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.”
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