Chapter 9 — Today, I’m Done Waiting

The final stroke always curved slightly upward. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture, sending it directly to him. He did not reply. Ten minutes later, the door of the quiet bookstore swung open. Wen Xuan stood on the threshold, his expression even gloomier than it had been last night. He glanced down at the book resting in my hands.

Where did you find this?

I closed the cover. You wrote this sentence, didn’t you? He did not deny it. He simply stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a casual click.

Green Years.

You shouldn't be reading this book anymore.

Why?

Everything is already over.

I looked up at him, searching his eyes. What is over? Wen Xuan fell silent. I turned back to the flyleaf and laid the book open on the table.

How long have you known?

Known what?

That we are characters trapped inside a book.

His pupils contracted sharply, a sudden, involuntary jolt. Yet he still offered no answer. I pressed on, my voice steady.

Wen Xuan.

Have you been awake for a long time now?

He stared at me without blinking. After a long, agonizing pause, he reached out and picked up the book from the tabletop.

You just had surgery.

Don't let your imagination run wild.

He shut the book firmly and tossed it away into a cardboard box behind him, his movements effortless and indifferent, as though he were discarding a worthless, tattered old novel.

What did that sentence mean?

I just scribbled it down on a whim.

When did you write it?

I don't remember anymore.

Then why write it in this particular book?

Wen Xuan's expression had already returned to its usual composure.

The publishing house sent me a proof copy back then, and I just flipped through a few pages at random.

Novels and reality are not the same thing.

No matter how sweet an author makes the romance, arguments and exhaustion inevitably follow after marriage.

I was merely moved by the scene and put pen to paper.

His explanation sounded entirely reasonable, flawless on the surface. Yet he did not ask why I had suddenly brought up the concept of awakening. Nor did he ask why I firmly believed we were fictional beings existing on paper. Any ordinary person hearing their spouse speak such words would at least suspect their mental health was faltering. But Wen Xuan did not react that way. His only goal was to get rid of the book. I walked over to the cardboard box and picked the volume up once more.

If it was just random scribbling, why won't you let me look at it?

Green Years. His voice dropped to a low, warning register. You need to rest right now.

Not go down some rabbit hole trying to analyze a novel.

I am asking you a question.

Have you known the truth for a very long time?

Wen Xuan offered no reply. He stepped forward and placed a hand firmly on my shoulder.

Come home with me.

I will contact the doctor.

A physical checkup, psychological counseling—everything can be arranged.

Jia Mu will be coming home soon, too.

Once you recover, we can start over from the beginning.

I shoved his hand away. You still haven't answered me.

I haven't. He finally spoke, his voice tight. I don't know anything about any fictional world, and there is no such thing as an awakening.

Then why weren't you surprised when I brought it up just now?

Because you mentioned it to me once before.

I froze. When?

While you were pregnant with Jia Mu.

You had a high fever and were delirious, rambling quite a bit.

You didn't remember any of it when you woke up.

I genuinely had no recollection of it. During my fourth month of pregnancy, I had suffered a severe fever that left me bedridden. Wen Xuan had stayed by my side the entire night, keeping vigil without a moment of sleep. When I finally regained consciousness, he had been slumped against the edge of the mattress, his hand still tightly clasping mine. That scene had never appeared in the novel. Or at least, it was never recorded in any chapter I could recall.

What did I say back then?

You said that we were the male and female leads in a book.

And that the story had already come to an end.

Wen Xuan looked down at me, his gaze deep and inscrutable.

Green Years, right now you are simply recalling those feverish dreams.

They aren't real.

If they aren't real, then why did you write that sentence in the book?

Because I wanted to see if you would still remember it when you woke up.

It was as simple as that.

His explanation sounded completely airtight, lacking any discernible loophole, yet a persistent intuition told me that something was deeply wrong.

Leave the book here, he said gently. Stop reading it.

I am not going back with you.

Then I will stay here tonight.

There is no need.

You are here alone, and I am not at ease.

Even when you are by my side, I have never felt truly safe.