The Sea-view Villa welcomed back its young master.

The road home from the hospital wasn’t long, but it wasn’t too short either. After leaving the bustling city, it was just a ten-minute drive along the wide coastal highway.

Ming Lu had already instructed the driver to drive as smoothly as possible and had specifically chosen a time to avoid traffic. But Ming Chi’s body had just begun to recover, and he couldn’t open the windows on the way, so he still inevitably felt a bit carsick.

The car drove all the way into the villa, slowed down as per Ming Lu’s instructions, and came to a gentle stop at the entrance of the main house.

Ming Lu got out of the car, had the driver open all the windows, and quickly walked around to the side to open the car door, leaning in to check, “Master, how are you?”

Ming Chi was resting his head on Mr. Shadow’s hand. Before the master could answer, he raised his hand with his eyes closed and took the initiative, “I’m land-sick.”

As he spoke, Ming Chi opened his eyes. Although his face was pale from the dizziness of the journey, he was still in good spirits, his gaze still very clear.

“That’s troublesome.” Ming Lu breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and turned sideways, holding the top of the car door with one hand. “The family should have at least one person who doesn’t get sick on land, right?”

Ming Weiting had been with him the whole way and knew Ming Chi’s condition was acceptable, so he wasn’t nervous. “What should we do?”

He slowly applied pressure with his hand, helping Ming Chi sit up.

“I’ll do it,” Ming Chi said with full confidence, lightly patting his right leg. “It’s a small problem.”

Ming Chi propped himself up straight in the seat. Once he had full control of his body, he took his cane without needing help, and slowly got out of the car to stand on the ground.

The car had been driven very steadily and was specifically parked in the shade of a tree. Ming Chi thanked the driver, supported himself with the cane, and slowly walked under the tree, standing straight in the pleasant, cool breeze.

Life in the hospital was also good, but it was, after all, always stuffy inside buildings, and the smell of disinfectant and medicine was unavoidable. Ming Chi closed his eyes, couldn’t help but take a big, deep breath of the fresh seaside air, and then slowly exhaled.

Ming Chi himself was a good driver and didn’t actually get car or seasick. He knew it was still due to his physical condition, so he wasn’t anxious at all, waiting for the dizziness and discomfort from the journey to be carried away bit by bit by the sea breeze.

When his eyes were closed, his hearing became more sensitive to his surroundings.

After the surgery, the hearing in Ming Chi’s right ear had recovered. Xun Zhen had taken the opportunity to have his left ear re-examined and had a new hearing aid made for him.

Ming Chi’s left ear couldn’t hear clearly, which, besides the hearing loss caused by the original injury, was actually more due to tinnitus. These past few days, he had gotten enough rest and sleep, his physical condition was well-regulated, and his mood was light and joyful, so the tinnitus had also reduced by more than half.

With the combination of these factors and the help of the hearing aid, his hearing had pretty much returned to a normal level.

So, as Ming Chi stood under the tree, he discovered that the world was even livelier than he had thought—it seemed like he hadn’t heard so many sounds in a long time.

The wind was blowing, the leaves were rustling, and the cicadas were chirping loudly.

The waves rose and fell, one after another. A cargo ship’s horn sounded from the harbor as it set sail. It happened to be on the hour, and the clock tower rang out with a long, drawn-out chime.

Ming Chi wanted to play the guitar again.

He opened his eyes, just in time to meet Mr. Shadow’s gaze, and slowly walked over on his own. “What are you looking at?”

“This outfit was a good choice,” Mr. Shadow commented objectively. “It’s suitable for playing the guitar.”

Ming Chi blinked, and a laugh seemed to well up from his chest.

He really loved these completely unintentional moments where they happened to think of the same thing, but he still had to be honest. “To play the guitar, you need a hoodie or a T-shirt. Some people even wear leather jackets.”

Ming Chi had never worn that kind of outfit. He remembered growing up with Auntie, and although he had been dragged along to try all sorts of exciting things, he was actually still quite traditional at heart. Auntie would often ruffle his hair while sighing that he was too well-behaved.

Ming Chi tried to accept that image for a while but still couldn’t help but laugh, reminding a certain lucky fan that his remedial studies were not up to par. “How could anyone play the guitar in a trench coat?”

The lucky fan noted this new piece of knowledge and took the initiative to reflect, “I’ll use a different line next time.”

Ming Chi was a little curious, “What?”

“I mixed up my lines. This one isn’t suitable,” Ming Weiting sighed lightly and answered his question again. “I was looking at you.”

“You were standing there, and I was looking at you. Just that is enough for a good day.”

Ming Weiting said, “The next time I want to tell you this, I need to remember to use a different line.”

Ming Chi walked up to him. He had just stopped when he heard the reply, and his mouth fell open, his ears quickly turning red.

…Maybe he didn’t need to change the line.

Mr. Shadow just said it so directly, and now his mind was full of that sentence.

Playing the guitar in a trench coat didn’t seem so bad either.

Trench coats were cool and sophisticated, and guitars were cool and handsome.

Why couldn’t someone play the guitar in a trench coat? He could. He could totally be cool, sophisticated, and handsome all at once.

Ming Chi couldn’t stop the thoughts bubbling up in his mind at all—he sometimes even thought that since his memory had large blank spots, and the capacity of his brain was probably fixed, these blanks would be quickly filled with new content.

He had tried to sort through his remaining memories himself. Just as Dean Xun had said, the serial position effect was very obvious. He remembered everything from ten years ago, but he had almost no impression of what had happened or who he had met in the ten years since.

Ten years was a long time. Even if lived plainly day by day like a running account, the amount of memory generated should be quite substantial.

So many places had been completely cleared out, becoming blank spaces waiting for new content to be written.

He could use so much space to store happy things, to store every corner of the Sea-view Villa, to store beautiful scenery and the ship they would go out to sea on together, to store Uncle Lu and everyone who had smiled and greeted him…

…He could use so much space to store Mr. Shadow.

Ming Weiting stood in front of him. Watching him, one moment lost in thought, the next his eyes suddenly lighting up, he took the cane from Ming Chi’s hand and replaced it with his own. “What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking about something lucky,” Ming Chi said in a small voice after doing the math in his head for a while. “It’s too lucky.”

The more he thought about it, the happier he became. He immediately shared it with the person involved, “Mr. Shadow, I have so many blank spaces in my head, and I can use them all to store you.”

This time, it was Ming Weiting’s turn not to answer right away.

Ming Chi decided to first section off a “Mr. Shadow Exclusive Zone” in that blank space. He focused on the matters in his head. After a while, he noticed Ming Weiting hadn’t spoken. “Mr. Shadow?”

The two were very close. Ming Weiting was still looking down at him.

Ming Chi in a shirt and trench coat, with a soft hat—this outfit, plus the cane, originally gave him an air completely unlike a patient still in recovery.

Ming Chi’s body had recovered a bit, he had enough strength, so his shoulders and back were straight whether he was standing or sitting. He stood in the shade of a tree by the sea, and golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, sprinkling all over him.

Those ten years had been erased, giving him the honor of being invited into the blank spaces of Ming Chi’s life.

…

“It’s too lucky.”

Ming Weiting finally found the same words to describe his own feelings in quite a detailed and accurate way.

He raised his hand, touched Ming Chi’s ear, and asked softly, “How can it be this lucky?”

Ming Chi’s thoughts were still on the previous topic. He immediately perked up, “Right?”

Ming Weiting nodded with a smile. He held Ming Chi’s hand, letting him confidently shift his weight to his right leg. Ming Chi held onto him, and together they walked out of the shade of the tree.

Uncle Lu was already waiting at the door, his arms crossed, waiting for the two of them with a grin.

Ming Chi steadily walked up the stairs, holding onto Ming Weiting’s hand for support. He stood firm at the door, touched the door that had obvious signs of renovation but was almost identical to his memory, and took the cane back from Mr. Shadow.

Ming Chi placed his hand on the door. He also gently pressed his forehead against it and greeted the main door softly, “I’m home.”

Underneath the unfamiliar new paint, the door he had pushed open countless times before swayed and made the most familiar soft sound.

“Mr. Shadow, Uncle Lu,” Ming Chi pushed the door open with force. “Welcome home.”

…

The time spent recuperating at the Sea-view Villa was as comfortable as being on vacation.

The memories Ming Chi could retrieve ended ten years ago, a time when he was still living at Sea-view. The past and present connected almost seamlessly, and his knowledge of the place was more detailed than Ming Lu’s and Ming Weiting’s.

The first thing a certain lucky fan wanted to do upon returning home was to learn how to make bread with pine nut filling. Ming Chi agreed with a smile, found a local map, and marked several rather inconspicuous small markets where one could buy the freshest pine nuts.

Winter wheat happened to be ripe this season and could be harvested from farmhouses. Freshly cut wheat has a special aroma, and this aroma doesn’t change even when ground circle by circle with a stone mill.

Learning to make bread and shrimp dumplings were both quite massive projects, and especially, food could not be wasted. So they could only learn a little bit each day, and the rest of the time was spent being well-hosted by the owner of the villa.

Even Ming Lu, who had personally supervised the renovation of the Sea-view Villa, didn’t know there were so many hidden gems here.

On the seventh day of his recuperation, the time of the evening tide finally shifted to after sunset. Ming Chi took them to a rather shallow small bay.

The seawater here was so shallow that when the tide went out, only a stone beach remained, bleached white and dry by the sun, with scattered, dull and ordinary seashells—but once the seawater rose, everything changed.

Led by Ming Chi, they found a large, flat rock to sit on and wait. They waited until the moon slowly climbed to its zenith.

The rising tide surged and embraced the rocks of various sizes. The surfaces of the rocks, moistened by the seawater, darkened in color. Under the bright moonlight, patterns gradually began to appear.

They were patterns that looked exceptionally enchanting in the water—even without any art-related training, it wasn’t hard to notice and acknowledge this when looking at the surface of the water shimmering with moonlight.

The rocks had been washed by the seawater for years and years, and the different textures and structures were stripped away layer by layer. Some were ochre red, some appeared deep blue under the moonlight. The seashells were dotted among them, none of them dull anymore, but emitting a luster almost like pearls.

“The first time I discovered this place, I was super excited. I picked up all the rocks and shells and took them back to show Auntie.”

Ming Chi said, “But once they were out of the water, away from this place, they had no color.”

Ming Chi thought for a moment, then said, “For a while, I think, I was wondering if they were bound here.”

He remembered he must have thought about this problem—he had tried many methods during that time.

He had tried to bring a lot of seawater back from here, soaking all the rocks he had picked up in it, but he still couldn’t replicate the scenery here.

Ming Lu sat not far away and looked up.

Ming Weiting put down the rock in his hand and looked at Ming Chi. “What was the answer?”

Ming Chi laughed and shook his head with a straight face. “It’s not.”

“If I were really a rock, I wouldn’t think this way. Being pretty isn’t necessary for a rock.”

Ming Chi said, “If I were a rock, I would think every day is too blissful. The sun here isn’t strong, so I can get warm and toasty during the day, and it’s cool to soak in the water at night. I can also be with so many other rocks. Maybe they chat every day.”

Ming Weiting asked, “So you often come here to play the guitar for them?”

Ming Chi’s eyes widened as he looked at him. Before he could ask, Ming Weiting already showed a smile. “A guess,” he said. “I guessed right this time.”

The rock Ming Chi had led him to sit on was very flat, with support at the back and a perfectly placed spot in front to rest one’s feet.

The fire from ten years ago didn’t just burn hotly and brightly on the beach. It also shone gently in places no one had discovered, in the moonlight embraced by the tide, playing the guitar for a group of rocks that couldn’t run around.

“If I were a rock,” Ming Weiting said, “I would pass the time every day by counting the other rocks, wondering why the sun hadn’t set yet, why the guitar hadn’t started playing yet.”

Ming Chi laughed out loud, giving the lucky fan a hundred points on the spot for this impromptu performance. “Soon, soon, just a little bit longer.”

Ming Chi’s right hand had recovered. He treated the guitar with even more caution and seriousness, practicing alone in the small house every day, not even allowing Mr. Shadow and Uncle Lu to eavesdrop.

Once, Ming Chi got tired from practicing. He just wanted to close his eyes and rest for a bit, but he accidentally fell asleep in the small house, holding his guitar, and had a dream of being a boat, drifting aimlessly along the water.

When the boat drifted into the harbor with the current, he also woke up from his dream and found himself lying on the bed in his own room in the main house.

The room was super quiet. Everything seemed to be fast asleep in the night. The curtains on the terrace were drawn, leaving a small gap at the far end for the moonlight to come in as a guest.

The moonlight came in as a guest, helping him trace the outlines of the room, allowing him to see without turning on the lights.

The guitar lay beside him, properly tucked in under the blanket with him.

Mr. Shadow was also lying beside him, sleeping very soundly, his arm protectively over the still-healing incision on his head, and also protecting that guitar for him.

…It was actually a rather strange and wonderful feeling.

That night, Ming Chi lay in bed, pillowed on Mr. Shadow’s arm, his eyes open, looking at the ceiling.

He thought about painting a picture when he woke up in the morning, then decided it was better to properly arrange the song he had written today. He had thought about it, of course he had thought about it—even if he didn’t remember anything that had happened in those ten years, that thought was still in some corner.

He had thought that drifting with the current would be good too. The water would take him to some random place, and he could stop at that place and have the most peaceful and comfortable sleep.

This wish was not clear to him before and was only now completely filled in. He had no idea before that such a good thing existed. He could sleep comfortably in the water, and the water would send him home.

…

That being said.

That being said, in the following days, a certain someone who would practically forget to eat and sleep once he touched a guitar did exercise a lot more restraint. He would go home on his own initiative as soon as it got dark and never practiced himself to sleep again.

The high-intensity practice these past few days was quite effective. Ming Chi roughly estimated that in a few more days, he could basically recover to his level from ten years ago.

Although comparing himself to his ten-year-ago self was a bit uninspiring no matter how you looked at it, considering the twists and turns that had happened in between, it was still a considerable achievement worth celebrating.

Ming Chi gripped the cane beside him and gently stirred the water reflecting the moonlight. The moonlight shattered like scattered silver, rippling out with the waves, and the colors of the rocks changed uncertainly along with it.

“Mr. Shadow,” Ming Chi suddenly said in a small voice, “Good night.”

Ming Weiting was practicing piling up shells to build a pavilion. Hearing him, he turned to look at him, a rare look of surprise on his face. “Now?”

Ming Chi controlled his movements and slowly shook his head. “Making up for the past few days… I didn’t get to say it one night.”

“I was practicing in the little house,” Ming Chi said. “The day I fell asleep.”

Ming Chi’s ears got a little red again. He looked down at the water, gently poking a rock in the water with his cane.

Underneath that rock was the hard stone beach. No matter how much he poked, it wouldn’t move, and it pushed back at him unceremoniously.

Ming Chi slowly flexed his fingers.

This intensity of practice couldn’t possibly not hurt his hands. No guitarist’s hands go unhurt at the beginning. You have to practice until you gradually get used to and adapt to the hardness of the strings, until the spots where you consistently pluck the strings no longer get worn out, only then can you be considered to have mastered it.

The moon that had slipped into the room that day was very bright, illuminating everything clearly, so he also saw that his hands had been treated with medicine… this was also not strange. He had been caught and had medicine applied by Mr. Shadow quite a few times these past few days.

Ming Chi wasn’t quite used to it at first. After all, he had started applying medicine to himself at a very young age. But Uncle Lu told him it was no different from the head nurse changing the dressing on his head incision, which surprisingly made sense. He thought about it all night and couldn’t find anything wrong with it.

Ming Chi knew his hands had been treated with medicine. The real sensations would extend into his dreams, and he had actually dreamed about it that day.

He had become a boat in his dream. The water touched him gently, wrapping around all his bumps and bruises, and the pain obediently subsided.

He was very familiar with the sensation of having medicine applied; he could tell even with his eyes closed. But it seemed there was something else.

…

It seemed there was a little something else, not so familiar.

Ming Chi quietly gripped his cane, gave himself a little pep talk, and asked in a small voice, “Mr. Shadow, did you do anything else that day?”

He waited for a long time without getting an answer. When he looked up, he met Ming Weiting’s gaze, which was fixed on him.

…Oh no, Ming Chi thought.

Mr. Shadow might really be a rock.

Otherwise, why would those eyes usually look at him like this, but sitting here in the seawater that slowly washed over the stone beach, under the moon, it would become completely different?

Ming Weiting raised his hand and suddenly tapped him lightly on the forehead.

Ming Chi blinked. His hand was taken by Mr. Shadow, and the cane was placed safely to the side.

“Who was it,” Ming Weiting mimicked his tone and sighed, “who practiced until dark. Slept with the window open. Almost caught a cold.”

“The first thing you thought to ask,” Ming Weiting said, “was this.”

With every sentence he spoke, he would lightly tap Ming Chi’s forehead, the force very gentle, almost just a light touch of his knuckles.

Perhaps because he observed so carefully, Ming Weiting could always imitate Ming Chi’s tone very well. Paired with his own usual enunciation and voice, the rocks in the water seemed to turn into one punctuation mark after another.

Ming Chi was suddenly confronted with his past misdeeds and was instantly filled with guilt, lowering his head to admit his mistake in a small voice, “Who was it.”

This matter was actually quite serious, and Ming Chi really knew he was wrong—he had really just wanted to rest for a bit at the time, and had no idea he had gotten carried away and practiced for so long, nor had he noticed that it was already dark with the window open.

But wrong was wrong. Ming Chi lowered his head and honestly admitted, “It was me.”

“It was me,” Ming Chi apologized humbly and resolved to change. “How could this person be like this? Absolutely not allowed in the future.”

Ming Weiting didn’t want him to reflect to this extent and took the initiative to speak up for this person. “It’s not that serious.”

Ming Chi hesitated for a moment, blinked quietly, and placed his hand on Ming Weiting’s. “Really?”

“Really. You were wearing a trench coat, and the wind wasn’t cold that day.”

Ming Weiting nodded, “Besides—”

…Besides.

When he saw Ming Chi fall asleep holding his guitar, the first thing he thought of was actually not any of this.

He hadn’t waited for Ming Chi to go back and rest. He went to the little house to look for him and saw the familiar figure by the window.

Ming Chi was sitting on the bay window, his back against the window, his cane leaning beside him.

There were traces of drawing on the few sheets of sketch paper on the table, but they were all flipped over. Ming Chi was holding his guitar, half of his face covered by the collar of his trench coat, his eyes closed peacefully… but actually, it was still completely obvious at a glance.

Obvious at a glance that before falling asleep, someone must have been in deep thought, trying to find a pose that was cool enough to play the guitar in a trench coat.

Ming Weiting couldn’t put it into words. He just stood in front of Ming Chi, looking at the person sleeping soundly, his heart very soft.

He closed the window and took the medicine from the side. He wanted to take advantage of this rare moment when Ming Chi was asleep to apply medicine to the wounds on his hands… For some reason, his heart was very soft.

Is this an experience one has when being a groupie?

He wasn’t sure. Perhaps it happens when you become friends and family, but that didn’t seem entirely accurate either.

He held Ming Chi’s hand. He just didn’t know why, but he suddenly had a strong urge to do something… just like now, with Ming Chi’s hand covering his.

If he just sat here, did nothing, said nothing, and waited for the night to pass, of course, there would be no problem.

But perhaps decades later, when he was writing in his logbook on the ship, he would still inevitably think of this night. The sea breeze would jump in and ask him why he did nothing, just sat there.

“Besides, this matter,” Ming Weiting said, “I should also admit.”

Ming Chi’s eyes widened slightly.

Before him, the hand that Mr. Shadow was covering gently turned over and took his hand.

…

Mr. Shadow must have been a rock before.

Under the moonlight, the rising tide shimmered with silver light. The stone beach remained silent, yet it was completely different from its usual simple plainness. Those colors were splendid and mysterious, like a silent fireworks display blooming in the water.

The wind came over to join the fun, raising gentle ripples on the water’s surface. The moonlight, stirred by the ripples, dashed about, jumping into view and flashing brightly for a moment.

Ming Weiting brought Ming Chi’s hand up. He supported himself with one hand behind Ming Chi and leaned his shoulder, turning slightly to the side.

At the silent fireworks display, Ming Weiting lightly kissed his knuckles.