Yu Qingchuan quickly grabbed his phone to check the time, only to discover that, despite all the sweet years he had spent in that book, only a single night had passed here.
Had his time in the world of the book been nothing but a dream?
But everything he had experienced had felt so real: the cheerful, thoughtful Lu Shiming, the peacock-like Liang Xingyao, Yu Chenyi and Yu Qingluo, who had not been very nice at first but later became loving fathers, and his dearest lover, Lu Shiyi...
Had none of it been real?
Yu Qingchuan could barely breathe. His heart ached sharply, and even his hands would not stop shaking. He struggled to steady his breathing, copying Lu Shiyi's example to calm himself down as quickly as possible.
With trembling hands, he opened a reading app and found the author's book. Yet it was exactly as he had read it before, without a single change.
His wrist had been so stiff and tense that, after he rushed through the entire book, his right wrist began to ache. The white scar on it seemed to remind him that this was reality.
Just then, the book's original author messaged him on QQ: Sorry to bother you, Qinglindu! How are the illustrations coming along? Readers have been saying what a shame it was that the older brother died. Could you draw him first?
The word "died" stabbed at Yu Qingchuan. He repeated silently, None of it is real. His death isn't real. Lu Shiyi isn't dead.
Yu Qingchuan's mind raced. Suddenly, a thought struck him: if he could come back, could Lu Shiyi follow him here?
If Lu Shiyi did come, how could he find him?
Lu Shiyi loved him so much. Once he discovered that he was missing, and knowing where