinking the sky bruised purple and gold. The vast property stretched out before them, silent and grand.

Yibo didn't wake Zhan. He turned to Jili instead. "What's your plan?"

Jili hesitated, glancing at Zhan's sleeping face before answering. "I'll go to his apartment tonight. Make sure nothing's been tampered with. Tomorrow, I'll come back here so we can discuss what to do next."

Yibo nodded, decisive as always. "Use the other car. Have the driver take you home."

Jili dipped his head respectfully. "Thank you, Mr. Wang."

As the car door opened, Yibo slipped an arm beneath Zhan's shoulders and another under his knees, lifting him effortlessly. Zhan stirred faintly, murmuring something incoherent before falling silent again. Yibo held him close, his jaw tightening slightly at how light the young man felt in his arms. Yuyu followed, holding Zhan's jacket like it was something precious.

"Bobo," she said softly as they stepped inside the grand hallway, "take care of Zhanzhan, okay? I'll go to my room now."

Yibo turned his head, his voice low. "Call me if you need anything."

Yuyu grinned, her small teeth flashing. "Don't worry about me! Today's your wedding, so there should be a honeymoon!"

Yibo froze mid-step, eyes widening. "What did you just...." But before he could finish, Yuyu giggled and darted up the staircase, her tiny voice echoing through the hall: "I love you, Bobo! I love you, Zhanzhan!"

Yibo could only exhale, half laughing, half scolding himself. "That child..." he muttered, shaking his head. "We'll have to talk later."

He continued up the staircase, the weight in his arms both physical and emotional. Zhan's breathing was soft against his chest, his face buried slightly against Yibo's coat. When they reached the top floor, Yibo pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The room was quite large, dimly lit by the amber glow of sunset filtering through the curtains.

He laid Zhan down gently on the bed, his movements unhurried, reverent. For a moment, he just stood there, watching. The softness of the pillow framed Zhan's face, his expression finally calm after the storm. In the hush of the room, Yibo saw the man before him not fragile, not uncertain, but someone tempered by pain and endurance. Every scar, every shadow beneath his eyes spoke of battles fought alone, of strength that no one had ever truly acknowledged. And for the first time, Yibo allowed himself to simply look not as the world saw Zhan, but as the man he had come to mean to him.

He brushed his thumb over Zhan's cheek, tracing the faint redness left behind from earlier. His eyes darkened not with anger this time, but with something heavier, unspoken. "You're safe now," he whispered. "No one will touch you again."

Outside, the evening wind moved through the garden, rustling the trees. Inside, the air was calm a quiet space where even Yibo's fury finally found peace.

He stayed like that for a long while, standing beside the bed, watching the man who had unknowingly revived something in him something that had been cold and dormant for years.

Then, as the house settled into night, Yibo turned off the lamp and sat quietly in the chair beside the bed, his gaze never leaving Zhan's sleeping form. In the dark, only two sounds remained the steady rhythm of Yibo's heartbeat and the slow, peaceful breathing of the man he had sworn, silently, to protect at any cost.

At the Jiang mansion, disbelief still hung thick in the air. The living room, once filled with arrogance and laughter, now felt suffocatingly silent. None of them could quite comprehend what had happened, how a single visit from Wang Yibo to the Jiang company had turned their world upside down.

Before Zhan had even stepped into the CEO's office, Cheng's mother had been on a call with a woman one whose voice carried authority and venom in equal measure. They weren't discussing business or pleasantries. They were talking about Zhan.

"Make sure he steps out of that project," the woman had said coldly through the receiver. "The collaboration with Wang Entertainment ends. I don't care how just make him quit."

Cheng's mother had agreed quickly, eager to please. "Don't worry. That ungrateful brat will do whatever I tell him to. He owes us everything."

But then Zhan had walked in. And the call in the chaos that followed was never ended. The phone lay on the desk, screen down, still connected. So the woman on the other end heard everything.

She heard Zhan's voice no longer timid, no longer the obedient figure they could manipulate, but sharp, defiant, laced with fire. She heard the slap, the silence that followed, the tremor of humiliation in Ziyuan's voice.

And when Yibo entered when his voice cut through the air with that cold authority that could silence a room she heard it too. Every word. Every threat. Every sharp, echoing slap that cracked against skin. Through the speaker, she heard Cheng's arrogance turn to shock, Fengmian's protest cut short, Ziyuan's trembling gasp. And through it all, Yibo's tone steady, lethal, calm.

By the time the line went dead, her hand was frozen around the phone, her pulse pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.

Now, inside the Jiang mansion, the three sat in silence faces pale, eyes unfocused. They could still feel the weight of his words: "I'll make you regret even breathing in this life."


#yzwx2026 #yizhanff #fanfiction

21 hours ago | [YT] | 1,271

YiZhanwangxian2026

MARKED BY THE MAFIA KING 💚❤️

PART 12

Yibo's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone. His hand hovered for a moment he shouldn't answer, but the screen lit up with the name of Yuyu's teacher. Without thinking, he swiped to answer.

"Speak," he said, his deep, raw voice carrying an authority that made even the teacher on the line sit straighter in her chair.

"No time to waste, sir," the teacher began, urgency lacing her words. "Yuer excused herself, saying she was going to the school nurse. I wanted to accompany her, but she refused, insisting she'd go with her friend instead."

Hearing this, Yibo felt a cold fire ignite in his veins. His blood boiled, and without a word, he ended the call.

Immediately, he dialed Yuyu's number, the tension in his fingers making the phone almost shake. The line rang, but there was no answer. Panic prickled at the edges of his mind as he strode toward the door, ready to leave the house.

Then, faint but unmistakable, he heard her voice. "Dad?"

Yibo's tone sharpened commanding, clipped every step down the staircase purposeful. "Yuer! Where are you?"

A soft, mischievous chuckle floated through the line. The sound made Yibo's anger spike further. Sensing the seriousness in her father's voice, Yuyu quickly added, "Don't worry, Dad. I know it's not good to sneak off, but..." Her tone softened, careful not to provoke him further. "The class was so boring that's why I went out with my friend."

Yibo's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "But... you're already in the first grade."

"Yeah, I know, Daddy," she replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "But the subject? I've already memorized it. I promise I'll take care of myself."

Even hearing this, Yibo's hand tightened around the phone. "Yuyu..."

On the other end, a small, confident voice interjected. "Mr., don't worry your daughter is safe with me."

Yibo froze. The voice was unmistakably a child's but calm, steady, and commanding beyond its years. "Who... who are you? And why..."

"Sir," the boy cut him off smoothly, "your daughter is a genius. Trust her."

The line went dead. For a moment, Yibo just stared at his phone, disbelief tightening the edges of his expression. A child... a kid... had just spoken to him like that cut him off mid-sentence, no less and then hung up.

He blinked once, slow and deliberate, the kind of stillness that came before a storm. No one had ever dared speak to him in that tone. No one had ever interrupted him. And certainly, no one had ever ended a call on him.

The king of the underground. The man who built empires and buried rivals with a word. The man whose silence alone could end a room's laughter. And yet... a child had just dismissed him like an equal.

His fingers curled around the phone, knuckles whitening. A dark chuckle escaped his throat low and humorless. Unbelievable. He stood there, the faint light catching in his eyes cold, sharp, calculating. Impossible. If it had been anyone else, that person would not have seen the sunrise. That was how Yibo dealt with defiance swift, clean, final.

But this time, the absurdity of it left him half-amused, half-furious. He didn't know whether to laugh or break something. A kid had managed to do what entire councils and syndicates couldn't catch him off guard.

He exhaled through his nose, forcing the tension from his shoulders, but the edge of his authority still lingered in the air. "A child," he muttered under his breath, the corner of his lips curling faintly. "Bold." Yet beneath that dangerous glint in his eyes, there was something else an echo of curiosity.

"Who was that boy?"

Meanwhile, Yuyu and Yiyi collapsed into laughter, shoulders shaking as the tension melted away. Yuyu, sensing her father's simmering anger through the phone earlier, whispered to Yiyi, "We'll meet again tomorrow. I need to go home now."

Yiyi's grin faltered slightly, a twinge of guilt crossing his face. "Tomorrow... don't bring your lunch. I'll tell Mimi to prepare breakfast for two," he said softly.

Yuyu's smile widened, bright as sunlight. She nodded eagerly. Before calling her driver, the two of them exchanged numbers. "Call me if your dad gets mad when you arrive, okay?" Yiyi said, reaching over to ruffle Yuyu's hair playfully.

"Stop it, dumb! My hair!" Yuyu giggled, swatting his hand away. Yiyi chuckled, undeterred. A sleek black luxury car pulled up at that moment. Yiyi glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. "Is that your driver?"

Yuyu's eyes sparkled. "Yes," she replied with a grin. "Okay, dumb. Take care. See you," Yuyu said, waving as she prepared to part ways.

"See you, dumbest," Yiyi called back, the two of them laughing as the car drove off. Yiyi lowered his hand, a meaningful smile tugging at his lips. Nothing is gone if I try to check this, he thought, satisfaction warming his chest.

Just then, his phone buzzed. A message from Mimi appeared: "Baby cub, after my interview I'll pick you up. Don't go wandering. I love you."

Yiyi's heart swelled. He tapped his reply eagerly:
"Okay, Mimi. Yiyi loves you so much 💕 muah muah."

Pocketing his phone, he looked out at the quiet street, the echo of Yuyu's laughter still ringing in his ears a perfect memory to carry him through the day.

On the other hand. The meeting room had gone still again after the call with the Alpha ended. Both Cheng and Jiyang sat in silence for a long moment, the air thick with the echo of authority that still lingered from the voice they had just heard. Then, as if on cue, Jiyang pressed the intercom button.

"Send Mr. Xiao Zhan in."

Outside, a few remaining applicants exchanged uneasy glances. The announcement came as a shock especially to those who had higher degrees, better résumés, more prestigious backgrounds. Murmurs rippled through the waiting area.

"Seriously? That guy?"
"They can't be serious."
"I heard he doesn't even have a degree!"
"Not even a proper school record. How the hell did he get picked?"

The whispers spread fast, a ripple of disbelief turning into quiet resentment. Some applicants scoffed others exchanged looks heavy with contempt. Zhan stood a few steps away, posture calm though his pulse beat hard beneath his skin. He'd heard it all before every insult, every doubt. It didn't sting anymore.

He didn't have a degree. He didn't have connections.
All he had were his hands, his mind, and the will to keep learning when life gave him nothing. While others hid behind their credentials, he relied on skill. While they memorized theories, he built experience.

So he stayed still, quiet, letting the noise fade around him. If they wanted to laugh, let them. He'd prove himself the way he always did through results.

Moments later, the guards appeared, escorting the others out with curt, expressionless faces. The Alpha's order was final. No one dared to question it.

—

When Zhan stepped into the office, the door shut behind him with a quiet click that sounded louder than it should have. His palms were damp, but his expression remained composed, almost serene. He carried himself with the careful precision of someone who had learned that showing fear was the fastest way to be devoured.

Two pairs of eyes met him immediately sharp, assessing, and far too knowing. Jiyang was the first to speak, his tone casual but his gaze unflinching. "If you're an Omega, just say it now," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Because you're not working under a normal Alpha."

The words hung in the air like a trap deliberate, baited. Cheng said nothing, but his lips curved faintly, studying Zhan's reaction. Zhan's heartbeat thudded once, hard. But his face didn't change. His posture didn't waver. When he spoke, his tone was calm, measured, and steady.

"I'm a Beta," he said quietly. "And no matter what happens, I'll still be a Beta."

A faint smile tugged at Cheng's lips amused, impressed, or perhaps curious. "Brave answer," he murmured. "Or maybe clever. Either way... fine." He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet challenge. "At least we'll give you a chance. But you should understand working for him means no turning back."

Zhan's gaze didn't flinch. "I've encountered worse," he said simply. The air shifted. For a moment, both men regarded him with new eyes. Something in his tone carried the weight of truth not bravado, but quiet survival.

Jiyang finally broke the silence. "You'll start tomorrow. Sharp at eight. You should be here before the Alpha arrives."
He stood, adjusting his cufflinks, voice taking on a clipped rhythm of instruction. "He doesn't like people who talk too much. If he doesn't ask, you don't speak. Do exactly what he says. Listen carefully to every word. He's not the type who repeats himself."

Zhan nodded once. "Understood."

Cheng rose next, walking around the desk, his steps measured. "One more thing. Wear something comfortable," he said, pausing near Zhan's shoulder. "You're not just working in the company you'll be with the Alpha most of the time. That's not an easy place to stand."

Zhan inclined his head respectfully. "Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity."

"Good," Jiyang said, motioning toward the door. "You may leave."

Zhan bowed slightly before turning toward the exit. The door closed softly behind him. The instant it did, his carefully built composure began to crack. His hands trembled faintly, uncontrollably the adrenaline that had been locked inside him finally breaking loose. He flexed his fingers, exhaling slowly through parted lips, forcing his breathing to steady.

"I did it." He swallowed hard, feeling the echo of those sharp eyes still burning into his back. No one noticed. No one suspected.

He straightened his tie, adjusted his collar, and kept walking down the long hallway, each step heavy with suppressed relief. The tremor in his fingers refused to fade entirely, but his expression remained calm, almost expressionless.


#yzwx2026 #yizhanff #fanfiction

2 days ago | [YT] | 1,570

YiZhanwangxian2026

I’m worried I won’t meet the expectations for the scene where Yibo (Jackson’s father), Jackson (Yibo’s son), and Zhan (Jackson’s boyfriend, who eventually becomes Yibo’s husband and Jackson’s stepmother) meet for the first time.-When Eyes Remember

😫😫😫🤣🤣🤣

2 days ago | [YT] | 61

YiZhanwangxian2026

WHEN EYES REMEMBER 💚❤️

PART 46

The question caught Zhan completely off guard. His pen paused midair. He turned, unsure whether to laugh or look away. “That's... an unexpected question, sir."

Yibo's gaze didn't waver. "Maybe. But I'm curious how someone like you sees it."

Zhan's thoughts scattered, heart racing. His boss knew enough to tread carefully he knew Zhan had a boyfriend. Yet something in the way Yibo looked at him, something in that quiet, measured curiosity, unsettled him.

He cleared his throat, forcing a calmness he didn't truly feel. "I... I don't really look at age," he said finally, his tone careful but sincere. "I'm actually older than my boyfriend. What matters most to me isn't the number, but the person's character. Age can change, but character doesn't."

He smiled faintly, as if the words were simple truth but inside, they struck deeper than he wanted to admit. Because when he thought about character about patience, steadiness, and the kind of strength that made him feel safe rather than small his thoughts didn't go to Jackson. They went, unwillingly, to the man sitting across from him.

He tried to push the thought away, reminding himself of the line he could never cross. Whatever he felt however fleeting or confusing he still had a boyfriend. And he would never become the kind of person who betrayed trust, not after knowing what it felt like to be on the other side of it.

Still, the contrast gnawed at him. Jackson had youth, charm, and excitement but none of the quiet depth Yibo carried. None of that calm, commanding presence that made Zhan's heart both settle and race at once.

He lowered his gaze to the papers before him, hoping the neat lines of ink could steady the storm inside his chest. Whatever this is, it stays here, he told himself. I know my boundaries. Yet when he dared to glance up, Yibo was already watching him with that same unreadable calm, as if he saw more than Zhan wanted him to.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, a faint smile ghosted across Yibo's lips something between amusement and understanding, quiet but disarming.

After that night, something between them shifted subtle, but undeniable. Their conversations became easier; the air no longer heavy with tension or hesitation. Sometimes, Zhan even dared to joke, and Yibo stoic as ever would allow the smallest, almost imperceptible smile.

Zhan never forgot his place. No matter how natural their exchanges became, he reminded himself that Yibo was still his boss an untouchable man in a world far removed from his own. That boundary was his shield. It had to be.

Weeks passed, and whispers began to ripple through the company. The sudden relocation of the CEO's office to the first floor drew curiosity. Why would Wang Yibo, known for his distance and authority, suddenly choose to work closer to the staff?

When Zhan learned about the sudden relocation of Yibo's office, Yibo's explanation was brief: "It's because of my condition." He didn't elaborate, leaving Zhan to puzzle over the practicalities.

To Zhan, he felt quietly grateful. With the office on the first floor, he didn't have to climb the stairs or face the elevator, which always unnerved him. Logical, considerate, and unexpectedly reassuring, the arrangement brought a subtle warmth to his chest.

Of course, the gossip didn't stop. Whispers followed him down hallways, curious glances flicked his way whenever Yibo called him in for meetings. Some said the young man from the Re-start project had caught the CEO's eye. Others murmured that he was the reason for the sudden office shift. Zhan tried his best to ignore them. He was used to being talked about but this time, the attention felt different, heavier.

Yibo, as always, paid no mind. He neither confirmed nor denied anything. His silence only made the rumors grow.

Still, life moved forward. The Re-start project progressed rapidly, and Yibo's visits to the site grew frequent. Sometimes, he arrived unannounced his sharp eyes assessing every detail but when they landed on Zhan, something in them softened. Not enough for words, but enough to be felt.

Whenever Zhan's friends, Ziyi and Jili, joined them, they somehow always ended up busy answering urgent calls, checking on site reports, or meeting suppliers. It left Zhan standing beside Yibo more often than not.

It didn't escape his notice. His brow would furrow, suspicion flickering, but he never confronted them. Maybe it was coincidence... or maybe they were giving him a space he didn't know he needed.

Either way, he said nothing. He simply continued his work unaware that every shared silence, every glance, and every careful word between them was slowly, quietly changing the rhythm of both their lives.

—-

The morning sun filtered through the tall glass walls of Wang's Corporation, casting golden reflections across the lobby floor. Employees moved briskly, the usual hum of chatter filling the air until, one by one, they began to notice something unusual.

Every desk. Every corner of the vast seventy-eight–floor building. Each place had a small bouquet of fresh flowers waiting.

"Is this... for us?" one of the junior staff whispered, picking up a delicate bunch of lilies. "I think so. The secretary said it was from the CEO herself."

A ripple of excitement spread. It was the first time Wang Yibo had ever done something like this. The man known for his cold efficiency and flawless control had, without warning, sent flowers to every employee and there were thousands of them.

The same flowers, yet each bouquet unique. Lilies.
No pattern, no explanation. Only beauty.

Meanwhile, when Xiao Zhan arrived, he paused at the entrance, surprised by the faint floral scent that lingered in the air. One of the assistants from the front desk approached him with a generous bouquet wrapped in pale paper.

"Good morning, Mr. Xiao. For you," she said with a smile. "From the CEO."

"From the CEO?" he echoed, a little confused. "What's the occasion?"

"None, as far as I know," she replied. "Everyone received one today."

Zhan nodded, murmuring his thanks. The bouquet overflowed with tiny blue blossoms delicate yet abundant their color glowing against the pale wrapping. He lifted it slightly, studying the petals. Forget-me-nots. Something about them tugged faintly at his chest. He didn't know why.

He smiled to himself. Maybe the CEO just wanted to lift everyone's spirits. As he made his way to the stairs, a few employees glanced his way. Their whispers followed softly.

"Look at that, his bouquet's different."
"Yeah, everyone else got the usual corporate arrangements, but his..."
"Those tiny blue flowers," someone murmured. "Forget-me-nots, right? I've seen them before."
"Same ones the secretary brings to the ceo's office every Monday," another whispered.
"Then maybe they're not just his favorite," someone said quietly. "Maybe they mean something."

Zhan turned slightly at the sound, curiosity flickering for a second, but he brushed it off. He didn't think much of gossip. Still, he caught himself looking once more at the flowers in his hand their blue petals glowing softly under the morning light. Before Zhan could head up the stairs, his two friends, Ziyi and Jili, each holding bouquets of lilies, caught him by the arm and pulled him along. They stopped midway on the steps, confusion written on their faces.

Zhan noticed the same thing. His brows furrowed as he glanced around at the others climbing the stairs. "What's going on? Why does everyone have flowers?" he asked, pausing as his gaze fell on the bouquet in his own hands.

"Is the CEO planning to start a flower business or something? Maybe this is some kind of promotion?" His voice carried a trace of curiosity that showed on his face.

Ziyi shook her head. "Even we don't know what's happening or why your flowers are different from ours."

Zhan shrugged lightly. "I don't know either. Not to mention... these are my favorite flowers."

"Right," Jili said, nodding as if remembering something. They exchanged puzzled looks, still wondering about the meaning behind the bouquets.

Zhan turned slightly at the sound of a few whispers nearby, curiosity flickering for a second, but he brushed it off. He didn't think much of gossip. Still, he caught himself glancing once more at the flowers in his hand their tiny blue petals glowing softly under the morning light.


#yzwx2026 #yizhanff #fanfiction

2 days ago | [YT] | 2,164

YiZhanwangxian2026

WHEN EYES REMEMBER 💚❤️

PART 45

She nodded. "Yes, around that. It was a small, old building, not in great shape, but it was home for us. Then one day, Sister, the nun who managed it, received the notice that funding would stop. They had no way to keep feeding or housing us. I still remember the day she told us... her hands were shaking. Some of the younger kids started crying because they didn't understand what it meant."

The room grew quieter, the music seeming to fade into the background.

"Then what happened?" Yibo asked softly.

Ziyi glanced at Zhan again, who still hadn't spoken, just quietly pushing the last bite of dessert on his plate, as if every word was something he already knew too well. She took a deep breath and went on. "They were planning to shut the place down completely. The land itself was being sold for redevelopment, so they wanted everyone out immediately."

"Immediately?" Yibo's tone held disbelief now.

"Yes," Ziyi said softly, her voice trembling. "They gave no time to prepare, not even a day. We were just children, ten, maybe eleven. No one knew where to go or what to do. Everyone was crying. The sisters were helpless."

She paused, her gaze distant. "And that's when... Zhan stepped forward. He went to the owner himself. I still remember that moment his hands were trembling, but he stood there, refusing to move until they listened. He begged them not to drive the children out like that. He told them that if they threw the children out, it would destroy them. He promised that we would leave in one week if they just gave us that chance."

Her voice cracked. "He bowed again and again, until his knees hit the floor. He wouldn't stop until the owner finally agreed to give us time. Not because he wanted to because he didn't know what else to do with a boy crying and begging in front of him."

Yibo didn't say anything. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, eyes never leaving Zhan.

Zhan quietly set down his spoon. Jili nodded, picking up the story. "It was impossible, honestly. We were just young. But then Zhan said, 'If no one gives us a place, we'll make one.' And he meant it."

She paused, her tone warming with pride. "He found an old abandoned house on the outskirts of town half ruined, walls cracked, but still standing. It wasn't much, but to us, it looked like hope." Her eyes softened at the memory. "When he talked to the owner, the man said the property would cost three hundred thousand. We didn't even have three hundred in our hands back then."

Yibo frowned slightly. "Three hundred thousand?"

Ziyi nodded. "Yes. Zhan didn't argue he just explained everything. About the orphanage, the children, how we were being forced out. He didn't ask for pity, only time." She smiled faintly. "And somehow he made people listen. The owner finally agreed to let us pay little by little every month."

For a moment, Yibo's gaze softened something unguarded flickering behind his eyes. Quiet admiration, maybe, or something deeper he didn't fully understand yet.

Ziyi smiled faintly at the memory, though her eyes shimmered. "Then, with the little savings he had, he gave the first down payment. We used whatever we could scrape together for the renovation. Even the nuns helped us paint and fix broken walls. We didn't have much, but at least the children had a roof."

Her voice trembled slightly. "We were just ten, still going to school, still trying to survive ourselves but we worked hard so that the others wouldn't end up on the streets. Zhan..." she stopped, glancing at him again, her throat tightening. "Zhan was different. He wasn't scared of anything. He carried everything for everyone. Even now, he still sends money there whenever he can."

Yibo's expression was unreadable but his eyes told another story. They lingered on Zhan with quiet intensity, as if he were seeing him for the first time. Not as an employee, but as someone who carried quiet strength beneath all his scars someone Yibo couldn't quite look away from.

From that moment, Zhan and the two friends opposite him earned the respect of the tycoon, the richest man in the world. Yibo found himself unable to imagine the kind of courage it must have taken to endure what they had. To fight when everything seemed lost. To keep standing when everyone else had given up.

What struck him most was that even the other two Zhan's closest friends had once been ready to give up, to accept the cruel reality that there was nothing more they could do. But Zhan hadn't. He refused to surrender. Instead, he stood for all of them for the frightened children who had no one left to speak for them, for the fragile home they still called family.

At that age, they could have walked away with no ties and no obligation. No one would have blamed them. Yet they didn't. Especially Zhan who fought with nothing but his voice, his courage, and his belief that those children deserved one more chance. And somehow, that quiet defiance born not from privilege, but from heart stirred something deep within Yibo, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Ziyi noticed that gaze too. She elbowed Jili lightly under the table, nodding toward Yibo. Jili turned and froze, his breath catching when he saw how Yibo was looking at Zhan. That kind of silence could only be born from something deep something unspoken.

Ziyi cleared her throat softly, forcing a smile to break the tension. "Anyway, if it weren't for Zhan's courage and... well, stubbornness, I don't know what would've happened to those kids. We owe him everything."

Zhan finally looked up, his voice calm but firm. "Ziyi," he said quietly, "enough."

She blinked, startled. He gave a small, polite smile though his eyes carried a sadness that made the candlelight seem dimmer. "Let's just eat. We're here for dinner, not stories." The air around the table thickened again. Even the faint hum of conversation from nearby tables felt distant.

Yibo said nothing. He only leaned back slightly, still watching Zhan with a gaze that no longer carried curiosity but a slow, dawning understanding.

He realized then that the two opposite Zhan weren't just friends. They were his family the kind that life forges through struggle and loyalty, not blood. What struck Yibo most was their sincerity. In front of him, the richest man in the world, they could have easily claimed the spotlight, taken credit to make themselves look good. But they hadn't. They had given it all to Zhan, without hesitation or pride. It was rare. Too rare.

For a fleeting moment, Yibo found himself wishing his own son had friends like that, people who would teach him the meaning of responsibility, of standing beside someone not for what they could gain, but because it was the right thing to do.

He glanced at the three again, quiet admiration glinting behind his composed expression. In a world where so many wore masks to survive, these three still managed to stay human.

The soft glow of the restaurant’s private lighting seemed to settle around them, cocooning the four in an intimate world apart from the night outside. After a long pause, Yibo finally spoke, his voice calm but commanding.

“I’ll be sponsoring the orphanage from now on,” he said simply.

The words landed like a ripple across the table. The three of them Zhan, Ziyi, and Jili blinked in unison, their attention snapping fully to the man beside them. The children they had fought so hard for, the fragile home they had built with trembling hands and hearts full of hope it was no longer just their project. Someone else would now stand beside them, lending weight, resources, and authority.

Zhan’s throat tightened. His hands clenched the edges of his napkin, but the tears came anyway small and unbidden. A simple thank you seemed to carry everything they felt: relief, gratitude, disbelief. He finally looked at Yibo, voice barely above a whisper but laden with sincerity. “Sir… from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I’ll never forget this kindness.”

He wiped his cheeks quickly, not wanting to reveal the full weight of emotion. Yibo, ever composed, noticed the quiet gesture. For a fraction of a second, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips almost imperceptible before his face returned to its usual stone calm.

“No need for that,” he said evenly. “You deserve this.”

Then, as if noticing the hesitation in their eyes, he added, almost offhandedly, “Don’t use your own money.”

But he caught their reaction immediately the subtle shift in posture, the barely concealed pride and knew they already had. The three shook their heads quickly when he offered, “If you’ve already sent money, I’ll return it.”

“It’s okay,” Ziyi said, firm but respectful. The others nodded in quiet agreement.

Yibo didn’t push further, but his gaze remained locked on Zhan. There was something about the boy’s quiet strength his unspoken bravery that commanded attention without demanding it.

“Tomorrow,” Yibo continued, his voice lighter now, “if you have free time, bring me there. I want to see it for myself.”


#yzwx2026 #yzwx2026 #yizhanff

3 days ago | [YT] | 1,168

YiZhanwangxian2026

WHEN EYES REMEMBER 💚❤️

PART 44

The drive felt endless. None of them dared to speak as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, each lost in awe and quiet disbelief.

When the car finally rolled to a stop, Xiao Zhan looked up from his seat beside Yibo and froze. Outside, another car came to a halt just behind them. From it, Jili and Ziyi stepped out, their faces mirroring the same mix of surprise and disbelief that tightened in Zhan's chest.

The restaurant before them gleamed under the night sky, framed by cascading glass panels and golden lights that shimmered like stars. Its name alone was enough to make people whisper the kind of place they'd only ever seen online, where one meal could cost more than a month's rent.

Without waiting for assistance, Yibo smoothly maneuvered himself out of the car, adjusting his wheelchair with quiet precision. Every movement was practiced, composed commanding in its own way. Zhan quickly followed, stepping out and glancing around, still dazed by the sheer luxury surrounding them.

For a moment, the four of them stood outside in silence, the night air cool against their skin. Jili and Ziyi exchanged looks that clearly said we definitely can't afford this, while Zhan turned toward Yibo, who seemed calm, almost detached, as if this was all perfectly ordinary. Then Yibo's quiet voice cut through the hesitation. "Let's go inside," he said simply.

The three exchanged another uneasy look before nodding. They followed as Yibo moved toward the glowing entrance. The moment they stepped through the glass doors, the staff bowed deeply.

"Good evening, Mr. Wang," they greeted in perfect harmony, voices low and respectful.

Ziyi's jaw nearly dropped. Jili's eyes darted everywhere crystal chandeliers, marble floors, waiters moving like clockwork. Even Zhan stiffened. They were all thinking the same thing: We came unprepared.

A hostess appeared, smiling professionally. "This way, Mr. Wang."

Yibo gave a small nod. The trio followed him, still unsure whether to look around or keep their heads down. Every step echoed their disbelief. The air smelled faintly of roses and wine. The lighting was soft, golden, and expensive.

They arrived at Yibo's private dining room, a space designed like a VIP room but with the warmth of a personal residence. The polished wooden table stretched across the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs, each place set with gleaming cutlery and crystal glasses. Soft recessed lighting highlighted the subtle elegance of the room, and tasteful décor art pieces, a small flower arrangement, a carefully placed sculpture hinted at Yibo's personal touch.

"Please, sit," Yibo said evenly, gesturing toward the chairs.

The three glanced around, nerves mixed with awe. Everything from the carefully set tableware to the subtle ambient lighting exuded understated luxury. Jili and Ziyi took their seats side by side, while Zhan settled next to Yibo, whose calm presence seemed to quietly dominate the room.

For a few moments, no one spoke. The background music was soft, the silence heavy. None of them had ever set foot in a place where even the utensils seemed worth more than their monthly salary.

Then Yibo broke the silence. "Choose what you'd like to eat," he said simply.

They opened their menus and instantly wished they hadn't. Their eyes widened in unison. Even the simplest dish was over fifty thousand, some climbing into the hundreds of thousands. They stared for a few moments, as if the numbers might magically change, before closing the menus almost simultaneously and setting them carefully back on the table.

Yibo didn't look up, but the faint sound of his chuckle cut through the tension like silk. He knew their reactions without needing to see their faces.

Zhan cleared his throat, his voice low. "I'm... okay with water. I'm not that hungry anyway."

Jili and Ziyi, eager to follow his lead, nodded quickly.

"Yes," Ziyi added, forcing a nervous laugh. "Mr. Wang, please order for yourself. We'll pay for yours instead." Even she could hear how absurd it sounded.

Yibo finally lifted his gaze, a small spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Do any of you have allergies?" he asked instead. The question caught them off guard. Zhan was the first to answer. "I can't eat shrimp. Or anything cooked with butter," he said quietly.

For a heartbeat, Yibo stilled. Something unreadable flickered behind his calm composure, as if a memory brushed too close to the surface. He quickly masked it, shaking his head slightly before turning to the others.

"You two?"

Both Jili and Ziyi shook their heads quickly. Yibo nodded once, then gestured to a nearby waiter who had been waiting silently. "Bring everything on the menu," he instructed, his voice steady but carrying effortless command. "Avoid shrimp and butter in all dishes." The waiter bowed and left without question.

The three stared at Yibo, wide-eyed. They didn't need to say it out loud. Even if they sold their souls, they couldn't afford what was coming.

The room was hushed, the soft clink of cutlery and faint hum of the air conditioning the only sounds. Zhan tried to relax, but his pulse wouldn't settle. Next to him, Yibo leaned back slightly, expression unreadable, fingers tracing the edge of his glass.

To anyone else, it might've looked like a casual dinner. But beneath the quiet surface, tension rippled unspoken, fragile, and deep.

The minutes passed in hushed disbelief. Soft piano music drifted through the air, blending with the gentle clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of distant conversations. Every corner of the restaurant shimmered with quiet opulence golden candlelight reflecting off crystal glasses, the scent of fine wine and roasted herbs hanging faintly in the air. The world outside was calm, but inside, the moment felt suspended, delicate, charged, and impossibly still.

Xiao Zhan sat with his hands clasped tightly on his lap, unsure where to look. The scent of polished oak and expensive wine filled his lungs. This wasn't just a restaurant it was another world entirely. A world that clearly belonged to Wang Yibo.

Yibo, however, looked perfectly at home. His presence seemed to command the space effortlessly the steady, calm authority that came not from force, but from habit. He sat quietly, his wheelchair positioned neatly beside the table, gaze lowered to his untouched glass of water. The faint flicker of light caught on his wristwatch, sleek and understated, the kind of luxury that didn't need to announce itself.

When the doors opened again, Zhan's breath hitched. Waiters entered in a silent line, each moving with the precision of a rehearsed performance. One by one, they placed dishes before them: porcelain plates painted with sauces that looked more like art than food, delicate cuts of meat arranged with edible gold, crystal bowls of soup that shimmered faintly under the lights.

Ziyi's jaw nearly dropped. Jili froze mid-breath. And Zhan could only stare at the spread forming across the table.

There were too many dishes too elegant, too extravagant. Even the aroma itself felt expensive. The quiet clinking of glassware filled the silence as the waiters bowed and retreated, leaving the four of them under the soft golden glow.

Ziyi whispered first, her voice barely audible. "I think the plate alone costs more than my rent..."

Jili elbowed her under the table, eyes wide in panic. "Shh... he can hear you!"

Zhan bit back a laugh, covering it quickly by pretending to adjust his napkin. He glanced sideways and froze when he noticed Wang Yibo watching him not coldly, not even sternly just watching.

It wasn't the gaze of a boss or a stranger. There was something deeper in it, something quietly curious, searching. The flicker of a memory neither of them could fully grasp. Yibo's lips twitched slightly, almost a smile, before he looked away.

He picked up his utensils with his usual calm grace. "Eat," he said simply.

Ziyi and Jili hesitated, looking down at their plates as if the food might explode if touched.
"I... I don't even know how to start," Jili whispered, half to herself.

Zhan gave a quiet sigh and decided to take the lead. He carefully lifted his fork and took a bite. The flavors burst across his tongue delicate, complex, nothing like anything he had ever tasted. He blinked, startled by how soft the texture was.

Seeing him eat seemed to give the others permission. Ziyi followed hesitantly, her expression transforming instantly. "Oh my god," she murmured. "This tastes like heaven."

Yibo didn't speak. But his gaze lingered on Zhan again, watching the way he tried to be polite, how he chewed slowly, how his eyes betrayed his surprise and gratitude even though he tried to remain composed.

"Do you often eat like this, Mr. Wang?" Jili finally asked, attempting to sound casual but failing to hide her awe.

Yibo's tone was mild. "Not really. Usually, I eat alone." The words hung in the air for a moment soft, yet heavy.


#yzwx2026 #yizhanff #fanfiction

3 days ago | [YT] | 1,521

YiZhanwangxian2026

Uno Racing Team 85: Wang Yibo, David Pun, Rio and Sergio Camara won:

🏆 2nd place in GT3 PA category
9th place overall. Congratulations 🥳

YIBO85 8HOURS RACEDAY
#TEAM85xShanghai8H

4 days ago | [YT] | 535

YiZhanwangxian2026

YIBO-OFFICIAL weibo update x Wang Yibo

“Race Day”
The 85 team drivers David Pun, RIO, Sérgio Sette Câmara, and Wang Yibo, took second place in the GT3 PA class at the Shanghai 8 Hours Endurance Race!

YIBO85 8HOURS RACEDAY
#TEAM85xShanghai8H

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