Continuation: Zhan's hand stilled mid-motion. He didn't know why, but the quiet loneliness in Yibo's voice lingered with him. He glanced at him again, really looked at him the faint weariness in the man's eyes, the poised stillness that came from years of control. He wanted to say something, anything. But before he could, Yibo spoke again. "Do you like the food?" His question was directed at Zhan calm, neutral, but his tone carried a subtle warmth. Zhan blinked. "Ah... yes. It's... incredible, thank you," he said honestly, setting his fork down carefully. "But, um... isn't it a little too much for just the four of us?" A faint curve touched Yibo's lips. "It's fine. Consider it a company dinner. Besides..." His eyes lingered on him. "It's been a while since I've seen someone actually appreciate the meal." Ziyi and Jili exchanged glances, unsure what that meant, while Zhan's ears burned. He quickly looked down at his plate again, pretending to cut another piece. Yibo took a sip of his wine, his gaze distant now. "Eat as much as you want," he said, his voice softer this time. "Don't worry about the cost." The words should've sounded casual. But to Zhan, they carried something else an unspoken concern, maybe even affection, that felt oddly out of place between a boss and his employee. Inside, the atmosphere had shifted warmer now, less restrained. Ziyi started chatting nervously about their work, Jili followed with a joke, and soon even Zhan managed a small laugh. And every time that sound escaped him, Yibo's eyes softened ever so slightly. It was fleeting, subtle, but enough to show that beneath the tycoon's calm mask, something fragile and human stirred. By the time dessert arrived a delicate tower of chocolate and fruit Ziyi was too scared to touch it. The tension had thinned into quiet comfort. Still, as Zhan took one last sip of his water, he caught Yibo watching him again. That same look quiet, intense, almost like Yibo was recalling something long forgotten. Somewhere deep in Yiboās mind, the memory of a boy, a field of blue forget-me-nots, seemed to flicker unseen, unknown to Zhan. The quiet rhythm of soft piano filled the space again, blending with the faint clinking of cutlery. The earlier awkwardness had dissolved into cautious ease. Ziyi and Jili, after tasting the dessert thin layers of dark chocolate, cream, and raspberry couldn't help but sigh in delight. Ziyi set her spoon down and looked up at Yibo, still a little nervous but more relaxed than before. "Mr. Wang," she began politely, "thank you again... for the advance salary. It really helped us a lot." Jili nodded quickly, echoing her gratitude. "Yes, truly. We really didn't expect that. You have no idea how much it means." Yibo looked up from his glass, his expression calm, almost unreadable. "It's just a part of company policy," he said evenly. "If it helps you, that's good enough." Ziyi smiled, hesitant but sincere. "It does, sir. It'll help a lot... especially the children." The words slipped out before she realized. Her spoon froze halfway back to the plate. The atmosphere changed quietly, sharply. Yibo's gaze lifted. His tone lowered slightly, not cold, but deeply curious. "Children?" Ziyi's eyes widened. For a second, she looked completely lost, then turned toward Jili, who just blinked back at her in silent alarm. Finally, her eyes darted to Zhan, who kept his head down, pretending to focus on his dessert as if he hadn't heard. Clearing her throat softly, Ziyi tried to compose herself. "Ah, yes, I mean..." she began cautiously, then decided there was no point in lying. She straightened her posture, speaking more gently, almost respectfully. "As you know, sir... we're all orphans." That caught Yibo's full attention. His hand stilled slightly on the table. Ziyi continued, her voice steadier now, but there was something tender in it an ache that came from memory. "When we were around ten, the orphanage we grew up in... it had to close down. The government couldn't afford to keep it running anymore. There were about eighty children living there at the time." Yibo's brows lifted faintly. "Eighty?" he repeated, as if testing the number.
3 days ago | 32
Aahh Ghostwriter š¢ The loneliness Yibo is feelingā¦the loss of the mysterious boy, who touched his heartā¦the loss of his legsā¦ A wife &?son who were never hisā¦ Heās been alone for sooooo long, but Zhan is now in his life, he loves him & wants to help him & care for him in every way possibleā¦I see a great love between them, blooming quietly in Zhanās heart and fiercely in Yiboāsā¦ Write on Ghostwriter šš» šš¬š»š
3 days ago | 3
Zhan has the feeling he knew YiBo years ago, YiBo too, probably before what put him in that wheelchair and it has to do with the orphanage. So that irresponsible Jackson, who I'm more than sure is not YiBo's son, stole all of Zhan's savings with which, along with his friends, they took care of the eighty children in the orphanage that the state abandoned. What a difference between Jackson and YiBo, all the more reason to prove he's not his son. Now that he knows this, he admires those free friends even more, who raised themselves on their own, but didn't abandon the other children and he's already putting into action the protection of those children. Zhan is already thinking all the time about his handsome boss, too lonely, who shows coldness like a wall in front of others, but in his chest beats a warm heat and with that movement YiBo definitely wins Zhan's heart, a person like his boss who didn't even think twice to help those children, deserves all the love and respect in the world šā¤
3 days ago | 5
The warmth is so lovely, the loneliness in yibos voice and the weariness in his face, hidden but for Zhan to detectā¦is sadā¦the small glimpses of something not really forgotten and dearly missed surfacingā¦when will Yibo find out, that Zhan is the boy he is searching forā¦ and I canāt wait to see the bond blooming, the care from zhan going over to yiboā¦not from yibo only to zhan, but zhan caring for the man and showing it to himā¦the love that growsā¦.
3 days ago | 9
YiZhanwangxian2026
WHEN EYES REMEMBER šā¤ļø
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 dƩcor 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