Ming Bozhou kept having a dream.

In the dream, he had his ship. There were all sorts of people on board: a captain, a first mate, and crew; passengers coming and going; A’Lu and Ming Weiting.

He had searched every corner of the ship, but the result was always the same.

In the first few months of having this dream, his head would ache terribly every night.

The dreams seemed to be hidden in his bones. At first, they were like scorching molten iron, but as they slowly cooled, they turned into cold, hard, sharp iron spikes that could pierce through his entire being at any moment.

…

In the dream, he constantly tried to find a solution, doing everything he could.

He tried leaving Yan Yu on shore to recover, planning to pick her up after some time, but this didn’t seem to be enough to restore his lover’s health.

He tried letting Yan Yu stay on shore while he frequently disembarked to meet her. But each separation would make Yan Yu sick again and would also bring unnecessary trouble to the Yan family.

In the cruelest of these nightmares, he would even see Yan Yu covered in blood, her breathing faint as she lay in his arms.

This kind of dream could easily drive him mad.

The sensations in the dream were incredibly real. It was as if he could feel his lover’s cold, pale hand. There was no strength in that hand. His little girl leaned against him, the fresh bandages quickly soaked through with blood, yet she smiled at him with her eyes curved.

“If you miss me in the future, go take a look on the shore.”

She moved her finger, slowly drawing circles in his palm. “I planted a large field of sage for you, blue-purple flowers. It’s so beautiful when the wind blows.”

“It’s on the grassland. Didn’t you want to drink wine?” she said softly. “I buried a jar. You have to look for it carefully, you must find it.”

Trapped in the dream, Ming Bozhou watched his younger self, so stupid that he could only tremble while holding his love, unable to utter a single word.

It was a chaotic gunfight—the specific cause and effect were no longer important. He later personally made all the culprits pay a manifold price, and this revenge was still ongoing.

He had to thank A’Lu. If Ming Lu hadn’t acted in time, punching him out of his daze and getting someone to give his wife emergency aid, perhaps the last spark of life in Xiao Yu would have been delayed by a fool like him.

He knew why Yan Yu had said those things to him.

Such a vast grassland, such a beautiful sea of flowers that stretched as far as the eye could see—how could he bear to damage a single flower? Where would he even begin to look for a buried jar of wine?

But that was the wine Yan Yu had left for him. Of course, he had to find it. This task had to be completed, so for the time being, he would still have something to do.

When he had something to do, he wouldn’t be dragged into that cold suffocation.

The road to the hospital was so long it made him want to throw himself into the fuel and burn, just to make the car fly there in a second.

The little girl was so seriously injured, coughing up blood with even the slightest movement, her face transparently pale, yet she still looked up at him with a carefree smile.

“Don’t look so mournful,” she pinched his fingertips, putting on a serious, stern face, imitating Mu Guiying from the storytelling performance. “Give your granny a smile.”

He tried with all his might, but could only manage a smile that was uglier than crying.

“My ship is not allowed to leave. It’s not to be given to anyone else.”

The little granny was extremely domineering. “It’s mine forever.”

“It’s yours forever,” he nodded. “All the ships are yours. You can board whichever one you want.”

She lifted her face with great satisfaction, then seemed to grow very sleepy, snuggling into his arm and slowly closing her eyes, no longer making a sound.

To this day, Ming Bozhou still remembered the feeling from that time.

It was as if a hand had reached into his chest and scooped out all the flesh and blood, leaving only a large, drafty hole.

“Don’t sleep,” he pleaded, trembling. “Hold on a little longer, Xiao Yu, I’m begging you.”

“I’ll go to the shore with you. Don’t you like the grassland? We’ll go to the grassland.”

He spoke desperately, not even knowing what he was saying. “We’ll forget everything. We’ll get a small courtyard and live there, look at flowers every day, eat grapes, soak in hot springs, ride horses.”

The little girl smiled, her voice impossibly faint. “Liar.”

His chest ached terribly. He gasped for breath, and steam blurred his vision.

“Ming Bozhou,” she whispered his name. “Bozhou, Bozhou.”

“I really want to have a child with you, to become an old man and an old woman together.”

Her voice seemed to dissolve as soon as it came out. “I so want to live…”

…For a long time after that, she made no other sound.

He carried her out of the car, rushed into the hospital, and she leaned limply against his shoulder, sleeping peacefully.

Ming Bozhou couldn’t clearly recall the situation at that time anymore, only that it felt like he had died once.

He drifted around like a lost soul, dazed and confused, only knowing to repeat the nursing methods the doctor had taught him, muttering by her bedside every day about all the things the little girl liked.

It wasn’t until Yan Yu passed the critical period and woke up that Ming Bozhou seemed to finally come back to life.

…He was the biggest coward in the world.

He absolutely couldn’t bear or even imagine the possibility of this happening again on some future day.

They had the most wonderful wedding, and he never intended to break the vows he made… but whether it was illness, injury, or accident, it seemed they had only quietly latched onto Yan Yu with his arrival, grimly dragging her into that other world.

This process seemed only to be slowed, not stopped. It seemed that no matter how many futile efforts he made, he couldn’t snatch his love back from this almost predetermined fate.

Ming Bozhou still woke up from nightmares time and time again, searching the entire ship for Yan Yu, but he could never find her, no matter where he went.

He stood by the ship’s rail, looking at the reflection of the moon in the water.

At that time, while smoking, he also thought, was it because he had presumptuously scooped up that handful of water reflecting the moon and hidden it on the ship, that the water would no longer shine?

Later, the ship he had promised would never leave departed the port, and Yan Yu was left on the shore.

This seemed to be the only solution Ming Bozhou could find, the last stubborn resistance he could muster—if he had to choose, he would rather watch a healthy and safe Yan Yu from afar than have those nightmares become real.

…But even so, even with so many explanations, it still couldn’t change the fact of the matter itself.

He had left his little girl on the shore.

He had taken the little girl’s ship.

…

Ming Bozhou came back to his senses.

Yan Yu tugged the reins and turned her horse to leave.

The sound of the bells was crisp, the white horse galloped at top speed, and in a flash, it had swept past a stretch of meadow and disappeared, leaving only a silhouette that never looked back.

Ming Bozhou’s heart suddenly sank.

He scanned the vicinity and spotted Luo Chi, dressed in hunting attire, leading a horse. He hurried over. “Young man, could I borrow your horse?”

Luo Chi, leading the horse, wasn’t well-hidden. He was startled by the man rushing over and subconsciously looked back.

Ming Bozhou had no time for distractions. He kept looking up, confirming Yan Yu’s position. “Uncle will leave that boat with you as a deposit.”

He hadn’t been able to find Ming Weiting on his way, but he couldn’t be bothered with that anymore. As soon as he reached the downstream port, he was anxious to see Yan Yu and hadn’t brought much else with him.

Luo Chi looked back at the hand signals Ming Weiting and his mom were making, composed himself, and had just explained that this wasn’t his horse when Mr. Ming sincerely gripped his arm.

“No problem, Uncle will return it to you in a bit. You can take the boat for a spin first,” Ming Bozhou asked. “Are you the son of a tribal chief?”

He spoke rapidly, raising one hand in promise. “If you’re in a hurry to get home, just tell me where you live, and I’ll find you to return the horse. A promise is a promise.”

Strangely enough, this was the first time Ming Bozhou had met the young boy before him, but for some reason, he felt an instant connection.

Perhaps it was also because this boy in his hunting gear was both dashing and well-behaved, making one want to pat his head—Ming Bozhou hadn’t found Ming Weiting on the ship, and hearing from Ming Lu that his son had gone to chase some star, he really couldn’t understand what was so good about chasing a star.

…

If one really had to chase something, it would be better to chase this little guy who was instantly likable.

Yan Yu’s figure was already almost too far to see clearly. Once someone was out of sight on the grassland, it was very difficult to find them again. There was no more time to delay.

Without another word, Ming Bozhou thrust the speedboat keys into Luo Chi’s hand, said his thanks, and quickly mounted the horse.

He seemed to have vaguely seen his son, but not clearly.

…

Besides, it was completely unreasonable.

After all, he had already traveled fast enough, setting off that very night, barely docking at any ports along the way, almost at a ship’s top speed at sea.

And even if Ming Weiting had overcome his psychological shadow of getting land-sick after spending more than a minute on shore and successfully made it ashore, it was almost impossible for him to stay on land for so long, let alone travel all the way to the grassland by vehicle.

For the time being, Ming Bozhou had no more time to consider this matter. He noted the direction Yan Yu had left in and chased after her without hesitation.

Mr. Ming’s equestrian skills had never been masterful, but they were sufficient for chasing his wife on the grassland. He constantly spurred the horse to accelerate, and before long, he too disappeared over the horizon, chasing that distant figure.

Luo Chi clutched the speedboat keys, and it took a few more seconds for him to come back to his senses.

Ming Weiting hurried over and held Huo Miao’s shoulders to check him carefully. “Are you injured?”

“No,” Luo Chi quickly shook his head. Mr. Ming had only gripped his arm; of course, he couldn’t be injured. “But—”

…But, the Mr. Ming who had given chase might not be so certain.

Luo Chi had a good sense of direction and clearly remembered that the direction Auntie Yan had ridden off in led straight to the orchard they had visited before.

The last time they went to pick fruit, there were still unused ropes and sacks left there.

“It’s okay. Father’s skills are very good, and the orchard’s soil has just been loosened,” Ming Weiting nodded. “Mom needs to vent.”

What happened next was between Mr. Ming and Mrs. Ming. It had to be handled by them personally, and this deadlock had to be untied by them personally.

Other people should not and could not interfere. Even Ming Weiting shouldn’t rashly disturb them at this time.

Besides, his father didn’t seem to recognize him.

Luo Chi understood this principle, but he still didn’t know what to do with the keys in his hand. He raised his hand and passed them to the Young Master.

“Perfect,” Ming Weiting took them and turned to Mrs. Ren, who was walking over. “Auntie.”

Ren Shuangmei, her mission accomplished, had just returned her horse and was waving at the two boys with a smile.

“I’ll take you out to sea.”

Ming Weiting stroked Luo Chi’s hair. “Huo Miao, want to learn how to drive a speedboat?”