After hearing Song Si Ao’s story, I was utterly stunned. I couldn’t believe such a coincidence could exist in this world—that I’d actually meet Song Si Ao, and that she had truly been waiting for Zhao Liwei all these years.

When Song Si Ao learned of Zhao Liwei’s death, her expression darkened as she lowered her head, lost in thought. I tried to comfort her, saying, “Song Si Ao, I suppose I should call you Grandma Song. Please try to look past this. So many years have already gone by.”

“Ah,” she sighed, shaking her head. Then she looked up at me, her gaze clear and calm. Rising to her feet, she bowed deeply and said, “Thank you for telling me this news. It’s been so many years… I suppose it’s time for me to move on and reincarnate.”

“Huh?” I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t expected that my words would actually convince her to reincarnate. Looking at Song Si Ao, I said, “Is that so? Well, that might be for the best. If it’s meant to be, you and Zhao Liwei will meet again in your next lives.”

“Thank you. My long-held wish is finally fulfilled. Although it didn’t turn out as I imagined, at least it’s over now. But you… you’re worse off than I am. At least I knew who I was waiting for. Even though he never appeared before me in the end, you don’t even know what your goal is,” Song Si Ao said with a shake of her head, looking at me.

“Ah.” I sighed, looking back at her.

Song Si Ao turned her gaze to the painting on the wall, her expression tinged with longing. “Well then, I’m off to reincarnate. After so many years stuck in this painting, I’ve grown weary of it.” As she finished speaking, her body began to dissolve into countless white specks of light, slowly sinking into the ground bit by bit.

Just as Song Si Ao completely disappeared, I heard Han Sifan screaming nearby. “Brother! Don’t go! Brother!”

I turned to look in Han Sifan’s direction and saw her eyes red and swollen from crying. As I walked over to her, ready to offer a few words of comfort, she suddenly threw herself at me, burying her head in my chest and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Brother, don’t leave me! Brother, wuuu…”

I sighed, gently patting Han Sifan’s back to console her. “Alright, alright, I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you, okay?” With such a beautiful girl clinging to me, it didn’t seem right not to say a few words of comfort.

“Really?” Han Sifan looked up at me, but her expression quickly shifted. Without warning, she punched me square in the chest. Pain shot through me as her punch sent me stumbling back four or five steps. Then she shouted angrily, “Damn you! Are you trying to die? Where’s my brother?”

“How should I know where your brother is? Geez.” I winced, rubbing my chest. “If it weren’t for my silver tongue persuading that ghost to reincarnate, you’d still be stuck in your illusion.”

“Who asked you to wake me up?” Han Sifan retorted, her attitude completely unreasonable. I shook my head, knowing better than to argue with a woman being irrational. Turning away, I started heading downstairs, muttering under my breath, “No reasoning with her. Not worth it.”

Downstairs, I spotted Brother Xiang sprawled on the floor in disarray, his clothes all over the place and his gaze vacant. “What are you doing?” I barked at him.

“I was just clinging with Aoi Sora… so blissful,” Brother Xiang murmured dreamily, but then he snapped out of it, hurriedly fixing his clothes. He coughed awkwardly and retorted, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” I replied, shaking my head. Glancing at both Han Sifan and Brother Xiang, I couldn’t help but think that maybe not all illusions were bad. Some brought happiness. Or rather, fulfilling a wish—whether it brought pain or joy—was something people always sought. And if it could be achieved in a dream, why not?

Afterward, the three of us left the villa together. By the time we stepped outside, it was already 10 p.m. On the way out, I filled them in on what had happened. Both Han Sifan and Brother Xiang were shocked to learn that the ghost was none other than Song Si Ao. When I mentioned that Song Si Ao had decided to reincarnate after hearing of Zhao Liwei’s death, Han Sifan remarked thoughtfully, “You know, ghosts aren’t inherently good or evil. When someone dies with a deep attachment to something, they linger as spirits. That attachment could be hatred, or it could be love. But most often, it’s hatred. Ghosts driven by hatred become malicious spirits, while those who linger out of love or a strong wish are rare benevolent spirits.”

We were lucky this time to encounter a benevolent ghost like Song Si Ao. Upon learning of Zhao Liwei’s death, she willingly let go and chose to reincarnate. But if it had been an evil ghost, it likely would’ve gone on a rampage to vent its anger.

By the time we returned to campus, both Han Sifan and Brother Xiang looked utterly drained. Han Sifan quickly bid us farewell and wandered off toward the girls’ dormitory, still lost in her thoughts.

Brother Xiang and I headed for the boys’ dormitory. The road leading there was lined with poplar trees on both sides, and at this late hour, we were the only two people walking along it.

Feeling bored, I asked Brother Xiang, “Brother Xiang, was your greatest wish really to meet Aoi Sora? That’s so lowbrow.”

“What can I say? I’m nostalgic like that. So, who did you meet? Maria Ozawa? Rola Takizawa?…” Brother Xiang rattled off the names of dozens of adult actresses. Seeing no reaction from me, he added, “No way. This guy’s always watching their movies. If it wasn’t one of them, then who?”

“I didn’t see anyone,” I replied. “My wish isn’t to meet those women. I just want to know who my dad is. Do you know, Brother Xiang?”

To my surprise, the mention of my dad made Brother Xiang’s expression shift slightly. He coughed, laughed nervously, and said, “How would I know? Come on, let’s keep talking about Aoi Sora. I’ll tell you how tiny her waist is.”

“You do know, don’t you?” I stopped walking, staring intently at Brother Xiang. He halted as well, his expression turning serious. “Hui Zi, to be honest, I really don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you. But Li Shigao does. If you really want to know, ask him when you go home for winter break.”

“Will he tell me?” I asked. Brother Xiang shook his head. “No idea. You know how stubborn that old guy can be. Some things… maybe it’s better not to know.” With that, he shuffled off ahead of me.

“Knowing might bring pain and sadness. But if I don’t know, do I even have the right to feel pain and sadness?” I smiled bitterly to myself, realizing what I needed to do—and what I wanted to do most.

When we got back to the dorm, Tai Long and Little Fatty had gone out to play online games. I lay on my bed, my mind swirling with endless thoughts, while Brother Xiang lay silently on his bed.

Turning off the lights, I slowly closed my eyes. Perhaps it was because my thoughts had been so chaotic earlier, but my head felt heavy and dizzy. It didn’t take long before I drifted off to sleep.