They arrived at the cemetery at dusk.

The rain had completely stopped. The sunset was bright, and the clouds that had not yet dispersed were dyed golden-red.

This color also seeped into the light rays falling through the gaps in the clouds, and then dissolved with the light into the water droplets lingering on the tips of the grass. Everything it enveloped seemed exceptionally gentle.

The rain had washed everything quite clean. Green grass surrounded the snow-white tombstone. The cemetery was on a hillside, encircled by green pines and cypresses. From here, one could see the scattered buildings and the main road below.

The gravedigger was already very familiar with Ming Chi and came over to greet him.

This job required staying at the cemetery all the time. It was indeed lonely, but one also heard a lot of news from the people who came to pay their respects.

He had heard that the Ren family had been greatly weakened this time. What should fall had fallen, what should collapse had collapsed. After everything was cleaned up, they had surprisingly returned to their old path.

In the ten years since Madam Ren’s passing, the company had made many decisions that deviated from her original development path. It looked prosperous on the surface, but in reality, there were already many problems inside, and the old employees from the past were becoming more and more shaken.

It was because of this that when the shock came this time, before their rivals could do anything, their own internal turmoil was already severe.

This time, their family had finally settled down, adjusting back to the main business and development route of ten years ago. The companies left behind by Madam Ren, on the contrary, each found a new lease on life. Later, they unexpectedly gained many new cooperation opportunities and were gradually stabilizing. It was estimated that they would slowly recover their strength in the future.

…

Ming Chi listened earnestly and thanked him in a gentle voice, “Thank you for your trouble during this time.”

He hadn’t been here for over two months, but the grave was very well-maintained and clean, with no trace of weeds around.

In the summer, grass and trees grew vigorously, and a patch could grow in just a few days. If it weren’t for the gravedigger’s help, it would be impossible to maintain it for so long with just the occasional visitor paying respects.

The gravedigger was already old and waved his hand upon hearing his thanks.

“You, child, haven’t been here for a long time. I knew you must have either encountered a major event or fallen ill again.”

The gravedigger said, “In the past—” he paused and shook his head, “Let’s not talk about it, let’s not mention those things.”

The owner of this cemetery had business dealings with the Ren family. In the past, as instructed by that young President Ren, they were not allowed to talk much with the boy who always came to the cemetery. But even so, because the boy had come alone too many times over the years, they had inevitably become more and more familiar.

The gravedigger had also heard about the things that had happened to Ming Chi and had been concerned, often helping him tidy up this grave whenever he thought of it.

Today, finally seeing Ming Chi come to pay his respects, he was finally at ease and led Ming Chi all the way up.

Ming Weiting was already waiting in front of the grave.

He had originally planned to come early to tidy up the tombstone, so he had arrived before Ming Chi, but this place was already quite neat, so there was nothing for him to do.

Hearing voices, Ming Weiting turned and met Ming Chi’s gaze.

“You have company this time?” The gravedigger looked at the figure already standing before the grave and was happy for him. “Are you together?”

Ming Chi’s eyes curved. He nodded lightly and also waved towards the top.

Ming Weiting made a gesture, signaling for Ming Chi to wait there, and quickly walked down the steps.

The gravedigger proactively made way. He had worked here for many years, and even without being told, he could vaguely guess many things. “You won’t be coming as often in the future?”

Ming Chi nodded, steadied himself with his cane, and leaned his shoulder towards him. “Please take care of yourself.”

“This old man is very healthy, with good legs and feet. It’s you who needs to nurse your body back to health.”

The gravedigger smiled. “Next time you come, you have to run all the way up, or I won’t open the cemetery gate for you.”

Ming Chi put the cane behind his back, straightened his shoulders and back, and promised with a smile.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come, and also worried you would,” the gravedigger stopped joking, patted his arm, and said in a gentle voice, “It’s finally a suitable time.”

“Good child, the deceased are not in the grave.”

The gravedigger said to him, “It’s about time you stopped tying yourself here.”

Ming Chi silently closed his eyes, then opened them again. His gaze was clear and bright, and he thanked him once more.

The gravedigger waved his hand, watching with a smile as the person who came down the steps took the cane and accompanied the young man, holding hands as they slowly walked up. He then returned to his small house.

…

Ming Chi held Mr. Shadow’s hand.

As Ming Weiting walked up to him, the streetlights at the foot of the mountain suddenly lit up. Specks of light dotted both sides of the main road, extending further into the distance.

They watched the streetlights that stretched into the distance for a while, then walked up into the brilliant golden-pink evening glow that filled half the sky.

The two of them sat together in front of the grave and talked with his aunt for a long time.

Ming Chi said everything he wanted to say, even the words he had originally planned to just repeat in his heart, he said them all out loud in one breath.

He was exceptionally proud; even his ears were justifiably not red.

It was also the first time he discovered that Mr. Shadow could also speak so much in one go.

“I wrote a draft,” Mr. Shadow met his gaze and proactively confessed. “I was very nervous and memorized it many times.”

Some people not only wrote a draft but also changed into a suit that looked particularly reliable, steady, and mature. If Ming Chi hadn’t stopped him, he might have even wanted to get a haircut.

Ming Chi couldn’t help but laugh. His chest grew warm again, and he held Mr. Ming’s hand.

The stamp that had been pressed there was later washed away by the rain. Ming Chi found a chance to stamp it again, this time clearer and more proper, landing on their overlapping palms.

“When we get back, I’ll have a seal carved for the little mister too,” Ming Weiting said, holding his hand and promising his aunt. “You can stamp me too.”

Ming Chi had just developed an interest in seal carving today and was rubbing his hands together. “I’ll do it myself.”

He wasn’t completely satisfied with the recovery of his right hand yet. Hearing that operating a carving knife could stabilize the hand’s strength, he was preparing to find an opportunity to try.

“The little mister does everything himself,” Ming Weiting finally found an opportunity and sighed lightly to his aunt. “Fortunately, he hasn’t started learning to sail or dive yet.”

This time, Ming Chi really laughed out loud. He knew Mr. Shadow wasn’t being serious and also cooperated childishly. “Of course.”

“This is the Huo Miao who went out for a spin and came back,” Ming Chi propped himself up with his arms and sat straight, introducing the ten-years-later version of himself to his aunt. “Very amazing.”

Ming Weiting very much approved of this introduction and nodded along. “Very amazing.”

As they spoke, the chirping of cicadas after the rain was louder than usual. In the quiet evening breeze on the hillside, it didn’t seem noisy. Because the environment was open, it sounded particularly crisp.

“This is a cicada,” Teacher Huo Miao taught the Mr. Shadow who came from the sea. “It says ‘zhī liǎo zhī liǎo’ (I know, I know).”

Ming Weiting temporarily shut off his own knowledge reserve, cooperated with the lesson, and picked up the thread in a gentle voice, “It means ‘I know’.”

A smile appeared in Ming Chi’s eyes. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled it long and slowly. His voice was very light. “Yes.”

I know.

…

I know.

It would be even better if he didn’t have to know those things, only knowing that he, who had gone out to play for two months and come back, was healthy, in a good mood, had started playing the guitar again, and had painted many new pictures.

They were going out next, to play in farther places, to see a farther world, and he would also become more amazing.

…So he wanted to be not so amazing for a few minutes.

One last time.

Ming Weiting seemed to have guessed what he was about to say. Before Ming Chi could speak, he ruffled his hair and said in a gentle voice, “I’ll go ask Uncle Lu when the car is coming.”

Ming Chi’s eyes curved, and he squeezed Mr. Shadow’s hand forcefully.

Ming Weiting got up and walked down. He walked a long way. When he looked back, Ming Chi was kneeling alone in front of the grave, his forehead pressed against the stone.

Ming Lu was standing in the distance. He had just chatted with the gravedigger for a while. Seeing Ming Weiting’s figure, he walked over. “Master.”

Ming Weiting nodded. “It’s alright.”

Ming Lu said no more, just followed him into the pine forest that had been washed by the rain.

The ground was covered with a thick layer of pine needles, soft to step on. The air held a faint scent of pine.

The gravedigger said that the child never cried or was sad when he was at the cemetery. A few times he came covered in injuries, he would hide them all so as not to be discovered, always only talking about happy things.

But as the years passed, the happy things seemed to become fewer and fewer, so the child would come with his guitar and sing.

Many people come to cemeteries seeking comfort, because the deceased are no longer there, because the departed are the most silent and non-dissenting listeners.

If even here, one only talks about happy things, then the wounds that never healed, the sadness suppressed layer by layer, would truly have nowhere to be spoken of.

…

“That person from the Ren family,” Ming Lu said. “The Ren family didn’t expect him to do those things. They came to apologize.”

This was not surprising. The Ren family, having a head of the family with a character like Madam Ren’s, were not people who couldn’t distinguish between good and evil. After knowing the truth, they would not still choose to shelter Ren Chenbai.

It’s just that sometimes, people whose emotions override their reason can also hurt people because of this, and even indulge evil deeds.

In the past, the Ren family had always thought that Luo Zhi was an outsider after all, and that Madam Ren’s death was related to him.

Ren Chenbai had never admitted that argument to anyone. From the Ren family’s perspective, they only knew that Madam Ren had had an accident while preparing a gift for Luo Zhi.

Coupled with the rift that had formed from the argument over the burial plot later, they had directed all their anger onto Luo Zhi, believing that Luo Zhi had to bear some responsibility for this matter, and no one had ever corrected Ren Chenbai’s thinking.

Ming Weiting listened calmly. “So?”

“There’s no ‘so’ anymore,” Ming Lu said. “That’s the explanation they gave.”

Ming Lu said, “The little young master doesn’t remember those things.”

The Ren family came to apologize because they discovered that the company’s collaborations were favors left behind by Luo Zhi.

The connections Luo Zhi had inherited from Madam Ren, he had never just contacted them for himself, but had always shared them with the core companies founded by Madam Ren. It was just that due to Ren Chenbai’s existence, Madam Ren’s old subordinates hadn’t dared to act rashly.

Now that everything was calm, these companies had new opportunities. Many people pulled themselves together, no longer slacking off and being perfunctory as they had been when they were suppressed and marginalized in the past. Those collaboration channels naturally all came into use.

The old head of the Ren family came out to manage things again. He had once injured Luo Zhi with a cane. This time, he came to apologize in the rain. How much of it was for his past mistake, how much was to repay a favor, and how much was because of the Ming family, no one could say for sure.

Ming Lu had personally disembarked, listened to the old gentleman’s explanation, and then asked, “Are you aware that Luo Zhi has been missing in the shipwreck and has been declared dead?”

The old head of the Ren family was stunned for a moment. “But—”

He got to this point, but was suddenly choked by the rest of his words.

He slowly frowned, turned around, and looked at the sea shrouded in a cold mist.

“The Ming family doesn’t have a tradition of doing things this way.”

Ming Lu explained amiably, “We don’t just rashly push all the responsibility onto a thirteen-year-old child and let it be for ten years, just because we want to protect our own and are afraid our own can’t bear a certain outcome, so we don’t investigate at all.”

“That was a thirteen-year-old child,” Ming Lu said. “He was punished by the family he held dearest in his heart for ten years. This was the only crime he couldn’t escape.”

Ming Lu had personally overseen the reconstruction of the Seaview Villa. He knew how much had been changed inside, how many of the gifts Madam Ren had carefully prepared for the child she protected had been casually discarded, how many had been deliberately modified or erased.

Such a large family, with so many properties, did they really have to fight with a child for the only home his elder had left him?

Were there so many descendants in the Ren family that even the main residence was not enough, that they really had to occupy the living room on the second floor, to live in a small house so far away?

Did the villa really have to be repainted, to clean all the graffiti off the walls? Did that car really have to be moved away so quickly, because the garden was being expanded and the view wasn’t open enough?

Luo Zhi couldn’t say anything. He only felt indebted to the Ren family. He had absolutely no standing to refuse these requests.

And that child’s character would never refuse these requests.

The only request he had ever made was not to let him go to the Ren family’s house anymore, not to let him go to the Seaview Villa anymore.

Luo Zhi didn’t know what illness he had. He hid all his sadness, pressing it down tightly in a place he wouldn’t reveal even at the cemetery.

He just instinctively knew that he couldn’t go to the Seaview Villa anymore.

“Madam Ren and the little young master have the same temperament. They couldn’t discover Ren Chenbai’s issues, nor could they understand his way of thinking at all. When things happened, they couldn’t understand why.”

Ming Lu looked at him, his tone gentle. “Old Sir, we are of a similar age and have seen people and things for most of our lives.”

“When Ren Chenbai lent the villa to the Luo family, letting that family accompany Mrs. Luo there to recuperate, to use the Seaview Villa as they pleased.”

Ming Lu asked, “Did you really not notice anything amiss?”

The old head of the Ren family said nothing, his aged hand gripping his cane tightly, standing there in silence.

“The Ren family does not owe him anything. He was only Madam Ren’s child. The Ren family had no obligation to take care of him, so we have not taken any action against your family either.”

Ming Lu said slowly, “But an apology is not necessary.”

The favor of the Ren family taking in Luo Zhi, Luo Zhi had been repaying it with the connections Madam Ren left him. Now those connections had indeed come in handy and had become a lifeline for the Ren family in this storm.

At this point, they were even.

This was Ren Shuangmei’s family, the core companies founded by Ren Shuangmei. The Ming family would certainly not interfere.

If the Ren family could continue to maintain the development path set by Ren Shuangmei in the future and treat these companies well, they would never again meddle in any of this family’s affairs.

“My family’s little young master doesn’t remember these things. He doesn’t know who you are,” Ming Lu said. “The child who knew what you did, the child who would call you ‘Grandpa’.”

The old head of the Ren family suddenly trembled violently.

His breathing tightened, as if he had remembered some past event. He was stunned for a long time, then slowly lowered his head.

…The child who would call him ‘Grandpa’.

A ten-year-old child, brought back to the Ren family by Ren Shuangmei, so nervous he was feverish, softly calling ‘Grandpa’, ‘Auntie’, ‘Uncle’.

They called that child Little Flame and gently stroked his head.

When their hands landed, the child stood stiffly, his whole body trembling.

“He grew up too fast. In those three years, he became more and more steady, more and more brave, more and more able to calmly handle any situation.”

The Ming family’s butler, of a similar age to him, spoke at a calm pace, as if stating his own thoughts. “So fast that it made people feel he should be responsible for everything like an adult. Blame, injustice, exclusion, alienation… he could bear anything.”

“After that period passed, we actually regretted it, that we shouldn’t have been angry with a child, that we had taken things too far.”

“But it would be too embarrassing to say it like that. Better to wait a little longer.”

“It’s fine, right? Let’s wait a little longer.”

Ming Lu looked at the sea. “Someday in the future, we’ll invite him over for a casual meal. It’s about time we let the past be the past.”

The old head of the Ren family gripped his cane tightly, rooted to the spot, still silent.

Every word the other said was not wrong, so he could say nothing.

That day would never come again.

The child who would call him ‘Grandpa’ was gone, sleeping in the place where Shuangmei had originally wanted to sleep.

The day that child was brought to see them, he heard them call him Little Huo Miao, just like Shuangmei did. He was filled with panic and joy, his eyes shining as if he had been brought home.

…

That Old Master Ren did not disturb Ming Chi again in the end.

He left behind one of Ren Shuangmei’s belongings—at the time of the funeral, they had been so angry with Luo Zhi that they hadn’t let the child have any of Ren Shuangmei’s personal items.

When Ming Lu returned to the ship, the old head of the Ren family was still standing motionless by the sea, looking at the ocean surface shrouded in mist.

Madam Ren was impatient with wearing superfluous, burdensome jewelry. She didn’t wear earrings much, and the studs she often wore were small, exquisite, and unique. That belonging was a platinum ear stud, in the shape of a strong, graceful plum branch.

“Coincidentally, the progress on that side was very fast. The designer, upon seeing this, immediately adjusted the original design.”

Those few jewelry craftsmen were on the ship. Ming Lu was a little late because he went to pick up the newly made pendant. “If you find a suitable time, Master, give it to the little young master.”

Ming Weiting took the velvet-lined box, opened it, and inspected it.

The ear stud had not been modified at all, only the pin on the back had been removed and carefully polished smooth. It was already small enough, and there was nothing out of place about it being embedded in the pendant.

The platinum plum branch was pure white and vigorous, corresponding to the half-pavilion eave, firmly protecting the small piece of color-changing glass that had been polished smooth.

A pigeon’s blood red diamond, finely cut, was carefully embedded in the center of the glass. The light refracted from it was vibrant and fiery, like a burning flame.

Ming Weiting said thanks, turned, and walked up the steps.

For the first time, Ming Chi allowed himself to cry his heart out in front of the grave.

He knew his aunt would definitely be proud of him, would definitely never worry about him again, so he could cry with peace of mind, because after crying, everything would surely be alright.

Ming Chi had a super satisfying cry.

He shamelessly wiped his tears with his sleeve. Thinking that his aunt would surely come and tweak his nose, he couldn’t help but purse his lips.

His face was a little hot. Ming Chi pressed his forehead against the stone, and feeling it wasn’t enough, he pressed his cheek against it too.

He took a few deep breaths, rehearsed it repeatedly, and finally found the courage, yet it still took him a few tries to call out, “Mom.”

“Mom,” Ming Chi said softly, “let’s go play.”

…No matter how many times this sentence had been silently recited. He himself had never expected that it would hurt so much and feel so good to say it out loud.

Ming Chi was familiar with every tree in this cemetery and had talked to every one of them.

He now wanted to tell every tree that he was going to take his mom out to play.

Footsteps approached. Ming Chi knew who it was just by listening. He pursed his lips and looked up, his eyes shining super brightly.

Ming Weiting walked up to him, took his hand, and returned his precious glass to him.

Ming Chi was stunned for a moment, looking at his palm.

…

They probably both had a lot to say.

So much that they didn’t know how to say it clearly. So Ming Weiting had brought the pendant directly, and so Ming Chi, even though he didn’t remember many things, recognized what it was at a glance.

Ming Chi took a deep breath. It took him a moment to come back to his senses, to find his mouth and his voice. “Oh no.”

Ming Chi rubbed his eyes hard, lowered his head, and looked at the pendant that had come back to life with him.

“Oh no.”

He managed to strictly control his hands and body, but his voice was still a little unsteady. “I had planned to only cry for three minutes.”

Ming Weiting cupped the back of his head and neck, lowered his head, and his gaze landed on him, completely focused.

Ming Chi pursed his lips, held out his palm, and said softly, “Mister.”

Ming Weiting lightly kissed the pendant in his palm, and then Ming Chi also lowered his head to kiss it. He looked up, steaming hot, and found that this time, Mr. Ming’s ears also seemed to be faintly red.

Ming Weiting stroked his hair, picked up the pendant, and carefully put it on for him.

The small clasp clicked shut at the back of his neck. The piece of glass slid down his collar, carrying the warmth of both their palms, and rested against his chest.

“It’s okay,” Ming Weiting touched his ear and said softly, “Big Huo Miao.”

Ming Chi lowered his eyelashes and smiled, pursing his lips. “Yes, Big Huo Miao.”

Ming Weiting cupped Ming Chi’s head and neck, letting him raise his gaze, and shook his head lightly.

Ming Chi was slightly stunned and blinked at him.

Ming Weiting stroked his hair. “Little child.”

A silent wave rose in Ming Chi’s chest.

He suddenly crashed into Mr. Shadow’s embrace.

He reached out his hands and hugged Ming Weiting tightly without a word, his strength making his whole body tremble slightly.

Ming Chi really wanted to speak, but for a few seconds, he couldn’t make a sound—but it was okay.

It was completely okay. They had such a tacit understanding.

Mr. Shadow tightened his arms, that hand firmly protecting his shoulder and back.

Ming Chi closed his eyes.

Their hearts beat fiercely against their chests. The pendant was so good, so beautiful, so hot.

The pendant was with him. He carried each of his homes with him.

They would take each home to go surfing, to sail far, to dive, to watch the sun rise and the moon set, to be a captain.

He would buy another car when he got back, one exactly the same as before.

He drove it with great skill. He would take Mr. Shadow racing, for a drive, over mountains and ridges, to the other side of the world.

“Mom.”

He heard Mr. Shadow say to his aunt, “Huo Miao is taking us out to play.”