One Step Closer
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
Within just a week, the time had come.
Zhan had quietly booked their return tickets to Amsterdam, not wanting to make a big fuss.
There was no point drawing it out, goodbyes were never easier with time.
In the days leading up to departure, Yibo had called every evening.
Video calls filled with Zeyu’s bright giggles, excited rambles, and the same question on loop:
“Pa, when are you coming to meet?”
Yibo would smile, his voice always gentle.
“Soon, Zeyu… soon.”
And each time he ended the call, the screen would go dark, but the ache in his chest only deepened.
That night, one day before departure, after Zeyu had fallen asleep with his stuffed bunny and lion tucked in his arms, Zhan stepped out onto the terrace.
The air was cool, the lights from surrounding buildings faint and sleepy.
He leaned on the railing and called.
Yibo picked up almost instantly.
His face appeared on the screen, dimly lit by his bedside lamp.
Behind him, the house was dark, still.
Zhan’s voice was soft.
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
Yibo didn’t reply right away.
His silence carried weight, heavy and wordless.
His eyes dropped for a moment, then lifted again.
“When are you coming back, ge?”
Zhan hesitated, eyes drifting to the quiet street below.
“I don’t know.”
He admitted.
“This was my first visit since I moved. Can’t say when the next will be.”
The silence between them stretched.
Yibo’s voice broke through, small and raw.
“What if… what if Zeyu forgets me?”
Zhan smiled, sad and gentle.
“Do you think I’d let that happen? Never, Bo.”
Yibo’s lips lifted faintly, but his eyes glistened.
They both knew there were so many things left unsaid.
Feelings clawing beneath the surface.
But all they had in that moment was silence and breath.
Then Yibo asked quietly,
“You want me to come to the airport?”
Zhan looked down, heart tightening.
“I’d say no, Bo. If you come, Zeyu will cry… it’ll be harder for him, and for me too. And the airport is a long way for you.”
Yibo nodded slowly.
He didn’t argue.
But Zhan felt it, the pain beneath his silence.
He sighed softly, voice turning gentle.
“I should sleep. Need to wake up early.”
He paused.
Then added.
“Take care of yourself, okay? And remember… your son loves you. So much.”
There was a beat of stillness, then Yibo’s voice came, barely a whisper.
“And you…?”
Zhan’s eyes closed briefly.
A small smile curved his lips.
“Do you really need to ask that, Bo… after all this time?”
Yibo chuckled quietly, and it sounded like it hurt.
They said goodnight, but neither of them truly wanted the call to end.
When the screen finally went black, Zhan stood there for a moment, letting the night settle in his chest.
Then he went back inside, lay next to Zeyu, and stared at the ceiling.
So many thoughts.
So many unknowns.
Would this stretch of distance last forever?
Could he ever give Zeyu the family he dreamed of?
The ache turned over in his chest like tidewater.
Eventually, it pulled him into sleep.
—————————————
They woke early.
The sky still held the pale grey hush of dawn.
Zhan dressed Zeyu in layers while the little boy sleepily clung to him.
Liu Fang and Yue helped them pack the last of their things.
The atmosphere in the house was hushed, like a soft mourning.
At the door, Zeyu held his grandmother tight.
She kissed his cheeks, wiping her eyes.
His aunt crouched to fix his scarf and whispered,
“You be good, Zeyu. And draw us pictures, okay?”
Zhan stepped back, allowing them a few more moments.
Liu Fang’s eyes shimmered as she murmured.
“We should have gone with you to the airport. You shouldn’t have gone alone.”
Then he touched his mother’s arm.
“Ma, if you had come, it would’ve been even harder, for all of us.”
She nodded, brushing his hair from his forehead like Zhan was still her little boy.
“You take care of him… and yourself.”
The taxi pulled up with a soft honk.
The driver began loading their luggage into the trunk.
Zeyu waved both hands from the car window to Liu Fang and Yue as they pulled away, his eyes bright, not yet understanding the ache of farewell.
After check-in, customs, and security checks, they finally sat at the gate.
The fluorescent lights were too white.
The chatter of the airport too loud.
But inside Zhan’s mind, it was all quiet.
Zeyu had fallen asleep on his lap, his small hand still curled loosely around Zhan’s thumb.
Zhan watched the rise and fall of his chest, brushing a gentle hand over his hair.
Everything felt suspended… memories, hope, pain.
The joy of seeing Yibo again had already turned into longing.
His chest was filled with too much… the curve of Yibo’s smile, the scent of his skin, the sound of Zeyu giggling between them on the couch.
A call echoed through the gate.
Their flight.
Zhan swallowed thickly.
He stood, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder, then lifted Zeyu gently, settling the boy’s weight against him.
Zeyu stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
Zhan walked toward the gate, each step heavy and quiet.
They boarded, found their seats, and as the plane began to ascend, Zhan leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
The lights of Hangzhou faded beneath the clouds.
And with it, he carried the ghost of a touch, the promise of a smile, and the echo of Yibo’s voice that asked—
“And you…?”
And his heart had answered long before his lips ever did.
—————————–
It had been a week since Zhan and Zeyu returned to Amsterdam.
Life had quietly returned to its rhythm.
Zhan left for work while the warm-hearted Chinese woman, Zeyu’s nanny, Auntie Lin, took over of Zeyu.
She had been with them since the very beginning, gentle, wise, and full of quiet affection.
She doted on Zeyu like he was her own grandson, humming Mandarin lullabies as she folded his tiny clothes, preparing steamed buns and tomato-egg stir-fry just the way he liked.
Under her care, Zeyu had learned to speak a little Chinese, often switching mid-sentence with a cheeky grin.
Every evening, she’d greet Zhan with a soft smile, hand him a list of what Zeyu ate, how much he played, and leave them to their quiet little world.
But Zeyu never stopped asking the same question:
“Baba… when will Pa come?”
And every time, Zhan would falter.
Smile gently.
Offer an excuse.
“He’s busy, Baobie. Maybe soon.”
But the truth was, he didn’t know.
He was waiting, too.
Despite the six-hour time difference, Yibo never missed a single call.
Zeyu would race to the tablet when it rang.
“Pa! Look! I made a dinosaur from LEGOs today!”
“Pa! Baba made soup but I don’t like the green things!”
“Pa! Look, this is my room! And my lion, and my rabbit, and… Pa, when are you coming?”
Every time, Yibo would smile and reply softly.
“Soon, Baobei. Very soon.”
And then he’d stay on the line, eyes lingering on Zhan when Zeyu wasn’t looking.
Sometimes they talked.
Sometimes they just sat in silence, breathing in the ache of distance.
One quiet afternoon, Zhan was folding Zeyu’s laundry while talking to Yibo on a video call.
Zeyu had gone downstairs to play with the neighbor’s kids.
Yibo’s voice was steady on the surface, but beneath it ran a tremor, like breath caught between fear and longing.
“Zhan-ge…”
Zhan’s head lifted at once, eyes searching his face.
“Hm?”
There was a pause, the silence stretching, heavy.
Then Yibo drew in a breath.
“I… I want to come.”
The towel in Zhan’s lap slipped through his fingers, half-folded, forgotten.
His body went rigid, as if the words had struck him still.
He blinked, trying to steady himself, then whispered, almost disbelieving.
“You mean… you want to come here? To us?”
Yibo’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes glistened.
“Yeah… I want to.”
His voice low, almost cracked.
“I want to come there, ge. I can’t… I can’t stay here anymore without you two. I thought I could take it, but I can’t. I can’t stay away from our son.”
Yibo’s gaze dropped, his lashes trembling as he blinked hard, trying to steady himself.
“And I’m scared, ge… I don’t want to fail again the way I did back then. Not this time. Not with Zeyu.”
Zhan’s heart clenched.
That was all he’d ever needed to hear.
Not obligation, no guilt.
Just Yibo choosing them.
Freely.
A soft laugh escaped him, laced with unshed tears.
“Then what are you waiting for, Bo?”
He whispered, voice low.
“Just come. I’m dying to have you here with us, and so is Zeyu. You know there isn’t a single day that goes by without him asking when his Pa will come to see him.”
Zhan’s throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes softening on the screen.
“All I ever wanted was for you to choose us, Bo… not out of pressure, not out of guilt, but because you truly wanted to.”
Yibo smiled.
A smile that reached all the way to his tired eyes.
Zhan leaned forward.
“Start the paperwork as soon as possible. I’ll help from here.”
Then Zhan asked carefully.
“What about your garage?”
Yibo didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll sell it. That was the plan, remember? From the beginning.”
Zhan laughed, wiping the corner of his eye.
“You idiot… you better come quick.”
“I will.”
Yibo said, grinning.
“But don’t tell Zeyu. I want to surprise him.”
“Deal.”
Zhan smiled.
“He’ll scream the roof off when he sees you.”
But then, as if a thought tugged him back, his smile faltered.
He lowered his gaze for a moment before looking at Yibo again.
“Bo… before you come here, there’s something I want you to do.”
Yibo tilted his head, his grin easing into a question.
“Sure, ge. What is it?”
Zhan’s voice dropped, steady but gentle.
“I want you to go and meet your Ma and Nainai. Give them a proper farewell before you leave. You’ll be crossing oceans, Bo… and they deserve to see you, to hear from you one last time before you settle here.”
The light in Yibo’s expression flickered.
For a moment, he just stared at the screen, shocked into stillness.
His throat worked, but no sound came out.
Six years of distance pressed heavy on his chest.
“Ge… I…”
Zhan leaned closer, his eyes soft but unwavering.
“Bo, I’m not asking you to meet your father if you don’t want to. But your mother and Nainai don’t deserve this silence. They were so sad when you left, yet they still live with the hope that someday you’ll come back to see them. Please… for them. It would mean a lot if you met them before coming here.”
The words hung heavy between them.
Yibo’s lips parted, but for long seconds he couldn’t answer.
His gaze dropped, lashes trembling, as if the weight of memory pressed too hard.
Finally, he drew a slow breath.
“…Okay, ge. I’ll go. I’ll meet them.”
Relief eased over Zhan’s face, and this time when he smiled, it was quiet, almost reverent.
His shoulders softened as he whispered.
“Thank you, Bo. That’s all I could ever ask.”
———————————-
Over the next three weeks, Yibo worked like a man on a mission.
He filed his visa for a short stay, just enough to reach Zhan and Zeyu.
Once he arrived, they’d figure out the longer-term plans together.
He sold the garage… his proud little kingdom of tools and grease, after hosting a final party for his crew who had worked with him for the past six years.
It felt bittersweet, but not painful.
For once, he wasn’t walking away from something.
He was walking toward someone.
Zhan had told his own family about Yibo.
Yue screamed in excitement.
Liu Fang, quiet as always, simply said.
“Good. Zeyu needs both of his parents.”
———————————————-
It was a quiet afternoon in Linping.
The smell of ginger and garlic still hung in the kitchen as Zhang Meilan stirred a pot of soup, the steady hiss of the stove filling the silence.
From the living room came the faint sound of the TV, where Wang Shuzhen sat watching, her silver hair catching the light that streamed through the curtains.
The sudden chime of the doorbell broke the stillness.
Zhang Meilan frowned, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Who could it be at this hour?”
She muttered, turning the stove off.
She padded across the tiled floor and pulled open the door.
She froze.
There he was, standing in the doorway, shoulders broad yet hesitant, eyes carrying both hope and guilt.
Six years of absence hung in that single moment.
“Ma…”
Yibo’s voice was low, almost unsure, but his lips curled in the faintest, awkward smile.
Zhang Meilan’s breath hitched.
Her eyes widened, disbelief flooding her face.
“Bobo…?!”
At the sound, Wang Shuzhen turned from the TV.
When her eyes landed on her grandson, her smile broke wide, tears already glistening.
Meilan’s tears fell before she could stop them.
She stepped forward, clutching her son as if he might vanish again.
Her voice broke against his shoulder.
“Oh God… you finally came, Bobo. Ma was just dying to see you, my boy.”
Yibo’s arms wrapped around her tightly, her forehead pressing into his shoulder.
His throat burned as he fought to hold back his tears.
“I’m sorry, Ma. For being so late to come and see you. I should have come earlier. I’m so, so sorry.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes brimming with both grief and joy, then tugged his hand.
“Come, come inside.”
As Yibo stepped in, his gaze landed on his grandmother.
He dropped to his knees in front of Wang Shuzhen, arms circling her frail frame as he pressed his face to her lap.
“Nainai…”
His voice cracked.
Wang Shuzhen’s own tears spilled freely, but her smile never wavered.
Her hands shook as she stroked his hair, then wrapped him in her embrace.
“Oh God, my boy… you came to see us. We missed you so much, Bobo.”
Yibo lifted his face, eyes red, and whispered.
“I missed you too. Every day.”
She cupped his cheeks in her weathered palms, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Her hands trembled against the warmth of his skin.
“Did Zhan come to see you?”
She asked softly.
Yibo’s lashes fluttered with fresh tears, but he managed a smile.
“He did. He came… with our son.”
Shuzhen’s smile deepened, her eyes shining with both relief and pride.
Zhang Meilan stood by, wiping at her tears, her chest lifting with a rush of happiness she hadn’t felt in six long years.
They sat together, shared the lunch that Meilan had been preparing.
Every bite was heavy with memory, but lighter with laughter breaking through tears.
Afterward, Yibo set his chopsticks down, his voice steady but low.
“I’m moving to Amsterdam next week. To stay… with Zhan-ge and our son. Hopefully I’ll find a good job there soon.”
Shuzhen’s smile warmed her entire face.
She reached for his hand and squeezed.
“Good decision, Bobo. I’m happy that this time you chose Zhan over anything else.”
Yibo nodded, eyes lowering.
Meilan touched his arm, her voice a mix of scolding and fondness.
“I told you long ago to leave and build a life with him. But you…”
Yibo fell quiet for a long beat, then sighed, his gaze dropping to the table.
“It’s okay, Ma. Maybe it was God’s will… that we had to be apart all these years. But now, I’m happy. And in front of this happiness, all those years of pain feel like nothing.”
Meilan blinked, her lips quivering before she gave a small nod.
The afternoon slipped into evening.
Yibo stayed a few more hours, listening to their stories, letting their voices soak into him like medicine.
But at last, the time came to leave.
At the doorway, Meilan’s hands shook as she held him one last time.
Her tears dampened his shirt as she whispered.
“Take care of yourself. Be happy. My prayers are always with you. And please, stay in touch, Bobo. Don’t disappear again.”
Yibo’s throat ached as he nodded against her shoulder.
“I will, Ma. I promise.”
Then Shuzhen came forward, her old hands gripping his tightly before pulling him into her arms.
“Try to come see us at least once a year, hmm? I’m an old woman… I don’t know how many more years I’ll have.”
Yibo hugged her close, resting his chin lightly against her hair.
“I promise I’ll come, Nainai. And don’t talk like that, you still have many years ahead. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”
She chuckled through her tears, lightly tapping his chest with her fist.
Then, as if remembering something, her eyes drifted toward Meilan.
Meilan gave a small nod and stepped away for a moment, returning with a worn little purse.
Her fingers lingered on it for a heartbeat before she placed it in Shuzhen’s hand.
“Here.”
She whispered.
Shuzhen turned back to Yibo, her eyes shining, and pressed the small purse into his palm.
Yibo frowned, confused, and slowly opened it.
Inside was a bundle of neatly folded notes… creased, faded, edges fraying.
Not new, not crisp, but the kind that spoke of years of saving a little at a time.
He froze, his throat tightening.
“Nainai… Ma… what is this?! I don’t need money. I have enough with me.”
Meilan’s face stiffened, her voice sharp with mock anger though her eyes shimmered.
“Shut up and keep it. It’s not much, just what me and your Nainai could put aside for ourselves. But you’re going to travel, and you’ll need it. Don’t go there and depend on Zhan for everything until you find a job. That wouldn’t be right. So just keep it.”
Yibo’s lips parted, but no words came.
He swallowed hard, eyes burning, the small bundle of worn cash trembling in his hand.
To him, it was more precious than gold… love wrapped in paper, years of sacrifice and savings pressed into his palm.
Shuzhen’s thin, veined hand covered his, her touch steady despite the tremor of age.
She looked into his eyes, her own glistening.
“Go, Bobo… go and find your happiness. And don’t ever let it slip away again.”
Yibo bowed his head, pressing the purse to his chest, his tears finally spilling as he whispered.
“I won’t, Nainai. I swear I won’t.”
Yibo’s eyes stung as he stepped out through the gate.
He turned once more, raising a hand in farewell.
At the doorway, two figures stood framed in the fading light… his mother and grandmother, side by side, tears on their cheeks, but smiles too.
He waved one last time, then slowly walked away, his heart heavy with parting yet lightened by the love he was carrying with him.
Meilan stood watching until he vanished from view, tears sliding down her face.
She was sad, knowing she didn’t know when she would see her son again.
But beneath the sorrow was a deeper relief: at last, her boy was walking toward the life, the love, and the happiness he truly deserved.
—————————————-
And now… the day had arrived.
Zhan took the day off.
He dressed Zeyu in his favorite yellow hoodie, the one with little lion ears on the hood.
“Where are we going, Baba?”
Zeyu asked, his tiny feet tapping the floor in excitement.
Zhan smiled, pulling the hoodie over his head.
“It’s a surprise, Baobei.”
Zeyu gasped.
“ohh… I love surprises!”
Zhan chuckled, scooping him up into his arms before setting him into the car seat.
Together, they headed out, the road stretching toward airport.
They reached Schiphol Airport around noon.
Zhan held Zeyu’s hand tight as they moved through the bustling crowd toward the arrivals gate.
They stood near the railings, staring at the digital board.
Zhan’s heart thumped hard against his ribs.
Zeyu tugged his sleeve.
“Baba? Who’s coming? Tell me!”
Zhan chuckled.
“Wait a little more, Baobei.”
Then… the board blinked.
Flight: Hangzhou to Amsterdam – LANDED.
Zhan’s breath caught in his throat.
His fingers tightened slightly around Zeyu’s.
Minutes ticked by.
Crowds shuffled in and out.
Then—
“Pa!!!”
Zeyu’s voice rang out across the terminal, bright and loud and full of sunshine.
Zhan’s head jerked up.
“Baba… look! Pa came! Pa came!!”
He followed Zeyu’s pointing finger.
The boy was already bouncing with joy, clutching his father’s arm as he pointed toward the arrival gate.
There.
Among the crowd, Yibo walked out, rolling a black suitcases, backpack slung over one shoulder.
His eyes scanned the area… until he found them.
Zeyu let go of Zhan’s hand and ran.
“PA!!”
Yibo’s face broke into the most beautiful smile… wide, radiant, trembling.
He left the trolley and ran forward.
He scooped Zeyu into his arms, spinning him once before holding him close, planting a firm kiss on his cheek.
The boy squealed with laughter, clinging to his Pa’s neck.
“Baobei…”
Yibo breathed, his voice rough with emotion.
“Pa missed you so much.”
Zeyu kissed his cheek.
“I missed you more, Pa!”
Zhan walked up slowly, his throat burning, every step heavier than the last.
Yibo glanced up over Zeyu’s small shoulder.
Their eyes met.
The world seemed to fall away.
For a long moment, they simply stood there, staring… two men carrying years of silence, love and longing in a single gaze.
Zhan’s lips parted, his voice hoarse.
“Finally… you came home. No more waiting… for our son and for me.”
Yibo’s smile trembled as he nodded, his eyes glistening.
Zhan stepped forward and pulled him in.
Yibo clutched Zeyu close with one arm while his other wrapped tightly around Zhan.
He pressed his face into Zhan’s shoulder, breathing him in as if to make up for every lost year.
Zhan’s arms enclosed them both, his chin lowering to rest against Yibo’s Cheek, holding him as if he would never let go again.
For a heartbeat, all three were bound together… Zeyu squirming between their warmth, his small giggle muffled in the press of bodies.
Yibo was home.
No more words were needed.
At last, after six long years, his family was whole again.
[To be continued…]
——————————————–
Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😊
Hope you enjoyed it — and if you did, please don’t forget to like & comment on my Insta post. 💖
Think of it as your way of telling me, “Hey, I’m here, and I loved it!” — it means the world to me and truly keeps me inspired to write more for you! ✨
The Red Ribbon 