My Avatar Is Becoming the Final Boss-Chapter 17: Reunion

Bored out of his mind, Ji Minghuan drifted through old memories, and before he knew it, three minutes had passed.
He opened his eyes and saw the isolation door to the confinement room was still closed. Leaning back against the chair, he shut his eyes again, continuing to reminisce.
Three years after his first encounter with Kong Youling, the once quiet and withdrawn Ji Minghuan suddenly transformed into the most mischievous child in the orphanage.
He often got into trouble, like talking back to the headmaster or deliberately driving away adults interested in adopting him. As punishment, he’d be locked in the little attic at the top of the library to sleep alone. The nurses would lock the door and cut the power to the library at bedtime—the attic lights wouldn’t turn on no matter how you tried.
Because of this, all the kids were afraid of the attic.
It was dark at night, and no one else was around. The crooked bookshelves looked like clawed monsters in the moonlight. Every time a child was locked up there, they’d cry loudly, admit their mistakes, and beg the nurses to let them out. Over time, no one dared to misbehave anymore.
But Ji Minghuan was different. He liked that attic.
Rather than sleeping with the other boys, he preferred being locked up there alone at night, listening quietly in the dark to the tick-tock sound from the wall clock.
He was the only one in the orphanage who could spend the night in that eerie attic without a peep. So he became the only kid brave enough to talk back to the headmaster.
All the little brats in the orphanage admired Ji Minghuan. They thought he dared to do the things they never could and looked up to him like a leader. Probably no one in the whole orphanage knew how such an unremarkable boy had changed so drastically.
The nurses only knew that Ji Minghuan often spent time with Kong Youling. Since then, no one dared to bully the deaf-mute girl anymore.
That, at least, made the nurses' job a little easier.
But only Ji Minghuan himself knew the real reason he liked the attic so much—every time he was locked in there, he’d always see someone.
The nurses locked the attic door, but not the skylight. In the attic, he’d read under the moonlight. Once the nurses and headmaster had gone to sleep, he would cross the dusty pile of books in the corner, step onto the old bookshelf, then leap to the skylight, grab the rooftop, and climb out.
Every time he slipped through the roof like a fish and looked up, moonlight carried by the night wind would fall on him, lifting his hair high and lighting up his clear eyes—like a window to the sky had been opened.
Across from the attic was the girls’ dormitory, close by. The girls’ dorm was a bit shorter. At night, Kong Youling would always sleep in the third room. Her room never changed.
And whenever Ji Minghuan was punished to spend the night alone in the attic, Kong Youling would quietly count under her blanket, then suddenly open her eyes in the middle of the night. Trying not to wake anyone, she’d slip out like a kitten.
Barefoot, she’d sneak through the corridor and climb to the window at the far end. From there, she could see Ji Minghuan sitting on the attic eaves.
He would always reach out his hand to her, silently mouthing words in the wind:
“Jump. Trust me.”
Every time she saw his face, she’d muster the courage to leap from the window to the library roof. Under the moonlight, she moved as gracefully as a white deer, her snow-white hair flying in the breeze. Ji Minghuan would always catch her hand without fail.
At that hour, the orphanage was dead quiet. In winter, snow would fall, blanketing trees and rooftops. In summer, the sound of cicadas filled the air, fireflies floated in the night sky, and sometimes distant fireworks would crackle and burst, their brilliant sparks lighting up the darkness.
No matter the season, one thing never changed: the long city streets were ablaze with lights, but the orphanage walls shut out that alluring glow. Only by climbing to the rooftop could they glimpse the neon city and realize how big the world truly was.
But they weren’t interested in the glitzy red-light district below. They always lay quietly on the attic roof, staring at the star-filled sky.
That was their time, and theirs alone.
Sometimes, the world felt small—they were stuck in the narrow confines of the orphanage, restricted at every turn;
But during these moments, it felt big—so big, it was like the entire night sky belonged to them.
Ji Minghuan would rest one arm behind his head, pointing to the stars with the other, naming them one by one.
Kong Youling sat beside him with her sketchbook, listening quietly. From time to time, she’d write in her notebook: How do you know all this?
In her eyes, Ji Minghuan knew everything—more than many adults even, like he wasn’t a kid at all.
He always answered that he learned it from the books in the library. With nothing else to do while locked in the attic, he would read every dusty book he could find. Over time, he developed a reading habit, reading faster and faster, eventually picking up speed-reading. When he finished all the attic’s books, he’d sneak more up from the library before confinement. The more he read, the more he knew.
Kong Youling nodded. And after that, whenever Ji Minghuan read alone in the library while the others played outside, there’d always be another figure quietly beside him.
One night, on the attic roof, she told him about her mother.
She wrote in her notebook: Her mom was from Iceland and moved to China for her father. But later, her dad ran out on them over debt. Her mom struggled in a foreign place, barely speaking the language, and eventually died from overwork.
She said her mom died because of her.
Ji Minghuan shook his head and said the one who was wrong was her dad—and that her mom also bore some responsibility. If you really want to survive in this world, you can only count on yourself. Relying on others only gives you a temporary break.
She thought for a long time, then asked: Can I rely on you?
Ji Minghuan was stunned, then nodded, coughed twice, and backtracked on what he’d just said: “I’m different. Relying on me is a great deal—because I treat the people around me super well.”
He paused. “Okay, maybe you’re the only one around me, but to me, you’re like family.”
She wrote: You’re my family too.
As they talked, they drifted to first impressions.
“First impression?” Ji Minghuan thought for a moment. “Oh, oh—my first impression of you… It was winter, and the kids were building tiny snowmen in the street.”
She asked: Snowmen?
“Yeah. Little snowmen,” he said seriously. “Not the big kind. The kind that crumbles with just the tiniest tap.”
Kong Youling glanced at him expressionlessly, her cheeks puffed slightly, like she was mad.
“Okay, okay—I was joking.”
After a moment of silence, she wrote: The nurse said you used to lock yourself up when you were little. Why?
Ji Minghuan stared at the night sky for a long time, then said: “The last time I saw my parents, they locked me in a closet. Told me to wait there, stay quiet, that they’d be back soon.”
He lifted the corners of his mouth. “I was so dumb back then. Actually believed them. Even after I got sent to the orphanage, I still kept locking myself away, thinking… if I did that, maybe they’d come back for me.”
“But they never did. And later on…” He paused, the smile slowly fading from his face. “Later, I grew up. I didn’t need them to come find me anymore.”
“I still feel like… I don’t really know you.” The girl stared at his sad expression, froze for a moment, and began writing again in her notebook.
Ji Minghuan was silent for a long time before speaking in a low voice: “Actually, I act like a different person in front of everyone. I'm always pretending. I’m terrified of being abandoned… just like I was by my parents. So I always try to please others, act like the kind of person they like. Sometimes I really want to get close to people, but then I remember what it felt like to be abandoned, and I cut ties first. I really don’t want to… don’t want to be thrown away like garbage.”
“But you're different. I want you by my side. When I'm with you, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to please anyone. That’s why I want to always be with you.”
As he said this, his voice suddenly dropped lower: “Kong Youling… will you abandon me like my parents did?”
Kong Youling turned slightly, quietly watching him for a while.
It was the first time she’d seen this arrogant, reckless, always-in-control person show a vulnerable side—lonely, afraid, anxious. It reminded her that, just like her, he was only a teenager. Just a child who had been abandoned by his parents, hiding his own unease, fear, and loneliness all along.
The girl lowered her gaze and stared at the tiles on the eaves for a long, long time.
Surprisingly, she didn’t write anything, nor did she use sign language. She simply set down her sketchbook, slowly, slowly leaned toward him, like a cautious kitten, and then opened her arms to hug him. Her white hair brushed gently against his cheek.
Ji Minghuan had been looking down at the orphanage’s rooftop, and just as he felt that cool touch beside him, before he could react, the girl had already embraced him.
He was stunned for a long time.
This girl—often mocked by other kids for being unable to speak—didn’t write anything, didn’t use any special abilities. She just used this simple way to show she cared. Clumsy, but genuine.
His eyes turned slightly red. After hesitating a moment, he gently raised his arms and hugged her back.
The two of them embraced on the rooftop. It was the first time since Ji Minghuan could remember that someone had hugged him.
Her skin was clearly cool, yet he felt so warm—resting his head gently in her snow-white hair.
It was a fish-scale sky, layers of clouds packing the deep blue above, the moonlight seeming dimmer.
After a long while, the girl slowly lowered her eyes and carefully wrote in her notebook, then turned it toward him.
Ji Minghuan glanced sideways.
“Let’s run away.” The notebook read. A few simple words, yet they left Ji Minghuan completely baffled.
He asked curiously, “Run away? But to where?”
“Anywhere is fine.”
“But… if I leave the orphanage, I might not survive. I have no parents, no ID, no education. I won’t be able to find a job or a place to live.” Ji Minghuan paused. “But you’re different.”
“Why?” the girl asked.
“Because you’re an Esper. The government treats Espers well. One day, if you tell them the truth, some really important people will show up in a fancy car to pick you up. They’ll put you in the best house, give you good food, and let you sleep in a comfy bed.” Ji Minghuan rubbed his nose. “As long as you use your ability well, you’ll be welcomed wherever you go. But me…”
He looked up at the night sky, where the moon slipped in and out between clouds. “If I leave this orphanage, I’ll be nothing. Just a stray kid that nobody wants. No one will care if I live or die. People out there might be worse than the headmaster.”
Kong Youling didn’t write anything. She lowered her head, thought quietly for a while, then peeked sideways at him. She raised her right hand and extended her pinky.
“Pinky promise,” she said silently, lowering the notebook and mouthing the words.
“Huh?”
“If I’m with you, then it’s not ‘me,’ it’s ‘us’…”
At this point, Kong Youling repeated what he had said earlier—only she replaced “I” with “we.”
She said: “We don’t have parents, no ID, maybe no jobs or places to live once we leave the orphanage—but we… as long as we’re together, we’ll find a way. As long as we’re together, we’ll survive.”
The moon that night was bright and clear. The girl’s hair flew like ribbons spun from early winter snow, dancing in the evening wind.
Her light-sensitive eyes were opened wide with sincerity—brighter than ever before. She didn’t make a sound, yet every word she mouthed hit Ji Minghuan straight in the heart.
He sat there stunned for a long time.
Then he gave a soft laugh, reached out his finger, and hooked her pale pinky with his.
“My mom said, when you make a pinky promise, you have to keep your word.”
She curled her lips into a smile and mouthed: “We’ll stay together forever.”
“Okay. We’ll stay together forever.”
That sentence seemed to drift through the moonlit memories, gently echoing in Ji Minghuan’s ears.
In the pitch-black confinement room, he lifted his eyes groggily and saw the isolation door was already open. A figure was stepping through the entrance—a white-haired girl in an inmate’s uniform marked with codes, her figure as graceful as ever. When she saw Ji Minghuan, she stopped in her tracks, quietly standing still.
Ji Minghuan froze for a moment, then gave her a playful wink.
“Long time no see.”