Luo Chi couldn’t hear, so he spoke slowly.

Ming Weiting looked into Luo Chi’s eyes. He was worried that such an atmosphere would seem too serious and wanted to touch Luo Chi’s hair, so he raised his hand and waited inquiringly.

…

When Luo Chi woke up again, the reactions he could give were even fewer than any time before.

When he was carried back to the cruise ship from the beach, Luo Zhi’s response to external stimuli was already very weak. But if one was patient enough to speak a few more times, and a little slower, he could still get a response.

At that time, Luo Zhi could still understand the simplest commands.

Although his consciousness was hazy and his limbs felt too heavy to lift, as long as he recovered a little strength, he could slowly move on his own.

He seemed to be trapped in a vast, deep sea, but he could still refract a faint glimmer of light and shadow, creating one last, fine ripple on the surface.

Then those ripples were gradually torn and devoured by the night, and the water’s surface finally calmed down, bit by bit.

…

Luo Chi’s eyes were open, his gaze vacant and unfocused.

“I bought your painting. I paid for it.”

Ming Weiting withdrew his raised hand and slowly explained to him, “A long time ago, I heard you play the guitar. I’ve liked you since then.”

…He really wasn’t a qualified fan.

If he had sufficiently excellent expressive abilities, he could have described to Luo Chi more accurately the scene he had witnessed on the beach that night, many years ago.

There were many people gathered around a bonfire, many clapping along. People were barefoot on the sand.

In fact, even that seemed too few. That fire was meant to be surrounded by so many people, it should have been surrounded more boisterously by even more people. Countless people should have liked him.

They should have smiled at him, waved and greeted him from afar, walked over to casually bump his shoulder and embrace him.

They should have affectionately touched him.

The boy on the beach was holding a guitar. The quiet, gentle moonlit night and the evening breeze embraced him together. The melody that flowed from the guitar, however, was ardently bright and crisp.

The waves rose and fell, washing over the reefs. The sound of people’s laughter and loud applause and whistles was constant. He just stood there, and it was as if one could see an endless sea of light, sprinkled with sparks.

Ming Weiting knew that Luo Chi couldn’t hear now, but he still subconsciously lowered his voice, telling him all this bit by bit.

“I’m sorry for not being a good fan to you.”

Ming Weiting said softly, “I came very late. I should have told you that I liked you a long time ago.”

He held Luo Chi’s hand. It was soft and cold, lying motionless in his palm.

Ming Weiting told him everything.

At the one hundred and ninety-seventh heartbeat, Luo Chi finally began to realize that he was being spoken to. His completely unfocused, empty gaze painstakingly gathered, bit by bit.

…

Just this process alone seemed to have rapidly exhausted what little mental energy he had left.

Luo Chi’s gaze still appeared dazed. After resting on that face for only a moment, his eyelashes trembled and slowly, exhaustedly drooped down.

The moment his eyelashes closed, Luo Chi’s chest fluttered slightly, and then he abruptly forced them open again.

“It’s alright, there’s nothing urgent.” Ming Weiting immediately stopped talking and reached out to dim the lights. “You can rest if you’re tired.”

He felt his tone was not right, so he practiced it a few more times in his mind and corrected himself, “You should rest well when you’re tired.”

Luo Chi’s eyes remained open.

Ming Weiting hesitated for a moment, then tentatively reached out to gently touch his hair.

This body had been emptied, yet it seemed to retain some deep-seated, residual habits.

The moment Ming Weiting tried to gently touch the top of his head with the back of his hand, Luo Chi’s body tensed up without warning. His breathing became rapid, and his spine instantly became rigid.

The unconscious struggles seemed to overflow from the depths of his body. He almost struggled himself onto the floor. As his body slipped down, it was caught in time by Ming Weiting’s outstretched arms.

In this position, Luo Chi couldn’t see whatever Ming Weiting said. Fearing he would hurt himself, Ming Weiting could only use his arms and shoulders to hold him securely, controlling Luo Chi’s struggling body,

The body held in his embrace was so thin that even the spine was gaunt, like a withered leaf that was too cold to be warmed. Rapid, deep gasps brought a wheezing sound from his lungs.

Luo Chi couldn’t muster any corresponding physical strength, so the struggle weakened in just an instant. Only his cold, pale fingers were still instinctively clenching, fumbling uselessly, as if trying to find something to protect himself.

“It’s okay, there’s no danger here.” Ming Weiting moved back a little, allowing Luo Chi to see his lip movements. “No danger.”

Ming Weiting looked at him. “There will be no more danger in the future.”

Luo Chi’s face was pale, the misty confusion in his eyes even thicker. It was unknown if he understood his words.

Ming Weiting no longer touched him with his hands, but simply gathered Luo Chi back into his embrace. He cupped his hand, grasped his own cuff, and used his forearm instead to slowly soothe Luo Chi’s back from top to bottom.

He repeated this action until the back, which had been tensed almost to the point of spasm, softened again.

In his arms, Luo Chi relaxed bit by bit, no longer struggling.

Ming Weiting waited until the sound of breathing in his arms became completely even. He slightly loosened his arms, and Luo Chi drifted down along the opening. Ming Weiting subconsciously reached out to catch him, and also raised a hand to stop his head and neck from tilting back.

This time, Luo Chi did not react to his touch at all. His eyes were half-closed, as if he had completely passed out from exhaustion.

“Good night,” Ming Weiting said softly. “Xiao Huo Miao, good night.”

Ming Weiting carefully supported him, placing Luo Chi’s body steadily and gently back onto the bed. He waited for him to close his eyes and re-covered him with the blanket.

He bent down to tidy the edge of the blanket for Luo Chi, turned off the bedside lamp, and turned around.

Outside the door, Ming Lu spoke at the right moment, “Sir.”

Ming Weiting didn’t want to say things he shouldn’t in the place where Luo Chi was. He shook his head slightly, turned back to confirm that Luo Chi was fast asleep, and walked out of the room with light steps.

Ming Lu left the door ajar behind him, took two steps back, and looked at the coldness sinking in Ming Weiting’s eyes.

“The Luo family’s two children went missing. One came back not long after, the other was lost for three years.”

After confirming his attitude, Ming Lu had already arranged for people to investigate more specific details. “No one in the Luo family dared to investigate what happened during those three years.”

Ming Weiting held a cigarette between his lips and leaned back against the wall. “No one dared?”

“Yes,” Ming Lu said. “They only knew he must have suffered a lot.”

Luo Chi wasn’t found by his family. He had escaped by collaborating with another abducted female student to cause a fight, took the opportunity to flee and call the police, and escaped by the skin of his teeth.

The police still had the complete case file from that time, as well as the injury assessment.

That injury assessment was very detailed, so detailed that even for an outsider like Ming Lu with no connection to the matter, a chill seemed to creep up his back.

The Ming family’s main power was on the high seas. In these areas, not subject to any sovereign jurisdiction, there were of course many shady and chaotic forces, and they were no strangers to the most shocking and cruel methods.

…

But for these injuries to be inflicted on a ten-year-old child, if one could remain unmoved, it would be too absurd.

Ming Lu did not elaborate on this matter, but simply took out the injury report and the case file and handed them to Ming Weiting, then continued, “The Luo family spent a lot of money to have the found child recuperate in the hospital for a few months…”

Ming Weiting frowned. “Pay them back.”

That was not Ming Lu’s intention. He was stunned for a moment before responding hoarsely, “Yes.”

“Sir, these documents have only been checked out for investigation once. The signatory was Ren Shuangmei.”

Ming Lu looked at the documents in his hand and reminded him, “That’s all there is.”

No one in the Luo family had seen these things.

They sent the found child to the hospital, cared for him meticulously for a few months. When they brought him back, at least the external injuries had all healed. He was just thinner than children of the same age, and his height and build were also slightly insufficient.

…

Because the injuries had already healed, naturally no one pursued the past matters anymore.

Ming Weiting picked up the two file folders and tested the thickness of the contents inside.

His gaze was lowered. His fingers paused on the sharp edge of the file folder and slowly pressed down a couple of times.

Ming Weiting’s voice was very soft. “Luo Chengxiu didn’t look either?”

“He was abroad at the time, negotiating a very important business deal concerning the lifeblood of the Luo family’s core areas. Any problem could have led to a chain reaction of collapses in several pillar companies.”

Ming Lu answered objectively and truthfully, “The negotiations took almost three months.”

It was hard to completely discern whether Luo Chengxiu’s particular lack of patience for Luo Zhi stemmed from those three months of business dealings that were fraught with difficulties and extremely precarious.

There was a lot of completely irrational displaced anger, as if “finding a son” and “a downturn in the business situation” should not have had even the slightest absurd connection in the first place.

…In any case, Luo Chengxiu was busy and overwhelmed with business negotiations. Upon receiving the news, he casually threw some money at the problem and had the found son recuperate in the hospital for three months.

Then Luo Chengxiu returned to the country, and the family began to be in turmoil again. So that child’s name was hastily changed to “Luo Zhi,” and not long after, he was hurriedly sent to the Ren family.

Those three years were tacitly passed over. No one mentioned them again, as if they had never existed.

Ming Weiting slowly turned the two file folders in his hands.

He looked out the corridor’s porthole. “What business was so important?”

“Metal futures, sea freight,” Ming Lu said. “To this day, it is still the bulk of the Luo family’s industrial capital flow.”

“Which shipping route does it take?” Ming Weiting said casually. “Have the nearest port detain it.”

Ming Lu lowered his head. “Yes.”

Ming Weiting tucked the file folders under his arm and took out a seashell ornament from his pocket.

He had heard that fans should give gifts, and handmade ones were the best, the sentiment being the most sincere.

But he was not good at handicrafts. This kind of thing was really not presentable. It was crooked, and a lot of glue had oozed out.

Ming Weiting adjusted its position bit by bit, but it was still far from what he had planned.

Ming Lu stood to the side, not disturbing him. Ming Weiting had no intention of leaving or going back to the room to find Luo Chi, but was just slowly adjusting the ornament.

Luo Chi didn’t remember him now.

Ming Weiting didn’t care about this. They could always get to know each other again. He could always introduce himself.

He was just worried that a stranger like him, in a completely unfamiliar environment, would make Luo Chi feel uneasy.

The experiences of those three years had still not let go of Luo Chi. They would coldly entwine his bones in his dreams. Sharp fangs would pierce his flesh, seeping venom, spreading along his blood vessels, flicking out a scarlet forked tongue in every inconspicuous corner.

Luo Chi wasn’t scared.

He had just learned this method. The seven-year-old Luo Chi who had been lost, the ten-year-old Luo Zhi who had been thrown into a corner by his family, were still standing vividly in that moment, not taken away by anyone.

The memories of being pushed away time and time again piled up. After the only person who took care of him passed away, Luo Chi no longer believed he would receive any protection.

Since there was no protection, he could only rely on himself to protect himself.

If there was a needle, he would pull it out. If there was a glass, he would smash it and hold onto the shards. In an unfamiliar place, he had to stay awake. If there were strangers, he wouldn’t close his eyes.

Ming Weiting finally broke the seashell.

He held the failed handmade ornament and tried again and again to piece it back together along the cracks.

Ming Lu spoke softly, “Sir.”

Ming Weiting stopped trying.

He handed the completely ruined ornament to Ming Lu, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes for a moment.

Another failure.

Ming Lu cleaned up the traces and returned to him.

Ming Weiting leaned against the wall, the blackness in his eyes condensing into ice, then uncontrollably revealing a sharp severity. “Are they that afraid to look?”

The people of the Luo family, did they not dare to look at those things even once?

Did they not dare to get close? Did they not dare to see what kind of hell Luo Chi had struggled out of, so they simply pushed Luo Chi into another bottomless abyss?

How could there be such an insensible son? Seven years old and he didn’t know not to get himself lost. And after getting lost, he actually dared to run back and cause trouble.

They didn’t dare to admit this thought, did they? They didn’t dare to see the selfish to the point of laughable ugliness and despicableness hidden beneath the high-sounding words, so they went to great lengths to make the evidence that proved their despicableness disappear from their sight…

“Tell the head of the Luo family.”

Ming Weiting said, “If he wants the cargo on the ship, let’s make a deal.”

Ming Weiting closed his eyes. This was not the high seas. He couldn’t tie these people up and take them out to sea to fish for sharks, nor could he do anything extreme.

He was Luo Chi’s fan now, and would always be in the future. Luo Chi had to be clean.

So Luo Chi’s fan must also be clean.

Sooner or later, Luo Chi would not be surnamed Luo, and would have no relationship with this family anymore. By then, that flame could play the guitar on all the cruise ships and beaches, could paint in any style. Someone would definitely tell him they liked him a thousand times. He would not encounter any more danger.

Sooner or later, Luo Chi would be able to wake up from bed relaxed, stretch contentedly, and roll over in his blanket for another nap.

So those nightmares should also find someone else to haunt.

“Doesn’t he like solitary confinement?” Ming Weiting said. “The Ming family also has a confinement room. Please invite him to sit there every night.”

“Since he values business so much, he can sacrifice some sleep time to have a cup of tea.”

Ming Weiting lowered his gaze and adjusted his cuffs. “We won’t do anything illegal to him. Just find someone to chat with him…”

Ming Lu suddenly coughed abruptly.

As the chief steward of the Ming family, Ming Lu had always been prudent and steady, with a measured sense of propriety. It was rare for him to have such a strange situation.

…

Ming Weiting frowned slightly. He subconsciously glanced in the direction Ming Lu indicated and suddenly stopped talking.

He took some time to retract the piercing coldness and walked to the crack in the door that Ming Lu had pushed open slightly.

Luo Chi was awake again.

Ming Weiting silently rubbed the knuckle of his index finger.

If Luo Chi’s current state of consciousness were normal, it would be much easier to handle. The instinctive fear of not knowing where one was upon first waking would be immediately suppressed by Luo Chi himself.

…

But Luo Chi himself was now trapped in that confusion of not knowing where he was.

He quietly watched the scene in the room.

The person on the bed had taken an unknown amount of time to support himself up, bit by bit, and was now leaning against the wall, adjusting his breathing.

With him, Luo Chi indeed had no way to rest completely at ease.

“It’s okay. I will work hard to help him adjust.”

Ming Weiting said softly, “I will learn to make him feel at ease.”

“It will be better if the room is remodeled to a familiar look.” Ming Weiting lowered his head, checking the information stored in his phone. “I will say good night to him every day, if he can accept it—”

Ming Lu pushed the door open and reminded him softly, “Sir.”

Ming Weiting was taken aback.

His eyesight was very good, so even standing at the doorway, it was still not difficult to confirm Luo Chi’s condition.

Luo Chi’s eyes were as black as lacquer, clean as if washed with water, but they were still empty and vacant, unable to find any focus to land on.

Luo Chi didn’t seem to be looking for anything either.

He just leaned quietly against the wall. He was too tired. This action had already left him with little strength, but he still kept his eyes open.

There was nothing in front of Luo Chi, but he still looked at that spot and slowly mouthed a word.

Luo Chi was looking at the place where Ming Weiting had originally been sitting.

Luo Chi didn’t know that there was no one there anymore.

He struggled, stumbling over the words, learning from the shadow that had been sitting there. He opened his mouth several times, a stream of air flowing from his throat.

Luo Chi was answering him. Good night.