Luo Chi slept soundly on Ming Weiting’s lap.

His breathing was light, even and faint. His lean, well-defined back rose and fell slowly with his breath, half of his face buried in his own arm.

Ming Weiting placed his arm behind his back, confirming that the support was steady enough, before carefully picking him up again and placing him back on the hospital bed to lie down properly.

“Sir,” Ming Lu spoke at the right moment after he had tucked Luo Chi in. “The team of experts has almost reached a conclusion.”

Ming Weiting nodded. “I’m going now.”

He tucked in the last edge of the blanket, straightened up, and walked to the door, only to be stopped by Ming Lu. “Sir, please leave your coat.”

Ming Weiting stopped. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, handed it to Ming Lu, and then asked, “Why?”

“It’s a custom of the people on shore,” Ming Lu said. “The clothes are still here, which means you will come back.”

There wouldn’t be such a problem on a ship.

No matter how large the cruise ship, the space was limited. Without considering various emergency measures, anyone’s activities would always have a relatively fixed range.

But the land was different. The land stretched vast and wide, with roads leading in all directions, and countless places farther than the horizon. Anyone could come, and anyone could leave at any time.

Ming Weiting nodded, committing this to memory. He watched Ming Lu hang his coat on the coat rack, looked at it carefully, and offered the opinion that the position was not conspicuous enough. “It can be placed in a more obvious spot.”

Ming Lu held the suit and smiled at the words. “Yes.”

Ming Weiting said “see you in a bit” to Luo Chi, left the hospital room, and went to the consultation office.

On the way, he slowly clenched his own hand. A coolness seemed to linger between his knuckles.

Luo Chi’s hand was limp, cold and soft in his palm. Apart from desperately trying to find something to protect himself, it had not made any other autonomous movements.

That day in the rain when he recognized Luo Chi again, he had bought Luo Chi’s painting and sent him to a hotel. The conversation that night had been a bit strenuous, but they were both very happy.

Although he now knew that Luo Chi must not have been truly happy then, at least at that time, the smiling shadow in his eyes was still pure and bright. He had watched Luo Chi talk excitedly, he had looked into Luo Chi’s eyes and remembered the cleanest night sky dotted with stars he had ever seen on a route near the North Pole.

He hadn’t noticed anything. Seeing the revitalized Luo Chi, he had actually felt relieved.

After settling Luo Chi down, he had temporarily left the hotel to discuss a business deal that wasn’t actually that important. He had actually planned to come back.

Luo Chi hadn’t known this.

Luo Chi had actually thought he was leaving, which was why he had called out to him when he reached the door.

Luo Chi had called out to him, staring at him intently. For a moment, a thought had flashed through his mind, that Luo Chi seemed very uncomfortable. But Luo Chi had only been dazed for a while before slowly curving his eyes into a smile.

Luo Chi curved his eyes, and then, just like today, he could no longer tell if Luo Chi was uncomfortable.

A few minutes later, Luo Chi suddenly regained his previous liveliness, generously and relentlessly stuffing the script into his hands.

Luo Chi stuffed the script into his hands. His right hand lacked strength, dropping the script several times, so he added his left hand, together stuffing the script into his arms. Luo Chi’s right hand trembled at his side, as if he had never said such words or done such a thing before, yet he recklessly and bravely raised his eyes to look at him.

Luo Chi looked at him, repeatedly assuring him that this script was definitely worth a lot of money, maybe even more valuable than the business deal he was going to discuss.

He was too foolish.

He didn’t understand Xiao Huo Miao’s words. He had taken the happy Luo Zhi on the outside as the real one.

He hadn’t seen the dim flame that had been trapped in a distant, dense fog. Because it had almost completely lost its ability to communicate, it could only use this strenuous, clumsy method, using the last bit of its strength and courage to ask him, “Stay a little longer, please?”

He should have learned the customs of the people on shore earlier. Even if he really had to leave temporarily, he should have left his coat in the room.

In the future, when Luo Chi was alone in the room, he would never wear a coat again.

Someone was already waiting for Ming Weiting at the office door. Seeing him arrive, someone immediately came forward to greet him and led him in.

The head of that subsidiary family was also there. He quickly pulled out a chair for him, letting him sit opposite the conference table.

Ming Weiting gathered his thoughts and focused on listening to the diagnosis for Luo Chi.

“It is indeed a tumor. The location is not ideal, but the imaging shows it tends to be benign. The prognosis after surgical removal will be very good.”

After a long string of professional terms, the attending physician gave as clear an answer as possible. “Mr. Luo’s hearing abnormalities, dizziness, blurred vision, weakness in one limb, and the large number of missing memory fragments are all caused by pressure on certain areas of the brain.”

Ming Weiting listened quietly for a while. “Which means, after the surgery, all these abnormalities can be restored.”

Ming Weiting said, “As long as he recuperates well, he will be as healthy as before.”

“That’s right,” the doctor nodded and explained in detail. “The hearing loss caused by the tumor compression is unilateral. The weakness in Mr. Luo’s right hand and right leg can be restored, and he can also regain his original right-ear hearing level.”

The damage to Luo Chi’s left ear hearing was due to an old injury from childhood. If it had been treated in time when the injury occurred, there would not have been any sequelae.

Even if, for some special reasons, the treatment was delayed for three years, if targeted remedial measures had been taken immediately after he was brought back, most of his hearing could have been restored, and he would not still be suffering from frequent tinnitus.

The treatment window for this kind of traumatic deafness was very narrow. To intervene now, one could only consider hearing aids or a cochlear implant.

“However,” the doctor hesitated slightly. “The location of the tumor is not good. Memory impairment may occur after the surgery. This is probably unavoidable.”

Ming Weiting asked, “He won’t remember things from the past?”

“It’s very likely… but the skills and life abilities he has already mastered will not be affected. Those are not in this location.” The doctor showed him the scan results. “What will likely be lost are a large number of memories about past people and events.”

Ming Weiting nodded. “Understood.”

Seeing his calm reaction, the doctor also breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

The reason for the multi-departmental consultation was that although this part of the problem was important, it was not the most urgent at all.

Luo Chi’s mental state was very poor, already showing obvious signs of stupor. This was not due to the tumor in his brain—or rather, Luo Chi had been trying his best to protect himself, and it was because of this sudden illness, which he himself was unaware of, that he finally no longer had enough ability to protect himself.

If it weren’t for the frequent episodes of dizziness and nausea, Luo Chi might not have been cornered in the shopping mall and forced to hide in his car, and that car would not have been destroyed.

If it weren’t for the increasing weakness in his right leg, making even normal walking a problem, Luo Chi could have just turned and left when he was cornered by Luo Cheng at the hotel.

With Luo Chi’s physical condition, he should have been able to retain a part of his left-side hearing, not to the point of being completely deaf. It was the all-pervasive malice that had wrapped around him so tightly that he no longer had the ability to process anything he heard, so he had automatically blocked out those sounds.

…If it weren’t for not being able to hear, Luo Chi would have known that when he had just named a price for the painting, that Mr. Shadow had already paid for it without hesitation.

This illness had caused cracks in his always-sturdy armor, and the malice that had never weakened naturally surged in through this crack.

Those people had finally succeeded. Luo Chi was completely swallowed, swept into that dark, icy sea.

Because they had to discuss Luo Chi’s mental state, the psychology department had obtained some of the information investigated by the Ming family. When reviewing it, they had already realized the trickiness of the situation.

“The other problems are not difficult to solve, but Mr. Luo’s own state must first recover.”

The doctor said, “First, we need to nurse his body back to health. At the very least, all his indicators must meet the surgical standards, he must be able to respond to the outside world, and have the most basic will to live, before we can consider surgery.”

Ming Weiting was silent for a moment. “How much time do we have for adjustment?”

“There’s no rush. We can adopt conservative treatment for now. If there’s a more familiar and relaxing place, he doesn’t necessarily have to be hospitalized, but his physical condition must be strictly monitored, with weekly check-ups.”

The doctors had already discussed and reached a conclusion. “Three to six months is enough time. If his condition is still not good by then, we can only force the surgery.”

Ming Weiting had finished asking everything he wanted to know and did not speak again.

He flipped through the prepared treatment plan page by page, until he had read the last page clearly, then closed the entire plan.

“Sir,” the person accompanying him said, “it’s indeed not entirely a bad thing.”

He looked at Ming Weiting’s face and spoke carefully. “If all goes well, after he recovers, Mr. Luo’s life will be entirely new.”

“It will go well,” Ming Weiting put away the treatment plan, stood up, thanked the doctors, and only looked at him after leaving the conference room. “You are from the Xun family.”

Ming Weiting thought for a moment. “Xun Zhen?”

That person followed him out. Being called by name, he quickly stopped. “Yes.”

Ming Weiting lowered his head and looked at the treatment plan again.

He knew what the other person meant. This illness had caused Luo Chi to lose his ability to protect himself and be completely swallowed by that malice, but by a strange twist of fate, it also gave everything a chance to start over.

Luo Chi would be cured and could completely cast aside his past. He could do everything he wanted to do, go to every place he wanted to go, become anyone he wanted to be, and no longer be bound by anything.

But that flame was never meant to be bound by anything.

That was originally the freest of souls, meant to chase the wind in the mountains and play with the moon in the streams. He could have met that flame on some pleasant, long voyage. It would have been the most dazzling one in the crowd, visible at a glance anywhere.

He didn’t know what was so good about this. How good could it be, that even falling ill and nearly losing one’s life could be considered a rare relief and salvation.

“Your family’s specialty is medicine,” Ming Weiting asked. “Are you an authority on psychology?”

“An authority. I studied this myself,” Xun Zhen said. “We will arrange the most reasonable treatment and counseling process, and we will send the most suitable counselor to talk to Mr. Luo.”

Ming Weiting nodded.

These arrangements had been discussed in the conference room. Ming Weiting had heard them clearly. What he wanted to say was another matter. “I need you to treat another patient.”

Xun Zhen was taken aback. “Who? Someone related to Mr. Luo?”

“A madman,” Ming Weiting neither confirmed nor denied. “Has been mad for some years.”

He could never let this person have any connection with Luo Chi again, but if it came to blood relations, the answer to this question was all too obvious.

“Mentally unstable, recuperating at home,” Ming Weiting began slowly. “Goes around saying her son is willful, lost her daughter…”

Xun Zhen instantly reacted. “Mrs. Luo?”

Perhaps because he had realized it too quickly, at the same time he blurted it out, he also noticed the coldness that instantly overflowed from Ming Weiting’s eyes.

Xun Zhen wiped the cold sweat from his palm and lowered his head.

Mrs. Luo was not always ill. When her condition was acceptable, to ease her mind and let her relax, Luo Chengxiu would have that adopted son accompany her to some less formal gatherings.

…How many people had Mrs. Luo told this to, and how many times?

Just how many people had come to know Luo Zhi this way?

Xun Zhen wasn’t sure either. He only knew that his own wife had heard it no less than ten times, to the point her ears were about to grow calluses.

Once, his wife had come back and couldn’t help but complain to him.

—What’s there to say? What could a seven-year-old child do, no matter how willful? Could he steal his sister and sell her? Failing to look after a child and losing them, isn’t it the parents who should be reflecting?

Despite the dissatisfaction, this was ultimately the Luo family’s private matter. Outsiders like them had no place to comment. His wife could only try not to engage in the conversation and later gradually distanced herself from the neurotic Mrs. Luo.

“I have seen her a few times. It’s a typical manifestation of hysterical psychosis, but it shouldn’t be that severe.”

Xun Zhen spoke cautiously. “She seems to be… intentionally indulging her illness.”

Was Mrs. Luo’s mind normal when she had an episode? Of course not. Whether it was her chaotic behavior or her theatrical, affected actions, it would be almost impossible for a normal person to imitate.

But whether this illness was due to an unbearable strong stimulus, or an intentional descent of her mind into this chaos, preferring to live in a muddle-headed and crazy state to escape some more severe punishment… only she herself knew in her heart.

Ming Weiting didn’t care about these things. “Can she be cured?”

“Very easily. The course of a single episode of this illness is not long anyway.” Xun Zhen replied quickly, but then couldn’t help but frown. “But… will the head of the Luo family agree?”

Although it was not difficult to treat, the problem was never about the difficulty of the treatment.

They were just a hospital. If the Luo family had no active desire to treat Mrs. Luo, they couldn’t just barge into the Luo family’s house, tie her up, and force her to undergo treatment…

“The head of the Luo family?” Ming Weiting seemed to have just remembered this person. “Right.”

Xun Zhen looked at his expression, and an inexplicable chill rose up his back. He swallowed dryly.

…He also suddenly remembered that before coming to the hospital, he had heard that the Luo family’s business seemed to have suddenly encountered a very serious problem overnight.

It was such a big commotion that even unrelated people like them had vaguely heard about it. It seemed that of all the cargo on the entire ship, only the Luo family’s containers were detained at the port.

The Luo family had been advancing aggressively recently. Using the birthday banquet they had held for their adopted son, they had connected with several multinational companies and were competing for several large projects.

The early stages of the projects were burning through money at a rapid rate. The Luo family’s liquid funds were being moved back and forth between the main company and several subsidiaries, the timing precise down to half a day. The payment for this shipment had already been advanced, but a hole had suddenly appeared on that end, and the penalty for breach of contract was skyrocketing every second.

To make matters worse, the Luo family itself had been in chaos these days, with no one to rely on.

Luo Jun’s ability was not weak, and he should have been the Luo family head’s most capable right-hand man. But these days, for some unknown reason, he had abandoned the beleaguered company and was just endlessly asking around about Luo Zhi’s affairs.

The film and television company that the Luo family’s adopted son had just gotten his hands on had exploded. The small celebrity who was supposed to be the pillar had no chance of a comeback, and the whole situation was a mess. The front desk was piled high with lawyers’ letters from the implicated endorsement companies and drama crews.

The head of the Luo family was badly battered and exhausted by this huge mess. He had tried every possible means, making calls everywhere late into the night to beg for help. But with the Luo family’s current momentum, families with only a general relationship had long been avoiding them, afraid of being implicated in any trouble.

The current head of the Ren family was Ren Chenbai, and he was nowhere to be found. Ren’s father was originally a son-in-law who had married into the family. He spent his days just sipping tea and practicing calligraphy, unable to manage any real business. He could only apologize to Luo Chengxiu as well.

Until two or three in the morning, some of them had still been receiving calls from Luo Chengxiu. But after that, it had quieted down, and there had been no more movement from the Luo family.

By today, the penalty for breach of contract had reached a figure that would make even them gasp. Many people were privately discussing that with such a bottomless pit of a hole, even the Luo family would have to sell assets to fill it.

…When they were talking about this matter this morning, they had still found it strange.

With such a big thing happening, could Luo Chengxiu have worked until two or three in the morning, then just thrown up his hands and gone to sleep?

“He seems to be having tea at my place.”

Ming Weiting lowered his eyes. “I forgot to have someone let him go back.”

Xun Zhen was dumbfounded and stood stunned for a long while.

He had seen the Ming family’s “tea drinking” routine. At this point, he finally connected all the dots and couldn’t help but sigh silently in his heart, “you reap what you sow.”

If the head of the Luo family still couldn’t figure it out, at this rate, it wouldn’t be long before they would have to admit another patient.

“Let him go back,” Ming Weiting said. “You go. Take his wife away in front of him.”

Ming Weiting thought for a moment. “If he wants to protect his wife that much, he can disagree. If he wants that shipment, let you take the person away.”

Xun Zhen unconsciously shivered. “Yes.”

“Tell him to take half a day to handle his family affairs,” Ming Weiting looked at his watch. “Come for tea in the evening.”

Xun Zhen lowered his head and agreed, taking out his phone to make arrangements one by one.

After Ming Weiting finished speaking, he did not stay any longer and turned to go back to Luo Chi’s hospital room.

…

He wanted to go back to find Luo Chi quickly.

He had done something wrong last time; he shouldn’t have gone to discuss that business deal. This time, although he only had to leave temporarily, he still felt anxious.

Ming Weiting walked quickly back to the hospital room. When he reached the ajar door, as he was about to push it open, he heard Ming Lu inside, talking to Luo Chi.

Not long after Ming Weiting had left, Luo Chi had woken up.

Waking up to find himself alone in the hospital room, with Mr. Shadow gone, Luo Chi did not have any special reaction.

Ming Lu had returned after arranging some matters. Finding that Luo Chi was awake, he helped him sit up and had been slowly talking to him, and also showed him the coat Ming Weiting had left behind.

Luo Chi leaned against a row of soft pillows on the headboard, his eyes gently curved, quietly watching and listening to Ming Lu.

“It’s true.” Ming Lu looked at him as he would his own grandchild, his voice unconsciously softening, patiently and slowly making his lip movements clear. “Sir will be back in a moment.”

Ming Lu brought the suit jacket over and placed the sleeve in Luo Chi’s hand. “Touch it. It’s real.”

Luo Chi’s right hand rested beside him. When the crisp fabric of the suit touched it, his eyes curved a little more, and then his eyelashes slowly, quietly fell.

Those pale fingers could not bear the weight of the fabric and bent slightly under the pressure.

Ming Lu took the cuff from between his fingers. Luo Chi did not react.

Ming Lu stopped talking and slowly placed the suit jacket over Luo Chi’s body.

The current Luo Chi couldn’t process this sentence. Luo Chi had no memories related to “will really come back,” so it couldn’t trigger any response.

Luo Chi’s last memory related to this kind of situation was when he had wanted to use a script to keep a Mr. Shadow he had just met.

It was because he wasn’t brave enough, and hadn’t firmly said what he wanted.

That Mr. Shadow was a very good person.

If he had properly and clearly stated his thoughts, Mr. Shadow would have stayed with him for another five minutes.

Perhaps triggered by the similar scene, Luo Chi suddenly opened his mouth, his throat moving with difficulty.

It was as if he hadn’t used this part of him to make a sound for a very long time. The airflow scraped past, bringing a fiery, distinct pain. He didn’t know if he had succeeded. “Shadow…”

It was the first time Ming Lu had seen him have a clear, autonomous reaction. He hurried forward. “What do you need?”

“Shadow,” Luo Chi’s throat hurt terribly. His head also hurt, as if something was churning recklessly inside, and molten iron was being poured in. “Shadow, sir.”

Luo Chi sat there blankly. He was tormented by this long-forgotten, intense pain, breaking out in a cold sweat. Vaguely sensing someone had come in, he instinctively suppressed all reactions.

From a very young age, Luo Chi didn’t let others see his pain.

Those who cared about him would be sad because of his pain, and those who cared about him shouldn’t be sad. Those who hated him would be delighted by his pain, and he wouldn’t let those people be delighted.

Luo Chi was in so much pain his consciousness was blurry. He was not clear about anything, but he slowly curved his eyes into a smile.

Then he saw a shadow in the fog.

His chaotic consciousness suddenly swirled into a mass in his mind. The gears of his thoughts, which hadn’t turned for a long time, had rusted and couldn’t operate at all, just grinding back and forth against his nerves.

He was a little liar. He wasn’t generous. He wasn’t magnanimous. He had wanted to use a script to keep a shadow.

He was so happy. He wanted to be happy for another five minutes. He wasn’t brave enough. If he could do it all over again, he would definitely do the bravest thing.

He would go and hold onto Mr. Shadow, would ask him for a photo together, would generously ask him to stay with him for another five minutes, and he would play the guitar for him.

Mr. Shadow grabbed his hand.

…Luo Chi looked at his own hand.

His mind was completely unable to turn. It took him a long time to realize that on his own hand, there was another person’s hand.

Luo Chi was a little puzzled. He blankly, painstakingly moved his gaze, letting his vision slowly focus in that fog.

Ming Weiting held Luo Chi’s hand tightly, his other hand gently stroking his hair.

Then he saw, in those invariably curved, black, clean, and empty eyes, large tears suddenly, uncontrollably welling up.