Ming Lu returned from the pier and happened to see the meal box sent outside the hospital room.

Early this morning, Ming Weiting had brought Luo Chi off the ship and came to the hospital for a physical examination.

This private hospital belonged to a subsidiary family of the Ming family and was sufficiently reliable. As soon as Luo Chi was admitted, he was immediately settled in meticulously and underwent a detailed full-body examination. A group of relevant experts was being invited to discuss his condition.

Luo Chi had slept soundly the entire way. He didn’t react at all, not even when he was pushed into the MRI machine for examination or when his blood was drawn for tests.

Ming Lu had thought Luo Chi wouldn’t wake up, so he hadn’t specially arranged for breakfast. He had taken the opportunity to go out and handle some matters as per Ming Weiting’s instructions.

Ming Lu took the meal box and gently knocked on the ajar door. “Sir?”

Ming Weiting was helping Luo Chi sit steadily on the sofa. He nodded and made a hand gesture.

Ming Lu understood, entered the room lightly, and opened the meal box.

It was not yet certain about Luo Chi’s ability to swallow. Liquid food could be dangerous if choked on, so Ming Weiting had not had anyone prepare porridge or soup today.

If Luo Chi could still eat, the daily nutritional IV drips could be gradually discontinued.

…

In any case, it was always good to have fewer IV drips.

Luo Chi’s situation was special. The stress response hidden deep in his body still retained the instinct for self-preservation, so leaving an indwelling needle would be dangerous. But having to insert a needle several times a day had already caused large bruises on the back of his hands and elbows.

Ming Weiting averted his gaze. As was his custom, he first greeted Luo Chi with a good morning and introduced himself.

Luo Chi showed no reaction. He was supported by Ming Weiting and leaned against the sofa. His pale neck, however, seemed unable to bear the weight. His head drooped slightly, his gaze falling vacantly on his own fingertips.

So Ming Weiting also walked over there, half-squatted in front of the sofa, and looked up into Luo Chi’s eyes.

He tried to gently touch the back of Luo Chi’s hand. Seeing that the hand did not tremble, he tried to hold the fingertips, then gradually moved up to hold the hand that was resting on Luo Chi’s leg.

Luo Chi did not resist. His palm was enclosed by Ming Weiting’s, his wrist limp and hanging down.

Ming Weiting used a hot towel to apply a compress to the bruises on the back of his hand.

Perhaps sensing the moist heat on the back of his hand, Luo Chi slowly showed a little reaction. His gaze followed the movement, discerning a blurry human figure from the dense fog of his confusion.

Ming Weiting looked up and waited for him, until a bit of focus condensed in those pitch-black empty eyes and landed on him.

“Good morning,” Ming Weiting said softly. “I am Ming Weiting. I like you very much and am a fan of yours.”

Ming Weiting spoke very slowly. “I have been given an opportunity to have breakfast with you. Is that okay? I would be very honored if you agree.”

Ming Lu was a little speechless. He knew that Luo Chi was temporarily unable to process such complex information, but he still didn’t want to disturb this scene. He just tried to be as gentle as possible with his own movements.

The breakfast in the food container was rich and exquisite. Ming Lu picked out small, easy-to-eat dim sum of different flavors and placed them on a serving cart to push over. “Sir, the young master doesn’t understand yet.”

Under normal circumstances, frequent conversation and interaction would indeed be helpful, but Luo Chi couldn’t hear.

He was already trapped in a state of absolute silence. If this silence turned into a stable, purely blank space with no more harm or pain, even in Ming Lu’s view, it would be hard to find a reason for an utterly exhausted consciousness not to remain there.

Ming Weiting was well aware of this. He nodded, took a soft cushion, and gently placed Luo Chi’s hand on it. “I’m practicing.”

He turned back, took the chopsticks Ming Lu handed him, carefully selected from the serving cart, and picked up a small, exquisite shrimp dumpling.

When Luo Chi debuted, he had also, as part of the process, introduced the things he liked on a show.

Ming Weiting knew that Luo Chi was twenty-three this year, his birthday had just passed. He liked guitars and painting, liked the sea, and also liked playing games, especially “Subway Surfers.”

He knew that Luo Chi didn’t particularly like cake because he was allergic to egg whites. He liked crystal shrimp dumplings, liked to order a large table of morning tea for himself and eat it all day, and liked all kinds of candy.

This information was not hard to find at all; it could be found on his encyclopedia page.

Although it was not yet possible to confirm the accuracy of this information with the person himself, it could at least serve as a reference to some extent, so as not to be completely directionless.

Ming Weiting held the shrimp dumpling and tried to touch it to Luo Chi’s lips.

Luo Chi didn’t react, still sitting quietly.

“I don’t know if it’s to your liking,” Ming Weiting said. “Try it. If you don’t like it, spit it out.”

He said this slowly once, then realized his consideration was not thorough enough, that he had made it too complicated. He rephrased, “It’s food.”

Ming Weiting explained to him, “Something you can eat.”

Luo Chi’s eyes looked clean and moist at this moment, slightly pressed down by his long, thick eyelashes. Although the movement of his gaze was a bit slow, it still followed the increasingly concrete figure before him.

Although the fog was still there, at least there was a point of focus now, no longer the scattered look of the past few days.

Ming Weiting was not in a hurry. He temporarily put the shrimp dumpling back.

He tilted his head to one side, wanting to confirm if Luo Chi was leaning comfortably. His peripheral vision, however, noticed that Luo Chi seemed to have also gently tilted his head.

Ming Weiting suddenly realized something. He held Luo Chi’s hand, still looking up. “Xiao Huo Miao.”

Luo Chi reacted to this name. His gaze followed, bit by bit. This level of reaction was already very draining for him. His palm began to grow cold again, and a thin layer of sweat seeped out.

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

Luo Chi’s throat moved slightly.

He had a clear reaction to follow and learn. He painstakingly opened his mouth, forming an imperfect mouth shape, and a stream of air flowed out.

Ming Weiting nodded in his field of vision, confirming that this degree of movement could be seen clearly by Luo Chi, and then continued, “Good morning.”

This time, Luo Chi learned more smoothly than before.

Ming Weiting nodded again. He looked at Luo Chi and subconsciously reached out to stroke his hair.

He did this subconsciously, only realizing it was inappropriate after his hand had already touched the soft, short hair. He wanted to give Luo Chi space to adapt gradually, but found that the person sitting on the sofa did not seem to show much resistance.

Even when the warmth of his palm was pressed firmly on the top of his head, Luo Chi’s body only trembled slightly. More of his attention, however, was still on Ming Weiting. His half-drooping eyelashes lifted, as if waiting for the other’s next move.

Ming Weiting picked up a shrimp dumpling, put it in his own mouth, chewed it carefully, and then made a very obvious swallowing motion.

Then he waited for a moment, picked up the same shrimp dumpling again, and brought it to Luo Chi’s mouth.

This process was a bit complicated. Luo Chi paused for another ten-odd seconds before understanding the sequence of actions.

Luo Chi bit into the shrimp dumpling bit by bit, held it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. Eating was, after all, still a bodily instinct. As long as he started, the rest was not difficult. He hadn’t even realized what was happening when he found that his mouth was already empty after chewing.

Ming Weiting had been watching him intently all along. Meeting Luo Chi’s somewhat confused expression, he couldn’t help but show a hint of a smile.

He had indeed been practicing a gentler expression these past few days, but it seemed none of it was as insightful as the experience of these brief few seconds. Everything was natural and there was nothing strange about it.

He looked at Luo Chi. The smile lingered at the corners of his mouth for a very short time, but the one in his eyes remained. Then, that hint of a smile seemed to have also been taught to those empty, clean eyes.

Ming Weiting looked closely. Luo Chi’s gaze followed him, and he learned to slightly curve his eyes in the same way, but the bottom of his eyes was still empty.

Luo Chi quietly curved his eyes, his expression no longer changing.

Ming Weiting raised his empty left hand, bent his fingers, and gently touched Luo Chi’s eyelashes.

Luo Chi wouldn’t dodge. Sensing the ticklish sensation at the base of his eyelashes, he only slowly blinked. Ming Weiting gently touched them back and forth a few more times. Luo Chi’s blinking frequency couldn’t keep up with him, and his breathing became slightly rapid.

“Sir,” Ming Lu reminded in a low voice, “the young master is uncomfortable.”

Ming Weiting frowned. “I know.”

Ming Lu was slightly taken aback. He looked closely at Luo Chi and also suddenly noticed something abnormal.

Luo Chi’s eyelashes were being made uncomfortable, itchy and unpleasant. His eyes were already covered with a layer of moist vapor. The shimmering moisture made his pupils appear even more pitch-black and pure, and the wooden emptiness within them was even more obvious.

But Luo Chi still maintained the action he had just learned. He had memorized this action very firmly.

He didn’t remember how to move, didn’t remember how to express his discomfort, wouldn’t dodge the hand that was making him uncomfortable, but those eyes were still unconsciously curved.

Ming Weiting withdrew his hand, lowered his gaze, and stood up, his eyes silently turning cold.

He suppressed the thoughts that should not touch Luo Chi, pulled out a few tissues, and only held them after testing that they were soft enough.

Ming Weiting quickly returned to the front of the sofa, half-squatting back into Luo Chi’s field of vision.

Luo Chi’s breathing was still not quite stable. His eyes were slightly red. Due to the ticklish sensation at the base of his eyelashes just now, physiological tears had flowed down.

“I’m sorry,” Ming Weiting looked into his eyes. “Xiao Huo Miao, I’m sorry.”

Ming Weiting didn’t know if he was still willing to let him touch him. He gently wiped away the tears. After Luo Chi’s breathing and heartbeat had stabilized again, he tried to hold Luo Chi’s fingertips.

Luo Chi’s fingers did not move, but were softly enclosed by his. Because he was still holding a slight smile, he looked as if he were very comfortable.

Ming Weiting put down his hand, clenching the soaked tissues in his fist.

“I taught him wrong,” Ming Weiting said in a low voice.

Although Luo Chi’s original state was chaotic and bewildered, he still had very subtle reactions when he was uncomfortable or uneasy. If one observed carefully, it was not difficult to distinguish.

But Luo Chi had learned too quickly. He had just been a little careless, and he had taught Luo Chi how to smile.

…

Although that smile was very faint, so faint that it was barely noticeable if one didn’t look closely, it still completely masked all subtle negative reactions.

He no longer knew if Luo Chi was uncomfortable.

This sentence was not deliberately slowed down. Ming Lu knew it was meant for him. He carried the tidied food container over. “What should we do?”

Ming Weiting turned his head and looked at the steward who had served three generations of the Ming family’s masters.

“It’s not that serious, sir.” Ming Lu chuckled. It was the first time he had seen this expression on this overly young master. He placed the food container on the coffee table closer to the sofa. “If he were really that uncomfortable at a time like this, he wouldn’t have woken up again.”

His voice was very low, inaudible from where Luo Chi was. He just placed the documents he had brought back on the sofa next to Ming Weiting’s hand.

It was not difficult to obtain the surveillance records of the Ren family’s private residence from these past few years. After all, there was a person on the verge of a mental breakdown sorting through them in the villa—all one had to do was, right after Ren Chenbai had sleeplessly dragged his broken leg to sort through all the records of these years, send people to burst in and take everything, including the master copies.

Just as it was not difficult at all to drive a hypocrite who was immersed in his own world, still deceiving himself and refusing to accept the facts, and would never learn to reflect, to a mental breakdown.

Since Ren Chenbai liked to play chess so much, he might as well be a piece on the board himself for once.

As long as the Luo family’s adopted son was temporarily unreachable in the hospital, that little celebrity would naturally go to find Ren Chenbai.

And Ren Chenbai, who had been thrown off the pier by Ming Lu, had just heard the clear conclusion that “Luo Zhi is no longer in this world.”

Of course, Ren Chenbai couldn’t accept the facts. Of course, he would hysterically displace his anger and take revenge. This was originally what the gentle and elegant Young Master Ren was best at.

Ren Chenbai would bite that little celebrity to death, and a cornered puppet might not bite back.

The entanglement between these two people would not be so easily resolved. As long as the people involved were involved, they would be pulled in like a snowball, and that naturally included the Luo family’s girl.

Ren Chenbai would be trapped in that villa forever.

“Time is limited. We have only reviewed a portion of the surveillance records and other materials.”

Ming Lu said, “If it were someone else, they probably wouldn’t have been willing to wake up again.”

For Luo Chi, the cruise ship accident wasn’t even a last straw.

No one could stop him anymore, or forcibly keep him alive. If Luo Chi really felt uncomfortable, he would not have opened his eyes again.

That quiet and relaxed emptiness was constantly luring the cold flame to sleep.

Ming Weiting did not speak.

“The chess game is going very smoothly, sir,” Ming Lu said, choosing a less depressing topic. “They’re already at each other’s throats.”

Until last night, Ren Chenbai was probably still indulging in the ethereal comfort of “personally taking revenge on the person who had hurt Luo Zhi,” until Ming Lu appeared before him with his men.

Ren Chenbai was a smart person. He knew what Ming Lu’s appearance meant.

It meant that all his hysterical revenge, his malicious and gleeful vendettas, were just arranged, just a pawn moved by the hand of the chess player behind the scenes.

He was just a pawn sent across the river to do some cleaning up. Because these things should not tarnish Luo Chi anymore. Because there were still some retributions that should be returned, so when the piece was moved, his leg was also broken along the way.

This was not even a well-thought-out arrangement, because Mr. Ming was concentrating on learning to be Luo Chi’s fan and hadn’t had time to do anything else, so he had just let them circle up and bite each other first.

Everything had just begun. There was still too much waiting in the back, waiting to be peeled and deboned, piece by piece, to strip away all the peace of mind that had been nurtured by grinding away at others’ flesh and blood over the years, revealing the wretched filth within.

It was just the beginning.

…

Ming Weiting didn’t think there was anything to say about this, so he just nodded.

He didn’t rush to look at the documents, but pulled over the food container and carefully selected from it.

Luo Chi did not seem to be resisting him because of what had happened with his eyelashes before. His gaze was still following Ming Weiting.

Ming Weiting picked out a few items that were suitable for Luo Chi to eat now, and were easy to chew and digest. He ate one himself first as a demonstration. After waiting for a while, Luo Chi indeed followed suit and opened his mouth.

Because he received a nod of approval with a sufficiently obvious movement each time, Luo Chi later didn’t even need Ming Weiting’s demonstration and slowly ate a small piece of coconut milk cake by himself.

Ming Weiting had been paying close attention to his food intake all along, not letting him eat too much at once. When it was about enough, he had Ming Lu take the things away, and then used the same method to guide Luo Chi, reminding him how to hold water in his mouth to rinse.

Luo Chi’s physical strength and energy were still very limited. He was held by Ming Weiting, who was also sitting on the sofa, his shoulders and back enclosed. After rinsing his mouth a few times, he had almost used up all his strength, and his eyelashes began to droop again.

Ming Weiting held his hand. Luo Chi’s body began to soften due to fatigue, and even his shoulders drooped quietly.

“Xiao Huo Miao,” Ming Weiting held his hand, letting him slowly fall against him. “You have to wake up every day.”

He didn’t deliberately let Luo Chi see his lip movements. These words might put pressure on Luo Chi.

He just wanted to say it, wanted to make a wish to the flame that had burned so fiercely on the beach in his memory, a flame that seemed capable of accomplishing anything.

“You have to wake up every day.”

Ming Weiting said, “You have to say good night, you have to say good morning.”