When Ming Lu returned to the villa, Luo Chi was already awake.

The physical and mental exertion of the day had been far greater than usual, so Luo Chi didn’t have the strength to move yet. For a rare change, he wasn’t doing his rehabilitation exercises but was quietly chatting with Mr. Shadow.

The fire in the fireplace was warm. Luo Chi was leaning back on the nearby sofa, covered with a thin blanket, which made him look much healthier.

Luo Chi could already distinguish his footsteps. Hearing the sound, he looked up with smiling eyes. “Uncle Lu.”

“Huo Miao.” Ming Lu handed the documents he brought back to Ming Weiting and walked over to the sofa to greet him. “What are you and Sir talking about?”

Luo Chi answered quickly, “Mr. Shadow.”

Ming Lu was a bit surprised and turned his head. “Talking about Sir?”

Ming Weiting met his gaze, a rare hint of helplessness on his face as he pressed his brow. “Truth or Dare.”

Ming Lu took out his phone to quickly look up the meaning of those words.

The Ming family’s steward had seen his share of storms, but at this moment, he felt a sincere respect for the learning ability of this generation’s master. He put down his phone and looked at Ming Weiting.

Perhaps from spending so much time with Luo Chi, Ming Weiting’s expression was quite calm. He just glanced at the time, brought Luo Chi the medicine he needed to take, and helped steady the water cup for him.

Luo Chi took a few sips of water from his hand, swallowed the medicine whole, and immediately looked up. “Uncle Lu.”

“What is it?” Ming Lu was about to ask when he suddenly understood his meaning and stood up. “Wait a minute, Huo Miao, you and Sir can play…”

He stopped mid-sentence, met with Luo Chi’s exceptionally expectant gaze. For some reason, the rest of his words wouldn’t come out smoothly.

…

From the young people at Huaisheng Entertainment, Ming Lu had heard many stories about Luo Chi’s past.

The Young President Luo they described was different from the one in any of the investigative reports. The fact that they hadn’t discovered Luo Chi’s abnormalities for so long wasn’t entirely because those young people weren’t observant enough, but also because during his two years at Huaisheng Entertainment, Luo Chi had been trying his best to experience a normal life.

Luo Chi would go drinking with them, go to KTV, pay out of his own pocket to take them on a team-building trip to a manor they had been dreaming of, and also stay up late with them to work overtime, play games, and eat at street-side stalls.

Luo Chi tried hard to have fun with them, tried to cheer up, to make himself try all the experiences he had never had before, to see interesting things.

Fang Hang said they would actually occasionally notice that Luo Chi was prone to zoning out.

Even when he was having fun with them, Luo Chi would suddenly get lost in a daze. Sometimes he would recover in an instant, but other times he would stand there blankly for a long time.

Once, they worked overtime with Luo Chi until midnight. The group was walking and laughing under the streetlights. After walking quite a distance, they realized that Young President Luo had been left behind at some point.

Luo Chi was standing blankly under a streetlight. It took the group patting his shoulders and shaking his arms while calling his name for a long time before he gradually came to.

When Luo Chi came to his senses, he smiled and explained to them that he seemed to be a bit tired recently.

They decided to help Young President Luo relax and simply dragged him along to eat at a late-night food stall. Luo Chi couldn’t walk fast at all. Guessing that he was truly exhausted, they fought over who would carry him on their back.

Luo Chi tried hard to live a normal life, to experience all the fun things.

He was just too tired. In the end, he didn’t even have the strength left to call out for the others to wait for him.

Carried on their backs, Luo Chi quietly fell asleep.

…

Ming Lu came back to his senses.

Luo Chi was looking at him, his eyes very bright. “Uncle Lu.”

Ming Weiting, whose shirt had been tugged twice by Luo Chi, cooperatively put down the water cup and moved to sit beside Luo Chi. “Uncle Lu.”

This time, Ming Lu couldn’t help but press his forehead.

He stood for a long moment, looking at the master of the Ming family who had now defected to the other side, and shook his head with a helpless laugh.

Ming Lu sighed in resignation and, surprisingly, just sat down.

…The rules of the game were simple.

They would spin Luo Chi’s conch shell on a tray. Whoever the tip of the shell pointed to could make someone else answer a question; otherwise, they had to complete a “dare.”

Originally, the game’s participants were just Huo Miao and his lucky fan. Now that Ming Lu had been pulled in, the directions were readjusted for three people.

The last turn to ask a question had fallen to Luo Chi. Luo Chi asked Mr. Shadow when exactly he started being a fan.

Ming Weiting hadn’t had a chance to answer yet.

Ming Lu sat to the side. He looked at Ming Weiting and hesitated. “Sir…”

Ming Weiting nodded. “Ten years ago.”

Luo Chi was a little surprised, his eyes widening slightly.

Ming Weiting raised his hand and stroked Luo Chi’s hair.

Since it was Truth or Dare, according to the rules, he should tell the truth.

He was going to tell Luo Chi this sooner or later, he just hadn’t found the right opportunity. “Huo Miao.”

He said, “I came here ten years ago.”

Ming Weiting slowly explained to him, “There was a bonfire party on the shore, and my family’s ship was docked at the pier.”

The surprise in Luo Chi’s eyes gradually turned to understanding. His memory of the bonfire party was very clear. Many people had come to the beach that night, and in the distant darkness, the faint outline of a cruise ship was indeed visible.

“I saw you playing the guitar,” Ming Weiting continued. “And I’ve remembered ever since.”

Luo Chi lightly clenched his right hand and took a breath.

Ming Lu, sitting to the side, knew he shouldn’t interrupt Ming Weiting, but he still couldn’t help but take over. “Huo Miao.”

Luo Chi, who had been listening with sparkling eyes, blinked upon hearing his name and turned to look at Ming Lu seriously.

“I’m sorry.” Ming Lu walked to the front of the sofa. “We should have come for you sooner.”

Ming Lu looked at Luo Chi. “We didn’t know…” He trailed off mid-sentence, then just looked at Luo Chi and explained, “Sir is very upset about this.”

No one in the Ming family would be a fan.

Let alone things like TV shows, public opinion, or internet trends, even a profession like being an artist was something Ming Lu had only started to understand after Ming Weiting decided to learn how to be a fan these past few days.

Ten years ago, the previous master of the Ming family was still alive. Ming Lu wasn’t by Ming Weiting’s side, so he hadn’t seen the bonfire party or Luo Chi playing the guitar.

Being a fan isn’t something people in the Ming family do. Upon hearing that Ming Weiting liked a young man who played guitar by the sea, the previous master almost had Ming Lu make an offer to hire the person as a musician for the cruise ship.

On the day the cruise ship docked, Ming Weiting waited, but Luo Chi didn’t get on the ship.

The beach where they found Luo Chi was very close to the location of the bonfire party. Luo Chi was lying quietly on the sand, cold and silent, unresponsive to the person before him and the outstretched hand.

“I thought,” Ming Weiting watched as the ship’s doctor examined Luo Chi. The doctor needed someone to communicate with Luo Chi, so he walked over and took Luo Chi’s hand.

Ming Weiting held Luo Chi’s hand. He looked at Luo Chi’s slightly open, vacant, and dazed eyes. “I thought he was free.”

They didn’t understand Luo Chi’s work, nor did they understand his family. The Luo family’s circle was too distant, after all. The gossip about Luo Chi’s background and experiences could spread everywhere within that circle, but it couldn’t cross the ocean to reach a cruise ship on the other side of the world.

That flame was always bright.

Until it used itself as fuel and was finally completely exhausted and cold, that flame was so bright that it made people think he was free.

…

Ming Lu thought back on his experience at Huaisheng Entertainment today. He didn’t know how to explain it to Luo Chi. He stepped back and turned to look at Ming Weiting.

“Uncle Lu,” Ming Weiting said, “I wasn’t planning on explaining.”

Ming Lu was taken aback. “Sir?”

Ming Weiting shook his head slightly. He squatted down and looked into Luo Chi’s eyes. “Huo Miao.”

He wasn’t prepared to find reasons or excuses for this matter.

A mistake was a mistake. Even with all the strange coincidences, all the unexpected and untimely events, it was meaningless.

He should have gotten off the ship that day. Even if he didn’t, he should have later found an opportunity to ask the guests on the cruise ship for advice on how to be a good fan, how to chase a star.

Since he was going to be Luo Chi’s fan, he should have figured out Luo Chi’s identity sooner, should have learned about Luo Chi’s experiences.

He shouldn’t have, just because that flame was too scorching and bright, taken for granted that the flame was completely free, that it shouldn’t be subject to any extra constraints, that it shouldn’t be trapped on a small cruise ship.

“I’m sorry,” Ming Weiting said in a low voice. “How could there be such a terrible fan like me?”

Luo Chi hadn’t yet snapped out of it. He was still waiting for Ming Weiting to praise his guitar playing. It took him a moment to understand the new conversation, and he blinked.

Luo Chi shook his head, bit by bit.

For him, this logic was still a bit complex. It took Luo Chi some time to follow. “That’s not right.”

“That’s not right,” Luo Chi said slowly. “Mr. Shadow.”

Ming Weiting looked up and met his eyes.

Luo Chi’s eyes reflected him. “You are my fan.”

Ming Weiting could understand what he meant and nodded. “I am your fan. I am chasing you—”

Luo Chi already remembered it well and took over to finish the sentence for him, “—’s star.”

He looked at Ming Weiting and lightly pressed his lips together. “Ten years ago…”

“Ten years ago,” Luo Chi clenched his fist, a little nervous. “Was I cool?”

Ming Weiting was slightly stunned.

He had almost never considered this would be a question, so he was stunned for a brief half-second. Then he immediately came to his senses and nodded without hesitation.

“Very cool. Unforgettable at a glance,” Ming Weiting raised his hand and touched Luo Chi’s earlobe. “On the ship, I thought, how could there be someone so cool.”

Luo Chi was visibly relieved. He curved his eyes into a smile and nodded vigorously. “Then that’s fine.”

“We were separated by the sea,” Luo Chi said. “The star has to be bright enough.”

He suddenly turned his head to look for something, but finding nothing, his expression gradually became a little lost.

Ming Weiting steadied him. “What are you looking for?”

“The remote,” Luo Chi said in a low voice. “I remember, there’s a projector here…”

He remembered there used to be a super large screen in the living room, with a projector, almost like a movie theater. He had hidden many videotapes there.

Supported by Ming Weiting’s hand, Luo Chi turned back and searched carefully, and sure enough, he found the familiar remote control in the gap of the sofa.

Ming Lu let out a sigh of relief and discreetly stepped back.

Fortunately, the projector and videotapes had not been cleared away. They had replaced the screen, but time had been too tight, and they hadn’t had a chance to check the contents of those videotapes yet.

Following Luo Chi’s instructions, Ming Weiting found a tape marked with a number, loaded it, and adjusted the screen and projector. “What is it?”

The tips of Luo Chi’s ears were a little red, and he pressed his lips together firmly.

When he didn’t get an answer, Ming Weiting took the remote and tried pressing the play button.

A beam of light suddenly lit up, brightly hitting the screen.

Ming Weiting had already caught up on all the shows Luo Chi had participated in. He recognized which episode it was at a glance. He turned his head, about to speak, but then noticed something different. “The footage is different.”

Luo Chi nodded. “It’s the master tape.”

Ming Weiting put down the remote and sat down beside him.

He sat next to Luo Chi, watching with him the most authentic and complete live recording, free of malicious editing and ill-intentioned sound mixing.

…

Luo Chi was only twenty years old back then—or maybe not even twenty.

He hadn’t celebrated his birthday for years anyway, and when he wasn’t being Young President Luo, when he swapped his shirt and tie for a simple T-shirt and held a guitar, he looked even younger than his actual age.

The audience area was almost completely dark, as was the stage. Luo Chi jumped onto the stage with his guitar, jumping into the single beam of light.

The melody that flowed from his guitar had an almost magical softness and brightness. The background sound was very simple, with no extra accompaniment, the only harmony being the sea breeze and the surge of the tide.

After the intro, the music quickly became lively and passionate. It was a searing passion so intense it was almost suffocating. That fierce passion poured into one’s chest without any hindrance, like fireworks blooming to their most splendid extreme in both the night sky and on the sea surface at once.

The dark audience seats lit up with star-shaped lights for scoring, instantly forming a sea of light. People clapped the rhythm for him, and someone waved and applauded vigorously at him.

…

Luo Chi’s eyes were sparkling. He turned around and subconsciously opened his mouth. “Aun—”

His shoulders suddenly froze. His chest rose and fell slowly, his fingers curling up bit by bit.

Ming Weiting, who had been focused on the screen, noticed Luo Chi’s strange behavior and turned to ask softly, “What’s wrong?”

Luo Chi shook his head gently.

It was as if he had realized something. He blinked a couple of times, and his eyes curved into a smile again.

Luo Chi slowly began to speak. “Mr. Shadow.”

Ming Weiting had already moved to the front of the sofa, squatting down, watching him intently.

…

The first time Luo Chi participated in the show, he was about to jump off the stage with his guitar but was hastily stopped by the on-site director.

Luo Chi stopped at the edge of the stage, only a few meters away from the smiles and outstretched hands that were so close.

He held his guitar, panting lightly from the significant exertion, and looked at everything before him with novelty and focus.

…

“Wait until I’m better,” Luo Chi said softly.

Luo Chi’s voice was very soft, as if making a solemn promise to someone unknown, “I’ll be cool for you to see.”