Two hours later, because of that sentence, someone’s body temperature was still not quite normal.

The head nurse came to check the patient’s post-operative condition. All the data was very good, except the thermometer reading still wouldn’t come down. “Is it a slight fever?”

Ming Chi, flushed and warm, blinked and quietly slipped a candy to the head nurse auntie.

The head nurse was experienced and knowledgeable. She glanced at the family member standing guard at the ward door and immediately understood. “It’s the person you like, isn’t it?”

Ming Chi’s temperature jumped up another small notch.

The head nurse accepted the candy with a grin and took out a milk candy to trade with him. “Secret, secret.”

The head nurse was quite skilled at handling such situations. She used a clipboard to fan Ming Chi to cool him down and led him into a conversation about his condition and rehabilitation for a while. When she measured his temperature again, it finally met the standard. “No problem at all anymore.”

There’s a saying that the doors of an operating room have heard more prayers than a church—actually, not just prayers, but also confessions and heartfelt admissions.

Many times, people find it hard to be completely sharp and clear. Suddenly pushed to this point by fate, unexpectedly taking a turn at the threshold of life and death, many thoughts change, and many words left unsaid for various reasons are spoken.

No matter when, no matter how long one has worked here, seeing this kind of situation again still brings a heartfelt sense of comfort and joy.

“The drainage tube will be removed tomorrow. You might have a headache and feel dizzy,” the head nurse instructed him. “You have to tell us if you feel any discomfort. The more detailed you are, the faster you’ll get better.”

Ming Chi carefully noted it all down and then seriously thanked the head nurse.

The head nurse said with a straight face, “The faster you get better, the sooner you can go home with the person you like.”

As expected, Ming Chi’s temperature failed the test again in a second. This time, even the head nurse couldn’t help but laugh out loud, gently patting him through the blanket. “You like him that much, huh?”

All the patients’ surgeries on this floor went smoothly today, and the follow-up procedures were also quite relaxed. Ming Chi’s room was at the end of the corridor, and he was the last patient to be checked on. There were no more urgent tasks after this.

While tidying up her cart, the head nurse chatted with him casually, “Where did you two meet?”

Ming Chi hadn’t thought about this question yet. He blinked slowly, “I don’t know.”

The head nurse was a little surprised, “How long have you known each other?”

Ming Chi admitted in a small voice, “I don’t know.”

The head nurse was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized and stopped her next words in time.

The location of the intracranial lesion varies, and it’s true that surgery can affect memory. But this patient’s reactions and behavior were so normal that the head nurse hadn’t noticed anything unusual about him in this regard at all.

Dean Xun hadn’t given any special instructions, which meant he didn’t intend for special treatment, wanting the patient to adapt on his own. But such a well-behaved young man, who clearly had a good relationship with the person outside—it was truly a pity, no matter how you looked at it.

The head nurse chided herself, “I really put my foot in my mouth.”

“It’s alright,” Ming Chi was very calm. He bent his knees and rested his chin on his arm. “I was just thinking about that too.”

The head nurse tentatively asked, “About what?”

“I don’t remember where we met, don’t remember how long we’ve known each other, don’t remember anything at all,” Ming Chi’s expression was quite serious. “Is this feeling generated by my current brain, or did my past brain tell me to remember it?”

This was what the head nurse was afraid of.

This ward had also witnessed too many cases of the other kind.

Too much memory damaged, even the most familiar person could be completely forgotten, leading to changes in personality and mentality, with only strangeness and regret remaining in the end.

In such situations, no one could be blamed. No matter how much regret there was, it could only be said to be the work of fate.

The head nurse broke into a cold sweat and asked him quietly, “Have you figured out the answer?”

In an instant, Ming Chi was no longer serious and calm.

The flushed young man raised his hand, fanning himself rapidly, and pointed at the thermometer that had clearly betrayed him.

The head nurse was stunned for a few seconds, then laughed so hard she couldn’t stand up straight.

…

After the physical examination was over, Ming Chi waved goodbye to the head nurse. He was reminded to come back and share the good news when he could walk again, adding another appointment to his list.

He must bring the Mr. who made him flush just by thinking about him.

When the time came, if thinking about him still made him flush, he would have to bring a big box of candy for the nurse’s station.

Of course, Ming Chi was very willing to bring candy for the nurse’s station, but he didn’t know what the two things had to do with each other. He found a chance to quietly ask Uncle Lu, “Did I miss some common knowledge that I haven’t remembered yet?”

In front of the master, Ming Lu whispered with the young master by the bedside. After listening to his detailed description, his smile was no less than the head nurse’s. “No rush.”

“It’s common knowledge you’ll probably learn much later. No rush now.”

Steward Ming taught him in a low voice, “You’ll also learn many other things together, like cake styles, choice of venue, different cultural traditions, knowledge of music and clothing…”

Speaking of this, Ming Lu remembered his egg white allergy and specifically added, “Making cakes without eggs.”

A box of candy could lead to so many things. Ming Chi listened with growing surprise, his eyes wide with shock.

Ming Lu knew that these matters were still too distant and uncertain. He had just been thinking a lot about the previous generation’s master and madam these past few days and couldn’t help but say a little more, but he smiled and stopped there.

Seeing Ming Weiting coming over with a food container, Ming Lu stood up and made way for him by the bed.

Hospital food was inevitably bland, but Ming Lu had still asked Xun Zhen about post-operative dietary restrictions and suitable nutrients, telling the kitchen to try their best to make it appetizing.

The effect was apparently good. Ming Chi had fasted for eight hours before the surgery, and had only been on IV fluids since. Just smelling the aroma, his eyes immediately lit up.

Ming Weiting helped him set up the small table. Seeing his shining eyes, he also showed a smile. “Eating with your right hand?”

Ming Chi had been secretly training his right hand all morning. Of course, he wanted to try, and took the spoon on his own initiative.

Ming Weiting sat by the bed, held his hand, and helped him hold the spoon steady, bit by bit.

The rehabilitation that hadn’t slacked off these past few days immediately showed its effects after the surgery.

This hand was no longer troubled by numbness and weakness. It wouldn’t tremble even when holding something firmly. As long as he continued to practice, it was almost foreseeable that it wouldn’t be long before he fully recovered his original strength and dexterity.

To keep his left hand from irresistibly helping, he simply handed his left hand directly to Mr. Shadow, letting Mr. Shadow hold it tight for him.

Mr. Shadow sat on the right side of the bed, his arm around his back, holding his left hand. They were closer than ever before.

Ming Chi knew his own situation.

He rarely got too close to people, not because he was afraid others would hurt him, but because he was worried he would accidentally hurt someone—he still remembered the source of this problem.

If he specifically tried to recall, he could remember some of the situation back then. It was just that he was too young at the time, and it had been too long, so it had become less clear.

Besides, he didn’t plan to deliberately recall it. The past, to him, didn’t seem to be something that needed to be completely figured out.

He just suddenly thought of his conversation with the head nurse from this. Ming Chi slowly brought the spoonful of porridge to his mouth, savoring it carefully. After swallowing, he finally spoke, “Mr. Shadow.”

The arm behind him moved slightly. He turned his head and saw Ming Weiting immediately open his eyes.

Ming Chi temporarily put aside what he was going to say, looked at him seriously for a while, switched to another unused spoon, and scooped up a shrimp dumpling to hand to him. “You should go rest.”

“No rush,” Ming Weiting said. “I was actually trying to sleep just now.”

Ming Weiting lowered his gaze, looking at the shrimp dumpling that was steadily brought before him. As if remembering something, he smiled and thanked him in a warm voice, “I lay down for a while but couldn’t fall asleep.”

Ming Weiting took the spoon, ate the shrimp dumpling, then used chopsticks to pick up a piece of coconut milk cake and handed it to Ming Chi’s right hand.

Before Ming Chi could ask “why,” Ming Weiting himself sighed first and pressed his fingers to his brow. “Some people.”

Ming Chi realized he was imitating his own habit, and his ears got a little hot again. “…Some people?”

“Heard they could be taken home and were too happy to sleep,” Ming Weiting admitted. “Got up and looked at recipes for an hour, catching up on how to make bread.”

Ming Chi’s eyes widened in surprise. Seeing Uncle Lu nod with a smile, he wanted to turn his head to look at Mr. Shadow again, but a hand gently pressed the back of his neck. “Focus on eating.”

Ming Chi’s shoulders and neck had been holding his head up straight for half a day. Being covered and kneaded for a couple of rounds by a warm, strong palm, his body, before his mind, let out a comfortable sigh.

The hand was about to lift, but noticing his reaction, it fell back and continued to slowly knead the sore spot with the same force.

Ming Chi held his chopsticks and focused on eating the piece of coconut milk cake speared on them. “Mr. Shadow.”

Ming Weiting massaged his shoulder and neck for a while, took the hot pack from Uncle Lu, tore off the adhesive backing with one hand, and applied it for him. “What is it?”

“I was thinking,” Ming Chi thought for a moment. “When we first met, was it very hard for you?”

The body’s subconscious reactions are hard to control. Even Auntie, trying to correct this habit of his, had to grab him and knead him forcefully whenever she saw him. It took a whole week of this for him to get used to it.

…

Ming Chi hadn’t directly answered the head nurse’s question, but the answer was actually very clear.

All impressions of the other person had indeed vanished from his mind. But apart from his brain, every other part of his body seemed to remember it all very clearly.

His eyes didn’t want to move away from Mr. Shadow. His body had no resistance to Mr. Shadow’s touch. His hand ran over on its own to be held by Mr. Shadow.

He had just been wondering to himself for a while how these habits came to be, and that thermometer had the audacity to say he had a low-grade fever.

“Not hard,” Ming Weiting asked. “Why would you think that?”

Ming Chi was a little worried. “Mr. Shadow, have I ever hurt you?”

He had accidentally hurt Auntie. He was only ten at the time, just brought home by Auntie, feeling like the sky had fallen, and had almost run away to the ends of the earth with a small bundle.

Ming Weiting shook his head. Remembering that he was sitting behind him, he spoke, “Never.”

Ming Chi immediately breathed a sigh of relief. “Then it seems I’ve grown up.”

Ming Weiting leaned against the head of the bed, watching him. Remembering the fierce debates about Xiao Huo Miao’s age over the past few days, a hint of a smile appeared in his eyes. “In such a hurry to grow up?”

“Very much in a hurry,” Ming Chi said. “I want to grow up to be a very cool, very amazing adult.”

Ming Weiting wanted to say that he was already very cool and very amazing, but then felt that doing so would still be setting limits for him.

Without a doubt, Ming Chi would be even cooler and more amazing in the future—this was something that was certain to happen, so this ideal should also be cherished and preserved.

Ming Weiting still held his left hand, shifted his body slightly so he could look at Ming Chi from the side.

Ming Chi was spooning porridge for himself, his right hand slow and steady, his expression exceptionally serious.

Whenever this happened, those eyes would again show that kind of focus that, no matter how many times he failed or how many times he tried again, would absolutely not be discouraged or tired.

The weather was also good in the afternoon. Sunlight streamed in through the window, shining on the person beside Ming Weiting… that sunlight might just be the same color as wheat.

Ming Chi sat beside him, his eyelashes lowered, concentrating on practicing with his right hand. The tips of those eyelashes seemed to be coaxed into a golden hue by the warm sunlight. His forehead and brows, which had been pale all these days, also showed a hint of healthy warmth, now that they didn’t have to be troubled by pain.

Yesterday, Ming Weiting still didn’t like sunny days.

He sat at the door of the operating room, the sunlight glaring, turning his vision into a white brightness.

He originally had no feelings about the weather; sunny and rainy days were just natural phenomena. He started to like rainy days because of the person before him, and for the first time, he found sunny days annoying.

It was the first time Ming Weiting had had this experience. He was only a few years old when his mother passed away. His father died in a shipwreck, and the bad news arrived before the ship, leaving him no chance to react, let alone wait.

In the waiting, he gradually began to understand one thing.

He wanted the person in the operating room to live, as Xiao Huo Miao, as Ming Chi, or as any other identity. If he wanted to be a captain, he could be a captain. If he wanted to travel on land for a dozen years, he could travel for a dozen years. He wasn’t used to being on land and didn’t sleep well, but he could go ashore. He could go ashore for seven days every other week.

He wanted this person to live, wanted this person to be happy, wanted this person to smile as soon as he opened his eyes.

If the price for this result was to be completely forgotten, then so be it. If the price was that he must not see Ming Chi, not stimulate his emotions and brain, then he wouldn’t. All plans could be modified and adjusted. He could always watch from the ship.

…Fortunately, these most extreme assumptions did not become reality.

That fire was cooler and more amazing than he had thought. It could make any wish come true.

Today, Ming Weiting had come to like sunny days, and also shrimp dumplings. He didn’t know if making shrimp dumplings was more difficult than bread. If it was about the same, he might have to impose on the Sea-view Villa for a while longer.

…

But before he started considering these things, he had something else to tell him.

Ming Weiting gathered his thoughts.

Affected by his illness, Ming Chi’s appetite was actually very small. Although his eyes lit up at every meal, he couldn’t eat much.

This time, he was comfortable in both body and mind, and his appetite was wide open. But he only managed to drink half a small bowl of porridge, eat a whole piece of coconut milk cake, and one shrimp dumpling before he couldn’t eat anymore, sighing with regret at the remaining delicacies.

Ming Lu smiled and comforted him that it was alright. When he was better, he would have the master treat him to a big meal. He packed up the food container and put the small table away.

Ming Chi carefully rinsed his mouth with some water. When he looked up, he found that Mr. Shadow was still looking at him. “Mr. Shadow?”

“Xiao Huo Miao,” Ming Weiting said. “There’s something I didn’t make completely clear to you.”

He sat down. “Before the surgery, I asked you to sleep with me at night. I told you it was so I could take care of you.”

Ming Chi blinked. His ears first turned red at the words “sleep together at night,” but then he immediately calmed down. “That makes sense.”

He was already so inconvenienced now; it must have been even more so before the surgery. Uncle Lu also said he often had headaches, so he really couldn’t be left alone.

Perhaps because he was sure he was starting to get better, his mentality had also changed, and the thought of being a bother had lessened considerably—the head nurse said he could start practicing walking slowly in two days and could be discharged in ten days. After that, he just needed to recuperate and do rehabilitation at home.

Everything was following a clear path. With a precise timeline as a measure, everything had turned into an exceptionally clear expectation.

“In… three more days, five at most,” Ming Chi pondered for a moment, giving himself a little leeway. “In five days at most, I can take care of myself.”

Ming Weiting shook his head. “Five days is not enough.”

“It’s not enough for me,” he admitted frankly before Ming Chi could ask. “I don’t sleep very well on land.”

Ming Chi’s expression immediately became serious as he looked at him intently.

“What’s wrong?” Ming Chi held his hand. “Let’s figure it out together.”

Standing nearby, Ming Lu heard this and laughed, chiming in to help explain, “There’s no great solution. When you’ve been on a ship for a long time, you get ‘land-sick’.”

Ming Chi was a little surprised. “You can get land-sick too?”

“It’s the same principle. The balance system adapts to the environment you’re in more often. When you change environments, you’re not used to it.” Ming Lu tapped his ear. “The master doesn’t like this feeling, so he doesn’t often come ashore.”

Ming Lu was brought onto a ship in his teens and later often went ashore for business, so he didn’t have any particular feeling. At most, after a very long voyage, he would feel a little dizzy for a few hours after disembarking.

But Ming Weiting had been on a ship since birth and had adapted to the ship’s balance system since he could remember, so he had always disliked coming ashore. It was only later, when he became the master of this generation of the Ming family, that he would occasionally come ashore to walk around, talk business, and handle some matters.

Find some people.

“I thought about it later, why I suddenly brought this up with you that day. It wasn’t just to take care of you.”

Ming Weiting said, “I feel comfortable on a ship because that environment is more stable for me, and it makes me feel more at ease.”

“Then let’s do rehabilitation on the ship,” Ming Chi made up his mind on the spot. He wasn’t sure if rehabilitation on a ship would make it easier to fall, and was about to look it up on the computer, but his arm was gently held by Ming Weiting.

“It’s better on land—Xiao Huo Miao, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Ming Weiting looked at him. “I’m telling you this just to show you, from my perspective, how cool and amazing you are.”

Ming Chi was slightly taken aback, his eyes widening as he looked at him.

“That night, you weren’t in a good state, and I was actually very uneasy. I had some nightmares,” Ming Weiting said. “I woke up from my dream and found you calling me.”

…That feeling was actually hard to describe.

There was a heavy storm that night, with thunder and lightning. Probably what one thinks about by day, one dreams of by night. He had been looking at information about the possible risks and complications of brain surgery those days, so the dreams he had weren’t very good.

Then he was woken by a slight touch. His conditioned reflex was to ask the other if he was feeling any discomfort, but those eyes just widened slightly at him, and after a moment, they quietly curved into a smile.

“I’m very uncomfortable, Mr. Shadow,” he heard the person beside him say softly. “It hurts a lot, it’s very uncomfortable, I can’t breathe… I’m telling you the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” those eyes told him with exceptional seriousness. “So when the time comes, when I tell you I’m comfortable, you must not worry about me.”

This was not a reassuring conversation at all. In fact, the situation later that night was indeed not very stable—but it wasn’t until the next day that he truly realized what those words meant.

He stood in the room, looking at the person who had closed his eyes contentedly and was taking deep, comfortable breaths on the balcony lounge chair. He suddenly realized that he actually wasn’t worried anymore.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Ming Weiting said, “I suddenly discovered that day that you have this ability.”

The environment on the ship was more stable for him, and it made him feel more at ease.

He came out of the room, walked to the terrace, and learned to relax his body, sitting by the lounge chair. He turned his head to the side to see the bright smiling shadow in those eyes.

Ming Weiting looked into his eyes. “I found a ship on land.”