Mr. Ming didn’t make a sound right away, nor did he move.

Luo Chi waited a moment, then raised his hand and lightly tapped twice on his chest, as if knocking on a door.

Ming Weiting took his hand and spoke in a low voice, “Just a moment.”

Luo Chi was curious, “Wait for what?”

“I can’t just scoop you up and run right now,” Ming Weiting said. “Your head would hurt.”

Luo Chi was super surprised, “Mr. Ming would also scoop someone up and run?”

Ming Weiting hummed in agreement, leaning his shoulder to block the wind coming from the shady side of the reef.

Last night, after Luo Chi fell asleep, he was holding onto his shirt. But Luo Chi’s right hand had no strength, and with the slightest movement, the shirt would slip from his loosely curled fingers.

Ming Weiting sat by the bed and, for a rare change, had a dream.

A very short dream. From falling into the dream to waking up, it seemed to be only a matter of minutes.

In the dream, he was back on that ship from ten years ago, seeing the bonfire on the shore.

What one thinks about by day, one dreams of by night. Ming Weiting had indeed thought many times about what might have happened if he had gotten off the ship back then.

Most of these thoughts ended without conclusion. At that time, he had no understanding of guitars or painting, nor was he skilled at describing what he knew. If he had rashly knocked on the door, whatever he said would most likely have gotten him chased out by Auntie Ren wielding a broom.

So in that dream, he got off the ship, scooped Luo Chi up, and ran.

Of course, Mr. Ming couldn’t do such a thing. Fortunately, he wasn’t any “Mr. Ming” back then, and besides, it was just a dream.

Luo Chi was very adaptable; being suddenly picked up and carried off wouldn’t have scared him. The Luo Chi in the dream was interested in what he had to say, waved to Auntie Ren on the distant shore to ask for leave, and went out to sea with him for a week.

He taught Luo Chi to dive and showed him the secret underwater world he had discovered. Stalactites formed over tens of millions of years stood in the deep caves, schools of fish swam past them, and comb jellies drifted with the current, glowing with a soft violet light.

Luo Chi, his right hand held by him, looked at the world under the water and the starlight in the sky. Those scenes were painted on canvas, becoming even more magical and wonderful. Luo Chi sat on the gunwale playing his guitar, accompanied by the wind, the waves, and him.

…

It was an emotion that was difficult to articulate, and one that didn’t need to be fully explained.

After waking up, Ming Weiting sat for a long time. Watching Luo Chi in his dream, he just thought that he really should have started learning and practicing this long ago.

He should have scooped Luo Chi up and run.

Ming Weiting didn’t tighten his arms. He used as much strength to control himself from disturbing the just-recovered Luo Chi as he used to tighten his arms. Only after a long while did he lower his head.

Ming Weiting lowered his head. He cupped the back of Luo Chi’s head and neck and looked at him seriously.

Luo Chi was pillowing his head on his arm, clearly not worried about his answer at all, and was almost asleep while waiting.

Ming Weiting said softly, “Okay.”

Luo Chi slowly opened one eye and deliberately dragged out his words, “Okay what?”

Watching Luo Chi’s action, a smile even shone from the bottom of Ming Weiting’s eyes. He lowered his head to touch his forehead, “The surname is yours.”

Luo Chi had only wanted to borrow it, and while he had a mind to be polite, there was no need to be so generous. But he was immediately gathered into Ming Weiting’s arms, who stood up with controlled, gentle force.

Only then did Luo Chi realize that he really should have thought about it just now.

Ming Weiting’s movements were already as slow as possible, but Luo Chi was too relaxed in both body and mind right now and could hardly bear the pain. The red-hot iron slurry in his head that had just settled stirred again, and a few golden stars floated before his eyes.

If Mr. Shadow had really just scooped him up and run just now, he probably would have fainted on the spot for Mr. Shadow to see.

Luo Chi thought about that scenario, feeling both amused and apologetic, and slowly tugged on Ming Weiting’s sleeve. “I’m sorry, I’ll get better quickly.”

“You’re sick, how can you be sorry?” Ming Weiting let him lean on his shoulder. “It’s not like you wanted to be sick.”

Luo Chi was stunned for a moment. He closed his eyes, suppressing a warmth that had welled up in them for some reason.

He leaned back, completely relaxed, and rested quietly on the shoulder in front of him, letting out a long, exceptionally light, and exceptionally slow breath.

Holding him, Ming Weiting walked to the beach chair and gently set Luo Chi down comfortably.

There was no longer the shelter of the reef here, but as time passed, the daylight softened, and a sun umbrella had been put up. Luo Chi had just gotten through a headache, and listening to the sound of the tide and peacefully basking in the sun here would do him a lot of good.

Luo Chi lay on the beach chair. The sunlight was a bit dazzling, and he instinctively tilted his head slightly. His eyes were then covered by a palm.

Ming Weiting covered his eyes and, with one hand, adjusted the air cushion pillow on the beach chair for him. “Xiao Huo Miao.”

The two of them already had this kind of rapport. Luo Chi didn’t need to wait for the rest; he knew what he wanted to ask. “Auntie Ren gave it to me. It’s a nickname.”

“‘Chi’ was also given by Auntie. Auntie Ren was abroad at the time. When she heard I was born, she was very happy and specially discussed my name with them and sent me many gifts.”

Luo Chi said slowly, “Auntie only found out that I had come back after she returned to the country.”

He never talked about these things, but today he suddenly brought them up himself. Ming Weiting knew what he was thinking and sat beside him, listening attentively.

No matter how meticulous and detailed the surgical plan was, there was always a chance of an accident. Even the best team of experts couldn’t guarantee how much Luo Chi would remember after the surgery.

If Luo Chi really didn’t remember anything, then Ming Weiting would remember for him.

Luo Chi still remembered matters concerning Auntie Ren very clearly. He spoke about whatever came to mind. He remembered that when he was first brought back from the hospital, he always liked to stay cooped up in his room. Later, Auntie Ren pulled him out, and he sunbathed with her right around this spot on the beach.

“Actually, it was Auntie who was sunbathing with me.” Luo Chi recalled the event and smiled, his lips pressed together. “I fell asleep as soon as I lay down.”

“When I woke up, Auntie was holding me. The moon was out, and the sea was very bright.”

Luo Chi said softly, “I was thinking at that time, how could it be so good? It must be a dream.”

Ming Weiting lowered his head. Luo Chi’s eyelashes trembled lightly against his palm. Ming Weiting didn’t move his hand away, using his other hand to slowly wipe away the moisture that had spilled out.

He roughly knew the whole story, and it was far from being as lighthearted as Luo Chi described.

Mrs. Ren had spent most of her early years abroad, which was why she was familiar with the heads of those multinational corporations. By the time she returned to the country, Luo Chi was already five years old. The big one and the little one hit it off immediately, and for those few days, Mrs. Ren invited Luo Chi to be a guest at her home.

Later, when Luo Chi went missing, Mrs. Ren also tried everything she could to find him for three years. But it was like looking for a needle in a haystack; the chances of finding him were minuscule. For a lost child to return was already a stroke of immense luck.

But that family didn’t even announce that Luo Chi had been found. They even just left Luo Chi at the hospital.

Mrs. Ren was abroad, and news didn’t travel well. By the time she returned and learned of the matter, Luo Chi had already been living alone in the hospital for over half a month.

After being taken home by Mrs. Ren to recuperate, Luo Chi didn’t dare to sleep in the unfamiliar place. He was afraid he would lose control and hurt someone when he woke up. He survived for several nights by dozing hidden under the bed, until Mrs. Ren discovered it when she came to cover him with a blanket.

That night, Luo Chi still accidentally hurt Auntie Ren.

He locked himself in his room for a night. The next day, Mrs. Ren found wound medicine and a letter at the door.

When ten-year-old Luo Chi was dug out of his room by Auntie Ren, he was actually packing his bags, preparing to sneak away.

…

Having not slept well for too many days, Luo Chi was already unsteady on his feet when Auntie Ren pulled him to the beach. He lost consciousness almost as soon as he lay down.

The beach wasn’t like a room. There were no cold, hard places, no enclosed spaces. There was no one nearby, only the sound of the wind and waves. Luo Chi finally had his first good night’s sleep in three years.

He slept for a whole day. When he woke up, he was in Auntie Ren’s arms.

That heavy, steady shell of worries weathered and flaked away without warning. Auntie Ren took Luo Chi’s hand and taught him to say, “It hurts.”

Luo Chi repeated it over and over, stumbling through the words. Finally, he struggled to curl up desperately, trembling as he hid in Auntie’s arms, crying his heart out until he couldn’t make another sound.

“…And then Auntie and I both caught a cold.”

Luo Chi had a good cry under Mr. Shadow’s palm. He sniffled sheepishly, pulled up the corners of his mouth, and coughed twice.

He continued to recall the following events: “The two of us each had a pack of tissues and a bowl of Banlangen. Auntie put me on her lap, clinked her bowl against mine, and said, ‘Cheers’.”

Ming Weiting nodded, “Uncle Lu and I often wonder how, with Auntie’s teaching method, you didn’t actually grow up to be a pirate.”

Luo Chi laughed so hard he almost fell off the beach chair.

Ming Weiting caught him just in time. He decided not to bother with the chair that had lightly tipped over and just let Luo Chi lie on him. “‘Chi’ and ‘Xiao Huo Miao’ both sound nice.”

They were both given by Auntie, so Luo Chi, of course, tilted his head back proudly. “Of course.”

Ming Weiting stroked his hair, pondered for a moment, and chose his words. “Ming Squirrel.”

Luo Chi’s eyes widened as he looked at him.

Neither of them was serious. Ming Weiting’s smile deepened, and he deliberately beat around the bush, “Ming Guitar, Ming Wanderer, Ming In-Debt.”

Luo Chi couldn’t hold back his surprised questioning. He coughed and laughed at the same time, laughing until his stomach hurt. “Ming Black-Hearted Creditor.”

While he was making his righteous and stern accusation, he didn’t expect an actual IOU to be placed before his eyes, with a pen handed over as well.

Luo Chi looked at the IOU, rubbed his eyes in astonishment, and looked up in disbelief.

Ming Lu had come over at some point. He smilingly put down a plate of sliced fruit, then placed the IOU on a tray along with a pen in front of Luo Chi.

“I did prepare an IOU early on.” Ming Weiting ruffled his hair and put a piece of watermelon in his mouth. “I wanted to coax you into signing.”

The moment Luo Chi tried to speak, he bit into the watermelon. The cool, sweet juice instantly moistened his parched throat, making him take a comfortable breath in spite of himself.

…

But Luo Chi hadn’t forgotten what he wanted to say. He swallowed the watermelon with a gulp. “Thank you, Uncle Lu.”

Ming Weiting was most likely doing it on purpose. Before he had even finished his last word, he had already followed up, “Thank you, Uncle Lu.”

Ming Lu vaguely knew what the two were competing about and shook his head with a smile. “No need to thank me. We’ll be family from now on.”

He was already nearly seventy. Although still hale and steady, when he wasn’t acting as the Ming family’s head steward and was stooping over, he showed the particular kindness of an elder.

Ming Lu bent down and gently patted the top of Luo Chi’s head. “I like Xiao Huo Miaotoo.”

Holding Luo Chi, Ming Weiting could almost feel the big, definitely-not-five-and-a-half-year-old Xiao Huo Miao being cooked from the top of his head, turning red and stiff, suddenly becoming so well-behaved he didn’t know what to do with his hands and feet.

Ming Lu had been thanked a dozen times in the past two days and had sneezed no less than a dozen times. Before Luo Chi could react and say “thank you” and have Mr. Ming follow up by repeating it teasingly, he packed up his things and swiftly took his leave.

It took Luo Chi several minutes to finally come back to his senses. When he found that Uncle Lu was gone, he rubbed his head forcefully with regret.

“It’s okay.” Ming Weiting took his hand. “There will be many more opportunities in the future.”

Luo Chi was super annoyed. He rummaged through all his pockets for candy, but he had changed his clothes when he came out today and didn’t have a single piece.

Ming Weiting materialized a peach-flavored candy and placed it on the sand not far in front of him.

Luo Chi saw through it at a glance, “Is there a trap?”

“Yes,” Mr. Ming admitted openly. “To coax you into signing the IOU.”

Luo Chi was already prepared to sign, so he took the pen immediately.

Forget this one IOU—if it weren’t too unreasonable for the debtor to bring it up, he even wanted to coax Mr. Shadow to be less rule-abiding and let him rack up more debt during this time.

With such a good opportunity, the black-hearted creditor should have just had him sign fifty IOUs first, for his future post-surgery self to slowly pay back.

The more Luo Chi thought about it, the more sense it made. He made up his mind to find another chance later, bit off the pen cap, and held the pen in his left hand.

After signing for the lucky fan last time, he had been practicing writing “Xiao Huo Miao” with his left hand. Considering the variety of wild, cursive signatures on the market today, if one didn’t know the details and just looked at the characters, one could even appreciate a certain ethereal artistic quality.

Luo Chi was full of confidence and was about to sign it in one go when his left hand, clutching the pen, was held by Ming Weiting.

Luo Chi blinked and looked up.

“You have to ask,” Ming Weiting taught him slowly. “Does this count as coaxing?”

“Does this count as coaxing?” Luo Chi repeated, surprised himself. “This doesn’t count as coaxing?”

In his view, this was clearly already coaxing him to the moon and back.

Yesterday’s Luo Chi thought yesterday was the happiest day, but today he realized that was a completely rash judgment. He was even happier today than yesterday.

He had no idea where Mr. Shadow had learned such profound groupie secrets recently.

Ming Weiting still held his hand. He watched him quietly for a while, a helpless smile appearing on his face, and raised his hand to tap him lightly on the forehead. “You can’t sign ‘Xiao Huo Miao’.”

“This is an IOU. It’s legally binding.”

Ming Weiting said, “You have to write your real name.”

Luo Chi, who had thought of everything, had overlooked one thing: he hadn’t practiced his real name at all. He looked up, stunned. “Oh no.”

“Oh no,” Ming Weiting nodded. “What should we do?”

Luo Chi held the pen and lowered his head to look at the IOU.

Before he could react, his body was enveloped by the shadow falling over him. Ming Weiting held his left hand and guided the pen tip onto the paper with him.

…This posture and this scene were actually quite wonderful.

A steady arm circled him from behind, both letting him lean back securely and supporting his hand.

Warmth seemed to seep in from everywhere.

The sky hadn’t completely darkened yet. The blue was beginning to deepen, and warm yellow lights dotted the scene, reflected in the water.

Mr. Shadow held his hand, his shadow overlapping with his shadow.

…

“Xiao Huo Miao,” Ming Weiting asked softly. “When do you want to change your name?”

Luo Chi’s ears turned red involuntarily. He composed himself and thought carefully. “The surgery… let’s do it after the surgery. Once the surgery is over, everything will be new.”

The given name was from Auntie Ren, and the surname came from Mr. Shadow.

After the surgery, he would make a clean break with the past and welcome this name as a brand new person.

Myths could actually be true.

Luo Chi thought, so it really was possible. He could carve away his bones and flesh and go to a new world.

A completely free new world, with an infinitely exciting future, one he had never seen before.

Ming Weiting nodded. “Okay.”

He took Luo Chi’s hand, leaned his shoulder down, and explained in Luo Chi’s ear, “The IOU also takes effect at that time—relax, follow me.”

Luo Chi then realized he was clutching the pen too tightly. He quickly told himself not to be nervous, took a few deep breaths repeatedly, and let his entire shoulder and left hand relax bit by bit.

Ming Weiting guided him to make the first stroke.

…Everything seemed to suddenly fall silent at this moment.

Or perhaps Luo Chi couldn’t hear anything again.

This time it wasn’t because of tinnitus. He just seemed to have forgotten to listen—because all his attention seemed to be completely focused on the pen clutched in that hand.

They had been talking outside all afternoon. The sky had darkened inch by inch, and the writing on the paper was a little hard to see.

But it didn’t matter, Mr. Shadow was there.

His grip on the pen was actually very non-standard, but it didn’t matter, Mr. Shadow was there.

He hadn’t been practicing writing with his left hand for long. He could get away with writing “Xiao Huo Miao” in a wild cursive, but writing other characters stroke by stroke would inevitably be unsteady… but it didn’t matter, Mr. Shadow was there.

His chest rose and fell slightly. He could barely feel anything around him, just watching the pen in his hand with full, bated-breath concentration.

Ming Weiting held his hand, and together they slowly wrote down that name, neatly and properly, finishing the last stroke.

He didn’t know how long he had been looking at this name, so long that his eyes suddenly started to hurt. Then he realized it was because of the light reflecting off the water’s surface, so he subconsciously looked up.

In that instant, the sun leaped into the water. A dazzling, fiery red light spread across the entire surface of the sea. The sunset clouds hung low in the sky, and the world seemed to be on fire.

The light was so bright that the characters on the paper were clearly legible.

Ming Chi.