In summer, the sun sets late.

On his way to the cruise ship docked at the port, Xun Zhen saw a lively group of young people holding guitars and singing on the beach, which was dyed golden by the setting sun.

It was clear many of them were in the entertainment business; they had striking looks, good voices, and you could hear their excellent professional skills.

It was a bit of a shame that the atmosphere was too much like a big party. To avoid isolating the tone-deaf managers, the song selection wasn’t much different from a KTV playlist.

This was a public beach, and they didn’t mind anyone coming over to join in. Many tourists had already gathered to listen.

Xun Zhen also stopped to listen for a while and happened to see the young man from the press conference, briefly floored by a can of beer, grabbing his agent and looking utterly dejected. “That cruise ship! That huge cruise ship! Why are the tickets so hard to get!”

“We can see it right there, but we just can’t get tickets!” The young man had asked several tourists and heard they all had tickets. He clutched his empty beer can in anguish. “It feels like we’re the only ones in the whole world who didn’t get tickets!”

…

Xun Zhen was also part of the “whole world” who didn’t get tickets.

Although he had received Captain Ming’s assurance that he would do his best, Captain Ming himself didn’t even know about this route yet. After Xun Zhen explained the situation, he even took out his own phone to try and grab a ticket.

Xun Zhen also suddenly felt exceptionally melancholic. Coming back to his senses, he let out a long sigh and quietly slipped away from the bustling crowd.

Such a huge cruise ship. Some people could not only see it but could even board it in advance.

But some people still couldn’t get tickets.

Xun Zhen was led onto the ship from the pier. Watching the crew, already in position, methodically rearranging the cruise ship as colorful light strips lit up in the dimming twilight, his sense of regret and melancholy did not dissipate. In fact, it became even more pronounced.

Ming Lu had just finished watching the boatswain adjust some equipment and returned to the deck to meet Xun Zhen, only to see him sighing at the sea. “Director Xun?”

“Ming Chi’s condition is very good, but his sleep is still a bit unstable and needs adjustment,” Xun Zhen said immediately, knowing what he was about to ask. “I just came from his place.”

Ming Lu walked over and nodded. “The master will be here shortly.”

There were many matters to handle outside. They had been away from home for four days, and it probably wasn’t just the Ming family’s young master whose sleep needed adjusting.

When they weren’t home, Ming Chi’s innate, caring stability would become particularly obvious. He could not only take good care of others but also take good care of himself. The master really didn’t need to worry.

But Ming Lu still saw the master making calls and sending messages every night. Sometimes they would chat, and sometimes Ming Chi would play the guitar for him over the phone. They both had a tacit understanding not to mention the letters, nor to ask what Ming Chi had learned from them.

Ming Chi needed a short period of time to deal with them alone. It was like a ship having crossed the vast ocean, now in the final short stretch, testing the waters to dock. Every step had to be sufficiently cautious and careful.

…However.

Recalling the duration of last night’s phone call, the length of time between his master hanging up and going to sleep, and comparing it with the rich experience he had accumulated with the previous generation’s master many years ago.

Ming Lu turned to look at the sea and coughed discreetly.

Today was the last day. Once they finished their work, they could go home.

The cruise was set to depart at the end of the month, leaving only a few days. They still needed to come for the final verification and adjustments, especially the safety of the voyage, to ensure there would be no hidden dangers.

Ming Weiting was personally leading the safety manager to conduct the pre-departure inspection. The checks were meticulous and would still take some time.

Xun Zhen, of course, understood completely, but he couldn’t help but sigh. “The tickets for your company’s ship are too hard to get.”

Ming Lu looked at him with a hint of a smile and paused before saying, “If the young master is willing to join the cruise, there will be some invitation spots.”

“Really?” Xun Zhen’s eyes lit up. “He’s willing! He was trying to get a ticket before I came.”

It was only after Xun Zhen reminded him that passengers from the last trip could get a free upgraded ticket that Ming Chi stopped and instead focused on making a packing list for the long journey.

Xun Zhen hadn’t expected that Mr. Ming was still worried about this. “How could he not be willing? He’s really looking forward to it. He even asked me what to bring for a trip.”

Ming Lu smiled without speaking, just nodding.

Xun Zhen thought for a moment and suddenly understood. “That’s true.”

Although the analogy might not be entirely appropriate… when he was pursuing his own partner back in the day, after booking tickets for a trip together, he would also be so nervous that he’d toss and turn, completely unable to sleep, before getting a definite answer.

Knowing the other person would most likely agree is one thing.

But no matter how well you know them, how clear you are about their temperament and the answer they’ll give, before you get that actual confirmation, there’s still an uncontrollable sense of nervousness and anticipation.

This kind of feeling was hard to associate with Mr. Ming, but that was also a stereotype.

If one were lucky enough to meet someone truly important, everything would change in their presence.

…Just like the calm, sharp, and gentle Captain Ming in front of him, who, according to the head nurse, would immediately turn into a steaming, red, little hot water kettle as soon as he was with his family member.

Xun Zhen couldn’t be sure about the relationship between the two of them yet. But seeing them together, he felt that it wasn’t that important and didn’t necessarily need to be figured out right away. “Chief Steward Ming—I came for another matter this time.”

Ming Lu nodded, signaling for him to speak freely.

Xun Zhen knew he had probably misunderstood his meaning. He smiled and took something out of his pocket. “As a friend of Ming Chi’s… this, I don’t know how to handle it, and I don’t know if I should give it to him.”

The object was wrapped in a handkerchief and placed on the table.

Xun Zhen unfolded the handkerchief, revealing a pendant inside. A closer look showed that the pendant’s workmanship was quite rough, and what was set in it was just a small piece of discolored glass.

“That patient who was hospitalized at my place has been clamoring to find this recently. I had someone follow him for a while and roughly understood what happened.”

Xun Zhen said, “This is what was left of Mrs. Ren’s car.”

The car was destroyed, and this was the only remnant that could be found.

At that time, Luo Zhi had found it, made it into a pendant he always wore, and treated it as his home.

Ren Chenbai had only managed to investigate up to this point and didn’t know where the pendant ended up. The villa’s surveillance cameras didn’t capture it, there was no one with Luo Zhi at the time, and he himself could no longer retrieve this memory.

After completing today’s follow-up visit, when Ming Chi heard that Xun Zhen was going to the pier, he pointed out a little-known shortcut, sending him out of the villa along a small gravel path hidden by trees in the garden.

As Xun Zhen was saying goodbye to Ming Chi and preparing to leave, he discovered the well-hidden, rusty mailbox.

“Occupational hazard, the scene is too typical.” Xun Zhen’s lips twitched into a slight smile. He had been thinking about this for the past few days—the door, the rusted-shut mailbox, and the road leading away. These scenes, so ordinary in normal times, could become an abrupt farewell at such a moment.

This is why people often linger at landmarks and boundary markers, why for some, the sign of departure is the moment the door closes, while others put a key that no longer belongs to them into a mailbox.

The process of saying goodbye might be extremely long, but the actual “goodbye” is often said in an instant.

Xun Zhen spent a little extra time and found someone to help him open the mailbox, discovering what was inside.

In the end, Luo Zhi had returned it to Sea-view Villa.

…

Xun Zhen explained up to this point, then paused and greeted Ming Weiting, who had walked over.

Ming Weiting seemed to have been standing nearby for a while and didn’t need him to repeat anything. He walked to the table. “What’s the right way to do this?”

“Once you become friends, you can’t do psychological counseling anymore, because there are always concerns.”

Xun Zhen pressed his forehead and gave a helpless smile. “I don’t want him to be sad because of this, but it’s undoubtedly very important to him… so I brought it here.”

Ming Weiting sat down at the table, looking at the pendant lying quietly in the handkerchief.

“Ming Chi,” Xun Zhen hesitated for a moment but still reminded him, “he should remember that car.”

Ten years ago, Mrs. Ren had already given him that car.

Ming Chi should remember this. He should remember that he had a car, but now the car is gone. This matter couldn’t be unimportant to him.

But over the past few days, Ming Chi had never asked Ming Weiting or Ming Lu where the car was.

He could guess that something very bad must have happened, and that Mr. Shadow and Uncle Lu surely didn’t know how to bring it up with him, so he didn’t ask.

But he couldn’t actually stop thinking about it.

When Xun Zhen looked at the drawings, he didn’t really try to analyze the composition and colors—Ming Chi had recovered quite well. Other than a noticeable change in his color palette compared to the past, there were no other worrying issues.

…

It was just that Ming Chi himself probably hadn’t noticed that the color scheme of that car’s paint job was hidden in all of these drawings.

Ming Weiting understood Xun Zhen’s meaning and nodded. “I will give it to him.”

Xun Zhen hesitated. “Is that appropriate?”

“Not at the moment,” Ming Weiting re-wrapped the pendant and put it in his coat pocket. “It might take a few days.”

They had just struck a business deal with that multinational jewelry group. There would be a shop for them on the cruise, as well as professional jewelers for on-site crafting and processing. There would be corresponding collaborations on subsequent routes as well.

Ming Weiting had just had an overseas call with the founder today. The designer and goldsmith sent by the other party had already arrived. “The silver setting is low quality, the workmanship is very poor. I’ll find someone to fix it.”

Xun Zhen was dumbfounded for a few seconds before becoming amused. “Of course it’s poor, he had someone on the street make it… I mean, Sir.”

Xun Zhen hesitated for a moment, but then quickly spoke, “This is, after all, part of a very unpleasant memory. Even if he no longer remembers what happened, seeing this will let him know that the car is really not coming back.”

Xun Zhen said in a low voice, “I’m a little worried, in case something goes wrong—”

Ming Weiting shook his head. “He won’t. He’s amazing.”

Xun Zhen was taken aback.

“He’s amazing,” Ming Weiting said. “He’s even cooler than anyone thinks.”

This time, Xun Zhen was stunned for a good while.

He suddenly tapped his head, snapping out of his baseless worry, and shook his head with a smile.

…If you just imagined it, that sentence didn’t sound like something Mr. Ming would say, but it did when he actually said it.

There was some truth to the rules of the profession. Being friends really did affect the professionalism of psychological counseling.

His performance just now was even worse than that of the patient’s family member.

Perhaps only a family member who was equally firm and offered unconditional trust could accompany a patient, whom they were ready to award “Most Outstanding Patient,” to recover so quickly.

To recover so quickly, to become amazing again so quickly.

“How could I forget,” Xun Zhen smiled. “He’s so cool.”

…

“Of course, my brother is the coolest, okay!”

Xiang Luan, after being forced by his agent to drink a sobering soup, quickly regained his high spirits. He sat on a rock and educated a few new artists who had just joined the company. “With him around, you don’t have to be afraid of anything!”

“Anyway, whenever you have a problem, you go to him, and he’ll definitely have a solution. If there’s no solution, he’ll think of one for you.” Xiang Luan raised the guitar in his hand. “And he’s an amazing guitar player.”

These few young artists had only recently joined the company and were about the same age as Xiang Luan when he first arrived. Several of them had switched companies with the support of their families.

Huaisheng Entertainment’s artist contracts were very lenient, with no restrictions on staying or leaving, and they had dedicated teachers to help them balance their studies and train their professional skills. These things had always been in place, but they were drowned out by a flood of unverifiable negative press and were only now gradually becoming known to more people.

With such favorable terms, it was natural that many people would come. But one Li Weiming had taught them a huge lesson. This time, they were as cautious as could be in the artist selection process.

Fang Hang had specifically asked Kuang Li for help. The management team held repeated meetings for several days, patching up the loopholes left by their previous leniency and adding many more stable and detailed plans.

For now, Xiang Luan still got a headache just hearing about these things. He was thrown over by his agent to guide these newcomers and didn’t know how to say the official stuff, so he couldn’t help but chat with them. “My brother even taught me how to play guitar and treated me to hot pot.”

Among the young artists, there were two guitarists who idolized Xiang Luan. Their eyes widened as they listened. “Brother Luan, is Young CEO Luo even better than you?”

“Of course! Haven’t you seen the video?” Xiang Luan immediately took out his phone to play it on the spot. “Watch it now. I have the pure instrumental version.”

Xiang Luan pulled the two young guitarists over, one with each hand. “Look at the harmonics and finger rolls here. I still can’t match this fluency and control. And this incredibly natural palm-muting, quick, look at this tapping…”

At Huaisheng Entertainment, any artist who could play the guitar worshipped their young CEO. Even singers who didn’t focus on instruments and specialized in singing and songwriting often discussed the songs and music Luo Zhi had written.

Since the original master tapes of those videos were released, many avid guitarists like Xiang Luan had been forcing others to become fans. Newcomers to the company basically had to be educated on this.

The agent was already used to it. He walked by with two large handfuls of grilled skewers, leading away a few young actors who were completely bewildered, leaving the guitarists to their internal discussion.

By the time the agent came back, two more avid guitarist fans had been created.

…

The two newly converted young guitarists held Xiang Luan’s phone, engrossed in studying hand shapes and fingerings, their discussion heating up.

But Xiang Luan sat on the rock, staring blankly at the setting sun.

There was no trace of the excitement from his earlier proselytizing. Instead, he had a rare touch of maturity and calmness. Even when the two young guitarists excitedly called him “Brother Luan,” “Brother Luan,” he just smiled and said nothing.

The agent checked around, found no beer cans, and waved a hand in front of his eyes.

Xiang Luan’s eyes suddenly lit up, then he came back to his senses, saw who it was, and his mouth slowly drooped.

“What’s wrong?” the agent asked. “Did they snatch your phone?”

Xiang Luan shook his head.

It took him a long time to speak, his voice extremely low and tinged with a nasal sound. “I miss my brother.”

The agent was stunned for a moment and looked at him carefully.

Xiang Luan was feeling sorry for himself and didn’t want anyone to see. He squatted on the rock and buried his face in his arms.

For once, the agent didn’t drag him away. He also found a flat rock to sit on and watched the two young guitarists, who were excitedly gesturing and discussing.

“Was I like that back then?” Xiang Luan asked after a long, still moment, finally lifting his head to look behind him. “So childish. Does my brother think we’re childish?”

The agent shook his head.

“You weren’t just childish back then,” the agent thought for a moment and decided to splash some cold water on him. “You’re still childish now. I’m definitely switching groups next time. I’ll be a dog if I have to manage the fifteen-to-nineteen age group again.”

Xiang Luan’s mood seemed to have improved a bit. He ruffled his hair and let out a couple of grins.

The agent, not hearing him talk back, grew concerned instead and patted his shoulder. “The general manager loves watching you guys fool around.”

“He originally wanted to manage you all more strictly, military-style would have been best.”

The agent said, “The general manager pleaded on your behalf… said it’s only for these few years. Not thinking about all the messy stuff, chasing your dreams if you have them, making a scene when you’re happy. How great is that.”

Of course, the young CEO was never biased. After that meeting, all the agents and teams responsible for the under-twenty age group got a raise. The payslip even clearly stated a “hassle fee.”

If it weren’t for bending his back for this bit of money, the agent would have long since switched to the adult group. “Besides.”

“Besides… the management always has to maintain a certain image in front of you.” The agent still shared some gossip. “They’re not actually much more mature than you.”

“When the management team gets together, they don’t have to put on an act. They get rowdy about everything, and the general manager joins in with them.”

The agent said, “You saw the sunrise video, didn’t you?”

Xiang Luan was thinking about the sunrise video. When he took out his phone to look for it, that was the first thing he saw. For some reason, he suddenly started to feel sad.

“The general manager isn’t much more mature than you guys,” the agent said. “He’s not that much older than you in the first place.”

The hassle fee was well-earned. The agent also had to provide psychological counseling to these young artists every day. He was thinking about how to phrase things when he was startled by Xiang Luan’s expression. “What’s wrong? Why are you about to cry again?!”

“I don’t know, I just am.” Xiang Luan vigorously messed up his hair. He sniffled, trying not to embarrass himself in front of the newcomers. “I just remembered this thing.”

“I’m turning twenty soon. In three more years.”

“Three years goes by so fast, brother. Three years will flash by, and I was just thinking about when I’m that age.”

Xiang Luan let his agent wipe his face with a tissue, turning his head to look out at the sea. He also randomly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, trying hard to keep them open to see the sea.

He was just suddenly thinking about this.

Twenty-three was actually so close. He felt like his life had just begun.

His mom thought his playing guitar and singing was improper and was furious when he snuck out to participate in a competition. His dad, who had been in a band when he was young, hid him behind his back while pleading for him.

“Life is so long, just let him play, let him do something he likes, let him play for a few years.” His dad winked at him, and they each gave his mom a shoulder massage. “There are still decades of being serious ahead, no hurry…”

The agent listened to Xiang Luan’s jumbled words. It seemed like he didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but at the same time, it seemed like he did.

“That’s just how it is,” the agent said. “A lifetime is a long way off.”

“Haven’t you always believed that the general manager is fine? Let me tell you, I believe it now too.”

The agent patted his shoulder. “We’re all waiting for him to come back, so it definitely won’t be a particularly long wait. Don’t be anxious…”

Remembering what Manager Fang had told them, the agent hesitated. He was about to whisper a few words to him when Xiang Luan suddenly grabbed his arm tightly.

The agent jumped. “What’s wrong?”

“There are a few people over there, they’re coming for me,” Xiang Luan said in a low voice. “Doesn’t look good.”

The agent frowned and looked up.

Huaisheng Entertainment had made many enemies recently. It wasn’t surprising at all to be targeted.

Some people who can only hide in the dark, even after being punished for their evil deeds, will never learn to reflect. They only get angry and want to retaliate.

The security department’s workload had more than doubled, but it couldn’t go on like this forever. This team-building trip might have had this purpose as well. Instead of everyone being unsafe when alone, it was better for everyone to appear in the public eye together, draw out all those with ill intentions, and clean them up all at once.

The agent was originally afraid they were too far from the main group and was about to bring them back. He had accidentally chatted with Xiang Luan for a little too long and didn’t notice it was already getting dark.

They weren’t close to the main group, and if they went over together, they would be blocked on the way.

Xiang Luan kept telling himself to calm down, repeatedly trying to think what Luo Zhi would do if he were here. “They’re coming for me. How boring.”

“Brother, take the two of them far away. Circle around a few times where there are more people,” Xiang Luan said. “I’ll go find Manager Fang.”

The nineteen-year-old singer squatted on the rock, his eyes still red with tear tracks on his face, but his expression had quickly become calm and cold.

This was the best solution. Those people were not far away, and it was too late to call for help or the police.

The agent frowned, nodded, and stood up, not forgetting to whisper instructions. “Don’t get the short end of the stick. I remember you learned free combat, right?”

Xiang Luan gave a slight grin but said nothing.

The agent patted his arm, grabbed the two young artists one in each hand, tossed his phone to Xiang Luan, and quickly walked towards another group of tourists.

Xiang Luan jumped off the rock and ran in the direction of Fang Hang and the others.

Those people immediately sped up after him, and some even went around the reef to take a shortcut to block him.

Xiang Luan ran for a while and found that the path was blocked by people with weapons. He immediately changed direction and continued to run, checking his surroundings as he went.

The sun was about to set, the sky was darkening, and the scenery around him looked different from the daytime.

Xiang Luan soon realized that the nearby rocks and trees were unfamiliar, but he still couldn’t completely shake off those people. He could only continue to turn at every path he saw, taking out his phone to call the police while running.

“If my brother were here,” Xiang Luan kept muttering. “If my brother were here, if my brother were here…”

He tried his best to think like Luo Zhi, how to handle the current problem.

These people were either trying to get dirt on him, like fighting, or purely for revenge for what he had said before.

If it was for dirt, he would try not to fight if he could. He couldn’t tarnish the company’s name at a time like this. If it was purely for revenge, he had to protect his hands. He absolutely couldn’t get injured in a place like this.

He had heard before that a guitarist had his hand smashed by someone seeking revenge and later left the industry to change careers.

There were more and more figures nearby. Xiang Luan hid behind a rock, glanced at the few people still looking for him, grinned, and cursed under his breath, “Trash.”

He didn’t regret anything he had done or said. If he had to do it again, he would do the same. He had even prepared a draft to go up and curse that bunch of trash.

The people got closer and closer. After chasing for so long, they were also tired and annoyed, their mouths filled with foul curses.

They were either shouting about teaching him a lesson or about crippling him. It seemed it was going to be the second option no matter what.

Xiang Luan estimated his stamina. He decided to save some energy to strike first before he couldn’t run anymore. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and ducked out.

These people seemed to be hired thugs, specialists in causing trouble. Someone immediately noticed his movement. “Over here! The little brat can really run—don’t let him get away, block him!”

Xiang Luan spat and was about to go all out and fight when he suddenly froze.

He stood there with wide eyes.

The fierce posture he had just mustered vanished in an instant. Xiang Luan dazedly raised his hand, rubbed his eyes hard, then pulled hard on his own face.

…

The figures nearby weren’t all there to block him.

Besides the thugs, there were several others who looked very capable of fighting, their movements trained. Based on their build and location, they were either bodyguards or sailors.

The thugs who had been cursing about crippling him just now didn’t dare to make a sound when they came face to face with the strong, formidable figures. They stood frozen in place, their faces pale.

Xiang Luan himself worked out and most admired this kind of strong, lean physique. He couldn’t take his eyes off it whenever he saw it. But now he couldn’t be bothered—he had no time to look that way.

He couldn’t think of anything right now except to pinch his face hard.

Xiang Luan probably bruised his own face from pinching it. He sucked in a small breath of cool air and slowly lowered his hand.

The person blocking his path walked over, a helpless smile in his eyes, and sighed lightly. “How can you run so much?”

The other person had probably also walked a considerable distance being led around. There was a bit of sweat on his forehead, and his right leg limped slightly as he walked. He took a few slow breaths, half of his weight resting on the cane in his right hand.

But it didn’t affect anything—Xiang Luan’s eyes were wide. Although he had bruised his own face, he still suspected this was a dream.

In the dream, he encountered a thrilling chase. He calmly led the people away, and apart from accidentally getting lost and having no idea how to get out, he made almost no mistakes.

In the dream, his brother saw someone bullying him and came looking for him, and was even led around in this reef maze for a long time by his troublesome self.

Xiang Luan stood motionless, not daring to breathe, his mouth tightly shut as he looked at the figure before him.

…It didn’t affect anything at all.

Please, no one would think there was a problem with the trench coat, shirt, and cane combination.

The sky had tactfully darkened, and the setting sun cast a seemingly endless bright golden light. The person he had been dreaming of every day recently walked out. The sound of the cane hitting the ground was light, and the trench coat was outlined in gold.

If this were in a movie scene, fans would immediately edit it into eight hundred different videos, wouldn’t they?

Xiang Luan came back to his senses and shook his head hard.

His brother looked at him with gentle curiosity, seemingly not knowing what he was thinking.

He actually didn’t know what he was thinking.

Did he even need to ask?

“My god,” Xiang Luan mumbled to himself. “…He’s so cool, isn’t he?”