Luo Chi was genuinely worried in his dream.

Auntie Ren wouldn’t help him come up with a solution; she was actually laughing at him, and even poked his head, telling him to properly pay back his debt.

Luo Chi wanted to pretend to be unhappy to scare Auntie Ren, but he failed in less than half a second. He lowered his head, his lips unable to stop lifting upwards, a smile continuously bubbling out.

He missed Auntie Ren so much. He thought about going to find Auntie Ren to apologize for all the things over the years; he seemed to have so much to apologize for.

Now that he had finally dreamed of Auntie Ren, he had forgotten everything he wanted to say.

He just tried hard to wipe his eyes clearer, to see that smiling face clearly. It was as if a memory-eating squirrel lived in his head; there were always large blank spaces. It didn’t matter if many memories were eaten; he didn’t want to forget Auntie Ren.

Auntie Ren raised her hand with a smile, stroking his hair again, and held him in her arms like when he was a child, rubbing him thoroughly before finally, slowly letting go.

Auntie Ren bent down and touched his forehead with hers. “Be happy.”

When he was recuperating at Sea-view Villa, every time Auntie Ren had to leave for something, she would say goodbye to him like this.

Luo Chi was actually happy all the time during those three months.

When Auntie Ren left on business, he stayed in the villa by himself. Just thinking that Auntie Ren would come back made him feel happy. When Auntie Ren finally came back, he was, of course, even happier.

He actually suspected that Auntie Ren had long seen through his pretense that his leg injury hadn’t healed, but Auntie Ren never asked.

Auntie Ren didn’t ask, so he couldn’t help but want to steal one more day.

He pressed on that leg, sat on the roof of the car, and wished upon the stars, one more day, just one more day.

When he grew up, he would also accompany Auntie Ren for many, many days, and never leave.

At that time, he felt that he must be the happiest thief in the world. How could he have stolen so many happy things just by falling and hurting his leg?

Luo Chi stood up. He was no longer pretending to have a leg injury. He stood up with her, wanting to follow that figure and walk together.

After running just a few steps, Auntie Ren turned around and poked his forehead twice without being polite.

…He owed a lot of debt.

Auntie Ren disliked people who didn’t pay their debts.

Luo Chi stopped where he was. He looked back behind him, then looked at Auntie Ren.

He remembered what he used to do as a child.

Luo Chi lifted the corners of his lips. He tried hard to stand up straight, wanting to make himself look better, more reassuring.

…

Perhaps because he was not very convincing now, his plan to see Auntie Ren off this time was not very successful.

He saw Auntie Ren sigh softly, then walk back and knock him on the head.

Auntie Ren took his hand.

Luo Chi turned his head and suddenly found that the space that had always been blank had turned into a beach and a starry night.

On the sand dune was a bright, scorching bonfire. The bonfire blazed, the wood crackling as it burned. From time to time, sparks were lifted up by the wind, and the sea waves also became gentle on such a night.

Auntie Ren led him through the crowd, walking straight ahead, to a place where the firelight could almost no longer reach, to the side of the rugged, towering reefs.

Luo Chi’s eyes widened slightly.

He saw Mr. Shadow here.

Mr. Shadow held out his hand, and Auntie Ren placed his hand in it.

The sound of a steam whistle echoed long and clear from across the sea. The lights of the cruise ship suddenly illuminated the sea surface, and Luo Chi’s vision turned into a vast expanse of white.

Everything in the dream gradually disappeared in this whiteness.

Luo Chi stood in the dense fog again.

…

He had rested here for a long time, and for the first time, he suddenly felt anxious.

His memories were here. He had always guarded these memories like a miserly dragon, picking and choosing among them, painstakingly finding a small segment that was enough to serve as a bedtime story to fall asleep peacefully.

Then the thorns that grew from more memories spread and grew, binding his body, tying his hands and feet, keeping him in place.

He didn’t want to stay here anymore.

He didn’t know how to get out, so he ran in the direction where the steam whistle had sounded, following his intuition.

He found that he was being devoured by this fog. The more he ran, the more it devoured him, but it didn’t matter. Before he completely disappeared, he wanted to see the outside.

He remembered that the outside was a hospital. He didn’t particularly like hospitals, but it wasn’t a big problem.

He wanted to see the outside.

Luo Chi crashed out of the fog.

He could no longer distinguish his own shape and silhouette, but he smelled the scent of the sea waves. Cool spray was carried up by the sea breeze, lightly touching his face.

…

Ming Weiting held Luo Chi in his arms and carefully placed him on the deck chair.

The cruise ship also had an onboard doctor, and the corresponding recuperation room had already been renovated. The Xun family had sent more people, and all the necessary medical facilities had been fully equipped.

After confirming that Luo Chi’s physical condition was basically stable, Ming Weiting brought him back to the cruise ship.

They returned in the early morning. The wind had not yet been heated by the sun, but it had basically lost the coldness of the night.

The weather was very good. The sun had peeked out a little from between the clouds, a very high-saturation, reddish, warm orange color.

Luo Chi’s body suddenly struggled weakly in his arms.

Ming Weiting held him in time, preparing to have Uncle Lu bring over the oxygen concentrator. He raised his gaze, about to speak, and suddenly froze.

Luo Chi, pillowed in his arms, slowly opened his eyes.

Unlike every time he had woken up before, Luo Chi’s expression was a little dazed, but his gaze was no longer as empty as before.

Ming Weiting looked at him and said in a low voice, “Xiao Huo Miao.”

Luo Chi blinked lightly.

He subconsciously went to identify the other person’s lip movements, then he remembered that he could hear a little sound. The sounds were processed by the slowly turning gears, and bit by bit, an answer was produced: “Xiao Huo Miao?”

Ming Weiting slowly held his hand.

Ming Weiting raised his other hand and stroked Luo Chi’s hair. Seeing that Luo Chi still did not resist, the pressure of his palm became a little deeper. “Who are you?”

Luo Chi was stumped by this question.

He had carried a large bundle of memories that couldn’t be lost, holding them tightly like a miser, and had run out of that fog without stopping for a moment, only he seemed to have forgotten to bring this with him.

Fortunately, the other person didn’t seem to require him to answer this question. After waiting for only a moment, he pressed on the top of his head and shook his head slightly.

Then, that voice, in the same gentle, slow pace, slowly asked, “Who am I?”

Luo Chi curved his eyes slightly.

He remembered, and said seriously, “Creditor.”

Ming Weiting looked at him, frowning slightly.

Luo Chi took his expression in, slowly bit his tongue, a triumphant, spirited smile flowing from his eyes.

It was the first time Ming Weiting had seen such an expression on Luo Chi. Although he didn’t understand why, when he came back to his senses, he found that he had already instinctively started smiling along with him.

He thought it must be because of Luo Chi’s current state. Luo Chi had recovered more than before. He was concerned about Luo Chi’s body, and now that he was a little relieved, he couldn’t help but be happy along with him.

But his heart was still weighed down by the question Luo Chi couldn’t answer just now, so the smile only lasted for a moment before it was put away.

“Shadow,” Luo Chi answered properly this time. “Shadow, sir.”

After running for so long, Luo Chi was actually very tired, and he still felt very powerless over this body. It was as if he were pulling strings from a very distant place, bit by bit, to make the corresponding movements.

But he still patiently gathered his strength to make his answer clear and fluent enough.

Luo Chi said these few words very lightly and slowly. He would hold each word in his mouth for a few seconds before solemnly, and with extra care and standard pronunciation, saying it out loud.

Luo Chi rested for a while, then accused him again, “Creditor.”

This time, Ming Weiting did understand his meaning.

…According to the rules of the transaction, what Luo Chi had given was only the price for that one painting.

Even if the price he had given was multiplied many times over, there was no reason to purchase more of the other’s paintings at the same price.

The “sirs” of the Ming family through the generations had probably never done such an unruly thing as buying and selling by force.

Ming Weiting composed himself. He was still organizing his thoughts, trying to find a more reasonable reference. But Luo Chi had already exhausted the last bit of strength he had gathered, and his head and neck slowly drooped.

Ming Weiting timely raised his hand to support the back of his shoulder, giving him something to lean on.

Although Luo Chi was exhausted, he was still awake. He tried hard not to let his eyes close, seriously looking at the water surface shimmering under the sunrise.

“Auntie Ren,” Luo Chi said softly.

Ming Weiting heard his voice. He was on Luo Chi’s left side at this moment, and didn’t deliberately adjust his position. He slowly asked in Luo Chi’s ear, “You remember Auntie Ren?”

Luo Chi nodded lightly and closed his eyes.

Ming Weiting turned his face sideways. He watched Luo Chi’s eyelashes close extremely slowly.

…Their conversation just now had been very relaxed. Luo Chi had even had the energy to joke with him as soon as he woke up, just like at the hotel.

But he had already made a very serious mistake once, so this time he would not just assume that everything was fine and confidently carry Luo Chi to rest.

Ming Weiting held Luo Chi’s shoulders and shook him gently.

Luo Chi was startled awake by the shaking and subconsciously opened his eyes. His mind was still muddled, and behind the fog in his eyes was a sorrowful confusion so overwhelming it could drown a person, but in the next moment, he woke up completely.

The awakened Luo Chi blinked gently. Seeing Mr. Shadow, a little smile slowly overflowed from his eyes.

Ming Weiting looked at those eyes.

He recalled all the reference materials given by the doctor and compared them with everything that had happened at the hotel, finally being able to gradually distinguish the difference.

The awake Luo Chi was genuinely happy to see Mr. Shadow, and the smile was real.

Luo Chi was too easily satisfied. When he encountered something worth being happy about, he would feel happy. But the sadness was too deep and oppressive, and finally, at a certain point, Luo Chi completely lost the ability to deal with it.

So Luo Chi had also separated himself. He had left a scarred self to die with the pain and sadness that couldn’t be dealt with, forever submerged in the dense fog. The remaining self came out for a breath of fresh air, to find happy things, to reassure those who cared about him.

Until the day the cruise ship arrived, Luo Chi was found on the beach… At that time, Luo Chi finally no longer had any strength to interact with the outside world, leaving everyone with only a temporarily living empty shell.

The mistake at the hotel that night was not that he hadn’t made Luo Chi happier.

Ming Weiting had not distinguished that flame, had not noticed that the flame was already surrounded by malice, had not discovered the Luo Chi who was being entangled and strangled by thorns and poisonous barbs, slowly suffocating.

The pain, harm, and despair that had already been caused would not disappear on their own just by not thinking about them or touching them.

It was his own mistake, not having passed through that lively and reassuring halo of light to go and hold him.

He could not make the same mistake again.

“Xiao Huo Miao,” Ming Weiting said, “Let’s go do happy things.”

“Do many happy things, more than all the sad things you’ve encountered before.”

Ming Weiting looked at him. “Let’s solve all the sad things.”

He couldn’t just be presumptuous, couldn’t just rashly lock up all the sad parts of himself.

Luo Chi had not regained his ability to distinguish, so he had not yet discovered that the parts he had locked up were increasing… even including his entire perception of himself.

“Don’t be in a hurry,” Ming Weiting said. “You don’t have to be in a hurry to be happy. It’s okay.”

“You should also be happy. When there are happy things, you should smile.”

Ming Weiting slowly told him, “You can also be sad.”

Luo Chi’s eyes flickered slightly. He had already guessed that “Xiao Huo Miao” was referring to himself.

Ming Weiting’s speech was very slow, just enough for him to continue to understand the rest of the words.

Luo Chi’s eyes widened slightly as he listened. He was a little surprised by the other’s statement and shook his head gently. “I’m not…”

He wanted to say “I’m not sad,” but a strange pain suddenly welled up from the depths of his chest. Luo Chi didn’t even have time to react before he let out a muffled groan, instinctively curling up his body and falling off balance.

He fell into Ming Weiting’s arms and was held by Ming Weiting as they sat on the deck.

Cold sweat kept breaking out on Luo Chi’s forehead, his body curling up tighter and tighter.

He had only brought out those happy memories. The deeper parts of his mind were still chaotic and bewildered. He had no idea what was happening, just panting lightly in a cold sweat, his eyes wide as he looked at the figure beside him.

He had just wanted to come out and take a look, for as long as he could.

He wanted to come out so badly that even if the price was his own disappearance, he still wanted to come out and see Auntie Ren, to see Mr. Shadow.

…The people who had rushed over were stopped by Ming Lu and silently retreated into the cabin.

Ming Lu did not let anyone approach and personally stood guard not far away.

He had returned to the ship originally to report on Mrs. Luo’s matter.

The Luo family was in such a mess it was about to collapse. Luo Chengxiu was hospitalized and probably wouldn’t be able to come for tea for a while. The Luo family’s girl had probably been unable to bear the blow and had run away from home, and had not yet been found…

…But these things were completely unimportant.

Ming Lu had someone fetch the oxygen concentrator and also reminded the head of housekeeping to lay a thick, soft carpet near the deck chairs next time.

Ming Weiting knelt on the deck, firmly protecting Luo Chi. “Xiao Huo Miao.”

“Xiao Huo Miao,” Ming Weiting relaxed his arms bit by bit. “Look at me.”

It had happened so suddenly. Fortunately, he had not let Luo Chi fall.

Ming Weiting simply didn’t stand up, but just held Luo Chi’s body, stroking his tensed and trembling back over and over again.

Luo Chi was in too much pain to move, yet he still didn’t know to be on guard against him, just keeping his eyes wide open, one hand hanging limply by his side.

Ming Weiting’s hand on his back was clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

He lowered his gaze, his face still showing nothing. He just held Luo Chi’s hand and placed his own cuff in it.

“When you’re happy, you should smile,” Ming Weiting asked softly. “What should you do when you’re sad?”

Luo Chi slowly understood the question and slowly closed his eyes.

He wasn’t avoiding the question; he was trying hard to find the answer.

…It wasn’t just Mr. Shadow who had asked him this question.

Auntie Ren had also asked.

Because he was firmly believed by all to have lost his sister, he had always argued with his family back then. The more no one listened to him, the more no one believed him, the more he would stubbornly argue back.

Until one day, he finally knew that he had implicated Auntie Ren.

Auntie Ren and Mrs. Luo had grown up together since childhood, but this time, she had completely stood on his side. Auntie Ren had spoken up for him everywhere, refuting her once-so-close friend, and in the end, they had a complete falling out, and a relationship of decades was thus broken.

He was taken upstairs by someone… he didn’t remember the name, it should be Auntie Ren’s son.

With a limp in one leg, he was quietly led upstairs by Auntie Ren’s son and saw Auntie Ren sitting alone in her room, sorting through the photos that had been torn up by Mrs. Luo.

After that, Luo Chi never made a scene again.

He no longer desperately refuted the matter, nor did he want to explain it to everyone… He told himself it was nothing.

It was nothing.

He, the great Xiao Huo Miao, a man, would not be sad over this.

But Auntie Ren had somehow discovered this matter.

That day, Auntie Ren sat by his bed, held him tightly, and sobbed, constantly saying, “I’m sorry, Xiao Huo Miao, I’m sorry.”

Auntie Ren’s hands were so cold. He was terrified. He hugged Auntie Ren back tightly, wanting to share the warmth of his chest with her, and lowered his head to breathe on her hands to warm them.

But Auntie Ren had just asked him, what should you do when you’re sad?

Mr. Shadow was now asking him this question too, which meant the answer was very important.

Auntie Ren had taught him, but he had forgotten.

After Auntie Ren passed away, this trick was no longer effective.

But he still remembered. Of course, he still remembered. He would never forget anything Auntie Ren had taught him. He just needed to think, needed to go back into that dense fog and dig out this answer…

Luo Chi held Ming Weiting’s wrist.

His hand was trembling, his fingers barely had any strength. It took him a long time to gently pull his stiff arm back a little.

Ming Weiting sharply sensed that bit of force and immediately raised his hand along with him.

Luo Chi pulled his hand, painstakingly reaching for his own chest.

…What should you do when you’re sad?

Ming Weiting followed that hand, his gaze gradually lifting.

He completely gave the lead to Luo Chi. A slight movement of Luo Chi’s fingers was enough; he would immediately supply the corresponding force.

Luo Chi sat in front of him, his brow still furrowed in confusion, just moving according to the force in his memory.

Luo Chi pulled his hand from a thousand miles away to his own chest.

Ming Weiting followed him. Through the soft fabric covering the painfully throbbing ribs, he placed his palm on Luo Chi’s cold left chest and pressed it down, bit by bit.

That heart struggled in his chest cavity, weakly and desperately beating against his hand.

“…It hurts,” Luo Chi said. “It hurts so much.”