Ghost Exorciser: Is Loved By All-Chapter 802: Yu Sicong’s Fears

Mrs. Yu froze when she heard the soft voice behind her.

"Mother."

She turned around slowly and saw Yu Holea standing by the doorway. The light from the hallway caught her silver hair, giving her an almost ethereal glow. She was calm, composed, but there was something in her eyes—something firm.

"Holea," Mrs. Yu said, forcing a smile. "You’re back."

"I heard you were angry," Holea said, stepping into the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. "What happened?"

Mrs. Yu gave a small, dismissive wave with her fan. "Nothing, dear. Just... thinking too much. I’m worried about your brother. That’s all."

Holea raised an eyebrow. "Worried about him? Why?"

Mrs. Yu sighed deeply.

"You know how much I care about Sicong. He’s always been such a good boy. But now—now he’s confused. He’s... he’s walking down the wrong path. And I’m scared it will ruin his future."

Holea folded her arms across her chest. "And what path is that, exactly?"

Mrs. Yu looked her in the eyes. "He’s in love with another man. With Fu Jian."

"I know," Holea said calmly. "And?"

Mrs. Yu blinked, caught off guard.

"And? Holea, that’s not normal. That’s not how things are supposed to be! Your brother... he has contracted something—some kind of illness of the mind. A disease."

"Mother." Holea’s voice turned sharper. "It’s not a disease."

Mrs. Yu frowned. "It has to be! He wasn’t like this before. He must have been influenced—Fu Jian must have tricked him."

"No one tricked him," Holea said firmly, stepping closer.

"Sicong isn’t a child. He knows his own heart. Just because his love doesn’t look like what you expect doesn’t mean it’s wrong."

Mrs. Yu looked away, voice trembling.

"You don’t understand, Holea. In this world, men marry women. That’s how things are. That’s how they’ve always been."

"And maybe that’s the problem," Holea replied, her voice steady.

"Maybe we’ve just accepted that as the only way because that’s all we’ve been told. But love isn’t just about man and woman. It’s about connection. Trust. Feeling safe with someone. Being seen for who you are."

Mrs. Yu bit her lip. "But what will people say? Our family’s reputation—"

"Who cares?" Holea interrupted, her tone sharp now. "Are you really going to let gossip dictate your son’s happiness? Let him suffer just so others can be comfortable?"

Mrs. Yu didn’t answer.

Holea stepped closer, softening her voice.

"Sicong loves Fu Jian. Truly. Just like a husband loves a wife. Just like Qiao Jun loves me. I’ve seen the way he looks at Fu Jian, how he protects him. That’s not confusion. That’s love."

"But they can’t have children," Mrs. Yu whispered.

"They can have a family in other ways," Holea said. "Or maybe they won’t. That’s their decision. But forcing him to break up with the person he loves just because it doesn’t fit your idea of what love is—that’s not fair."

Mrs. Yu looked at her daughter, torn. "You really believe that?"

"I do," Holea said. "And you love Sicong, right?"

"Of course I do," Mrs. Yu said immediately.

"Then try to understand him. Even if it’s hard. Even if it feels strange. Because if you don’t... one day you’ll wake up and realize he’s gone. Not because he wanted to leave, but because he felt like he didn’t belong here."

Silence filled the room.

Mrs. Yu sat down on the edge of her bed, the fan falling from her hand again. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I just wanted him to be happy."

"And he is," Holea said gently. "But only if we let him be."

Yu Holea took a deep breath, steadying her voice.

"Mother," she said softly, "before you judge him, can you at least meet Fu Jian? Just once. Look at him. Talk to him. Then decide what you think."

Mrs. Yu was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes stared into the distance, unfocused, her hands resting still on her lap.

Finally, she gave a small, slow nod. "One meeting. That’s all."

Holea’s face lit up, and without hesitating, she stepped forward and hugged her mother tightly. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

Mrs. Yu didn’t return the hug right away. But after a pause, she gently patted Holea’s back.

Then her voice came, low but firm. "But if I meet him and I don’t like what I see—if I think he’s not good for Sicong—then your brother will have to break up with him."

The warmth in Holea’s smile faltered. She pulled back slightly and looked her mother in the eyes.

"I... I can’t promise that," Holea said slowly. "Because that’s not something I can control. Or should control. It wouldn’t be right."

Mrs. Yu’s lips pressed together in a thin line, her expression tightening.

"Then why ask me to meet him at all?"

"Because I believe you’ll see what I see," Holea replied. "I believe in you, just like I believe in Sicong. But love doesn’t come with conditions. If you go into that meeting just looking for a reason to say no, then it won’t matter who Fu Jian is."

Mrs. Yu turned her head slightly, staring at the ornate pattern on the carpet. Her voice was strained now. "You really won’t help me stop this?"

Holea stepped back, placing her hand gently on her mother’s arm.

"Mother... do you love me?"

Mrs. Yu looked up immediately. "Of course I do."

"Then you need to promise me something."

Mrs. Yu frowned. "What is it?"

"That you won’t force Sicong into anything. That you won’t try to control who he loves. You can disagree. You can worry. But don’t take his choice away from him."

Mrs. Yu was silent again, the room heavy with unspoken thoughts. She seemed to struggle with the request, her face twitching with conflict.

"I just want what’s best for him," she said finally.

"I know," Holea said gently. "But what’s best for him might not look like what you imagined. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong."

Mrs. Yu closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and gave a reluctant nod.

"I won’t force him," she said. "But I still don’t have to like it."

....................................

The hallway outside the hospital room was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of machines and the occasional squeak of a nurse’s shoes against the tile.

Yu Sicong walked slowly, holding a small bag in one hand. He paused for a moment just outside the door, then pushed it open gently.

Inside, Fu Jian was sitting upright in bed, reading a book.

He looked pale but alert, a thin blanket draped over his legs. The window beside him let in the soft afternoon light, casting a warm glow over the white sheets.

Sicong walked in and set the bag down on the small table by the bed. Without a word, he pulled out the chair and sat down beside Fu Jian.

Fu Jian looked at him carefully, closing the book and setting it aside.

"Your mother called you earlier," he said softly. "Why?"

Sicong hesitated, then shook his head. "It’s nothing. Just... something small. A trivial matter. You don’t need to worry about it."

Fu Jian glanced at Sicong’s hands, trembling slightly in his lap. He reached out and touched them gently, his fingers cool but steady.

"You’re shaking," he said quietly. "Do you want a hug?"

Sicong didn’t answer right away. He looked at Fu Jian, eyes meeting his, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. Then, slowly, his expression cracked.

His eyes turned moist, shimmering under the soft light.

He reached forward and wrapped his arms around Fu Jian, burying his face against Fu Jian’s shoulder.

"I’m scared," he whispered. "Jian, I’m really scared."

Fu Jian rested his chin gently against Sicong’s hair and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, slow and steady like anchoring a storm.

Sicong’s voice was muffled, but the pain in it was clear. "I’m scared that my mother will never accept me. Not the real me. Not this version of me that loves you."

Fu Jian said nothing, only patting his back gently, letting Sicong speak.

"I’m scared she’ll ask me to choose," Sicong continued, his voice cracking. "Choose between her... and you."

The room fell into silence again, filled only with the quiet rhythm of their breathing.

Fu Jian finally pulled back just enough to look at Sicong’s face. His voice was calm, but steady. "And what would you choose?"

Sicong looked down, wiping his eyes. "I don’t know. I don’t want to choose. I don’t want to lose either of you."

Fu Jian brushed a thumb gently over his cheek. "You shouldn’t have to. Love isn’t a competition. It’s not about picking sides."

"But sometimes it feels like it is," Sicong said, voice barely above a whisper. "I just want her to see me. To understand that this isn’t something I chose just to rebel or ruin her dreams."

"She’s your mother," Fu Jian said gently. "She might not understand now, but that doesn’t mean she never will."

Sicong’s grip tightened around Fu Jian’s sleeve. "What if she never does?"

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