As for recovery, once you have an exceptional expectation, a goal that you must achieve no matter what, the progress will become even faster than before.

On the tenth day of recuperating back at Wanghai, Ming Chi, along with Mr. Shadow and Uncle Lu, had placed glowing road signs on all the nearby reefs and had also found the squirrel that Uncle Lu had mentioned before.

In the second week that followed, Ming Chi finally taught Mr. Shadow how to control the right amount of flour and water, and to knead them into a dough that didn’t flow unnaturally and wouldn’t hurt if you threw it at someone.

Both parties in the teaching process were quite satisfied with this progress and even shelled pine nuts together in the evening. Because the current semi-finished product was far from being bread, it was taken away by a passing Uncle Lu and given to the kitchen to make pine nut corn.

Half a month later, Ming Chi’s surgical wound had completely healed. The results of the follow-up examination were also quite smooth. The lesion had been removed very cleanly, and he even ran into the little girl who was already lively and jumping around. Her family, beaming with joy, held the examination results and waved at Ming Chi from afar.

The lucky fan’s star-chasing plan was completed to the seventeenth page. The black-hearted creditor finally received the first portrait work besides the landscape paintings, a painting of the terrace on that night.

…

Art comes from reality but is higher than reality. The picture was very similar to that night, but some details could be seen to be different.

Mr. Shadow believed that the material of this lounge chair was too soft and lacked support. If considering the actual scene, it would be impossible to achieve a posture that combined both grace and comfort as depicted in the picture.

Ming Chi actually also believed that he had been a little too eager to pick up the brush. His right hand’s rehabilitation was not yet complete, and many details were inevitably handled vaguely.

But he was quite confident and firm in his visual memory. “It was that handsome.”

Ming Weiting sat with him on the sofa, seriously admiring the painting on the easel. Hearing this, he turned to the side. “That handsome?”

Ming Chi’s wound had completely healed, but Ming Weiting was still habitually protecting him with one hand. Both of them were comfortably leaning against the sofa, and his arm was still cushioned behind his neck.

These past few days, he had started to get busy with the aftermath of that accident. Mr. Ming had changed from his casual wear back to a shirt and suit. The tie was casually loosened, and one button at the collar was unbuttoned.

Mr. Shadow was increasingly learning and getting used to relaxing. He turned his head to look at him, his gaze falling over, a hint of curious amusement hidden in his exploration.

This angle immediately became the new number one scene.

“Don’t move,” Ming Chi immediately pressed both hands on Mr. Shadow’s shoulders and carefully looked him over from top to bottom.

He had a preliminary inspiration for his next painting. He withdrew his hand, took out his portable notepad, and quickly sketched. “That handsome.”

Ming Weiting was a little surprised, then laughed out loud.

While Ming Chi was drawing him, he really did stay still with a straight face, but he still had to say, “How can someone be chatting with another person and suddenly start drawing them.”

“It’s a long story,” Ming Chi buried his head and scribbled with his pencil. “How can someone wake up one day and find that they owe one hundred and thirty-four paintings.”

After saying this, Ming Chi paused his pen to calculate, then updated the number. “One hundred and thirty-one paintings.”

The debt list was posted in the bedroom. Three check marks had already been made on it, with two landscapes and one portrait—actually, there were other paintings, but Ming Chi himself was not satisfied with them.

Of the two landscape paintings, one was of the rocky beach at high tide under the moon that day, the sparkling waves reflecting the fireworks in the water, and the other was a dream Ming Chi had.

He dreamed that he was on the beach, and the sun jumped into the sea before his eyes, burning the world red.

…

“Mr. Shadow.”

When he handed this painting to the black-hearted creditor, Ming Chi was still thinking about one thing. “The dream seemed to have more than just this.”

Ming Weiting carefully placed the painting flat on the table and was doing a basic cleaning. He had taken the time to learn about oil painting maintenance, and his technique for applying varnish was much neater and more stable than kneading dough. “What else?”

Ming Chi couldn’t say either. He just walked to Mr. Shadow’s side and watched the even sheen of turpentine spread over the painting.

“Be careful not to choke,” Ming Weiting said, holding the flat brush, his free hand gently ruffling his hair. “You might cough.”

Ming Chi’s hair grew very fast. He didn’t have a scarring constitution, and the surgery was done with subcutaneous sutures, leaving almost no visible marks.

The current length was not yet enough to style, but the feel was already quite good. Once you started ruffling it, it was hard to let go.

Ming Weiting patiently applied a thin layer of varnish. He had Ming Chi stand upwind and then switched to a wider brush to dip in the varnish.

Ming Chi watched Mr. Shadow do these things seriously and thought again of that fiery red, scorching dream—he thought this was probably a scene that had truly existed.

He was sitting on the beach by the sea, and he was not the only one sitting on the beach by the sea.

Someone was holding him from behind, holding his hand, and slowly helping him write his new name.

That force was exceptionally deliberate and solemn, like a silently occurring, decisive judgment. In that judgment, he was sentenced to lifelong freedom.

Ming Chi was actually not afraid of the smell of turpentine. He used to maintain his own paintings, applying varnish himself. As long as it wasn’t strong enough to be choking, he even found the smell quite pleasant, which was why Auntie had even more reason to feed him snacks as if he were a squirrel.

Mr. Shadow’s technique was more meticulous than his. Ming Chi was mainly responsible for getting his head ruffled. He stood by the table, watching the flat brush saturated with turpentine stroke across the painting, watching the dream he had painted.

The dream actually had a much richer and vaster scene than the painting. He thought this was probably content that he had deliberately drawn in his mind before the surgery, reviewing and memorizing it over and over again.

Anyway, if the current him were to go back to before the surgery, knowing that everything was about to be forgotten, he would definitely do that.

…That day, Ming Chi thought about that dream for a long time.

So long that Mr. Shadow had already applied two layers of varnish, and the sun and wind had worked together to dry it. They took the painting to a ventilated and dry room to store it, then went to wash their hands and study how to make bread together.

Mr. Shadow, who was learning to make bread, applied the same technique as applying varnish to brush oil on the dough—and then, apart from this step, the rest of the progress was not very smooth.

But it didn’t matter at all. Neither of them seemed to be in a hurry.

The smell of turpentine didn’t dissipate that easily. That night when they went back to the bedroom to sleep, although they had already taken a shower, a very faint scent of pine wood still seemed to linger nearby.

The wind that night was quite gentle, and the temperature was just right, so comfortable that turning on the air conditioner seemed like a waste. They didn’t completely close the French windows of the terrace.

The wind lifted the curtains a little, and the moonlight slipped in. In the very faint scent of pine, Ming Chi had a series of dreams.

This time, it was different from the past few days. He didn’t dream of those past things that he had forgotten but still had a vague impression of in his subconscious because of repeated recitation and depiction.

He dreamed that he and Mr. Shadow were sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Uncle Lu was sitting on the other side, wearing glasses and reading a newspaper. The firewood in the fireplace was crackling.

In the dream, they were all older than they were now. Uncle Lu put down his newspaper, leaned back on the sofa, and looked at them with a smile. The scent of pine was soft and warm. They seemed to be chatting while shelling pine nuts, and a squirrel, appearing from nowhere, grabbed one and ran off.

He dreamed that Mr. Shadow’s hand was cushioned between the sofa and him. They leaned back comfortably, relaxed, not thinking about anything, lazily doing nothing.

Mr. Shadow turned to look at him, his gaze warmed by the fire. The shadow of a shadow fell into his eyes.

Ming Chi finished the pencil draft. This time, he also left a spot for himself in the painting and then outlined the complete scene with lines.

Ming Chi thought, he knew what to draw for his next painting.

…

In the following short period of time, Mr. Ming also began to get a little busy.

In the normal course of most things, the busiest times are usually the beginning and the end—at the beginning, you have to come up with a suitable response and confirm all subsequent regulations. At the end, there usually aren’t as many decisions to make, but the items are numerous and the details are trivial, so it also takes a lot of energy.

Ming Weiting had estimated he would be out for three to five days, but in fact, there was also a lot of work to be handled at home.

These past two weeks, many documents had been sent over. Ming Lu had also gone out a few times and brought back several boxes of letters that required Mr. Ming’s handwriting or signature.

And so, Mr. Ming was trapped in the study.

“A captain doesn’t need to do these things,” Ming Lu lowered his voice, secretly reassuring the new captain of the Ming family. “Only the master needs to.”

The Ming family’s chief steward didn’t need to do these things either. His attitude of watching the fire from the other side of the river couldn’t be more obvious. He even pulled the young master over to sit beside him and shell pine nuts.

Ming Chi, after all, still had some decency. He tried his best to suppress the corners of his mouth and took a large handful of shelled pine nuts to send over. He himself was also held by the table and had his head ruffled by Mr. Ming for thirty seconds for stress relief.

Ming Chi tidied his hair, returned to Uncle Lu’s side, and asked softly, “Is being the master often this tiring?”

Ming Lu, who was shelling a pine nut, looked at him upon hearing this and suddenly smiled.

Ming Chi was a little curious and blinked his eyes.

“When the master was young, he also asked the same question.”

Ming Lu said, “At that time, the master’s father had just finished his work, and Madam was massaging the master’s father’s forehead.”

Ming Weiting temporarily stopped his pen, looked up, and said, “Uncle Lu, I don’t remember any such thing.”

“At that time, the master was only two and a half years old and would still fall when walking.” The over-seventy-year-old chief steward calmly added, “But he was already a very good swimmer.”

…

Upon hearing “two and a half years old,” someone’s eyes lit up, and he immediately sat up straight. Worried that his short-term memory was unstable, he even took out a pencil and a notepad.

Ming Weiting was silent for a moment, then stood up and walked over, covering Ming Chi’s ears with his hands.

Ming Chi put down the pine nuts in his hand and took Mr. Ming’s hand.

He exchanged a look with Uncle Lu, maintained a serious expression, hid all his laughter, and looked up to negotiate with the master. “Just a small part.”

“You can choose content from after the age of twelve.”

Ming Weiting looked down and also negotiated with him. “At two and a half years old, my performance was probably not composed enough.”

This time, Ming Chi used all his strength to barely suppress his laughter. He coughed a few times, pursed his lips, and looked up, blatantly on the verge of speaking but holding back.

Ming Weiting thought for a moment and sighed. “Oops.”

“Some people can read lips,” Ming Weiting said. “I have to find a way to cover his eyes too.”

Ming Weiting only had two hands, after all. He thought about the plan, then simply walked around to the front of Ming Chi, covered Ming Chi’s ears with both hands, and gathered him directly into his arms to hide him.

Some people couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughing so hard they fell off their chairs. They stood up and pulled Mr. Ming to sit down together. “Mr. Shadow, even the coolest person in the world will fall when walking on flat ground at two and a half years old.”

Ming Weiting was pulled to sit down by Ming Chi. A cup of freshly brewed herbal tea was placed in his hand, and a smile also appeared in his eyes.

Even if he had no knowledge of childcare and had almost no contact with human individuals of this age, he could still roughly guess this.

He just really liked this atmosphere, a feeling he had never had before.

From his teenage years, he had been in charge of independent shipping routes with the ship. Sometimes he would watch guests chat idly, a family enjoying the scenery on the deck and talking. He could guess that the most relaxed situation was not like this.

The sofa in the study was on the softer side. Ming Weiting took a cushion and placed it behind Ming Chi’s waist. “Really?”

“Really,” the well-informed Chief Steward Ming nodded from the side. “At four and a half, he would also lose his baby teeth and lisp when he spoke.”

…

The Ming family’s master put down his herbal tea, wanting to get up from the sofa and go back to the desk to sign documents.

Ming Lu also smiled and gave Ming Chi a gesture. The Ming family’s young master immediately understood and stuffed his own hand into the hand that Mr. Ming had just put down the herbal tea with.

Ming Weiting had been holding a pen almost non-stop for several days. When Ming Chi stuffed his hand in, he couldn’t help but sit back down again.

He cupped that hand in his palm, raised his free hand to tap Ming Chi’s forehead, and sighed softly, “How could you be led astray by Uncle Lu.”

The force of that hand tapping down was quite light and slow. Ming Chi wasn’t nervous at all. His eyes curved up, and he generously lowered his head slightly for him to tap.

“The master should relax more,” Ming Lu said. “When the master’s father relaxed, he would take Madam to set off fireworks.”

For example, the youngest of the successive Ming family masters, the current Mr. Ming, at the age of two and a half, after asking that question.

When Madam was still alive, the previous generation Mr. Ming’s temperament was almost completely different from later.

Ming Weiting’s impression of his father was not one of closeness. There were no conflicts or hurts between them, nor were there any overly warm and intimate family memories.

His relationship with the previous master was like that of any ordinary father and son on shore—the father’s mind and body were on his work, and the son’s temperament was also independent and composed. Family members would care for each other, but this care was usually not expressed much. In addition, they were often apart due to the shipping routes, so their family ties naturally grew distant.

There were many helpless reasons for this situation. The Ming family had a special status on the high seas. To be the “master,” one must be completely independent. Warmth had to be ranked very far back.

…Besides. Ming Lu’s narrative paused, and he stopped to think for a moment.

Besides, the previous master really loved Madam very much.

That day, after Ming Weiting asked the question, the previous master’s reaction was to ask Madam if being the wife of a Mr. Ming was often this tiring.

Before Madam got on the ship, she was the most disobedient one in a scholarly family. Her family produced literary figures and professors in droves. The girls were all elegant and gentle. She happened to be on a cruise ship for a relaxing vacation and happened to run into the previous master personally accompanying the ship.

At that time, they were both in their early twenties. Ming Lu wasn’t quite sure what had happened at the beginning—in short, when he was pulled by the previous master to help, and the two of them sat up all night pulling their hair out for ideas, that shipping route was actually on its last day.

The events that followed actually had many twists and turns. A family like that wouldn’t interfere with their children’s relationships, but they also wouldn’t be at ease with a strange person who wandered the seas with no fixed abode and an unknown identity… But thankfully, the final result was satisfactory.

The previous master had left a note, deciding to give the choice entirely to Madam herself, and waited at the port until eight o’clock. Just after 7:57, Madam came rushing over, panting, with her suitcase. She called out to Ming Lu while throwing the suitcase at him, then lifted her skirt and jumped onto the master’s ship.

Madam actually never knew that the master had planned to wait until eighteen o’clock that day, and then wait another eight hours.

…

So after Ming Weiting asked that question, the previous master also suddenly remembered that since Madam had become the wife of a Mr. Ming with him, it seemed she hadn’t gone out to play for a long time.

Hearing this, Ming Weiting suddenly had a vague impression. “After that, my father and mother disappeared for a month.”

He couldn’t remember things from when he was two or three years old, but for the Ming family’s master to suddenly disappear for a month, completely without a trace, was after all too rare.

Even this time when he and Uncle Lu stayed at the port for so long, their whereabouts were clear. The people on the high seas also knew that the Ming family was dealing with the shipwreck. If there was any urgent matter that required his personal attention, they would find a way to have someone bring a letter over.

But during that month, no one could find the previous generation’s Mr. and Mrs. Ming.

With Uncle Lu in charge, the Ming family’s prestige on the high seas was not so fragile as to not last for a month. In fact, there were no major troubles. It was just that this matter had caused some anxiety, and it was often mentioned later.

“The master had arranged all the miscellaneous matters and sneaked off to play with Madam.”

Ming Lu smiled and, whether intentionally or not, specifically added, “Not the kind of playing like diving, raising conches, going out to sea for fishing, or watching the sunrise and sunset.”

Mr. Ming, holding the young master’s hand, sat on the sofa, holding his herbal tea and raising his gaze.

Ming Lu coughed lightly, stopped joking, and continued to bring the topic back on track.

The previous Mr. and Mrs. Ming had left the two-and-a-half-year-old Ming Weiting with Ming Lu and went on a belated honeymoon. Finding no one to witness was very lonely, so they frequently sent videos and photos to Ming Lu.

The master accompanied Madam to a masquerade ball, and to a water park that Mr. Ming was absolutely not suited for and was quite childish. They went exploring in the dense forest on the island and danced with the local indigenous people, stepping on the sparks flying from the bonfire.

The master took Madam flying over the sea on a hang glider. The sea spray splashed up, and they flew through a school of fish leaping out of the water together.

“And fireworks,” Ming Lu said. “Not the fireworks display prepared on the cruise ship, but set off by Madam herself. The fireworks would be reflected in the water, and wherever they were reflected, they would chase the shadow of that place… Master, you were also held and played with like that when you were young.”

Ming Weiting sat on the sofa and didn’t speak immediately.

He indeed had no impression of these things. When he started to remember things, his mother had already passed away. The father after that was stern and silent, always seeming very tired. Many times, he would stare at him in a daze without saying a word.

He had always had this temperament and had never thought there was anything wrong with getting along this way… It was just that Uncle Lu rarely brought these things up. Hearing them, he suddenly could completely understand his father.

If he and Ming Chi were forced to be separated forever—of course, this was a bad hypothesis, and such a thing would never happen, unless it was sixty, seventy, or even further in the future—but if it really happened, in the long time that followed, he would not have any more passion for life than his father did.

“Alright,” Ming Lu finished speaking and stood up with a smile. “Master, it’s time to go out.”

Ming Weiting frowned slightly. “So soon?”

“When you’re chatting, time flies.”

Ming Lu opened his pocket watch and looked. “There’s a press conference at three in the afternoon, followed by meetings with several print media outlets, and then there are a few business deals with the cruise company that need to be discussed.”

The response and handling of this accident were very thorough. All the injured were safely discharged from the hospital. The derelict captain resigned and would be held legally responsible. The Ming family’s subordinate cruise company took the initiative to contact for compensation, and all the losses of the passengers and crew had been compensated to a considerable extent.

But it was, after all, a shipwreck. The impact could not be erased so quickly. The cruise company still needed to show considerable sincerity to gradually dispel the lingering panic and unease in the public’s mind.

These were all long-arranged schedules. For the next few days, Ming Weiting would be staying outside. Ming Lu also needed to go out with him, leaving Ming Chi to be in charge of watching the house on his own.

Ming Chi, sitting on the sofa, met Mr. Shadow’s gaze and immediately raised his hand to prove himself. “I am two years and two hundred and fifty-four months old.”

Ming Weiting was at a loss for words. He squatted down and tapped him on the forehead. “Eat well.”

Ming Chi also quickly slid off the sofa and squatted face to face, childishly holding hands with Mr. Ming. “Sleep well.”

…

Ming Lu went out to instruct the driver to park the car at the entrance and wait.

He said these things, of course, not specifically to make the master dwell on the past. After arranging for the car to pick them up, he tiptoed to the door.

This time’s master and young master seemed to be a little less mature than the previous master and madam.

For example, when the two said goodbye, they were squatting in front of the sofa, foreheads touching and hands held.

Ming Lu, without changing his expression, gestured for the person to go out and prepare, and approached the door.

“Masquerade ball, water park.”

The Ming family’s master, as expected, learned everything. He reminded Ming Chi to note it down in his notepad and then asked in a low voice, “Do you like hang gliding?”

Ming Chi actually thought about this question carefully.

If Auntie were here, she would definitely love it and couldn’t wait to go play immediately… but considering his experiences of being dragged by Auntie to go surfing, bungee jumping, skydiving, and zip-lining, he was actually a little daunted.

At least for now, he was daunted. He thought he might come to like extreme sports in the future, to like that adrenaline rush, but if he dared to do that in the next few months, Dean Xun might be worried enough to come and drag him back to the hospital.

Ming Chi hesitated for a long time, lowered his voice, and whispered in negotiation, “Let’s skip this one for now…”

Ming Weiting immediately let out a sigh of relief.

He was not good at hang gliding either. Although his father had trained him many times, he was never very stable when he came down from it and might fall on flat ground.

After so many years, this might not be the case anymore, but the psychological shadow that remained was still inevitably there to some extent.

“Then that’s fine.” Ming Weiting raised his hand and gently ruffled his head and neck. “Huo Miao.”

Ming Chi put down his notepad and looked up.

“I’m going out to do some work. I might be back in a few days. If you’re bored these days, you can read those letters you wrote. They’re all on my computer.”

Ming Weiting paused for a moment after saying this.

He recalled Uncle Lu’s reminder and deliberately distinguished it from the cruise ship’s fireworks display. “When I come back, can I hold you and go chase the fireworks?”