Huo Miao said he really wanted to go, but this matter had to be discussed with his mother.

Ming Weiting could understand this. They were still young, so they had to inform their parents before going out. Moreover, Huo Miao and Madam Ren had such a good relationship, it was only right to seek her opinion first.

Before he set out on this trip, he had also signaled his father’s ship with lights before heading out to sea.

“I will ask when I visit next time,” Ming Weiting stroked his hair. “Before I come back, you must take good care of your injuries.”

Luo Chi clenched his fist confidently. “I’ll go learn to swim with my mom.”

Ming Weiting looked at him, a slight smile in his eyes. He also brought over the pillow prepared for himself and placed it behind Luo Chi’s waist. He folded the thin blanket neatly, then spread out the summer quilt and covered Luo Chi with it. “It’s getting late, let’s sleep.”

It was Ming Weiting’s first time tucking someone in, and he was a bit clumsy. Luo Chi was completely covered, and he had to inch his way out, poking his head out from under the quilt. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

This bed was quite spacious, easily accommodating both of them no matter how they lay, and they could sleep quite comfortably. Luo Chi liked this bed in the living room the most. Now that his back didn’t hurt as much, he stretched out his arms with abandon, demonstrating for Ming Weiting with great satisfaction. “Lying like this is super comfortable.”

Ming Weiting shook his head. “I’m not used to sleeping on shore yet.”

“It requires practice,” Ming Weiting said. “My father has always wanted to train me in this, but I never thought it was necessary before, which is why I took the initiative to follow the ship this time.”

Luo Chi was surprised to hear this and looked up at him.

Ming Weiting’s life was completely different from his. After a moment’s thought, he tried to explain the reason.

Just as many people feel uneasy on their first night on a ship, listening to the sound of the tide and being unable to sleep all night, for people accustomed to living on a ship, the land is after all too vast and silent. Here, even if you look far into the distance, you may not see the end. There are endless roads, and no boundaries in any direction. A little further from the sea, you can no longer hear the sound of the sea breeze and seawater, nor can you feel the rise and fall of the tide, the surging of the ocean currents.

“For you,” Luo Chi understood his meaning, “it’s like being far away from home, far from the most familiar place.”

Ming Weiting nodded lightly.

Before this voyage, Ming Weiting had never understood why he had to go ashore.

His father said that sooner or later he would meet someone, and because of this person, he would want to leave his familiar environment and adapt to life on shore. If he waited until he met that person to start training himself to adapt to the sense of balance on land, to adapt to the hustle and bustle of the crowd, he would deeply regret not having done it sooner.

Ming Weiting and his father often argued about this. Because his father said that if he didn’t get off the ship, they would have to communicate by message in a bottle in the future, Ming Weiting had the ship signal with lights that very night and set sail alone from the Cape of Good Hope.

Luo Chi listened to him with his head resting on his arm. Hearing this, he suddenly remembered something. “Does this count as running away from home?”

Ming Weiting asked, “Running away from home?”

“It’s when you don’t want to stay, so you go to a very far place by yourself.” Luo Chi explained, “I’ve thought about it too… but not this one.” He specifically explained, “This one is particularly good.”

The space on the cruise ship was limited, so the concept of a “very far place” didn’t exist, but two ships could be very far apart. Luo Chi’s explanation was clear enough. After a moment’s thought, Ming Weiting nodded. “It can be considered so.”

Luo Chi’s eyes widened.

He had previously thought the other person was quite mature, but now he discovered that his new friend would also run away from home because of a tiff with his parents. He reached out a hand and maturely patted the back of Ming Weiting’s hand.

Ming Weiting was still unclear about what was wrong with running away from home. Being gently patted twice, he turned his palm over and took Luo Chi’s hand.

Under the light, he saw the scar on the back of Luo Chi’s hand.

For people living on the high seas, these scars were very familiar. With just one look, one could tell the origin of each wound with about 80-90% accuracy. A wound like this was not difficult to distinguish. It was obviously left by a sharp metal object. Judging by the size of the scar, the wound was probably not too shallow. One could imagine how much force the person who did it had used.

Luo Chi noticed his gaze and quickly pulled his hand back under the quilt to hide it, his ears turning hot. “It’s an old injury, it’s long healed.”

Ming Weiting nodded, asked him where the switch was, and got up to dim the bedside lamp.

He didn’t ask Luo Chi why he wanted to leave his previous home, but just seeing this scar and remembering the message in the journal, Ming Weiting asked, “Do you still have nightmares?”

Luo Chi was staring blankly at the storm raging outside. Hearing this, he blinked and looked at Ming Weiting with some surprise.

He had somewhat guessed that Ming Weiting would know about this, but he didn’t expect him to say it so openly and without disguise. …And to think he had spent a whole night pondering how to naturally and subtly lead the conversation to his new friend’s father, to remind Ming Weiting to pay more attention to his father’s safety.

“I do.” Luo Chi admitted generously, and learning from the other’s frankness, he directly reminded Ming Weiting, “When you get home, be careful of the storms at sea. Don’t let your uncle go to dangerous places.”

After speaking, Luo Chi pulled his arm out from under the quilt and raised his hand to him with a serious expression.

Ming Weiting was stunned for a moment. Meeting the bright light in his new friend’s eyes, he couldn’t help but smile lightly and pressed his hand against his palm. “It’s a promise.”

Luo Chi high-fived him, sealing the promise. Satisfied, he curled up under the quilt, looked at the rain outside for a while, and then said in a small voice, “I told myself not to have nightmares anymore.”

He had actually told himself many times.

Not to have those dreams anymore, not to be afraid anymore. There was nothing left for him to be uneasy about.

Everything was happier than the happiest possibility he had ever imagined. He shouldn’t be entangled by the past anymore. It would be too insensible to keep having nightmares.

…But it seemed that sometimes, it was a little unsuccessful.

Luo Chi still had many nightmares.

Some were real, clear memories, some were more vague hallucinations—he would dream of being chased by monsters. He would run desperately through the streets and alleys, but could never escape. He was clearly running towards a place with light, but when he plunged in, it was a black fog.

He dreamed of being surrounded by countless figures, whose faces he couldn’t see clearly. Everyone came to twist his arms, to break his shoulders, wanting to turn him into a puppet completely different from himself. If he didn’t obey, they would use the bluntest knife to cut his throat, again and again.

He dreamed he was in a room with no door and couldn’t get out no matter how he tried. He dreamed of being enveloped in a barrage of accusations and slanders that he couldn’t hear clearly but that filled his ears. He would grit his teeth and desperately try to refute them, but no matter how he opened his mouth, no sound would come from his throat.

At times like these, when Luo Chi woke up from the dream in a cold sweat, tinnitus would sharply set in.

In the period before he was fully awake, his heart would beat violently, his chest feeling as if it were being squeezed tightly by a hand. It was very difficult for him to distinguish who was around him, where he was. He would just instinctively want to protect himself, so he would always accidentally hurt innocent people.

---

“You can’t think like that,” Ming Weiting said. “Dreams are not under human control. It’s not your problem.”

“You keep having these dreams because here,” Ming Weiting placed his hand on his left chest and pressed lightly, “the wound has not yet healed.”

Physical wounds will heal over time. They won’t take too long to scab over, and will leave scars that no longer have any feeling.

But some other wounds will not heal so easily.

They will always lie dormant in the subconscious, waiting for an opportunity. Even after a long time, they will still erupt without warning in any similar scene. Each eruption is a silent catastrophe.

Luo Chi kept his eyes open, listening to him intently, then lowered his head and pressed his own chest.

He could feel his own heartbeat. His heartbeat was normal and steady now. His chest was warm, stable, and secure. He felt he was the happiest person in the world, so he had always wanted to be worthy of this happiness.

“…I want to be more reassuring,” Luo Chi said in a low voice. “I want to be good, I want to be amazing, I want to be cool.”

“I don’t want to worry Mom anymore, not at all. I don’t want Mom to do so much for me, only for me to be so disappointing, always having those endless nightmares.”

“I don’t want to tie myself up every time I sleep. I don’t want to worry every day about accidentally hurting someone.”

He lowered his head, buried his face forcefully in his arms, and when he spoke, a nasal tone finally came through. “I want to be cooler than now. I want to make Mom proud, so that she’s especially proud whenever she mentions me…”

Luo Chi hadn’t told his mom about these things. He instinctively didn’t want his mom to know. But his new friend seemed to be like him, knowing some things he shouldn’t have known.

…

The other person seemed to know very well what had happened to him, so it wasn’t so hard to say a little bit.

Ming Weiting didn’t interrupt any of his sentences, listening quietly until Luo Chi had poured out all those words in one breath. Only when Luo Chi stopped speaking did he gently pull back the quilt and help him turn over by his shoulders.

Luo Chi’s ears were bright red as he turned his head away. Ming Weiting squatted by the bed and wiped the tear stains from his face with his sleeve. “I’ll help you.”

Luo Chi was startled and looked up at the figure before him.

“You’re already very cool, very amazing,” Ming Weiting said. “If you had a ship, you would be the most popular captain in the future.”

Luo Chi was feeling embarrassed, flushed with heat from the praise, and didn’t speak, quickly retreating under the quilt.

“Would desensitization therapy help? I can give it a try. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.” Ming Weiting gently patted the quilt roll. “Coincidentally, I also need to practice sleeping on shore. You can help me too.”

Hearing the latter half of the sentence, Luo Chi’s head suddenly popped out from the quilt roll, his eyes shining as he stared at him.

Ming Weiting looked at him, a smile unconsciously appearing in his eyes. He got up, walked to the other side of the bed, and tried to relax and lie down. Luo Chi had already neatly arranged his pillow for him and turned to look at him. “Is it comfortable?”

Ming Weiting nodded.

It was indeed very comfortable. The whole bed was very spacious, and even if both of them spread out their arms and legs to sleep, it wouldn’t be cramped. He had originally thought he wouldn’t get used to it and was only staying here to chat more with Huo Miao, but lying down like this, he actually felt a sense of security.

Luo Chi’s mood recovered quickly. He generously shared half of the quilt with him, the corners of his mouth still pressed into a smile.

Ming Weiting also smiled, reached out, and stroked Luo Chi’s hair. “Sleep.”

Luo Chi closed his eyes as told. He was actually already very sleepy and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Ming Weiting listened to his breathing. Noticing that at a certain point Luo Chi’s breathing became rapid and chaotic, he took his hand and gently patted his back.

After a while, listening to the sound of the rain outside the window, he was also slowly enveloped by drowsiness.

---

The rain continued until midnight.

When Ren Shuangmei quietly went upstairs to check, the bedroom was already very quiet. The two little ones were lying on the bed with their heads together, both sound asleep.

It was rare for Huo Miao to sleep so soundly, without any discomfort. His new friend also seemed to be resting well, not unaccustomed to life on shore just because he was a guest.

Ren Shuangmei turned off the light with a sense of relief, closed the door with great satisfaction, and went downstairs on tiptoe.