Ming Weiting called Uncle Lu, took a quick hot shower in the bathroom, and changed into the loungewear Ren Shuangmei had prepared. He was led to the living room on the second floor. Huo Miao had also washed up and was brought up by Madam Ren.

Luo Chi had taken painkillers and was lying on his stomach on the pillow, a thin blanket covering him, his eyes closed in a half-asleep state.

The painkillers contained a hypnotic component. Luo Chi, in his hazy consciousness, was startled by the sound of the door opening and woke up abruptly, turning his head sharply towards the door.

He almost reflexively jumped up to defend himself, but was pulled back hard by the restraint strap on his right hand, his body falling back into place.

As if knowing not to give him more stimulation at this time, the figure did not immediately walk in but remained at the door.

Ming Weiting raised his hand and knocked gently on the door. “May I come in?”

Luo Chi looked at the figure at the door, blinked slowly a few times, recognized who it was, and the defensiveness in his eyes gradually faded. His chest heaved for a while, and he pressed his lips together. His gaze cleared, and he smiled at Ming Weiting.

Ming Weiting made a hand gesture to him and only closed the door after getting Luo Chi’s permission, walking to the bedside with light steps.

Luo Chi’s gaze followed him, his body relaxing back onto the pillow.

Ming Weiting pulled over a chair and sat by the bed. “Does it happen every time it rains?”

“Pretty much.” Luo Chi nodded. He was slowly waking up, waiting for his racing heart to calm down. “The humidity is heavy on rainy days, and catching a cold also has an effect.”

He thought for a moment and added, “But it’s not a big problem. The doctor said to take it slow and that it will be fine in a few years.”

Ming Weiting nodded. “You’re still growing. As long as you rest well, you will definitely recover.”

Luo Chi believed him very much. His eyes brightened, and he pressed his lips together in anticipation.

Because of his previous movement, the moxa salt bag used for hot compress had slipped off. Luo Chi tried to reach it with his left hand but couldn’t get it after a few tries. Suddenly, he felt a warmth on his lower back.

Only then did he realize that the salt bag had fallen onto the floor, and even the thin blanket covering him had slipped off halfway.

Ming Weiting bent down and held the moxa salt bag in place with one hand. “Does the hot compress make it more comfortable?”

Luo Chi’s ears felt a little hot. He nodded, buried his face in his arms, and whispered a “thank you.”

Following his instructions, Ming Weiting helped place the moxa salt bag correctly, then took two tissues to wipe the cold sweat from Huo Miao’s forehead. He was about to tidy up the disheveled blanket when he saw the restraint strap on Luo Chi’s right hand, and his movement paused.

“I tied it myself.”

Luo Chi noticed him looking at the restraint strap on his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he still explained in a small voice, “Don’t tell Mom.”

Because of this problem, Luo Chi had actually hurt quite a few people.

He could control himself when he was awake. But if he was distracted or half-asleep, it was very easy to lose control and accidentally confuse reality with a nightmare.

In the first two years after he came back, his mom had originally wanted to send him to school. But he would accidentally hurt children his age, which was too dangerous for the school, so in the end, they hired a teacher to come to the house for lessons.

Luo Chi tied the restraint strap himself secretly. Ever since he accidentally hurt his mom two years ago, as long as he slept in a room outside, he would always tie it on himself before going to sleep.

Usually, this hand was hidden under the quilt or blanket. After he was fully awake, Luo Chi would untie the strap and hide it under his pillow.

If it weren’t for the moxa salt bag causing trouble today, and him being more relaxed than usual, his new friend should not have discovered it.

Ming Weiting leaned over and helped him untie the restraint strap. Seeing the few red marks on the slender wrist, he frowned imperceptibly.

“They’ll fade soon.” Luo Chi rubbed it himself. “My skin is too fair, so even a slight pressure will be very obvious.”

But it didn’t matter. It would fade on its own after three to five minutes, leaving no trace. Many of the injuries Luo Chi sustained were like this. The marks disappeared quickly, vanishing in the blink of an eye, as if nothing had ever happened.

As they were talking, the red marks had already faded rapidly. Luo Chi held out his hand for him to check. “See?”

Ming Weiting helped him cover up with the thin blanket, sat back down by the bed, and looked carefully. “It’s gone.”

Luo Chi pressed his lips together, nodded twice, and used the restraint strap to secure the salt bag to his waist. He then hugged his pillow and turned over. After this short rest, he already felt much more comfortable, and his heart was no longer pounding uncomfortably. He turned over and continued to chat with Ming Weiting.

Unlike their conversation on the beach, this time they didn’t rush to talk about the endless scenery. Instead, they talked more about life on the sea and on land.

It was almost two completely different worlds.

It was the first time Luo Chi had learned about the way of life on the sea. He listened to Ming Weiting talk about life on the ship, about the passing travelers, the resident sailors, and all sorts of people—not everyone would wander forever, but there were always people who would drift at sea for a period of time.

His new friend’s family owned the cruise line and often invited many dancers, singers, and bands to perform as resident acts. The cruise ship had an art auction house, so artists would also regularly accept their invitations to come on board, sometimes to hold art exhibitions, and some just because they loved that particular route so much that they would follow the ship no matter how many trips it made.

The ship also had special industry reporters, a rather unique profession that would adjust according to the characteristics of the port—for example, in the homelands of ancient civilizations, someone would talk about classical music, art, and those mysterious legends. When they reached archipelagos dominated by natural environments, someone would talk about geography, scenery, and biological evolution.

There were also commercial ports that were quite technologically and economically advanced, with a higher degree of modernization. There would be local temporary craft exhibitions, and people would talk about cutting-edge technology, art and fashion, cooking and fine dining, and what was happening to the stars hundreds of millions of light-years away.

Ming Weiting had lived on the cruise ship since he was a child and was equally unfamiliar with everything Luo Chi talked about.

He didn’t know there were so many differences on land, that you could get from one place to another so quickly, that so many people could gather together and revel freely around a fire.

That you didn’t have to worry too much about severe weather, because while storms and rain might capsize a ship, unless it was a typhoon of extreme intensity, it couldn’t destroy buildings on the ground.

He learned that people on shore, when winter came, wouldn’t have their journeys delayed by frozen seas, nor would they be frozen in a completely unfamiliar port because a certain shipping route happened to encounter a cold current.

People on shore could bundle up warmly, brave the cold wind to hurry home, and sit with their families in the warm light, eating a hot dinner, and then admire the falling snowflakes through the glass.

“This is what my sister told me. Her family is like that.”

Luo Chi thought about it seriously for a moment, explained, and then specially added, “But this winter, Mom is also taking me home.”

Luo Chi made a promise with his new friend. “When I figure out the specific situation, I’ll call you and tell you in detail.”

When he talked about his mom taking him home, his eyes had a proud brightness unique to children. His shoulders even straightened a bit, but then he sucked in a breath as his back injury twinged, and he curled up again.

Ming Weiting nodded. “When I’ve sorted out the lecture notes from those reporters, I’ll print them all out and mail them to you.”

Luo Chi raised his left hand to high-five him. Seeing that Ming Weiting didn’t understand, he reached over with his other hand, took Ming Weiting’s hand, and pressed it against his own palm. “It’s a promise.”

Ming Weiting learned and, half-squatting by the bed, high-fived him. “It’s a promise.”

Luo Chi’s eyes curved in satisfaction. He yawned, buried his face in the crook of his arm, and adjusted to a more comfortable position.

The life his new friend described was so new and interesting that he hadn’t had enough of chatting at all. But he was too sleepy after taking the medicine. His eyelids drooped involuntarily, and sleepiness washed over him again.

This time, he was more relaxed than before and had gotten used to the person by the bed. Noticing someone touching his right wrist, he didn’t feel nervous, just tried hard to open one eye with his left hand.

Ming Weiting gently pressed the spot on his wrist that had been restrained. “It’s still a little red.”

“It’s normal. If you didn’t know, it wouldn’t be obvious.” Luo Chi nodded. “It’s because you know this spot was injured that when you look at it, you’ll notice it’s different from other places.”

Ming Weiting asked, “Who used a restraint strap on you?”

Luo Chi hugged the pillow in his arms, thought for a moment while looking at the storm outside the window, and smiled. “It’s okay. They can’t tie me up anymore.”

Ming Weiting looked at him, his brow furrowing again.

“Really. My mom snatched me away,” Luo Chi said. “My mom was super cool that day.”

Luo Chi’s back didn’t hurt as much anymore. As he spoke, he seriously puffed out his chest and held his head high, trying to imitate the posture. Then, feeling he couldn’t quite capture that aura, he sighed with a bit of regret. “It’s my own problem.”

It was that he couldn’t control himself—even though two years had passed, he would still carelessly fall into those nightmares at any time—or rather, those dreams had become more frequent and chaotic than before.

He would dream of many bad things. Some were related to his experiences during those three years, some were related to that family… Later, the nightmares about that place were actually more frequent than those about the three years before. He often couldn’t control himself and would have excessive self-protective reactions, which were mostly from this type of dream.

It was his own problem, so Luo Chi would always tie himself up or hide in the closet.

“But Mom is taking me home for the New Year this year.” Luo Chi was a little worried. “I’m always afraid I’ll still be like this, and accidentally lose control.”

“They are your family,” Ming Weiting said. “They won’t mind because of this.”

Luo Chi kind of wanted to explain to his new friend that the “family” on their shore was not the same as the Ming family Ming Weiting had told him about.

Ming Weiting had told him that the Ming family was not based on blood ties, nor did it require any cumbersome procedures. By giving someone a family name and inviting them onto the ship, they could become family.

But the rules on shore were different. For example, because the adoption procedures took time, and there needed to be a certain interval between two name changes before it could be approved, Luo Chi was still using his original name.

…But he also really hoped that what Ming Weiting said was true.

If he could go home with his mom and be accepted by his new family, Luo Chi could probably have the best dreams for a whole month.

“I can’t just rely on Mom. I have to work hard myself too.” Luo Chi rested his head on his arm and looked up, making plans. “Before I go home, I want to become cooler and more amazing.”

“It would be best if I could do everything,” Luo Chi counted on his fingers. “Be braver than now, calmer than now, know more than now. My body should also be better than now, so I don’t have to just lie in bed whenever it rains…”

Ming Weiting thought for a moment. “Swimming can also help with a back injury.”

Luo Chi’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Ming Weiting nodded. “Everything you’ve said aligns with our family’s training direction for a captain.”

Luo Chi was already incredibly drawn to what he was saying. He stopped talking and thought carefully, and the more he thought, the more it made sense. He remembered the grown-up version of himself from his dream and felt even more moved. He couldn’t help but prop himself up with his arms and sit up.

“I’m following the ship for my father this time. I have to leave when the rain stops, but I’ll be back by autumn at the latest.”

Ming Weiting told him, “This place has the best scenery I’ve ever seen. I have one exploration permit—I want to open a route here.”

“I will bring my ship,” he asked Luo Chi. “When that time comes, can I invite you on board?”