There were many preparations to be made before the surgery, but very few actually required the patient’s personal involvement.

Luo Chi was admitted to the hospital. Apart from being taken for a series of physical examinations and being hooked up to a bunch of miscellaneous instrument wires, there was nothing else for him to do but follow the doctor’s orders for bed rest.

Being so idle, Luo Chi couldn’t help but borrow a computer from Mr. Shadow again.

The hospital room was quiet at this time, and there weren’t many people in the hallway.

It was a single room, and although the hum of operating instruments was unavoidable and the smell of medicine and disinfectant was noticeable, the overall layout was still warm and comfortable enough.

The windows were bright and clean, and sunlight streamed in, filling the room with a lazy warmth.

Ming Weiting was taken by Xun Zhen for the final pre-operative briefing. Luo Chi sat alone on the hospital bed playing with the computer. When he looked up, he saw Mr. Shadow’s jacket hanging immovably on the coat rack.

After waking up, Luo Chi no longer needed to see the jacket to know that Mr. Shadow would come back, but this habit had been consistently maintained by Ming Weiting.

Sometimes, due to physical weakness or extreme fatigue, Luo Chi would accidentally fall asleep. When he woke up, he would find that the jacket had been draped over him at some point.

Luo Chi really liked those jackets. Seeing them always made him happy. He typed with one hand, adding this sentence to his letter to himself. After thinking for a moment, he added parentheses after it.

Parentheses.

Details, colon.

Luo Chi typed skillfully, concentrating on his memories.

After understanding the possible consequences of the surgery, Luo Chi had consulted the doctor and also found opportunities to search online for how to convert short-term memories into long-term ones.

It seemed that most people searching for this online were children and parents troubled by their studies. Luo Chi watched quite a few videos and even almost succumbed to the temptation of buying a memory-training online course before finally getting a grasp of the most basic methods.

He had to recount everything he wanted to remember as precisely and in as much detail as possible. The more vivid the details, the better the effect.

Luo Chi had originally only written about the suit jacket. After reciting it over and over a few times, he slowly typed out the words “casual clothes.”

Luo Chi sat for three minutes, staring at the words “casual clothes” on the screen.

He looked at the still blank screen, then lowered his head and looked at his own chest.

…Mr. Shadow in casual clothes.

Mr. Shadow in casual clothes, mimicking his actions, lightly tapping his chest.

And then had a one-on-one conversation with his heart.

Then he spoke on behalf of his heart.

Then Mr. Shadow looked at him, and for some reason, his heart beat a little, and then Mr. Shadow pressed his hand to his chest.

The soft fabric of the casual clothes was layered over his shirt.

…And then.

Luo Chi pressed his hand to his chest, took a few slow, deep breaths, and still sighed a long, melancholic sigh.

He quietly lifted the blanket a little, temporarily turned the air conditioner down by half a degree, and looked at the thirteen “ah”s he had typed on the screen.

Without a doubt.

Although he didn’t know how much memory he would lose, or whether these hard-won long-term memories would be preserved or completely wiped out by the upcoming surgery.

And he had no idea what was different about this, or where the mysterious power of this casual outfit lay.

…

But the him who woke up again, seeing these thirteen “ah”s, would definitely not be able to understand what the self who wrote the letter was thinking.

This memory ultimately failed to be turned into words.

When the head nurse came to the room to check and record the instrument data and the IV drip, Luo Chi tried to borrow a pencil and a sticky note.

Luo Chi had thought he would need to give a convincing reason and promise to pay for it—but things went unexpectedly smoothly.

Not only did he easily borrow a pen and paper, but the head nurse also praised him with a smile for his cooperation with the treatment and even gave him a milk candy as a reward.

Luo Chi hadn’t expected this development at all. He sat on the hospital bed, holding the candy with wide eyes.

“Everything is normal,” the head nurse explained. “On this floor, patients with good vitals get a reward.”

All the patients living here were tumor patients waiting for surgery. It was not the first time they had received a patient with a special status. But this time, the entire nurse’s station undoubtedly liked this very cooperative, super polite, quiet but smiling young man.

The head nurse was nearing retirement age and also had a son at home, a few years older than him.

Looking at the young man who was clearly still in a daze, murmuring “thank you” with his ears quickly turning red, the head nurse’s heart softened even more. “When is the surgery? Will your family be with you?”

Luo Chi blinked slowly, then his eyes suddenly lit up noticeably, and he pressed his lips together and nodded vigorously.

“They will,” Luo Chi hadn’t spoken like this in a long time, and the words felt a bit unfamiliar. “There’s someone.”

He took a deep breath and said very proudly and clearly, “Someone is waiting for me to get better.”

The head nurse nodded and said softly with a smile, “You have to get better.”

The head nurse made a fist to cheer him on. “You can do it.”

Luo Chi also made a fist. “Go, go.”

The head nurse’s smile widened. She couldn’t help but ruffle his hair and gave him another candy as an extra reward.

She asked about Luo Chi’s physical condition in a gentle and patient tone, specifically praising how well he was cooperating with the treatment. She also placed an indwelling needle for him, her technique steady and light, not hurting at all.

Luo Chi waved goodbye to the head nurse, unwrapped both milk candies, and popped them into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out on both sides. He hummed a tune while burying his head in a sketch.

So being hospitalized was this good too.

He had to apologize for his previous prejudice against hospitals. He would write this in his letter later.

He should protect his body in the future and go to the hospital less, but he could come to visit the head nurse. The head nurse said to remember to come back and tell them when he could walk.

Now, milk candy was the second-best tasting thing.

…

The next two days passed quickly.

Luo Chi got a thick stack of sticky notes. Whenever he had time, he would bury his head in sketching, then stuff them all into the mezzanine of his guitar case to hide them.

He also wrote several more letters, some to himself and some to Mr. Shadow.

Those thirteen “ah”s were still in parentheses. Luo Chi couldn’t bring himself to delete them in the end. He decided to treat it as a riddle and let his post-surgery self explore what it was all about, bit by bit.

As for other things… Luo Chi himself hadn’t expected his hospital room to become so lively.

The cause could probably be traced back to a little girl who went to the wrong floor and room. She was just seven this year and also had something growing in her head, waiting for surgery at the hospital.

The little girl’s parents were overwhelmed with work and worry, only focused on discussing her condition with the doctor, and the child accidentally overheard. The little girl was afraid of surgery and cried terribly. She snuck out of the room when her parents weren’t looking.

Later, the nurse’s station downstairs received a call. When they rushed upstairs with the frantic parents to pick her up, the little girl was leaning over Luo Chi’s bed, playing “Pictionary” with him.

She wasn’t crying at all. Coaxed by Luo Chi, she became exceptionally brave and jumped into her mother’s arms. She puffed out her chest, raised her little arm, and was ready to go fight the thing in her head right now.

Luo Chi was on chemotherapy drugs and didn’t have the strength to move, leaning against Mr. Shadow. In a super soft voice, he led her in chanting a slogan, “Who will definitely get better!”

“I will definitely get better!”

The little girl shouted at the top of her lungs, “Big brother will definitely get better!”

The little girl’s parents were both surprised and heartbroken, wiping away tears and thanking him nonstop. Luo Chi also smiled and shook his head slowly, thanking the little girl seriously.

The mother with red-rimmed eyes brought the little girl back to the bedside. With his hand held by Mr. Shadow, Luo Chi’s soft little hand was led to slowly make a pinky promise, listening to the little girl tell him, “A hundred years, no changing.”

…

Luo Chi decided to learn this too.

On the morning of the surgery, Luo Chi also made a pinky promise with the lucky fan. “A hundred years, no changing.”

His ideals changed quickly, jumping from ninety-three years to a hundred in just a few days, but neither the idol nor the lucky fan involved seemed to think there was any problem with it.

Ming Weiting hooked his finger, leaned over, and gently touched his forehead. “A hundred years, no changing.”

Mr. Shadow was still wearing that casual jacket today.

Mr. Shadow didn’t sleep last night, sitting by the bed watching him the whole time.

Mr. Shadow had finally finished a handicraft for him, a pavilion made of seashells, placed next to his seashell boat.

…He liked Mr. Shadow so much.

Luo Chi reached up to touch Mr. Shadow’s eyes.

Ming Weiting paused, letting him touch without flinching. Noticing that Luo Chi didn’t have enough strength, he took the initiative to lower his head.

Luo Chi slowly touched his eyelashes, pressed his lips together, and said softly, “See you in a bit, see you in a bit.”

Ming Weiting nodded and mimicked him in a warm voice, “See you in a bit, see you in a bit.”

Luo Chi had already received his pre-operative injection. The medication had a sedative and anti-anxiety effect, but this time he didn’t feel any discomfort like when he was injected with sedatives before, just a slight reluctance to sleep.

These past few days, Luo Chi was reluctant to sleep every night.

He had heard that reciting memories before sleep had the best strengthening effect. Although he wasn’t sure if the person selling the course was telling the truth… every image from that bonfire party ten years ago was indeed becoming more and more clearly imprinted in his mind.

He saw Auntie Ren. Auntie stood outside the crowd, smiling and waving at him, cheering and applauding loudly for him along with everyone else. He and his guitar were held tightly in Auntie’s arms.

He saw his sea snail, surrounded by the brightest star lights behind the reef. A big smiley face was drawn on the damp sand.

He saw a ship moored in the night at the harbor.

…

Luo Chi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then exhaled bit by bit.

After that, he hadn’t made a wish for ten years.

According to online claims, a wish that hadn’t been made for ten years should have accumulated a considerable amount of good karma. He didn’t know how much luck he had left—after all, everything these past few days had been too lucky, too much like a dream. He almost thought he was dreaming… so the headaches were really not hard to endure at all.

In those completely distinct and real pains, he confirmed the answer to himself over and over again: it was all real.

Everything that happened was real, not a dream, not a near-death illusion while submerged in the sea.

It was actually very logical. After all, how could he possibly imagine such a good illusion on his own?

Luo Chi didn’t know how much luck and good karma he had left, but he decided to use up all his stock to make one last, completely not-greedy wish.

If he really were to forget many things… at least let him remember Auntie Ren, remember that bonfire burning by the sea.

That bonfire illuminated Auntie Ren, his guitar, the sea snail behind the reef, and the stars in the sky. He sat by the bonfire, his face hot from the fire’s glow. When he stood up to get some air, he saw the ship moored by the water.

That ship was moored not far from the shore. He could wade through the water to get to it. Such a sudden visit might be a bit presumptuous, but it didn’t matter. Someone was waiting for him on the ship.

He would remember that on that ship, there was a person who had all the letters he, ten years later, had written to himself.

He would go and read them one by one, find back those repeatedly recited memories one by one, and then follow the guidance of those letters to find the other clues he had left for himself.

He had left himself many clues, which he could analyze slowly, one by one.

When that time came, he had to figure out why his heart beat so fast when Mr. Shadow kissed the heart under his chest.