WP Chapter 46

Jiang Yibai was humming as he cooked in the kitchen, in an unusually good mood. He had assumed he would be deeply averse to talking about the past, but when he finally did, he realized that what had happened was already behind him. The regret was still there, but it no longer felt insurmountable.

He thought to himself that this was probably thanks to Si Shaorong. If it weren’t for him, he might never have understood what it meant to truly “accept.” Maybe he would have kept tormenting himself indefinitely.

To make peace with oneself and learn to forgive was probably a rare and precious skill.

Jiang Yibai felt something quietly untangle in his chest. The more he thought about Si Shaorong, the more it made him want to smile like a fool. He tasted the soup he had just finished cooking, wiped his hands, and turned around, planning to call the great master to wake up. But to his surprise, Si Shaorong was already standing at the kitchen door. He had no idea how long he’d been there.

Jiang Yibai blinked. His gaze landed on the magazine in Si Shaorong’s hand, and he raised an eyebrow with a look of sudden realization.

“What’s this about?” Si Shaorong’s feelings were tangled and hard to put into words. He shook the magazine in his hand and asked, “Exactly when did you first know who I was?”

“Didn’t I write it all in my ‘diary’?” Jiang Yibai grinned as he took the magazine from his boyfriend’s hand and pulled him in for a hug. “You didn’t read it properly, did you? Be honest, were your eyes glued to the 18+ content instead?”

Si Shaorong was exasperated and amused all at once. He gave his lover’s ass a slap. “Speak properly!”

Jiang Yibai had indeed mentioned it in About Me and the Male God.
But he had assumed Jiang Yibai had just thrown that in casually, as a device for the “plot.”

After all, About Me and the Male God was full of half-truths and misdirections. It was impossible to separate fact from fiction.

He never imagined that most of it had been true, except for the part where their relationship progressed rapidly and involved trying out every position under the sun.

His voice was full of disbelief. “You’ve known since way back then…?”

“You saved me twice.” Jiang Yibai kissed his boyfriend on the cheek and smiled. “The first time was when I was holed up at home, refusing to see anyone.”

Si Shaorong’s heart lurched. He had a sinking feeling he already knew. “Was it after your parents passed away?”

Jiang Yibai nodded. “Li Xun looked into Zheng Yu for me. Turned out he had married another woman. He also lied to some of my friends, said I’d signed a solo deal with a talent agency and pocketed a ton of kickbacks. I was so disillusioned back then, I felt like there was nothing left in this world worth trusting or believing in. I didn’t do anything all day. I’d eat when I woke up, sleep after I was full, and I completely lost track of time.”

Si Shaorong pulled him into a tight hug, heart aching. “Okay, that’s enough. You don’t have to keep going.”

But Jiang Yibai shook his head and held his shoulders firmly. “Li Xun got me a new phone and helped me change my number. He told me, even if I didn’t want to see people, I could at least go online or play some games to distract myself. I used that new phone to contact my editor and apologized. I had this idea of writing my story out, as a kind of… anti-fraud cautionary tale, even. While I was outlining the draft, I just happened to come across one of your stories.”

The two of them hadn’t even been using the same platforms, but Jiang Yibai read all kinds of things. That was how he stumbled upon the then-unknown “Si Ye.”

“Some things really are fate, huh?” Jiang Yibai said. “The timing, the setting, the circumstances, the people… If even one thing had been different, I might’ve missed you completely.”

Back then, the stories Si Shaorong wrote were serious and sober in tone. That one particularly cold-performing piece had been a slice-of-life urban novel, about a grassroots male protagonist trying to make it in a big city through sheer grit.

No cheat codes, no hacks, no sudden dog-blood drama, and no heart-pounding climaxes.

It was simply a straightforward story, told plainly, like a singer standing alone on a bustling street, singing into the restless night. People came and went around him, their passing figures blurred like afterimages. No one stopped.

It was an ordinary story, reflecting the lives of ordinary people. And no one wanted to read something like that, because reality was already stifling enough, already suffocating. No one wanted to watch a version of themselves struggling in fiction. That kind of story didn’t make people laugh.

So the data on that piece was icy cold. But later, after Si Shaorong became popular, the story most often brought up was still that flop of a novel. Because in terms of realistic depth and literary finesse, it represented the peak of his abilities at the time.

As he kept writing more and more fantasy power-fantasy stories filled with cheat codes and level-up arcs, packed with tangled plots and overflowing characters, the delicate nuance he had once been best at was gradually buried. What used to be his most grounded, most genuine side had vanished.

Jiang Yibai said, “If I hadn’t been hit so hard back then, I probably never would’ve noticed you. I wouldn’t have been interested in that kind of subject matter. It wouldn’t have resonated with me.”

Si Shaorong nodded. He understood exactly what Jiang Yibai meant.

Si Shaorong froze. Then his entire expression shifted like he had been struck by lightning. His eyes widened as he stared at Jiang Yibai.

For once, he was actually tongue-tied. It took him forever to string together even one complete sentence. The shock felt like a sword about to burst through the top of his skull.

“You’re—?! Wait, you’re Taibai? That Taibai? You’re that Taibai?!”

He couldn’t even speak properly anymore. He repeated the same sentence again and again, and even bit his own tongue in the process.

Jiang Yibai was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. He wrapped an arm around him and rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He pinched his nose, pitched his voice up, and did a cutesy impression: “Favorite author, your writing is amazing! Keep going!”

Si Shaorong: “…”

“Keep going!”

“You write so well, keep it up!”

“Love your stories so much, don’t stop!”

“Refreshing the page waiting for your update!”

“Happy birthday, favorite author!”

“You’re my favorite author ever! I’ll always support you!”

Si Shaorong didn’t even have to think hard to remember. Those sincere little messages had always stuck with him.

Back then, he had been completely invisible. His genre was niche and cold, and no one was reading his work. The site didn’t even bother giving him a spot on any list. He had written over three hundred thousand words, and his story only had a little over a hundred bookmarks. Even the few readers who did bookmark it never left a single comment.

Only one person did. The reader with the username “Taibai.” That person left a comment on every single chapter, always with some kind of cheer or encouragement. When he created his very first Weibo account, Taibai immediately followed him there, spamming him with update reminders, words of support, and cute emoticons.

Out of curiosity, he had clicked into Taibai’s Weibo profile. The gender showed as female, so he had always assumed she was just a sweet, kindhearted girl.

Whenever it was his birthday, Taibai was always the first to send well wishes. Even if he did absolutely nothing, and Weibo simply posted a system notification that his membership level had been upgraded, Taibai would still pop up in the comments, just to show she was around.

Whenever he started a new story, Taibai would instantly retweet it, like it, and leave a comment. Eventually, Si Shaorong developed a habit. Every time he posted a new chapter, he would wait to see if Taibai had left a comment. As long as he saw a smiley face followed by “Keep going!” or “Love you always!” he couldn’t help but laugh to himself in front of the screen.

At that time, the path he walked was a lonely one. But Taibai made him feel warm.

Later on, when his newer work became a hit, more people started commenting. His Weibo followers multiplied. Taibai, however, began to fade away. Once in a while, Taibai would still show up to say they were around. He even messaged Taibai privately once, “Haven’t seen you around lately. Have you been reading the new story? If you have any thoughts or feedback, feel free to tell me.”

Taibai: “I’ve just been super busy! But don’t worry, favorite author. I’m still reading every chapter!”

Si Shaorong had never been good at socializing. Seeing that kind of reply, he honestly had no idea what to say back.

Later on, Weibo turned into a toxic mess. He handed the account over to Zhen Zhen to manage and never logged in again.

He still saw Taibai’s username in the comment sections now and then. The messages were always words of encouragement. And all this time, Si Shaorong had kept feeling grateful to “her.”

But now, “she” wasn’t a she. “She” was a he. And that he was… Jiang Yibai?!

Jiang Yibai said, “It didn’t really matter whether you got famous or not. I met you when I was at rock bottom. Your story helped me stand up again. And now that we’re together, your love has saved me a second time.”

He let out a soft sigh. “I owe you way too much. Tell me, whatever you want me to do to pay you back, I’ll do it.”

Si Shaorong stared at him in a daze. He had never been the type to believe in fate. He used to think there was only one difference between people: whether they were willing to try or not. But right now, he was almost ready to believe in it.

Jiang Yibai saw his boyfriend still looking stunned and tugged gently at his cheek. “Boyfriend? You look like you just got hit by a truck.”

Si Shaorong closed his eyes for a second. Then he pulled Jiang Yibai into his arms and held him tight.

He buried his face in the crook of Jiang Yibai’s neck, took a long, deep breath, and forced down the sudden sting at the tip of his nose.

Jiang Yibai would never truly understand just how important those early messages of encouragement had been for Si Shaorong, just as he could never fully imagine how devastating that string of betrayals had been for Jiang Yibai.

There was no such thing as truly feeling what someone else felt. There was only mutual respect, acceptance, and empathy. In this moment, Si Shaorong finally understood what that meant.

He kissed the side of Jiang Yibai’s neck and said in a quiet voice, “You’re responsible for me now.”

Jiang Yibai laughed and coaxed him, “Okay.”

Si Shaorong added, “I’ll be responsible for you too. No matter what happens in the future, I will respect you, accept you, understand you, and accommodate you.”

Jiang Yibai blinked and hesitated for a second before saying, “That kind of sounds like a proposal.”

Si Shaorong did not respond. He only held him tighter.

That night, after finishing his work, Si Shaorong went to bed early.

Jiang Yibai sat in front of his computer, spacing out for a while before finally remembering that he should update his long-neglected “diary.”

The comments begging for updates had long since become a numb and habitual presence. Jiang Yibai put on his headphones, played a slow piano track, and began to type.

“It’s been a while. How is everyone? It’s not that I didn’t want to update, it’s just that a lot has happened recently. Everything hit me pretty hard. People always say life is unpredictable. Who could have seen this coming? The male god confessed to me! Ahahahaha—

Ever since we became roommates, I’ve suspected the male god might be gay. But I never had the guts to ask. What if he said no? That would make things awkward for both of us. But honestly, we’ve already done just about everything you can imagine. Let me tell you a little secret. The male god has a really nice ass, and there’s a little mole on the inside of his thigh. I don’t think he even knows it’s there.

When he confessed to me, we had just finished going at it in the kitchen. I had smeared whipped cream all over his body, then put two strawberries on his chest. I told him, when it comes to love, you have to first open the ‘spiritual channel.’ And this channel is very particular. The most important part is to make the other person feel happy, excited, and emotionally stirred.

The male god said he was feeling it. I told him, that’s not right. I was just teaching you how to create a better piece of work, a story about love. Why are you feeling that way? And while I was saying that, I was still inside him. He was clenching around me so tightly, like he didn’t want to let me go. I held up his legs, kept thrusting, and leaned down to bite one of the strawberries on his chest. He came on the spot from the pleasure.

I love seeing him come like that. His expression when he comes… Oh wait, I got off track.

So anyway, right after he came, he confessed to me. Scared me so bad I came too. The male god really lives up to his name. Decisive, straightforward, no messing around. He told me we’d try dating for half a year, and if it doesn’t work, we’d figure it out then. I said yes before I even had time to think. Why wouldn’t I say yes? I’ve liked him for so long.

But even now, I’m still a little uneasy. Because I always worry that something that seems beautiful will start to rot once you finally get your hands on it. I trust people too easily. Once I trust someone, I’ll believe anything they say. And that makes me feel unsafe.

But this time, for him, I want to try being brave again. The male god said something that made a lot of sense. He told me I shouldn’t look for an exit before we’ve even begun. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

After posting the update, Jiang Yibai shifted restlessly in his chair. He was annoyed. God knew how badly he wanted to write smut. He had fantasized about it for so long, and now he had finally gotten a real taste. He wanted to write every detail down, even if it had happened while they were drunk. He could remember it all, clear as day. That delicious sensation was so addictive, he could hardly stop thinking about it.

But he couldn’t write it. What if the story got locked because of it? This was one of the rare stories he had actually been “serious” about.

He felt so stifled he could scream.

Jiang Yibai let out a loud groan, changed into his pajamas, and went to wash up for bed.

After he left, the room fell quiet again. On the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, Si Shaorong slowly opened his eyes and reached for his phone.

A notification appeared on the screen: About Me and the Male God had been updated.

Si Shaorong tapped it open and quickly read through the new chapter. He brushed past all the exaggerated nonsense his boyfriend had written and paused when he saw one line

For him, I want to try being brave again.

He turned his head and buried his face in the pillow, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile that bloomed bright.