The people who came with Ren Chenbai didn’t dare to intervene.

The fate of the Luo family was laid bare right there. That Mr. Ming was clearly determined to get serious.

Their family didn’t have any maritime business, but there were always others who had to travel by sea. Over these past few days, several partners who were originally very close had suddenly disappeared, and their phone calls had become evasive.

It wasn’t until Ren Chenbai’s unconscious struggles weakened that the Ming family’s chief steward finally gave the order to let go, then turned and left the pier.

Only then did the assistant dare to breathe. A few people hurriedly went over, and with many hands, they helped the person in the water up, pulling and dragging him ashore.

Ren Chenbai was still breathing, but he was not very conscious. He grabbed the person next to him and asked, “What seashell?”

How would the assistant know? He couldn’t be bothered to answer him and was just busy helping him into the car, frantically sending him to their own hospital.

Ren Chenbai kept asking questions on the way, and he was also extremely agitated. The assistant really had no other way and could only take out the tranquilizer that was kept in the car, trying his best to soothe him, “Mr. Ren, relax, just sleep for a while…”

They had known for a long time that Mr. Ren was not very clear-headed recently. This thing was always kept in the car and it wasn’t the first time they had used it.

Ren Chenbai looked at the approaching syringe and became even more irritable and angry. “How dare you!”

“I have no problem, I don’t need this thing!” Ren Chenbai roared. “Who told you to use this on me? All of you, get lost! Let go—”

“Mr. Ren, Mr. Ren,” the assistant persuaded him in a low, pained voice. “Don’t you always use this on Mr. Luo?”

They all knew that Ren Chenbai’s current state was because of that Mr. Luo, so every time they found Mr. Ren becoming anxious, they would try to bring up Luo Zhi to soothe him. “This is just a tranquilizer, it’s nothing. Mr. Luo doesn’t feel bad after each injection…”

Ren Chenbai was held down by several people. He watched the cold needle pierce his vein. The assistant’s words almost became a kind of noisy, sharp noise in his ears.

…It’s nothing?

You won’t feel bad after the injection?

There were clearly still things to say and things to do. To be forced to watch the medicine being injected into one’s body, to have one’s consciousness slowly fade while being awake, how could that feel good?!

Ren Chenbai was almost furious. He struggled desperately to get up, but he had already quickly lost the strength to control his body.

…

As his consciousness also began to blur, the detestable assistant before him suddenly turned into his own face.

He saw himself pressing down on Luo Zhi’s shoulder, having someone inject the syringe, and still saying that it was for Luo Zhi’s own good.

He saw Luo Zhi slowly become quiet and limp in his arms. A strong, almost suffocating unease suddenly arose in him.

He wanted Luo Zhi to wake up. He shook that body hard, tightened his arms, and that body suddenly turned into dark, cold water, spilling all over the ground without any warning.

“Chenbai,” he heard his mother’s voice. “Why do you call Huo Miao ‘Xiao Zhi’?”

He didn’t remember his mother ever saying these words to him.

He couldn’t be bothered with anything else for the time being. He just frantically tried to scoop up the water. He heard his mother’s voice ringing continuously.

His mother was talking to him, her tone a stranger’s in his memory.

“From now on, you are not allowed to go find Huo Miao again. You are not allowed to see him again.”

“It’s my fault. I didn’t raise you well.”

“I will find you a psychologist.”

“Don’t go find Huo Miao again. You must let him go.”

“Chenbai, this is wrong.”

His mother’s tone grew more and more tired and weak. “You shouldn’t do this. How could you be like this…”

…He knew, he knew, he knew.

He knew he was wrong.

Ren Chenbai tried to explain to his mother. He knew he was wrong. He was trying to fix it now.

Ren Chenbai knelt on the ground.

He tried in vain to hold onto a puddle of water that couldn’t be scooped up, but his palms were empty. There was no water, not even sand.

His mother’s voice was behind him, asking him in disbelief, “Chenbai… you threw away a seashell?”

…

Ming Lu brought his men back to the cruise ship.

The lights in the room were on. Ming Lu had specially washed his hands several times to make sure there was not the slightest bit of grease left before gently knocking on the door and walking in.

Ming Weiting was sitting by the bed, doing crafts with Luo Chi.

Luo Chi was playing with a seashell in his hand. He looked up when he heard the knock. He recognized Ming Lu, his eyes curved, and he spoke softly, “Uncle Lu.”

Ming Lu greeted him as “sir” and walked over after seeing Ming Weiting nod.

The people on the cruise ship had already adapted to Luo Chi’s state. Ming Lu squatted down and greeted Luo Chi properly, “Huo Miao.”

Luo Chi clearly liked this name. The smile in his eyes immediately brightened, and he stretched out his hand, generously giving him the seashell.

Ming Lu’s expression also softened, and he smiled and thanked Luo Chi.

He took the seashell, carefully wrapped it in a handkerchief in front of Luo Chi, deliberately showed it to Luo Chi, and then put it away properly in his pocket.

…Although he could only learn about what happened at the Seaview Villa through video recordings, Ming Lu was actually gradually coming to understand why Ren Shuangmei had been so fond of this child.

In this world, it seemed there were really that many things worth making Luo Chi happy.

The current Luo Chi didn’t remember many things. He often forgot new things that happened and even had to be reminded every day to remember his name was “Huo Miao,” but he was still happy every day.

He would be happy to see the waves, happy when the shape of the clouds was beautiful. When the sunlight happened to fall on his palm, he could also play with it with great interest for a long time.

…

If it weren’t for the fact that when he woke up from every overly long dream, before he was fully awake, the intense fatigue and bewilderment that occupied Luo Chi’s consciousness almost overflowed, they would have almost thought there was a carefree young master on the ship.

Ming Weiting touched Luo Chi’s fingers. When he opened his hand, he placed another seashell in his palm.

“Uncle Lu,” Ming Weiting asked. “What’s wrong?”

Ming Lu came back to his senses and shook his head, dumbfounded. “It’s not urgent.”

Since it wasn’t urgent, it meant it was the kind of thing that was related to Luo Chi but couldn’t be said in front of him.

Ming Weiting nodded and continued to focus on making the craft.

He was still not good at this kind of work. Luo Chi’s right hand was almost useless, but it was still more flexible than his. He quickly found a suitable place for that seashell.

Ming Weiting gave up pinching the seashell and instead raised his hand and gently pinched his earlobe.

Luo Chi, having been praised for being amazing, became even more motivated and steadily placed several more seashells down.

In just a few days, he had recovered quite well. It was only when he went to take a seashell from Ming Weiting’s hand for the fifth time that his fingers began to tremble slightly from exhaustion.

“Huo Miao.” Ming Weiting held his hand. When Luo Chi noticed and looked up, meeting his gaze, he said, “Take a rest.”

Luo Chi still wanted to try and shook his head.

He didn’t let Ming Weiting help, just lowered his head and patiently tried slowly on his own. After picking it up countless times, he finally managed to pinch the edge of the seashell smoothly without letting it fall from between his fingers.

Ming Lu couldn’t help but want to help. Seeing Ming Weiting shake his head slightly, he had to withdraw his hand.

…In fact, Luo Chi didn’t need to rush to do these things.

There were no urgent matters that had to be done now. There was plenty of time for Luo Chi to recuperate and slowly recover from a state where his foundations were almost completely destroyed—besides, the root cause of Luo Chi’s right hand’s weakness was still the pressure of the tumor in his skull. It would actually be fine to do rehabilitation after the surgery.

Although that way, it would inevitably make his wrist and fingers less flexible, but if he just wanted to ensure a normal life in the future, it would still be completely sufficient.

However, Luo Chi didn’t seem to have this idea.

At least, the Luo Chi who had left that dense fog and temporarily come out to breathe had no such idea at all.

Luo Chi just looked at his hand intently. His right hand was trembling uncontrollably, but he still held the seashell.

Then, Luo Chi spent even more time, bit by bit finding the right position, and inlaid the seashell on the pavilion that was already beginning to take shape.

…

After finishing these things, Luo Chi finally let out a low sigh of relief.

He still kept his gaze down, his body motionless. That hand slowly slid down from exhaustion.

Ming Weiting caught the falling hand in time. He could see that Luo Chi’s dizziness was starting to act up again. He reached out and gently pulled Luo Chi in, trying his best not to disturb him, and let the body soaked in a cold sweat rest steadily on his shoulder.

Luo Chi opened his eyes to look at him, his eyes curved slightly, then he quickly closed them again.

Only after Luo Chi’s breathing had returned to a steady rhythm did Ming Weiting take the paper towel handed over by Ming Lu and wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. “Two more pieces than yesterday.”

Luo Chi’s right hand was still trembling slightly, but this time it was only due to exhaustion. The previous obvious stiffness from lack of strength was significantly less.

He heard Ming Weiting’s voice, slowly discerned the meaning of the content, and the corners of his mouth lifted in extreme satisfaction.

“Two more pieces,” Luo Chi repeated Ming Weiting’s words, reporting to himself in a low voice, “Huo Miao.”

Ming Lu stood to the side.

He suddenly understood why Luo Chi had to do this.

Luo Chi’s right hand was capable of holding a paintbrush, of strumming the strings of a guitar like a show-off, of doing many things that normal people would find difficult.

There were no shortcuts to playing the guitar. No matter how talented one was, it still required hard work, endless, tedious practice over and over again.

In the recordings from the Seaview Villa, there were long stretches of Luo Chi practicing the basics on his own. His fingers were chafed many times before he could finally play the most difficult rhythm completely fluently.

The Luo Chi who came out to breathe couldn’t remember himself, but he still remembered to be responsible for that small cluster of dim, ethereal flames submerged in the dense fog.

Luo Chi rested for a while, then pulled on Ming Weiting’s clothes with his left hand.

The strength in his left hand was much more definite and stable. Even though he didn’t have much strength left at this time, he still clearly conveyed his intention.

Ming Weiting lowered his head, “You have something for me?”

The current Luo Chi didn’t like to talk much and didn’t have the strength to do much. The two of them inexplicably developed a lot of tacit understanding. Sometimes when Ming Lu saw Luo Chi pulling on Ming Weiting’s shirt, he even suspected that the young master was treating the sir as a telegraph machine.

Luo Chi was very satisfied with the telegraph machine. His left hand fumbled behind him for a while, and he pulled out a seashell from somewhere.

Ming Weiting had been doing crafts with him all day, watching Luo Chi give away seashells everywhere. He hadn’t expected him to have saved a bigger one for himself. He reached out to take it. “Is there a letter from Huo Miao?”

He was getting more and more skilled at being this fan. Although one part of the process had changed from “making crafts to give to the idol” to “accompanying the idol to make crafts and do rehabilitation at the same time,” the rest of the process was not affected and was still remembered very well.

Luo Chi was amused by him but shook his head. “No.”

Ming Weiting asked, “Why?”

Luo Chi didn’t speak again, just held Ming Weiting’s hand and suddenly shook it.

The seashell in Ming Weiting’s hand suddenly made a rustling sound.

He was a little curious. He picked up the seashell and looked at it carefully, only to find that Luo Chi had stuffed many small seashells inside.

The spiral inside the seashell blocked those seashells. Although they couldn’t come out, they could slide back and forth and collide, making a not-so-crisp crashing sound.

Ming Weiting held the seashell and shook it back and forth a few times.

He looked at the expectant look in Luo Chi’s eyes and couldn’t help but lift the corners of his mouth. He placed the seashell next to Luo Chi’s left ear and shook it back and forth with the frequency of his speech, “Thank you.”

Luo Chi generously said “you’re welcome” and concentrated on listening to the sound.

It wasn’t empty. The seashells knocked gently in the shaking seashell.

The opening of the shell was held to his ear, as if he could hear the wind and the sound of the tide.

…

He finally used up all his strength.

Luo Chi was pulled down to lie down. The seashell stopped shaking, but the sound in his mind was regular and hypnotic, and his thoughts also gradually became dazed.

Weariness came over him like a tide, silently.

He still had medicine to take at night. Ming Weiting couldn’t let him fall asleep now. He got up to get the medicine from the medicine box nearby but heard Ming Lu calling Luo Chi from behind.

Luo Chi didn’t respond. He lay on the bed, his eyes still slightly open.

Ming Weiting didn’t disturb him and stood still.

…At such times, when he was half-asleep, Luo Chi would occasionally be too tired and unable to keep the two sides so separate, and would instead be closer to his truest state.

The Luo Chi who remembered nothing, who would be happy and laugh, was naturally able to make people feel happy along with him, wanting to find ways to make him even happier… But the current Luo Chi was the real one.

The current Luo Chi was pale and quiet, having had a good dream disturbed, dragged back from the sea by them without a word. He would still need some time to slowly figure out what had happened.

Luo Chi lay quietly for a while, then propped himself up bit by bit and slowly surveyed his surroundings.

He sat motionless, looking at the seashells arranged like a stall by the bed. After a long while, a hint of curiosity slowly appeared between his brows. He reached out and gently touched them.

He seemed to like this creation very much. He lowered his head and studied it seriously for a long time, wanting to put the remaining seashells on it as well, only to find that his right hand seemed to be disobedient.

Ming Weiting returned to the bedside and held his hand.

Luo Chi’s dazed, lowered eyelashes trembled. He seemed to want to look up immediately, but his body couldn’t move fast at all, so he still had to use twice as much time to finally raise his head.

As he saw the person sitting in front of him clearly, his eyes also lit up faintly.

“Shadow,” Luo Chi recognized him again. “Mr. Shadow.”

His voice was now lighter than when he was awake, and his speech was also slower, as if even speaking required a great deal of effort.

Ming Weiting imitated his speech, “Mr. Huo Miao.”

Luo Chi couldn’t help but purse his lips.

He felt as if he had slept for a long time again, but he still felt sleepy. His head was a little heavy, and his memories were all jumbled together.

Ming Weiting brought him medicine and water, and he swallowed them all.

“Right leg,” Luo Chi only remembered to ask after taking the medicine. “Is it for treating the leg?”

He saw Ming Weiting nod, then tried to move his arm again and found that his right hand still couldn’t move. “Did I fall very hard?”

Ming Weiting was stunned for a moment, then nodded lightly and stroked Luo Chi’s hair.

The usual Luo Chi wouldn’t remember to ask what was wrong with him, nor would he feel the need to ask. Although he could only hold five seashells so far and had to have infusions, injections, and take a lot of medicine, he was still confident that he was very healthy.

The Luo Chi who remembered everything couldn’t sort out these memories for the time being. Because his right leg couldn’t move, he would also occasionally think he had just fallen from the second floor not long ago and was still recovering at the Seaview Villa.

“It’s okay,” Ming Weiting assured him. “If you recuperate like this, you’ll recover soon.”

Ming Weiting told him, “You will become very healthy.”

Luo Chi thought for a while and slowly nodded.

He didn’t really care about this, but he was still very clear that the other person was taking care of him. He thanked him softly, and his gaze fell on the seashell in Ming Weiting’s hand again.

Luo Chi looked a little hesitant and asked softly, “Did I make it?”

Ming Weiting looked down and was about to answer when he was suddenly stopped by Ming Lu with a gesture.

Ming Lu approached and quickly said a few words to him in a low voice.

Ming Weiting’s brow gradually furrowed.

He didn’t know why he had to say that, but he didn’t ask much, just nodded. “Yes, I picked it up.”

“I picked it up,” Ming Weiting said. “So I came to pick you up.”

Luo Chi was obviously stunned by this answer for a while.

He looked at Ming Weiting. He instinctively felt that there was something wrong here. Perhaps it was the logic, perhaps it was the time—or perhaps the memory had another branch here, a clearly different, another answer.

He wanted to believe this answer so much that the fog in his mind almost turned into boiling steam, and then in an instant, it turned into a cold sweat that poured out.

He fell on Mr. Shadow’s arm, then struggled to sit up, doing his best to hold that hand.

“Don’t,” Luo Chi said in a low voice. “Don’t tell Aunt Ren.”

Luo Chi clutched his arm, for the first time using such obvious strength in his hand. His knuckles turned bluish-white, trembling finely. “Don’t tell Aunt Ren…”

He heard Mr. Shadow’s answer. His pained, blurry consciousness finally relaxed a little. Before he could say more, he fell into a deep sleep.

…

Ming Weiting was still sitting by Luo Chi’s bed.

He held Luo Chi’s loosely curled hand. Next to him was the seashell full of shells. He took the computer that Ming Lu had hurriedly brought over with one hand and placed it on his lap.

“The young master spent three months recovering at the Seaview Villa,” Ming Lu said in a low voice. “At that time—”

Ming Weiting nodded. “I know.”

Ming Lu hesitated, his words unspoken, and stopped, his mind heavy.

Ming Weiting looked at the sleeping Luo Chi. He placed the seashell by Luo Chi’s pillow.

…He was already very clear about what had happened during that time.

Luo Chi was pushed down from the second floor by that woman from the Luo family, injured his leg, and was taken back to the Seaview Villa by Madam Ren to recover for three months. It was also at that time that he learned to play the guitar.

It was also at that time that Madam Ren insisted on clarifying what had happened, completely falling out with the Luo family and cutting off ties with her friends of many years.

Luo Chi, dragging his injured leg, was led upstairs by Ren Chenbai to see Madam Ren, who was alone, organizing the torn photos.

It was from that day that Luo Zhi began to learn not to feel wronged.

Luo Zhi no longer made a fuss, no longer retorted, no longer clarified.

How much effort had Madam Ren spent to teach him to say it hurt again?

Ming Weiting looked at the scene in the video recording.

It looked like they were preparing for a bonfire party. Many things were already piled up in the room.

Madam Ren was very happy, with a Luo Chi who was even happier than her.

The two of them ate snacks while preparing. Luo Chi was so excited he even forgot to pretend his leg was bad. He ran a few steps before remembering and, to make up for it, hopped on one leg a few times.

…

Luo Chi stood on one leg, his ears flushed red as he glanced at his Aunt Ren.

Aunt Ren looked at the sky and hummed a song, pretending not to notice.

This time, Luo Chi was completely red. He stiffly hopped on one leg, about to run, but was pulled back by Aunt Ren, who tapped his head. “What does Xiao Huo Miao want most?”

Luo Chi didn’t understand and his eyes widened.

“Xiao Huo Miao gave Aunt Ren so many gifts,” Aunt Ren deliberately drew out her voice. “What does Xiao Huo Miao want?”

Luo Chi shook his head hard. He didn’t want anything. He was about to explain when a seashell was suddenly stuffed into his arms.

Aunt Ren stood in front of him, looking at him with a smile.

“A wishing seashell,” Aunt Ren told him quietly. “Write a letter, stuff it inside, and hide it.”

Luo Chi had actually guessed a little—he certainly guessed that Aunt Ren was going to give him a gift, and was afraid he would be too embarrassed to say it. He wasn’t a child anymore. He certainly knew there were no gods living in seashells.

He shouldn’t hide everything and not say it. Aunt Ren must have been particularly worried about him, which was why she came up with this method.

Luo Chi knew he had to reflect, but he couldn’t be bothered for the time being. He was so happy he felt hot. “Hide it where?”

“Hide it—hide it behind the reef,” Aunt Ren thought for a moment. “Just hide it there. Write down what Xiao Huo Miao wants most.”

“As long as you write it, it will all come true. Whatever you write will come true.”

Aunt Ren guaranteed with full confidence, “Really, really, really.”

Luo Chi pursed his lips and chuckled. He had never played this kind of game before and couldn’t help but be childish along with her. “Really, really, really?”

Aunt Ren laughed and shouted loudly, “Really, really, really!”

The two of them suddenly began to repeat “really” endlessly, their foreheads touching, laughing happily until their stomachs started to hurt.

“Madam Ren saw the calendar in the room and guessed the meaning of the countdown.”

Ming Lu had already seen these recordings and sorted out the context. “So she came up with this method.”

—Madam Ren had guessed that Luo Chi was carefully counting the stolen days, and at the same time, counting down for himself.

Just stealing three months, exactly three months.

Then he had to return it immediately, absolutely could not go too far.

Madam Ren guessed that Luo Zhi was counting the days, so on the last day of the third month, Madam Ren specially found the most crowded place on the beach and held the most lively bonfire party for Luo Zhi.

What wish did Madam Ren want Luo Zhi to write in the seashell?

Luo Zhi actually didn’t know either.

Perhaps he was too happy that day, so happy he was a little dizzy. He went back to his room in a daze, forgetting to hop on one leg.

Luo Zhi held that seashell, too happy to sleep.

He found the best paper and pen, and with one stroke after another, he wrote down the craziest, boldest, most greedy wish.

Luo Zhi even piously made a wish to the seashell first, before carefully writing on that piece of paper.

“Hello, I am Xiao Huo Miao.”

“Please take me home.”