The young master of the Ming family clearly stated his position.

On the other end of the line, Mr. Ming, before he could even ask where his son had learned about Kongming lanterns, lost contact with him.

When he called back, Young Master Ming, who had set out to sea alone, had already disappeared into the distant, out-of-service area.

Ming Lu had finished charting the route to find the madam by sea. He saw Mr. Ming standing at his desk, still holding the phone. “Sir?”

“A’Lu,” Mr. Ming pondered, “Is fifteen the age for teenage rebellion?”

Ming Lu didn’t answer immediately, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully.

…Whether it was the age for teenage rebellion was debatable, but there was indeed a fifteen-year-old young man on their ship who had been preparing for a month to chase his idol and make friends.

Ming Lu didn’t expose the young master’s secret. He put down what he was holding and nodded. “It is exactly that age.”

Mr. Ming put down the phone. “No wonder.”

“The route to find the madam has been planned, sir,” Ming Lu reminded him in a timely manner. “Aren’t you considering other modes of transportation? A plane is much faster than a ship.”

“What sincerity is there in a plane? If it weren’t so far, I’d want to row a canoe there myself.”
Mr. Ming waved his hand. “Find the location of that little rascal’s ship. We’ll go and catch him on the way.”

The young master’s teenage rebellion had come on strong, but his methods were still a bit naive.

Every ship had GPS navigation, and of course, a positioning device, making it very easy to confirm a person’s location. Even without these, ships always had to dock for repairs and supplies. For the Ming family, finding someone at sea was actually quite easy.

Ming Lu was a little surprised, then laughed.

Since that ship had left the port, the people on board had not seen the sir speak like this for a long time.

Everyone in the family was stubborn; no one was willing to back down. The sir had been tormented by the nightmare of not being able to find the madam anywhere, and this knot had been tied for over a decade.

No one had expected that the new friend the young master had found could unexpectedly bring a turning point to this matter.

“Still dawdling?” Mr. Ming jabbed him with his elbow. “Go on, go on… By the way, what’s an idol?”

Ming Lu: “I don’t know. Is it a type of animal?”

Mr. Ming’s Chinese wasn’t good enough to understand everything either, and he didn’t know, so he simply stopped caring. “As long as we can find him… we can find him, right?”

Ming Lu nodded and assured him, “As long as they are at sea, there is no one the Ming family cannot find.”

Mr. Ming was quite satisfied, waved his hand, and sat back at his desk.

No matter how anxious he was, he couldn’t just step down immediately. Catching his son was just on the way; finding his wife was more important.

Mr. Ming focused his mind, urged Ming Lu to find the location, and began to write a love letter to his wife.

…

Luo Chi quickly took a hot shower, changed his clothes, and returned to his room to find Ming Weiting on the terrace dealing with the SIM card.

Hearing him open the door, Ming Weiting turned his head to look.

Luo Chi knew what he was going to ask. He ran to the terrace and proactively held out his hand for inspection. “I didn’t get it wet.”

It was the first time Luo Chi had been so careful with such a small wound.

To say he was careful with the wound on his hand wasn’t entirely accurate… he actually liked the drawing on the band-aid.

Luo Chi didn’t want the anchor on the band-aid to get smudged by the steam. He had spent a long time in the bathroom thinking of a solution, wrapping it in plastic film and then putting on gloves, which had even startled his mother who came up to bring him his pajamas.

Ren Shuangmei was very familiar with her little boy’s temperament. Seeing this setup, she thought Huo Miao had accidentally lost a finger and nervously put down what she was holding to grab him and check.

Luo Chi himself couldn’t remember where the wound was. He and his mother carefully peeled back the band-aid and searched for a long time before finding the small cut that would have healed on its own if it hadn’t been treated a little later.

The overly cautious student Huo Miao’s ears turned bright red from his mother’s laughter. He buried his head in his mother’s shoulder, refusing to look up, and was about to run off in a hot-faced hurry when he felt an exceptionally gentle force on the top of his head.

“Nothing is Huo Miao’s fault,” Ren Shuangmei said, stroking the little boy’s head and squatting down to tell him seriously, “It’s not our fault when we meet unpleasant people, and it’s not our fault when we’re pestered.”

Ren Shuangmei had guessed what the Ren family members had said, and she could also somewhat guess how the Luo family had been pestering him these past few days, how they had shamelessly used all sorts of nice and nasty words on a child.

So Ren Shuangmei also said these things explicitly, telling Luo Chi clearly.

“Huo Miao hasn’t caused Mom any trouble at all, not one bit.”

“It was Mom who snatched Huo Miao back home.”

“Mom wants to be with Huo Miao forever. No matter when, no matter what happens.”

Ren Shuangmei made a pinky promise with the little boy. “Mom wants to protect our home with Huo Miao.”

Some little tough guys, though silent and resolute in front of the Luo family, and calmly unyielding in front of the Ren family elders who wanted to send him away, when holding his mother’s hand in a pinky promise, hugging his mother and not letting go, the strength in his arms was super tight, and his whole body turned as hot as a little kettle.

Ren Shuangmei took a hairdryer to dry the little boy’s hair, chatting with him for a long time, telling him about her past outings with Ming Weiting’s mother, and they made a promise to definitely find an opportunity to take Huo Miao horseback riding.

The little kettle saw his mother off, sat alone by the bathroom vent, and took some time to regain his composure before bouncing back to his room, humming a song all the way.

…

Luo Chi came back to his senses, shook his head, and ran to the window for some fresh air. “What are you looking at?”

“The painting,” Ming Weiting asked. “Is it going to be exhibited?”

Luo Chi shook his head. “How could it be?”

He hadn’t practiced tonight. He moved a chair over, sat down, picked up a paintbrush, and explained to Ming Weiting, “To be exhibited, it has to be painted very well.”

Luo Chi added some water to the brush-washing bucket and asked his new friend, “Have you ever been to a painting exhibition?”

“No,” Ming Weiting shook his head. “There are painters on the cruise ship. But I don’t think their paintings are more attractive than yours.”

Luo Chi couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what you call ‘idol filter’. You need to change that.”

Ming Weiting learned a new word. “Idol filter?”

“A filter is when you process a picture, you add some special effects to make the picture look better,” Luo Chi explained to him. “Idol filter means that you… are a fan of mine.”

Luo Chi had never been a fan of anyone before. His ears grew warm unconsciously. He cleared his throat, and his voice became a little quieter. “…You think everything about me is good.”

“It’s not really like that. There are too many people better than me. I still have to learn and practice for a long time,” Luo Chi said. “But I think I will become very good in the future.”

According to the requirements of that founder grandpa, Luo Chi had been practicing the basics for a while. There were still many areas that were not up to par and still required a lot of practice.

He had painted this picture in the evenings recently. It wasn’t homework, just practice before bed. He hadn’t decided what to do with it after it was finished.

Ming Weiting nodded. He understood Luo Chi’s meaning, thought for a moment, and corrected his statement, “There are many people better than you, and many paintings better than yours.”

Luo Chi nodded generously. “That’s right.”

“And there are many people who play the guitar better than me,” Luo Chi suggested. “Actually, you don’t have to be a fan. We can just be good friends.”

“We will be friends, and I will also be a fan,” Ming Weiting nodded. “I haven’t finished speaking.”

Luo Chi was taken aback and blinked at him.

“There are many more amazing people and things in the world,” Ming Weiting said. “But in my world, you are the most amazing. I think everything about you is good.”

His Chinese was still not completely fluent. Although his pronunciation was standard enough, every sentence was spoken meticulously, and his words were completely simple and direct.

Luo Chi was just about to mix colors when he was caught off guard by the compliment. His heart pounded in his chest, and his face quickly grew hot.

Luo Chi stood up, flushed, threw his paintbrush aside, and grabbed a cup to drink a few sips of water.

Ming Weiting looked at the painting he was working on and asked again, “Can I buy it?”

The content of the painting was actually not special. Blue sky, white clouds, sunlight, an endless prairie, and figures galloping on the prairie. It was hard to say what distinguished it from other landscape paintings.

Ming Weiting knew nothing about art and didn’t know what was different about this painting from others. He just felt it was very comfortable to look at, and the color combinations and brushstrokes easily captured one’s attention.

“No need to buy it,” Luo Chi said generously. “I’ll give it to you when it’s done.”

He put down the water cup, rubbed his still-red ears, and bent down to look at the painting with Ming Weiting. “By the way, your mother is also in here.”

Ming Weiting reacted immediately. “Is it a painting of Madam and my mother?”

Luo Chi nodded. “Wait.”

He ran to his desk, took out a large, thick photo album from a drawer, and pulled Ming Weiting back into the room with him, sitting on the carpet leaning against the bed.

Luo Chi opened the photo album, told Ming Weiting the stories behind the photos, and then turned to a page to show him the few photos embedded there.

The faces of the people in the photos were not really visible because the distance was too far and the scene too vast—but the person who took the photo was very skilled, and the figures could still be seen very clearly.

The sky was vast and the earth was wide. The azure sky stretched to the end of the horizon, dotted with white clouds scattered by the wind. The sunlight flowed between the green grass.

Two figures on galloping horses were in this scene, both wearing red and white riding outfits, leaping over a clear, winding river.

Luo Chi held the photo album for him to see. “Isn’t it even cooler than my painting?”

“It’s a different feeling,” Ming Weiting’s idol filter remained firm. “The photo is dashing; your painting is cool.”

Luo Chi coughed, his face flushing as he lowered his head. He took the photo out from under its protective cover, wiped it clean carefully, and handed it to Ming Weiting. “This is also for you.”

Luo Chi had always loved this photo the most. Unfortunately, he had only managed to capture one shot at the time. The photographer at the scenic spot didn’t provide negatives, and reprints always seemed to be missing something.

It was also because of this that Luo Chi had wanted to paint this photo from his own perspective.

Ming Weiting was taken aback. “Isn’t this a very important photo?”

“It is very important,” Luo Chi said, hugging his knees and thinking for a moment before nodding seriously. “I originally thought, if one day I had to leave home, I would secretly take this photo with me.”

…There were actually many things he wanted to secretly take with him.

When he was first brought home by his mother, Luo Chi had a nightmare and accidentally hurt her. He had thought then that he shouldn’t stay and cause trouble. At that time, the bundle he packed was very small. He only planned to take the toys his mother bought him, a few of his favorite photos, and ten candies and ten packs of instant noodles. That would be enough.

Later, the things he wanted to secretly take with him grew more and more. It might have taken a space the size of a car to hide everything.

And then later, he even wanted to secretly take his mother with him.

“…And then one day, I suddenly figured it out,” Luo Chi cleared his throat. “I don’t have to take everything with me. I just have to not leave.”

He had never told anyone about such a childish past. He rubbed the back of his head, a little embarrassed. “Is that super childish?”

Ming Weiting shook his head. “Thinking about how to survive on your own every day, always preparing for not having a home, is not childish.”

Luo Chi was slightly taken aback. He blinked his eyes gently, then laughed again. He didn’t bring up these things again, gently patting Ming Weiting’s arm and handing him the photo. “It’s okay. I don’t have to rely on these things to survive anymore.”

When he said this, his tone was very light and slow, yet exceptionally firm, as if he were much more mature and calm than his age.

Ming Weiting looked at him, was silent for a moment, then still said a solemn thank you and reached out to take the photo.

“Mom originally wanted to take me out to play, but she suddenly had to go on a business trip, to discuss a business deal, and she has to go to this place again.”

Luo Chi closed the photo album and suddenly remembered. “By the way, does your mother also live nearby?”

The address was printed on the back of the photo. Ming Weiting had just checked the satellite map and nodded. “Very close.”

Luo Chi’s eyes lit up. He was about to suggest that Ming Weiting write a letter or make a gift for his mother to take with her. He was about to speak when his friend beside him suddenly stood up.

Luo Chi didn’t know what he was going to do. He hugged the photo album and looked up.

Ming Weiting turned on his phone screen and confirmed the message sent by Uncle Lu.

His father was traveling by water. It would take about a week to reach the port closest to his mother.

Ming Weiting asked, “Is Madam taking a plane?”

Luo Chi replied with a sound of agreement. “Tomorrow’s flight.”

He had actually never been on a plane before. This time, he had a date to go out with a friend and couldn’t go with his mother, which was a bit of a regret. “It takes about three hours.”

Time at sea was usually long. Ming Weiting had never heard of such a speed. “Three hours?”

Luo Chi blinked and nodded.

“I want to take a plane too,” Ming Weiting sought his opinion. “Can we go on a business trip with Madam?”