The wind tonight was neither cold nor hot.

The moon climbed higher and higher. The tourists, still wanting more, slowly dispersed, and the beach gradually grew quiet.

Many people from the company had made plans to stay up all night. Kuang Li herded them into cars one by one to go to a nearby hotel they had booked, preparing to watch the sunrise the next morning.

Fang Hang and the others stayed behind on the beach, chatting for a long time with Mr. Ming, who had come to take the General Manager home.

It was so long that Ming Chi had already been tucked into a beach chair, covered with a blanket, and had taken several naps. Each time he opened his eyes, he could still see the silhouettes of a group of people by the bonfire.

Ming Chi was in a daze for a moment. He met the gaze of Ming Lu, who was sitting nearby, took a deep breath, and said, “Super comfortable.”

He was actually a bit hot and couldn’t help but secretly kick the blanket halfway off. Unfortunately, Uncle Lu quickly discovered this and replaced it with a much cooler air-conditioning blanket that still covered him snugly.

Ming Chi had no strength to move at the moment and indeed shouldn’t risk catching a cold. He obediently lay flat under the thin blanket. When Uncle Lu tapped his head, he smiled and thanked him.

“Go home first if you’re tired,” Ming Lu said, brushing the sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. “Going back to the cruise ship is fine too. The master will be back soon.”

Ming Chi didn’t want to go anywhere for the time being. He shook his head and looked at the shadows in the distance again.

Mr. Ming’s ability in “small talk” had not yet evolved to a level of ease. He mostly just listened to them talk, only interrupting on rare occasions to ask a question or two.

Not letting the subject of the conversation, General Manager Ming himself, participate in the chat and instead tucking him in here to sleep—one could guess they were definitely talking about his three years at Huaisheng.

…

He didn’t know how there could be so much to talk about that they still hadn’t finished.

Uncle Lu voiced his criticism for him: “How outrageous.”

Ming Chi shook his head with a smile. He closed his eyes, then opened them again after a while.

It might sound strange to say—but every time he opened his eyes, he would actually be in a daze for a few seconds, feeling as if he had only just truly woken up.

Not from the exceptionally comfortable fatigue or the half-asleep, half-awake peaceful drowsiness.

It was a longer nightmare, one he once thought had no exit. He didn’t know when he had fallen into it, but the feeling had always been dormant in the depths of darkness, perhaps needing to be measured in years, or even longer.

Perhaps it was the ten years that had been erased from his memory.

“I’ve read those letters, Uncle Lu,” Ming Chi said. “I really like myself.”

Ming Lu pulled over a chair and sat down beside him, listening intently.

“I think, if I were to meet the me from ten years ago—no matter which version of me I met, I would become friends with him.”

Ming Chi smiled. “There would surely be many things to correct, many thoughts to adjust… but I would still like him very much.”

“We would too,” Ming Lu said. “The master brought this up just yesterday.”

Ming Chi’s eyes widened slightly, and he turned his head curiously to listen.

Ming Lu picked up an iron poker and stirred the bonfire a couple of times, making it burn brighter. “The master couldn’t sleep, so we chatted. We discussed this possibility and talked about the chances of just carrying you onto the ship and taking you away.”

The result of the discussion was that the plan had a minuscule chance of success.

This wasn’t surprising. After all, Ming Chi already had a strong sense of self-preservation in his teens. A soft approach wouldn’t be believed, and a hard approach would likely lead to some fierce struggles.

However, this discussion did have some effect; at least it successfully cured the master’s insomnia.

Ming Lu, of course, wouldn’t know what Ming Weiting had dreamed of. But based on the quality and duration of the master’s sleep, he had most likely returned to ten years ago and personally negotiated with the teenage young master.

Ming Chi pillowed his head on his arm. He was made to laugh by Uncle Lu’s very serious tone. Coincidentally, the conversation not far away also entered a lighthearted phase, and laughter rang out almost at the same time.

Mr. Shadow probably hadn’t learned to smile in front of others yet, but his expression was also quite gentle as he looked over.

Their distance wasn’t actually that far. Ming Weiting knew his location very well and didn’t need to search specifically; his gaze landed easily in Ming Chi’s eyes.

Ming Chi couldn’t help but raise the corners of his mouth as well.

He asked Uncle Lu to help him adjust the back of the beach chair, sat up, and waved.

Ming Chi was now beginning to understand why Mr. Shadow had suddenly said those words to him that night, telling him to go see the outside world first.

The outside world was different from the cruise ship, and also different from the Seaview Villa that didn’t invite guests. And he was no longer like he was ten years ago. There were many things and people he had never seen outside, endless excitement, and friends who were always waiting for him.

He had sat in the villa reading the letters he left for himself, repeatedly thinking about what his past self was like, but it turned out there was no need for such trouble.

All he needed to do was cast aside all his worries and meet his friends without thinking about anything.

Some things that were never forgotten, and would never be forgotten, would come back on their own.

“Uncle Lu,” Ming Chi said suddenly, “it’s really fun outside.”

Ming Lu wasn’t surprised by this statement, just as he wasn’t surprised at all by the rapid changes that had occurred in Ming Chi over the past few days.

He and the master could see Ming Chi waking up. That road had been too difficult to walk, and even Ming Chi had to wait until now to finally take the last step, completely bidding farewell to all the traces the nightmare had left on him.

Ming Lu smiled. He nodded, about to tell Ming Chi that there were even more fun things outside, but found that Ming Chi was still staring into the distance, lost in thought.

Ming Lu waved a hand in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

Ming Lu turned his head and found that Ming Weiting was also looking over.

The managers of Huaisheng Entertainment were chatting happily. Everyone was in an incredibly relaxed mood, and for the time being, no one had noticed this small detail—just like the sudden concert by the bonfire earlier.

Ming Lu was on the ship, accompanying the master as they enjoyed the entire concert, even meticulously providing lighting support according to the “Stanning Guide.”

Here, he had to thank the advancement of technology again. The performance of the binoculars and long-distance high-definition cameras was quite good. Even though they were just on the ship, they still enjoyed a rather immersive audio-visual feast.

Then, before Ming Lu could react, Ming Weiting had already disembarked.

He walked quite fast. The beach was crowded with people. Ming Weiting stopped when he reached the reef, and Ming Lu caught up.

On this path, Ming Weiting made no move that would attract attention—Ming Lu could confirm this completely. There were too many audience members coming from all over. They were just like the most ordinary tourists, drawn by the sound of music.

But Ming Chi had somehow found them.

For the following half-minute guitar solo, Ming Chi kept looking at Ming Weiting.

He was performing for his one and only lucky fan.

These past few days, they had occasionally heard snippets of it, drifting intermittently from the small house. A few bars had probably been polished and adjusted so many times that they were instantly familiar.

The melody seemed to possess a strange power. The wind whispered, the tide responded, and even the cries of the seabirds seemed perfectly timed, sounding both crisp and bright.

A couple was kissing not far away, which perhaps became the best annotation for that melody—there is always that one encounter.

Countless encounters and partings happen every moment in this world. There is always one of those encounters that makes you feel the vastness of the sky and sea, the boundlessness of the world, that everything is beautiful, everything is full of life.

Ming Chi had regained some strength.

He placed his right arm behind his neck, stretched backward forcefully, and moved his sore shoulders and back.

Meeting Ming Lu’s gaze, Ming Chi smiled and continued speaking, as if there was no necessary connection, transition, or causality between these two sentences that needed explaining.

As if they were just two common sense statements, or perhaps just one: “It’s really fun outside.”

He said, “I like Mr. Shadow.”

…

The managers chatted for half the night.

While President Ming was drowsy and had unknowingly fallen asleep in the beach chair, they left a letter and quietly departed from the beach.

Ming Chi woke up from another short, sweet dream to find himself an empty-nest General Manager, having just boarded the Seaview Villa’s dedicated tour car. “How outrageous.”

Ming Weiting stroked his hair and let him lean steadily on his shoulder. “They didn’t have the heart to wake you. They were afraid you’d settle accounts with them.”

Ming Chi was a little surprised. “Why?”

It was already very quiet all around. Watery darkness enveloped the entire space. The lights reflected on the water, like scattered stars, exceptionally beautiful.

There was no one nearby. Ming Chi relaxed, completely surrendering himself to the strength of Mr. Shadow.

“The master can’t say,” Ming Lu, who had overheard this part, knew very well. “They asked the master to keep it a secret.”

General Manager Ming guessed it in a second. “They were digging up my embarrassing past.”

No wonder they ran off while he was asleep.

It would be fine if he knew what embarrassing history he had. But that was the problem; there were too many things that had happened in the past that even he himself didn’t know.

The more Ming Chi thought about it, the more worried he became. “Was there anything particularly childish?”

Ming Weiting shook his head. “Just some old stories.”

He was visibly relieved. Since Ming Chi had figured it out himself, saying it wouldn’t count as breaking a promise. “They had a few drinks.”

During this time, although the official Weibo account had been posting Ming Chi’s past materials, no one would bring up the events of the past three years.

Those events were tacitly hidden by everyone, tucked away in the least likely place to be accidentally touched. No one touched them, no one thought about them, just buried their heads and kept rushing forward.

Finally having this opportunity, these people poured out everything in one breath, talking so much that they even forgot Mr. Ming was nearby.

Ming Chi, of course, knew this too. He put the letter into his pocket and tucked it away carefully. After thinking for a moment, he smiled again. “Mr. Ming even treated people to drinks.”

“They are your friends,” Ming Weiting said. “I am very grateful to them.”

Ming Chi didn’t speak immediately.

He watched the shimmering reflection of the moon on the water, quiet for a while, before speaking softly, “Me too.”

Ming Weiting gently ruffled his hair.

Ming Chi raised his eyes. He had only been in a daze for a short while, but his gaze was clear again. “Mr. Tour Car.”

Ming Weiting was startled, then reacted. “Welcome aboard. Would you like to speed up or slow down?”

“Neither, the speed is just right.” Ming Chi’s sense of direction was very good this time. He accurately raised his hand and set a new coordinate. “Can we open another dedicated line?”

Ming Weiting looked in the direction he pointed.

He looked at the bright lights there, then lowered his head and asked, “Want to sleep on the cruise ship?”

During the earlier conversation, the managers had indeed hesitantly mentioned this matter.

They hadn’t deliberately controlled public opinion for tonight’s bonfire party, and it had already spread quickly online—the reaction was, of course, very good. Huaisheng Entertainment had its own photography department follow along. Just a short clip posted on the official Weibo account had caused the eagerly waiting comments section to explode, with people even shouting about going to have a chance encounter.

Such words were usually just jokes, shouted for the fun of it, and no one would take them seriously.

For one, there were beaches everywhere, making it difficult to pinpoint the exact location. For another, by the time the video clips were released, the party was already over. Even if they found the place, they wouldn’t see anyone.

“…However,” Fang Hang’s expression was hesitant, but he still gave a reminder, “some people do know the location.”

The reason they had talked for so long was not just because there were too many things worth saying from the past three years, but also because they had discussed some less pleasant matters in between.

For example, that family.

The day the interview video was released, the comments section had mentioned it. The gossip news said that Luo Zhi’s parents were looking for doctors everywhere to “cure” Luo Zhi’s illness so the family could be together again. It wasn’t entirely a rumor.

…

Ming Lu had handled this matter. Xun Zhen had already dealt with it properly at the time.

The head doctor of the team had sent a student to the branch hospital where Luo Chengxiu was being treated. He gave the two of them a lesson, explaining in detail the effects of brain surgery on memory, and also showed them the records of consultations with various hospitals and expert teams.

Luo Mu didn’t seem to be able to accept this result and was about to have another episode, but was suppressed by Luo Chengxiu’s deathly cold aura and, surprisingly, didn’t cause a scene.

“So this is what it takes to stop you from making a scene.” Luo Chengxiu was pushed back to his ward by the caregiver. His strength had been depleted while the student was talking, and he leaned lifelessly in his wheelchair. “If.”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence at once. “If, in the past, when you were having your fits, I had spoken up for Luo Zhi.”

He asked his wife, “Would you still have had your fits?”

Luo Mu’s face was pale. She couldn’t answer a single word.

Luo Chengxiu knew the answer.

But he still didn’t know. “Did it have to be this way?”

“Alright, stop thinking about it,” Luo Mu soothed him with a trembling voice. “We’ll go again, we’ll look again. Who says what they said is definitely true? What if…”

“It had to be this way,” Luo Chengxiu said, looking at the floor. “Am I regretting it?”

“Even without the Ming family, without this disaster, there would still be your precious darling.”

Luo Chengxiu said, “He was already collecting evidence on me, sold your daughter, and harmed your eldest son. He didn’t come after you because he didn’t need to specifically target you.”

“Without this incident, he would have done these things sooner or later.”

He continued in a low voice, as if he hadn’t heard his wife’s words, “Without Luo Zhi to keep him in check, once his wings were fully fledged, he would have brought us to the same end sooner or later.”

Luo Mu already knew about Jian Huaiyi’s retaliation. Their money was still frozen. She was already very clear about this, but she still couldn’t understand. “When we brought him back, he was only seven…”

“So he was taught by us to be this way,” Luo Chengxiu asked. “Is that what you’re regretting?”

Luo Mu’s expression was terrified. “…What?”

“Without Luo Zhi, we would have ended up in this state sooner or later, living miserably,” Luo Chengxiu said. “Wouldn’t it be great if he came back?”

His words hit home. Luo Mu froze on the spot, her body trembling violently.

“What are you regretting? That he’s forgotten everything and we can’t continue to leech off him?”

A gnawing pain began to spread in Luo Chengxiu’s chest again. He slumped in his wheelchair, cold sweat beading on his forehead. “If I said that I regret why I didn’t speak up for him back then… I’m thinking, why did I never say a single word for him? Would you believe me?”

He looked at his wife’s doubtful gaze and already had the answer. The answer was nothing special; even he himself didn’t really believe it.

Luo Chengxiu’s lips twisted into a sarcastic smile. “Jian Rou.”

His breathing was already heavy. He called out Luo Mu’s name hoarsely, his bloodshot eyes staring at her. “You know, I care most about my pride.”

“I believe you!” Luo Mu reacted and quickly said, “I think the same way! We’ll find someone to cure him. These doctors have problems with their skills. We’ll find others…”

“If you dare to go find him, to pester him to pity you, to pity us, and to disgrace me.”

Luo Chengxiu said, “I will drag you with me and jump from here. If I die, I’m taking you with me.”

Luo Mu clamped her mouth shut, fear frozen in her eyes.

Even after Luo Chengxiu was sent to the emergency room again, she remained huddled in a corner, motionless, not making another sound.

…

The student who had gone to give the lesson didn’t know the whole story and just relayed it as it was upon his return, completely unable to understand what that family was making a fuss about. “What were they doing before?”

There was no answer to this question. In the end, someone just sighed, and they all went about their own business.

Xun Zhen relayed this matter to them, adding that Luo’s father was not in any serious condition, but after waking up, he stopped talking to people, either lying in bed in a daze or sitting in his wheelchair repeatedly watching those few episodes of the documentary. As for Luo’s mother, she had become quite obedient and had stopped making trouble altogether.

There was no need to inform Ming Chi of these matters. The managers kept their voices low and spoke very carefully.

…

They mentioned this to Ming Weiting not entirely to remind him and Ming Chi to be careful of outsiders at the Seaview Villa these couple of days.

For Mr. Ming, this was really not something that required special handling.

“If you want to go home to sleep, then go home.”

Ming Weiting said, “Don’t have any worries. You can go anywhere.”

Ming Chi wasn’t thinking about this at all. Being reminded like this, he actually noticed something and, with a little thought, made the connection. “Will there be strangers at the villa?”

Ming Weiting’s steps faltered. He was silent for a moment. “Oh no.”

“You let it slip,” Ming Chi immediately helped him finish. “What now?”

Ming Weiting asked, “What now?”

Ming Chi studied Mr. Shadow for a long time, roughly guessing what was going on, and took the cane Ming Lu was holding.

“You’ve walked a long way today,” Ming Weiting noticed his action. “The tour car doesn’t want to let its passenger get off.”

Ming Chi smiled. “The passenger wants to walk with the tour car for a while.”

He used the cane to stand steady, slowly moved his right leg a couple of times. After the initial soreness passed, his condition improved a lot. “The passenger’s body is recovering very quickly.”

Ming Weiting looked at him, warmth gradually appearing in his eyes. He reached out and touched Ming Chi’s ear.

“So cool,” Ming Weiting said. “How can you be so cool?”

Ming Chi pursed his lips. The part of his ear that was touched immediately turned red. When he had moved around enough, he switched the cane to his left hand and generously gave his right hand to Mr. Shadow.

“Dean Xun came to see me and talked a lot with me,” Ming Chi said. “I thought about it for a long time. Every sentence made sense.”

The ground here was flat. Ming Chi got used to it after a few steps and led the tour car towards the pier. “One sentence was that I have to be responsible for the people who care about me.”

Ming Weiting didn’t quite agree and frowned slightly. “You don’t have to be responsible for anyone.”

“I still should. The feeling of being responsible is also very good,” Ming Chi smiled. “And Dean Xun was right.”

Ming Chi said softly, “If even now, I am still trapped by the past, dragged back by people from the past, it will make all the friends who have helped me along the way sad.”

“That’s not acceptable,” Ming Chi said. “Friends can’t be sad.”

He added, “And Mr. Shadow and Uncle Lu, even more so.”

Mr. Shadow, having learned to find fault from somewhere, said, “Mr. Shadow and Uncle Lu are not friends.”

Ming Chi pressed his lips together. He didn’t explain. Ming Weiting held his hand firmly, and he turned back to find Uncle Lu’s arm.

Ming Lu came up from behind, took back his cane, and together with the master, supported Ming Chi by the arms over the small puddle left by the high tide.

Ming Chi landed on the ground and stood firm, giving himself a very satisfied evaluation: “One hundred points.”

A smile also appeared in Ming Weiting’s eyes. He reached up to touch his hair, pressing down and ruffling it a couple of times. “I was wrong.”

“It’s ‘even more’ not acceptable,” Ming Weiting said. “It’s family.”

A warmth spread in Ming Chi’s chest. He saw the same smile in Uncle Lu’s eyes. “It’s family.”

“Dean Xun also left a poem and asked me to paint a picture for it,” Ming Chi said. “Those who abandon me.”

Those who abandon me, yesterday cannot be retained.

“I won’t paint it,” the black-hearted creditor said. “Today has no worries.”

This time, Ming Chi really laughed out loud, coughing lightly as he nodded. “Indeed, I can’t paint it. I really don’t remember.”

He had never brought this up on his own. Ming Weiting looked down into his eyes, his expression serious, waiting for Ming Chi to continue.

“I don’t know why… perhaps,” Ming Chi said, “Dean Xun said there might be psychological factors at play. The me before the surgery made a decision.”

He remembered things from ten years ago. Logically, he should be able to recall some past events related to that family, to remember their faces.

But he couldn’t remember anything, even those images were completely blurry.

In the letter the pre-surgery him left for himself, there was no content related to those people. He could infer some things based on the events that happened before and after and the scars on his body, but he couldn’t find any related feelings at all.

“Just as well,” Ming Weiting stopped walking. “Your friends also mentioned something to me.”

Ming Chi immediately came back to his senses. “What is it?”

“They said you no longer had a family long ago—that Uncle Lu and I are your new family.”

Ming Weiting summarized for him, “The process is not important, the result is clear.”

Ming Chi laughed and nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

Ming Weiting looked at him, raised his hand, cupped the back of Ming Chi’s head and neck, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against his.

Ming Chi let him, holding Mr. Shadow’s hand. “The process can be forgotten.”

He coughed lightly and added, “Anyway, I don’t remember it either. It can all be forgotten.”

Ming Weiting nodded.

Perhaps in a few years, he would also learn to forget.

Ming Chi’s friends said that that family… every one of them had said countless times for Luo Zong to sever ties with them—his mother wished him dead, and Luo Chengxiu had said in an interview that this son had nothing to do with him, and if he got into any trouble in the future, there was no need to come looking for him.

The unedited interview was released. At that time, Luo Zhi was only nineteen. He was on the rooftop by himself, learning to smoke, coughing so hard it felt like his lungs would come out.

“If it weren’t for us, he definitely would have left,” Fang Hang said in a low voice. “We were also tying him down. He knew better than anyone what the consequences would be if he just handed us over to the Luo family like that.”

“…In short.”

Fang Hang clenched his fists tightly. The few managers exchanged silent glances and mustered their courage. “He hasn’t had a family for a long time.”

“Not since he turned eighteen. That family said it themselves, they have no relationship with him anymore.”

“So we are his family.”

Fang Hang’s face was flushed red. “We’re taking fifty-one percent of the company’s shares as his family property… I know, this little bit doesn’t really count for anything.”

Ming Weiting did not think so. He shook his head to correct him, but Fang Hang just continued on his own.

“We will make the company very good, very powerful, more and more powerful—we will make these shares more and more valuable,” Fang Hang said. “Certainly, it definitely won’t be that much, but it will always be his. It will always be his support.”

Fang Hang’s words were a bit halting. He didn’t know how to say these things without being disrespectful. They truly didn’t know how to thank the other party, so saying such things at this time was indeed too presumptuous.

They were just too afraid of any more twists and turns. This had nothing to do with reality, nothing to do with the other person’s character; it was just that too many sad things had happened in the past, so they were still afraid of that coiled rope.

“He’s not just… not just the young master of the Ming family, he’s also our General Manager,” Fang Hang said. “He’s the person who became who he is because of us, the person who made us who we are now, he’s family to all of us.”

“He is very capable, and we will work hard. We will definitely accompany him and definitely make his company even more powerful.”

“We really don’t know how to thank… we don’t know what to say.”

Fang Hang’s hands were trembling from how tightly he was clenching them. He was so worried that these words were not polite enough. “In the future, we will unconditionally undertake any promotional and public opinion directional work for the Ming family’s cruise company, or if there’s anything else—”

“I know,” Ming Weiting said.

Fang Hang stood frozen on the spot, staring at him.

…

He had spoken chaotically, but Ming Weiting actually knew what he wanted to say.

“They hope, as your family, to send you to be with us.”

Ming Weiting looked at Ming Chi and helped relay the message, “They want you to know that you always have a way out, no matter what. Even if the worst happens, you can always go back to them at any time.”

Ming Chi was quite certain. “The worst-case scenario is that I find I really can’t finish my paintings and have to go back to the company to steal the photocopier.”

Ming Weiting couldn’t help but laugh. The hand that Ming Chi was holding changed its position, turning over so that their hands were completely clasped together.

Ming Chi was led back to their cruise ship. After walking for a while, he suddenly remembered again, “Mr. Shadow.”

Ming Weiting turned his head to look at him.

“The answer?” Ming Chi was really curious. “How did you answer in the end?”

Ming Weiting stopped walking and thought for a moment.

He raised his free hand, gently touched Ming Chi’s ear, his voice very gentle. “I was wrong.”

Ming Chi was slightly stunned and blinked his eyes.

“I was wrong, you’re not the young master,” Ming Weiting said softly. “You are my little mister.”