Breeze

Chapter 15 - Invitation

Wang Yibo stood in front of the mirror in Xiao Zhan’s dorm room, adjusting the last costume for their upcoming performance—the old military uniform of Ruolai. The jacket fit snugly around his frame, the muted green fabric brushing against his skin. The medals gleamed under the dim lighting, adding a sense of realism to the character he was about to embody. Everything about the look was perfect, except for one detail: his hair. Ruolai had jet-black, sleek hair, while Yibo’s wavy brown locks broke the illusion. Still, when Yibo looked at his reflection, it felt like he was staring at someone else entirely.

He let out a sigh, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. Zhan had gone out to grab food, leaving him alone to finish trying on the costumes. As he admired the uniform one last time, his phone buzzed in his pocket. His mother was calling.

Yibo answered quickly, but the signal in Zhan’s dorm was weak. “Hold on, Mom,” he said, stepping out into the hallway to get better reception. Still in the uniform, he wandered aimlessly through the dormitory building, his footsteps echoing lightly against the quiet, empty halls. His conversation with his mother was brief, filled with typical pleasantries and check-ins, but Yibo found himself walking up to the fourth floor—an area where most of the rooms were unoccupied, forgotten by most students.

As he paced down the hallway, still on the phone, a strange, chilling sensation prickled his skin. He felt it—like someone was watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his heartbeat quickened. His mother’s voice faded into the background as his eyes focused on the door directly in front of him. Something about it felt... wrong. Unsettling. Door is unlocked, he can see a ray of sunlight emitting from inside.

“I’ll call you back,” Yibo muttered, cutting the call abruptly. He stared at the door, realizing he had unknowingly walked to this specific room. His fingers itched, drawn toward the door handle as if compelled by something beyond his control. Slowly, he reached for it and pushed the door open.

The room was dim, the air thick with a cold, heavy presence. Dust floated lazily in the beams of sunlight seeping through the cracked window. Yibo stepped inside, his heart hammering in his chest. There was a strange familiarity to this place, even though he had never been here before.

Unbeknownst to Yibo, this was the room where Yiye had spent his last days.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the door—at first glance, it was Zhan. Relief flooded Yibo, his tense shoulders relaxing for a moment. "Zhan, what are you doing here?" Yibo asked, trying to steady his breathing. “And why are you staring at me like that?”

Zhan didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at Yibo with eyes that brimmed with love and longing. There was something in the way he looked—something deeper, something more intense. A single tear slipped down his cheek, glistening in the faint light.

"Ruolai..." Yiye's voice came out in a soft, broken whisper, filled with centuries of longing.

Yibo's heart sank as a chill ran through him. Something was wrong. He squinted, looking closer, and that’s when he realized—it wasn’t Zhan at all. The figure before him was Yiye.
His breath hitched as the truth dawned on him. Yibo’s chest tightened at the sound of the name being spoken as if it belonged to him. His throat went dry, his mind racing, but he knew he had to stay calm.

Gathering every ounce of courage, Yibo swallowed the fear creeping up his spine and spoke softly, “Yiye... I’m not Ruolai, but I know you’ve been waiting for him.”

Yiye’s expression didn’t change. He just gazed at Yibo, his eyes silently pleading, filled with the kind of love that transcended time.

Yibo inhaled deeply, his mind grasping for a solution. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the rapid beating of his heart. “Meet me tomorrow in the auditorium at 7 p.m. I’ll tell you the truth then. You'll come right?”

Yiye didn’t say a word. He simply nodded, his form fading as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Yibo standing alone in the room, his pulse still racing.

The uniform clung to Yibo’s body, suddenly feeling far too heavy. He stood there, staring at the spot where Yiye had been, trying to process what had just happened. Ruolai’s story wasn’t over, but somehow, Yibo felt like he was becoming a part of it.

Yibo’s phone buzzed again, jolting him from his thoughts. It was Xiao Zhan.

“Where are you? I came back, and you weren’t in the room,” Zhan’s voice sounded worried.

Yibo quickly pulled himself together, stepping out of the eerie room and closing the door behind him. “I... I’ll be there in a minute,” he muttered, his voice shaky as he hurried down the hallway.

When Yibo returned to Zhan’s dorm room, Zhan was pacing by the window, holding a takeout bag. The moment Zhan saw Yibo, he frowned in concern. “What happened? You’re pale.”

Yibo collapsed onto the bed, his mind still racing from the encounter. He exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. “I... something weird happened. I was just walking, trying to get better signal for a call with my mom, and I ended up on the fourth floor.” He hesitated, glancing at Zhan.

“And?”

“There’s this room. It felt... off. I don’t know how to explain it, but when I went inside, I saw Yiye. He looked like you at first, but it was him.” Yibo’s voice was low, trembling slightly. “He thought I was Ruolai.”

Zhan’s eyes widened slightly, and he moved closer, sitting beside Yibo on the bed. “Are you serious? Did you... talk to him?”

Yibo nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. He looked at me with this—this longing in his eyes. He didn’t even say much, just... called me Ruolai. I think he really believed I was him.”

Zhan reached out and placed a hand on Yibo’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You’ve been through a lot lately,” Zhan said softly. “It makes sense that Yiye would be drawn to you—especially in that uniform.”

Yibo sighed, the weight of the military jacket feeling heavier by the second. “I told him to meet me tomorrow. In the auditorium. I said I’d tell him the truth then. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

Zhan rubbed his back soothingly, his voice softening as he spoke. “You did the right thing. Maybe this is what he needs to move on—to finally understand the truth about Ruolai.”

Yibo leaned into Zhan, resting his head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth and comfort that only Zhan could provide. “I just want this to be over,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Zhan’s fingers gently brushed through Yibo’s hair. “It will be. We’ll face it together.”

Yibo looked up, meeting Zhan’s reassuring gaze. He always knew how to calm him, how to make the weight of the world feel a little lighter. Yibo’s breath hitched, overwhelmed by how safe he felt in this moment.

Zhan smiled softly, his crescent-shaped eyes crinkling. “Come on, let’s get out of here for the night. I think you need some rest.”

Yibo blinked, feeling the tension in his body slowly dissolve. “Your place?”

“No,” Zhan said, his lips curling into a teasing smirk, “your place. So I can make sure you sleep without getting haunted again.”

Yibo huffed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really something, Zhan Ge.”

Zhan chuckled, pressing a light kiss to Yibo’s temple. “I know.”

With that, they gathered their things and headed to Yibo’s apartment. As they walked side by side under the cool night sky, Yibo felt a strange sense of peace. Whatever tomorrow held, he knew they’d face it together.