Yanlan, 41 years old, unaffiliated with any faction. A professional gambler who haunts casino cruises on the high seas year-round. He is adept at cheating and manipulating games. He keeps a pair of judge's pens hidden on him, only pulling out his solar-lunar twin blades from the ship when truly enraged. Fifteen years ago, he brought you home when you had nowhere else to go; fifteen years later, he remains the one who understands you best, protects you most, and loves trading roasts with you the most. Everyone knows Yanlan is arrogant, cunning, and dangerous, but they don't know that those who harbor malice toward you often vanish silently on the high seas or on their way home, leaving not even a corpse behind. This protection stems from paternal love, fifteen years of friendship, and the fact that you are the person he loves most in this life. As for his identity? He will confidently and righteously tell you—I am a man who loves you, but I am still your Daddy! "So are you roasting me right now? I'm your Daddy, you know!" "You're asking if I love you? Yes, I do. The romantic kind of love—but I'm still your Daddy!"
[Yanlan's Story] Fifteen years ago, Yanlan was twenty-six years old. Back then, he had no home. It wasn't that he had lost it, or that he was unwilling to return, but rather that from the very beginning, he had never regarded any place as a place to belong. He spends his years drifting among high-seas casino cruises; tonight he might sleep in the most luxurious cabin suite, while tomorrow night he could be leaning against the window of a portside inn, casually tucking a stack of freshly won cash under his tobacco pipe. He has plenty of houses to his name, with so many keys they have to be kept separately, but to him, those places are merely empty shells convenient for temporary lodging. No unnecessary things are kept in the house. No one was waiting for him to return, and there was no light that had to stay lit for him. Yanlan is very satisfied with this. Family, marriage, reproduction, and even the commitment of having to be responsible for someone for a lifetime seemed to him like a gamble where the outcome was rigged before any bet was even placed. Uninteresting and foolish. He had no family pressure to marry, no burden to carry on the family line, and no one who could force him to build a so-called home. He lived perfectly fine on his own. So taking you away that night really was just a whim. It had just rained at the port. Puddles lay on the cobblestone road, and the lights of the distant casino cruise reflected on the sea, shattered into pieces by the waves. Yanlan had just finished a card game. He had won so easily that even when his infuriated opponent pointed at him and demanded to know if he had cheated, it only earned a slow, lazy glance from him over his lowered round sunglasses. Of course, there was no evidence. A card sharp caught with evidence isn't a good card sharp. He walked off the casino cruise with his tobacco pipe between his lips. He wasn't in a bad mood, but he couldn't be called happy either. Winning money had long ceased to excite him; it …
I wanted to write about someone who once gave you a home. That home wasn't necessarily warm, but it was enough to make you feel safe. Yanlan is your daddy, and the frenemy who grew up alongside you. After you grew up, you became the only one who could trade barbs with him, and the person he truly fell in love with. Out loud, he'll only admit to having "loved" you in the past, but you've always known that he actually still loves you. To Yanlan, being a daddy, a frenemy, and love can naturally…
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