Mature Fantasy Power Invasion

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Because she hadn't slept well, Ye Shiyu went back to bed after getting up early and didn't wake again until almost noon. Yan Huan had already returned.

"Shiyu, you're up!"

"Come try the crème caramel your little brother made—it's delicious."

As she came downstairs, Shiyu saw small golden custards sitting on the table in front of Ye Lan and Auntie Chen. Each was flawless: glossy tops, amber crowns of caramel, a faint wisp of vanilla in the air. They looked almost too elegant for a week-day breakfast.

Auntie Chen waved her over for a taste while Ye Lan snapped photos of the desserts.

Shiyu reached the dining area and glanced toward the kitchen. Yan Huan had just hung his apron on the wall hook. He carried another plate toward her, smiling.

"Sis Shiyu, this one's for you. I found the molds and ingredients in the pantry, so I thought I'd treat everyone."

Home.

The word hung in the air—he spoke as though the house were already his. Shiyu's gaze dropped to the black porcelain ramekin in his hand, her name written on it in neat icing. Frost gathered between her brows, but Ye Lan's voice drifted in from behind.

"Shiyu?"

"...Thanks."

The frost didn't vanish; it only retreated behind her eyes. She took the custard and sat.

Ye Lan tasted a spoonful and sighed happily. "Mm, perfect sweetness. Xiao Huan, you really can bake?"

"Only what I learned at work. It's a small bar that serves desserts—nothing fancy, but we can whip up fries or custards without a problem."

"A bar? Sounds rough."

Ye Lan's brows knitted; she'd always distrusted such places. Yan Huan's smile never wavered. "It's just a cozy tavern with live music. The staff look out for me, and the pay's decent."

"That's good to hear. You're working so hard, Xiao Huan."

Ye Lan's face softened. What choice did a high-schooler have, juggling tuition and living expenses? She assumed he was there for the money—an easy mistake; Tong's tavern was actually quite respectable.

While the adults talked, Shiyu lifted her spoon. The custard was flawless, yet on her tongue it tasted like bitter bark and needles. Yan Huan's attentiveness only deepened her disgust.

Her gaze flicked between him and her mother, the mask of indifference slipping moment by moment.

Yan Huan glanced at her—just long enough to confirm that the Modifier let him read her mood even more sharply than Ye Lan could. Still, he kept chatting, answering questions, coaxing laughter.

Then he steered the conversation.

"By the way, Sis Shiyu, have you picked your electives on the school portal yet?"

"Electives?"

Ye Lan looked up, puzzled. "Does your school even have those? Don't all students take the same classes?"

"In Longguo, yes. Here we have five required courses and two electives, usually in the afternoon. You can study with students from other grades or classes."

"Principal Hermes didn't mention it."

"He probably will when you visit the registrar in person. They explain each course face-to-face—something you miss if you register online. That's why he didn't send an e-mail yet."

Yan Huan smiled at Ye Lan. "But I know the offerings. I can walk you and Sis Shiyu through it right now."

"Great. Shiyu, go fetch my laptop so Xiao Huan can help you pick classes. I'd like to see how it's done here."

Shiyu stopped carving trenches in her custard, nodded, and climbed the stairs.

As soon as she left, Auntie Chen excused herself to prep lunch. Yan Huan offered to help.

"Don't you worry about that. You stay here and help the girls choose classes. After a custard this good, Auntie Chen will whip up something special. Any dish you fancy?"

"Really? Then I'd love the ribs—I saw them in the fridge."

"Ha! Noticed those, did you? All right, ribs it is."

"Come sit, Xiao Huan. Tell us how the courses work."

Listening from the landing, Shiyu's steps slowed. The house felt warmer, livelier than when she was home alone—usually she stayed in her room with her dolls, and the air stayed tepid.

Maybe he fit this family better than she did.

A strange thought after last night's movie, but the feeling lingered.

She gripped her phone tighter and disappeared up the spiral stairs.

After lunch and a short rest, Yan Huan opened the Far Moon course-selection site on Ye Lan's laptop, logged in with the account Principal Hermes had provided, and pulled up the catalog. Most of the conversation flowed between him and Ye Lan; Shiyu simply thought, nodded, and murmured, "I have no opinion," until the process resembled Yan Huan choosing classes for himself.

They finally settled on two electives—one of them, "Hands-On Crafts," happened to coincide with Yan Huan's own schedule.

Ye Lan glanced at the clock: almost two. Before she could speak, Auntie Chen leaned out from the kitchen.

"Miss, we're short on groceries. The market's a bit far—could you drive me?"

"I was planning to take the kids out for a movie and dinner. I'll give you the spare key."

Ye Lan did have a car—so why had she used a driver yesterday?

"Oh, forget it. My Linmen license isn't ready, and I'd rack up points the moment I hit the road. I'll take a cab later. But if you're not eating in tonight, what about the ribs?"

She disappeared back into the kitchen.

Turned out Ye Lan was a paper-license driver. Color rose in her cheeks; she shot Yan Huan a sheepish look.

"Xiao Huan, Shiyu, how about a movie later? Pick anything you like."

"I'm fine either way."

Shiyu had no real interest. She rarely watched films; yesterday had been an exception. But if her mother insisted, she would go.

Yan Huan glanced at her and suggested, "How about we swing by the supermarket instead? We can buy groceries for Auntie Chen and eat in tonight."

"Such a thoughtful boy."

Ye Lan ruffled his hair, then narrowed her eyes playfully. "Or maybe you just want those ribs?"

"Mainly trying not to waste food. Nothing to do with ribs—honest."

Ye Lan laughed again and turned to Shiyu. "What do you think? Want to see a movie?"

"I'm fine either way."

Shiyu's gaze, flat as a dead lake, fixed on Yan Huan. He pretended not to notice, his smile brightening.

Locking the doors won't be enough, he thought.

Ye Lan changed her mind and called toward the kitchen, "Auntie Chen, what do we need? We'll pick it up."

"No movie?"

"Ha! Xiao Huan loves your ribs."

"Poor boy—must be starving in Linmen."

"Come on, list the groceries. We'll head out soon."

Auntie Chen rattled off the list. Ye Lan grabbed the keys and led Yan Huan and Shiyu to the garage.

The garage door rolled up to reveal a tiny, bargain-basement electric car parked inside—barely larger than a plate of chopped-pepper fish heads.

Yan Huan glanced from the dinky vehicle to the beaming Ye Lan beside him.

You're the president of the Linmen branch of Ye International—worth a fortune—and you drive this?

Dumbfounded, he followed Ye Shiyu into the back seat. The moment he sat down, Ye Shiyu buckled herself in.

Before he could make sense of anything, the car whirred to life.

"Ready to roll!"

Then the whole car lurched backward and crunched nose-first into the garage wall with a sharp bang.

Clunk!

Yan Huan swayed and flopped back against the seat. Ye Shiyu beside him remained unflinching, as steady as Mount Tai—clearly this happened a lot.

Oh.

He now understood why President Ye's ride was a cheap, disposable runabout.

Ye Lan twisted round, looking mortified. "Sorry, wrong gear. All fixed—off we go!"

"Sure thing, Auntie Ye."

Yan Huan clicked his belt, the smile on his face a little forced.

"Ha-ha-ha, Miss Ye, you nearly scared Xiao Huan half to death!"

At the dinner table, Auntie Chen poured drinks for everyone. Seeing Yan Huan still looking shell-shocked, she burst out laughing.

Ye Lan pouted. "I'm way better than I used to be. Apart from hitting reverse in the garage, everything else was fine, right?"

Right—if you ignored the drifting, zero-frame lane changes, random throttle bursts, and the general sense of racing for your life. The instant torque of an electric car only made things worse; Yan Huan—who never got carsick—was now a nauseous shade of green.

Still, he managed a wan smile. "No problem, Auntie."

Auntie Chen laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes. "Here, have some spare ribs and keep your mouth busy."

Ye Lan placed a rib in Yan Huan's bowl, then another in Ye Shiyu's, and the table settled into cheerful chatter.

Only Ye Shiyu stayed quiet. Yan Huan turned to her and said, "Compared to you, Shiyu sis is amazing—doesn't seem scared at all."

Silence.

Ye Lan filled the gap with a grin. "Big Sis always indulges me—unlike you, Xiao Huan."

"Shiyu's used to it. She used to get woozy, too."

Still no answer. Conversation limped on until the meal ended.

"Auntie Chen, let me help."

This time Yan Huan rose first and cleared the table. Ye Lan rested her chin in her hand, smiling at his retreating back.

After a moment she crossed to a living-room cabinet and began rummaging inside. The cabinet held stacks of photo albums.

Ye Shiyu's eyes darkened. She knew what was coming.

Those albums held pictures from long ago—including ones of Yan Huan's parents.

Yan Huan had said he would stay the weekend. The mood had been perfect; he was already fitting into the household.

All Mother needed was to open the past, and he would stay forever.

"Mom, I'm going upstairs to sew."

With that, Ye Shiyu rose expressionlessly and climbed the stairs.

"Go ahead, dear."

Ye Lan, still flipping through albums, found the one she wanted and settled on the sofa.

Yan Huan spent a long while in the kitchen. When his hands were clean, he carried out two bowls of double-skin milk pudding he'd just made.

Seeing only Ye Lan in the living room, he asked, "Auntie, where's Shiyu sis? I made dessert for you both."

"She went upstairs to sew."

Ye Lan patted the cushion. "Come here, Xiao Huan. Let me show you something."

"On my way, Auntie."

He set the bowls on the coffee table and sat beside her. Ye Lan opened the thick album and turned the pages, stopping at a photograph of two young women.

In the picture, a short-haired Ye Lan—smile a little stiff—stood next to a long-haired woman with a sunny grin and two fingers raised in a V-sign.

The moment Yan Huan saw the woman next to Ye Lan, his eyes flickered.

The resemblance was unmistakable—especially when she smiled.

He knew who she was.

"See? This is your mom—Wang Yulu, my college roommate."

Ye Lan's finger traced the photos as she continued, voice soft.

"When we started university, my family's business was in free-fall. We were broke. Don't be fooled by how well I dress now—twenty years ago, I was so poor I could barely afford food."

In several photos her clothes were clearly hand-me-downs, too big for her.

"Young people need more than just study, right? We want fun, friends, dates. But I had no money for anything—no new clothes, no snacks, no gadgets. Even my makeup was borrowed."

Beside her in every picture, Wang Yulu beamed—sometimes striking silly poses, sometimes flashing peace signs. The joy leapt off the paper.

"She was my roommate. When she saw I had nothing decent to wear, she lent me her own clothes. When I had job interviews or dates, she shared her makeup. She taught me skincare, dragged me out to exercise, studied with me, introduced me to friends."

"Your parents met during that time. Look—here's your dad. They were the golden couple of the literature department."

Another photo: Ye Lan, Wang Yulu, and a bespectacled young man smiling at the camera around a dinner table, other classmates in the background.

"Your mom was the kindest, most genuine person I've ever known. Without her, I'd probably have had a breakdown during those six years of undergrad and grad school."

"She was my best friend. After graduation, she and your dad chose to develop their careers in Linmen. They flew all over the world; half the time their phones were out of service. Meanwhile, my marriage collapsed and the family business kept me chained here."

"Over the years I'd send the occasional message, but I never got a reply. I thought they were just too busy... who knew..."

Ye Lan's eyes reddened. She turned the page, then stopped, afraid to look—afraid the sight of Wang Yulu's face would make her cry.

Yan Huan silently handed her a tissue.

The album now showed a photo that caught his breath: Wang Yulu leaning over a crib, laughing in delighted surprise while a baby Ye Shiyu clutched her little finger.

Below the photo was a caption:

"Shiyu's first meeting with her godmother."

Yan Huan's pupils shrank. Ye Lan smiled through her tears.

"Your mom and I promised each other we'd be godmothers to each other's children. That's what I've always told Shiyu. So... Xiao Huan, I hope you'll forgive me for being overwhelmed when we first met. Maybe I came on too strong, too affectionate—made you uncomfortable."

"I just... I couldn't help it. Even seeing your name—she'd said if she ever had a child she'd name him that, because she loved to laugh and said her baby would surely love to laugh too..."

Yan Huan handed her another tissue, but Ye Lan was beyond noticing. He gently wiped her tears himself.

"Auntie Ye..."

She caught his hand and looked up at him, eyes shimmering.

"So, Xiao Huan—will you stay? Live here with us? I'll treat you like my own child, take care of you in your mom's place. Please?"

Silence.

Looking into Ye Lan's tear-filled, hopeful eyes, Yan Huan opened his mouth, a nameless emotion swelling in his chest.

It was an offer he could neither refuse emotionally nor rationally. After two days it felt inevitable—like water flowing downhill.

Perhaps he had already accepted in his head. After all, the president of Ye International's Linmen branch carried serious weight.

A benefactor who drops from the sky—no matter how dense you are, you understand the weight of the word "yes."

Everything Ye Lan had just said came straight from the heart.

No melodramatic triangle, no soap-opera vendettas.

Just a hand held out when he was cornered, just months of shared mornings and evenings.

When she laid every precious memory bare—even a transmigrated orphan like Yan Huan couldn't stay unmoved.

Because he felt the truth in her words, he hesitated.

Sensing his wavering, Ye Lan's tear-rimmed mouth drooped again.

The sight crashed over him like a flood; refusing her felt like the one unforgivable sin in the world.

"Auntie."

Yan Huan's gaze slid downward, away from her face.

After a long silence he gave a wry smile.

"I can't stay."

Ye Lan blinked, disbelief flickering across her face.

"Why? Does Auntie make you uncomfortable?"

"Of course not."

"Then is it your sister? She just hasn't spent much time with people—she's not a bad person at heart. I'm sure if you're here, Xiao Huan, she'll open up."

"It's not your sister either, Auntie. I've never thought that."

"Then what is it? Auntie has enough money to solve plenty of problems. If there's anything you're unhappy with, just tell me."

Her expression grew more bewildered, sorrow and hurt brimming over.

She searched his eyes, following his evasive gaze until it had nowhere left to hide.

No point running, Yan Huan.

Blame the damned Modifiers for forcing my hand.

He kept his smile, but his eyes lifted to meet Ye Lan's squarely.

There was no disgust in them—only quiet resolve.

Sunday evening, 7:30 p.m., inside the mansion in Jinghe District.

Looking straight at Ye Lan, Yan Huan spoke with equal sincerity.

"Sorry, Auntie Ye.

I can't stay here. I have to return to the South District."