...

Sorry.

I can’t go on living anymore.

At least at the end, let me fill this void myself.

...

Chen Yuzhe’s eyes stiffened slightly as he snapped back to reality.

When Li Wanmei had been crying to him, that scene had felt incredibly familiar for a fleeting moment.

His heart suddenly pounded violently, like waking from a nightmare.

In an instant, his breath quickened. This inexplicable feeling made him uneasy.

Li Wanmei sat hunched in the stairwell, crying. She didn’t notice Chen Yuzhe’s shift. She kept suppressing her fragility and confusion, carefully venting her emotions.

Chen Yuzhe calmed his breath slightly and silently closed his eyes.

Forget it.

Once.

The last time.

This time I swear—it’ll be fine.

I said I didn’t want trouble, yet fate dragged me in anyway. So annoying.

Never be careless again, Chen Yuzhe. You can’t afford kindness.

Or you’ll get yourself killed.

—

—

After a moment, Chen Yuzhe opened his eyes.

“Okay, Miss Li Wanmei. Let’s play a game.”

Hearing his light tone, Li Wanmei froze mid-sob. She looked up, lost and confused.

Before her eyes hovered a finger.

“Look at this finger.”

Smiling, Chen Yuzhe said, “It looks like a finger, but it isn’t one.”

“It could be a slice of pizza.”

“A cup of blueberry fruit tea.”

“Or—a small villa with a garden.”

Li Wanmei stared blankly at his finger, not processing his words.

“Yes, you’ve seen it—this finger is a beautiful garden villa.”

As he spoke, he painted the scene: “Red and white walls, wooden furniture, spacious bedrooms, and a big, soft bed.”

“The bed overflows with teddy bears and dolls. Beside it sits a crib with a wind chime.”

“Inside lies a baby with huge, pretty eyes. When he smiles, dimples dot his cheeks.”

“The afternoon sun warms the bed, filling it with sunlight’s scent.”

“You hold the baby there, feeling the breeze, listening to the chime’s jingle, smiling as you drift to sleep—”

Unnoticed, Li Wanmei had closed her eyes.

Chen Yuzhe moved silently beside her. He leaned close to her ear and snapped his fingers softly.

*Snap.*

The sound hit like a power-off switch. Her body went limp.

Chen Yuzhe caught her before she fell.

In the dark, under the eerie green glow of the emergency light, he barely made out Li Wanmei’s face.

A tranquility and softness he’d never seen before.

Chen Yuzhe sighed quietly.

This was likely the happiest ending he could imagine for her.

—

—

“…Psychological suggestion?”

Han Cheng eyed him doubtfully. “Are you pulling a Now You See Me act? That stuff’s not real.”

“Maybe it is. I don’t know. I made it up.”

“Huh?”

Chen Yuzhe shrugged helplessly at Han Cheng’s suspicious gaze.

“But if it’s true…” Han Cheng stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You turned Li Wanmei psychotic with just a few words?”

Chen Yuzhe smiled bitterly. “If I were that skilled, I’d hypnotize you first—send every girl’s photo on your phone to your parents.”

“Damn. Ruthless. Classic you.”

“The conditions are strict,” Chen Yuzhe waved a hand. “The subject must be mentally fragile. The hypnotist needs extreme skill. Even then, it’s luck…”

Why am I so good at this with no memory? Heh. Chen Yuzhe’s bitter smile deepened.

“But if it’s real…” Han Cheng nodded solemnly. “…it might be good for Li Wanmei?”

“Yeah.” Chen Yuzhe leaned back in his chair. “At least it’s the best ending I can give.”

Unlike AIDS, L Province mandates treatment for mental illness to protect society. Guardians who neglect duties break the law. Even without funds, the government covers costs.

Once Li Wanmei’s diagnosis is confirmed, she’ll live quietly in a psychiatric ward—a simple, peaceful life. Her parents won’t worry excessively, nor escape responsibility.

Chen Yuzhe isn’t a god. This isn’t some overpowered wish-fulfillment novel. He can’t support an AIDS-stricken mother-daughter pair. He’s no celestial emperor curing diseases with magic pills.

All he can do is this:

Leave Li Wanmei a dream she’ll never wake from.

Of course.

A dream with a garden villa, a bed piled with stuffed toys, a baby, and a wind chime’s gentle song.