Ghost Exorciser: Is Loved By All-Chapter 794: Memories

"Five," Yu Sicong corrected. "You always ordered the spicy beef noodles and pretended not to cry when they made you tear up."

Fu Jian blinked.

"And you’d ask for a second boiled egg but pretend it was for ’protein,’ even though you just really liked the yolk," Yu Sicong added with a grin.

Fu Jian stood frozen in place. "You... watched me?"

Yu Sicong shrugged.

"Back then, I liked you in secret. Watching you eat was the highlight of my week. You were always quiet here, so I figured this place was special."

Fu Jian lowered his gaze, heart thumping uncomfortably fast. "I didn’t think anyone noticed."

Yu Sicong held the door open.

"Come on. Let’s get you something real to eat. No tiny portions. No fake compliments. Just noodles."

They walked in together. The shop was nearly empty—just a sleepy old man behind the counter and the faint hum of a TV playing reruns in the back.

The smell of rich broth and freshly made dough wrapped around them like a blanket.

They sat at a small corner booth.

The owner recognized them. "Long time no see! Still want it extra spicy?"

Fu Jian smiled faintly. "Yeah. And... can I get a second egg?"

Yu Sicong leaned back, watching him quietly.

As they waited for their food, Fu Jian stared at the table, fingers gently tapping the wood.

He still didn’t smile fully. But the sharpness in his expression had softened. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

After dinner at the noodle shop, the ride back to the mansion was quiet but not tense.

The kind of silence where neither side feels like filling it, but both feel strangely at ease.

Fu Jian leaned his head against the window again, belly full and mind oddly warm.

He didn’t speak, and neither did Yu Sicong.

But every now and then, Fu Jian would sneak a glance at Yu Sicong’s hands on the steering wheel.

When they arrived, Fu Jian said a simple, "Good night," and headed straight to his room.

The emotional weight of the day—Gu Nian, the rooftop confrontation, the memories stirred by the noodle shop—was finally catching up with him.

His eyes barely stayed open as he fell onto the bed.

The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through his bedroom curtains.

Fu Jian stretched, yawned, then dragged himself out of bed.

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, he padded downstairs in his slippers, expecting the usual quiet morning.

But the moment he reached the stairs, he stopped cold.

The mansion had changed.

Photos—hundreds of them—adorned the walls.

Elegant frames hung with care. Ribbons and fairy lights wrapped around stair railings.

The entire space had turned into a private gallery.

And all the photos were... of him.

Fu Jian stood still, blinking slowly.

His eyes moved from one frame to another, each one capturing a moment he never knew was caught on camera.

There was a picture of him sitting under a tree, talking animatedly with friends.

Another showed him in the university’s courtyard, holding a small bouquet and smiling softly at it.

Yet another had him backlit by a golden sunset, his hair slightly messy, his eyes dreamy.

There were more: him laughing, sneezing, concentrating on a textbook, sharing a drink with someone, walking under an umbrella alone.

They weren’t staged. None of them posed.

They were real. Candid. Private.

His chest tightened.

Just then, a voice spoke behind him. Calm. Familiar. Warm.

"Are they beautiful?"

Fu Jian turned sharply and found Yu Sicong standing near the base of the staircase.

He had changed into a simple shirt and slacks, looking far too casual for someone who just turned their home into an art exhibit.

Fu Jian stared at him, wide-eyed. "When did you even take these?"

Yu Sicong smiled, almost shyly. "Secretly. Most of them, anyway."

"You were... stalking me?" Fu Jian’s voice was part shocked, part incredulous, and part flustered.

"Observing," Yu Sicong corrected with a smirk. "And documenting. Big difference."

He reached out, took Fu Jian’s hand gently, and guided him down the stairs. "Come on. There’s something I want to show you."

Fu Jian let himself be pulled along, still overwhelmed.

At the bottom of the staircase, one long hallway had been transformed into a timeline.

Neatly labeled dates ran along the top, and each photo had a small note underneath in Yu Sicong’s handwriting.

"This..." Yu Sicong said, stopping in front of the very first photo, "was the first time I saw you. Day one of university."

Fu Jian leaned closer. The picture was of him talking on the phone, wearing a cute blue hoodie, one hand gesturing as he spoke.

His face was half hidden, but he looked bright—full of life.

"You were yelling at your cousin over a lost charger," Yu Sicong added, chuckling.

"You remember that?" Fu Jian asked, voice soft.

"I remember everything," Yu Sicong said simply.

He moved them along to the next few photos.

"This is when you joined the literature club. You didn’t talk much, but you always brought snacks."

"This one—" he pointed to another frame, "—was when you started chasing me. I pretended not to notice, but I did. Every time."

Fu Jian’s cheeks warmed. "You knew?"

"I always knew."

There was one of Fu Jian curled up on a dorm bench, clearly drunk, with a lazy grin and flushed cheeks.

Another of him feeding a stray cat behind the cafeteria. Another where he was walking in the rain, soaked but smiling.

"I took these because... you were the only part of my life that felt real," Yu Sicong said, stopping at the last section.

His voice was quieter now. "Everything else was pressure. Responsibility. But you..."

He trailed off. Fu Jian slowly reached out and touched one of the frames, fingers tracing the corner.

"You really cared that much?" Fu Jian asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

Yu Sicong didn’t hesitate. "You were everything to me. You still are."

Fu Jian looked at him, eyes searching.

"Then why... why didn’t you accept me back then? I chased you for so long. You knew how I felt. Why did you always turn away?"

Yu Sicong’s smile faded. He looked away, then back again. "Because I was scared."

Fu Jian frowned slightly. "Of what?"

Yu Sicong took a breath.

"My father never loved my mother. Their marriage was just... a deal. When my sister, Yu Mei, was born, he suddenly started pretending to be a family man. But it wasn’t for her—it was for the company’s image."

He leaned against the wall, gaze distant now.

"He never looked at me. Never cared. Until he realized I could be useful. Be the perfect heir. So I started working harder. Smiling more. Studying late. Becoming what he wanted."

Fu Jian stayed quiet.

"When I got to university, I met you. And for the first time, I didn’t want to be perfect anymore. I wanted... you."

He looked at Fu Jian directly now.

"That terrified me."

Fu Jian’s throat tightened. "Because you realized you were—?"

"Gay. Yeah." Yu Sicong nodded. "It hit me hard. I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I tried to fight it. Resist it."

He exhaled shakily. "One day, I called my father and told him a story—said it was about a dormmate who liked another boy. Just to test his reaction."

Fu Jian already knew what was coming, but his heart still sank.

"He was disgusted. Said if it were his son, he’d disown him. Called it unnatural. Said it would shame the company."

Silence fell between them.

Fu Jian spoke first. "So you chose the company over me."

Yu Sicong winced. "I chose survival. But I hated myself for it every day. You know what was the worst part?"

Fu Jian stared at him with an unwavering gaze.

"My heart couldn’t help but protect you subconsciously. I asked my dormmates to protect you, hired a fake customer to give you tips, protect you from the shadows, click your picture, and hide them.

When we graduated, I waited for you to get drunk, just so I could steal a kiss."

Fu Jian’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching. "You... what?"

Yu Sicong looked away, embarrassed for the first time in a long while.

"I know it sounds terrible. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. You were just—passed out after the graduation party. Everyone else had left.

You were asleep on the rooftop, hugging that stupid stuffed rabbit you won from the claw machine."

Fu Jian blinked. "You remember that rabbit?"

"I still have it," Yu Sicong said quietly.

Fu Jian’s lips parted but no words came out. He could feel something rising in his chest—a strange mix of warmth and ache.

"You were snoring a little," Yu Sicong went on, his voice low now, confessional.

"And your cheeks were all red from the beer. You looked so peaceful. I leaned down just to brush your hair out of your face, and then I... I kissed your forehead.

Just once. I told myself it didn’t count. But I knew it did."

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