After saying these words, Ming Weiting picked Ming Chi up.

His strength was still careful, ensuring that Ming Chi was lying comfortably with his head on the pillow before he himself quickly went to the bathroom to wash up.

In just a few minutes, the room quickly became quiet.

Ming Chi had lived in Wanghai ten years ago, falling asleep to the sound of the tide every day. At night there was the whistle of the clock tower, in the morning the sound of the wind and birdsong. He had never felt this room to be as quiet as it was now.

…Never this quiet. It was as if he could only hear the sound of running water from the bathroom, which was both quite quiet and quite loud.

Ming Chi covered himself with the quilt, buried his head in the pillow, and studied it for a long time. Then he found that what was loud was his own heartbeat.

The quilt might indeed affect the speed of thought.

It probably took Ming Chi a not-so-short time to come to this conclusion.

Not so short that by the time he came back to his senses and listened carefully again, even the sound of the water had stopped.

Ming Chi listened intently for a while but still couldn’t hear anything. He quietly lifted a corner of the quilt and peeked out.

…Having developed too obvious a tacit understanding, at times, could also bring about very small accidents.

Ming Chi poked his head out, and the first direction he subconsciously looked at was the terrace—then he immediately discovered that the curtains were not drawn.

The curtains were wide open, so he saw the terrace at a glance, and at a glance he saw his lounge chair there.

In the lounge chair was the person he was about to start searching for in the room.

The back of that lounge chair had been temporarily straightened, the angle becoming almost like a real chair. But it was, after all, a lounge chair, its mission to make people so comfortable they would want to fall asleep on it. From the material to the design, it was quite enthusiastically inviting anyone who sat on it to relax completely and sink in.

In most cases, “Mr. Shadow” and “completely relaxing and sinking in” were difficult to form into a true and objective complete sentence.

But there were still some times when, with the addition of a modifier, this matter would become less absolute.

For example, “Mr. Shadow who is looking at Huo Miao.”

Or more specifically, “Mr. Shadow who is looking at Huo Miao who has rolled himself into a quilt roll, has been slowly rolling on the bed for nine and a half circles, and has completely migrated from the head of the bed to the foot of the bed.”

It was almost the middle of the lunar month, and tonight’s moon was already quite round and bright, its presence so strong it was like a large light bulb.

So even without deliberately turning on the lights, everything on the terrace was quite clear. Ming Chi could see at a glance the unconcealed, obvious smile on Mr. Shadow’s face.

Ming Chi coughed and, lying at the foot of the bed, tried to explain, “My sense of direction is not good.”

“It’s very good.” Mr. Shadow’s evaluation was quite pertinent. “You turned nine and a half circles and didn’t fall to the floor.”

Ming Chi was immediately happy. “Of course.”

He was going to be a captain, after all.

He still had this little intuition of not falling off the bed.

He didn’t want to change his view at all, but he wanted to sit up and talk, so he still looked up at Mr. Shadow, quickly unraveling the quilt roll with his hands.

Ming Chi was also thinking. He thought that if he kept looking like this, perhaps he was planning to draw a picture of tonight’s scene, but then he felt it wasn’t just for that reason—a part of his short-term memory was indeed affected, and he would occasionally forget things. But the visual memory part was still perfectly preserved, and he could remember the picture he saw at a glance.

In the end, he finally figured it out. It seemed he just couldn’t bear to look away.

It was so nice that his window was so close to the terrace.

And the moon was so bright tonight.

Just keep looking like this.

Just like this, he could have a very good day.

Ming Chi found that he had also started to subconsciously recite and memorize Mr. Shadow’s quotes. Without realizing it, he pursed his lips firmly and propped himself up with his arms. “Mr. Shadow…”

He saw Ming Weiting suddenly get up from the lounge chair and, in the blink of an eye, quickly strode to the side of the bed. Slightly later than this thought, he realized he had grabbed at empty air.

After all, the spot after rolling nine and a half times was too close to the edge of the bed. Ming Chi’s right hand, propped up in its usual position, found nothing. Caught completely off guard, his body lost its balance and fell downward.

The person who was going to be a captain still fell off the bed.

But he didn’t fall to the floor either.

Hey.

Halfway down, he crashed into Mr. Shadow’s arms.

Hey, he was back on the bed.

Ming Chi was so happy he couldn’t help but imitate Auntie’s way of speaking in his mind.

He found that when he spoke like Auntie, it was always when he was particularly happy and had absolutely nothing to worry about.

So happy, so happy that his body felt light, and nothing could stop him. With a small jump, he could fly up with the wind.

He still wanted to laugh when Mr. Shadow caught him. He didn’t know what he was happy about, but the smiles just kept popping up on their own. Then Mr. Shadow was probably infected by him and started laughing while holding him.

Because he had rushed over in an emergency to catch him, it was difficult for Mr. Shadow to be as steady as usual and place him back on the bed. When Ming Chi was caught, he hugged him back. His left hand, which hadn’t fallen, grabbed the bedsheet and gave a timely, forceful tug.

This little bit of force was enough for the experienced Mr. Ming to react. Ming Weiting scooped him up completely, used the momentum to lie down on the bed, and then let Ming Chi fall onto his chest.

If this scene were to be filmed in a movie, it would probably have slow motion, a soundtrack, and a filter. But if you actually did it, you would know that it wasn’t entirely composed of cool elements.

…

Their chests collided, and for a few seconds, neither of them could make a sound. His shoulder also accidentally hit Mr. Shadow’s chin.

But they both still couldn’t stop laughing. Even in the few seconds they couldn’t make a sound, they were laughing. Ming Chi simply used no strength at all, lying on Mr. Shadow’s body, letting the laughter overflowing from his chest carry him up and down.

How can there be such a childish person?

Who?

Ming Chi thought about this question in his mind.

Then he saw the same question in Mr. Shadow’s laughing eyes and immediately raised his hand to turn himself in. “It’s me, it’s me.”

“How old are you, that you can still fall off the bed,” Ming Chi rubbed his face in self-reflection. “Mr. Shadow, what were you thinking on the terrace just now?”

Mr. Shadow must have learned some bad habits from him. He raised his arm and hugged him a little tighter. “I was wondering when you would fall off the bed.”

After Ming Weiting said this, he himself found it amusing, shook his head, and timely caught the little captain who was about to roll up in the quilt and migrate again on the spot. “…Not that.”

“It was a joke,” Ming Weiting said softly. “I was thinking.”

He still rested his chin on Ming Chi’s shoulder, paused for a moment before laughing again, and honestly admitted, “Is it too early to tell you these things now? Will it make you feel pressured?”

“Mr. Shadow,” Ming Chi emphasized to him, “I lost ten years of memory; I didn’t regress by ten years. The one you’re holding is a twenty-three-year-old Da (Big) Huo Miao.”

Mr. Shadow nodded, recited, and memorized, “Still can fall off the bed.”

Ming Chi was so stumped by his own words that he was at a loss for words, completely defeated in this round, pressing his chest in regret.

Ming Weiting looked down at him, his eyes soft. They didn’t discuss this matter anymore. Ming Weiting patted his back and said warmly, “Go wash up. Remember to protect the wound.”

Ming Chi nodded. Supported by Mr. Shadow’s arm, he propped himself up and sat up.

He usually didn’t use a cane in the bedroom. The carpet here was much thicker than outside, specifically for him to fall on randomly, so it would have been completely fine even if he had fallen off the bed just now.

He had been too rowdy just now, so now he had to pay special attention to his movements to avoid getting dizzy. Ming Chi sat on the edge of the bed with his head down for a while. He sensed Mr. Shadow walking around to the front of the bed, squatting down to look up at him. The corners of his mouth immediately lifted in triumph.

Ming Chi quickly propped himself up on the edge of the bed and slid off the bed himself, returning to face-to-face with Mr. Shadow. “There’s one more thing.”

With a thud, Ming Chi sat on the thick carpet. “I can only go wash up after I’ve finished.”

Ming Weiting had one hand protectively behind him and only withdrew it after confirming there would be no bumps. “What is it?”

Ming Chi raised his hand, took Mr. Shadow’s arm, and pulled him towards the corner of the bed a couple of times.

Ming Weiting followed and sat down. Just as he was about to ask, he was suddenly taken aback.

Ming Chi’s expression had suddenly become completely serious.

He looked seriously at Mr. Shadow in front of him for a long time, so long that his lips pursed slightly. Then he lowered his head and pressed it against Ming Weiting’s knuckles.

The same action, but Ming Chi still couldn’t achieve that graceful, water-skimming touch, nor had he found the trick to make it make one’s face blush and heart beat faster… so all he could give was the solemnity of imprinting his heartbeat on it as well.

He made this action completely solemn, as if signing his new name on an IOU, and also as if vowing to henceforth set foot on the vast, boundless ocean.

The night wind was a bit cool. The window to the terrace was open, and the sound of the tide was let back in.

The warmth of a palm covered the back of his neck.

Ming Weiting held him. “Huo Miao.”

“I hope what I said today didn’t bring you any pressure.”

Ming Weiting said, “On the terrace just now, I actually regretted it a little.”

He didn’t want these words to make Ming Chi change any plans. Ming Chi didn’t need to give him any answer, nor should he feel any burden because of his completely private thoughts.

“Don’t be in a hurry,” Ming Weiting said. “We have a long time.”

Ming Chi nodded. “I know.”

Ming Weiting’s gaze fell into those eyes. Ming Chi’s eyes were clean and bright. It was probably the most sincere and earnest gaze he had ever seen in his memory, so he listened to Ming Chi’s words seriously.

Ming Chi held his hand very tightly.

They sat in the corner of the room. The terrace was open. The moonlight could see, the wind could see, the stars could see.

This time they weren’t hiding, so Auntie could see too.

Ming Chi quietly lowered his eyelashes, repeated the action, and imprinted all his solemnity on his knuckles.

“I know the answer now doesn’t count, Mr. Shadow.”

Ming Chi spoke softly. That soft, warm touch carried an even lighter, tiny vibration caused by his speech. This micro-vibration traveled all the way into his chest, eliciting a deep resonance like a distant tide.

“You have to eat one bite at a time, do things one step at a time… I’m impatiently waiting for that day.”

“I’m impatiently waiting for that day.”

“A particularly amazing, well-traveled captain who has returned from his journey brings back the best scenery, the most wonderful insights and memories, and the most favorite gifts he has collected on his journey, all intact, to do one thing.”

“To do one thing,” Ming Chi said softly, “to fulfill a journal that can be written together for twenty thousand things.”

Ming Weiting was just giving an example at the time. Now he felt that number was far too small. He touched his ear and proposed an addition, “At least.”

“…At least.”

Ming Chi laughed out loud, nodding his head. “At least twenty thousand things.”

Ming Chi took a slow, deep breath. His ears were burning, but he still insisted on sitting up straight and asking, “Am I particularly amazing?”

“So amazing that,” Ming Chi said, “this future will definitely happen. There will definitely be a day when I will be a well-traveled captain.”

Ming Weiting nodded without hesitation. He had never doubted this. “Yes.”

Ming Chi let out a sigh of relief and looked up with a smile. “Then that’s fine.”

“Anyway, I already have fifty IOUs. I’ll write another one.”

Ming Chi immediately took Mr. Shadow’s hand and wrote on it with flourishing strokes, “Borrowing something, I’ll trade anything for it. Anyway, I’ll definitely return it on that day.”

He used his finger to write on Ming Weiting’s palm. His right hand had recovered to be quite strong and flexible. He wrote so fast that it was almost illegible what it was, just a gentle warmth and ticklishness rising bit by bit.

Ming Weiting couldn’t help but lift the corner of his mouth. He resisted the urge to clench his palm and hold that hand as well. “Borrowing what?”

“Mr. Shadow,” Ming Chi said.

Ming Weiting answered with a sound, waited for a while but heard nothing more, then asked softly again, “What?”

Ming Chi had already reached the last few words. He bent his finger and tapped a certain spot on his palm, enunciating word by word, “Mis-ter Sha-dow.”

Ming Weiting was stunned for a moment before realizing that what he wanted to borrow was his own name.

Ming Chi finished writing the IOU that only he could see, signed his name fluently, and admired the other’s palm for a while.

…Some people.

Some people don’t worry about having too many debts.

Although he hadn’t even started writing the journal, he had already borrowed a name from someone, ready to write it in together every day.

Ming Chi decided to write the first journal entry today. He had unilaterally finished writing the IOU and was already starting to brainstorm the content when he remembered he had forgotten to ask the black-hearted creditor, “Can I borrow it?”

“You can,” Ming Weiting was at a loss for words. “Take it all.”

Mr. Shadow, lucky fan, Mr. Ming, Ming Weiting.

Recently, Ming Chi liked to use a fox as an analogy for him, so he’d add Mr. Fox.

He could also add “the apprentice who still hasn’t learned to make bread” and “the Wanghai Villa special line tour bus.”

Ming Weiting spread his palm, specially asked where he had signed his name, and learned to sign his name with a straight face like Ming Chi.

Now Ming Chi was finally completely relieved and satisfied. He propped himself up on the edge of the bed and went to wash up. Perhaps because he was in a particularly good mood, his right leg, which would usually still have a slight limp without the cane, walked particularly smoothly today.

Ming Chi hummed a tune as he washed himself clean. In the middle, inspiration struck so hard that he even took out his portable pencil and quickly wrote a melody on a piece of toilet paper.

Pondering the direction of the melody took a little more time. By the time he was finally willing to come out of the bathroom, Ming Weiting had already fallen asleep leaning against the headboard.

Ming Chi immediately stopped humming, tiptoed quietly over, turned on the ambient light by the bed, closed the terrace’s French windows, and carefully drew the curtains, leaving a small gap.

After doing all this, he returned to the bedside.

These past few days, Ming Weiting had not only been learning to make bread and taking care of him, but also handling work on his computer, which should be the follow-up to the shipwreck he had mentioned before.

…

These things were certainly not too difficult for Mr. Ming. But if you added the inexplicable troubles of these past few days, the thoughts and feelings that he had only completely explained to him tonight, his sleep quality would probably not have been particularly good.

Ming Chi lifted the computer from his lap, moved it gently, and placed it on the bedside table next to him.

Ming Chi took the computer’s place himself, watched intently for a while, confirmed that Mr. Shadow’s breathing was still steady and calm, and quietly reached out to hug Ming Weiting’s shoulder.

He gently rested his forehead against Mr. Shadow’s forehead.

“Wait for me,” Ming Chi said softly. “It will be soon.”

It seemed it wasn’t Mr. Shadow’s problem, but that he had indeed stayed in the bathroom for too long.

Ming Chi looked at the color of the sky revealed through the gap.

He had indeed stayed in the bathroom for a long time, so long that the moon outside had already traveled more than halfway across the sky, and a corner of the pitch-black sky had also begun to turn deep blue, with the faint glow of dawn at the edge.

It was summer now, and the sky brightened very early. This was common knowledge.

The tide ebbed and flowed twice a day. This was also common knowledge.

When the night came to an end, the sky would surely brighten. When it got late, the moon would surely come out. These things would not change arbitrarily because of what happened that day, how the weather was, or whether there was a rainbow or mist.

“So sir, the ship will surely dock.”

Ming Chi’s voice was super light. “I will surely come back.”

“When the time comes,” Ming Chi said, “with the rising and setting of the sun and moon, we will live a lifetime.”