After that, the irrelevant people never appeared again.

Ming Lu took people to handle the matter. Zhao Lan’s husband went along, and after coming back, he didn’t leave her side for a moment, holding his wife’s hand very tightly.

“Little brother is quite amazing,” Zhao Lan’s husband told her. “He saw that something was wrong with the message at a glance.”

Zhao Lan’s message hadn’t mentioned anything else, only that she needed to prepare a bit more, that the food would be slow, and asked her husband to take his little brother for a walk nearby.

Ming Chi only heard one sentence before he immediately asked for the location and rushed up.

Zhao Lan listened to her husband describe the situation at that time and turned back to look at Ming Chi.

She looked into her little brother’s eyes. Ming Chi had just finished speaking with the gentleman who had come with him and also looked at her, blinking twice lightly.

Zhao Lan couldn’t help but smile. She also blinked twice at her little brother and squeezed her husband’s hand back tightly.

“A mysterious connection,” Zhao Lan introduced to her husband. “Forged in the past.”

Many times, premonitions defied logic. It was by relying on such illogical premonitions that they had pulled each other along, stumbling and surviving together.

Relying on this premonition, after the three-day nightmare ended, her little brother had led the rescuing police to the room where she was locked up, saving her life.

They had their own secret code. One blink meant “I’m fine,” two blinks meant “everything is fine now.”

The storm had passed. Everything was completely over.

Everything was fine now.

The food arrived quickly. They ate and chatted, and none of the situations Zhao Lan had worried about occurred—although there were three people at the table who weren’t very good at conversation, there was, after all, a dance professor.

Moreover, Ming Chi was gentle and steady, and because their professional fields overlapped, he also had a very pleasant chat with Zhao Lan’s husband.

This steadiness had already shown signs in the past. Zhao Lan still remembered that in the period after she had carried Ming Chi back from the woodpile, when they were not yet very familiar, he was always so composed that it made one forget his age.

However, after all these years and so many experiences, the clever precociousness that still carried a hint of childishness had long since transformed into a steady and sharp maturity.

Just now, Ming Chi had stood in front of her. In a flash of thought, Zhao Lan suddenly realized that she probably wouldn’t have another nightmare again.

For a very long time in the past, she had nightmares every night, returning to that place in her dreams.

Later, with the treatment and intervention of doctors and counselors, these dreams slowly became less frequent, and even less so after she met her husband.

Even if she did have a nightmare, she would dream of her father, her mother, her little sister, and her husband coming to be with her. These dreams were no longer scary.

It was just that at the end of the dream, Zhao Lan would always be anxiously and ceaselessly searching with them.

She would rummage through the woodpiles and haystacks, open the door of every empty room… In her dreams recently, Zhao Lan would often, upon pushing open a certain door, abruptly see a pitch-black, icy sea.

She would plunge into that icy sea. The seawater was salty and bitterly cold, and even the bone-chilling cold was real, yet she had never managed to pull anything out.

Of course, she couldn’t pull anything out.

In her subconscious, she had never been willing to believe that her little brother would fall in such a place.

Zhao Lan reached out and pushed the entire plate of crystal shrimp dumplings in front of her little brother.

Ming Chi paused his conversation with her husband. Seeing her gaze, his eyes also curved into a smile, and he, not to be outdone, moved a whole steamer of siu mai over.

Zhao Lan took a large bite of the siu mai. The taste of this restaurant was very authentic. The thin siu mai wrapper was steamed to a chewy perfection, and the fragrant filling inside was plump. It had been left to cool just enough not to be scalding, and with one bite, hot, savory-sweet broth flowed into her throat.

Zhao Lan also loved to eat morning tea.

She still remembered when she had a high fever, Huo Miao had taken care of her alone, feeding her water bit by bit, coaxing her to drink Chinese medicine, and roasting the potatoes he had hidden for her to eat.

As she ate that potato, she listened to Huo Miao vividly describe things to her. The steaming hot and fragrant siu mai of morning tea, with all the broth locked inside the semi-transparent steamed wrapper; the delicate salted egg yolk in the lava buns that would flow out with one bite; the fragrant, soft, and glutinous sticky rice in lotus leaf; the boat congee so fresh it made you want to swallow your own tongue…

One potato was eaten with eighteen different flavors. Zhao Lan was so tantalized by him that she couldn’t sleep at night. In a fit of hunger-induced anger, she shook little Huo Miao awake, vowing fiercely that in the future, she would order a huge table of morning tea every day: eight steamers of rice noodle rolls, nine sticky rice in lotus leaf, and ten steamers of siu mai.

The two of them were squeezed onto a hard wooden plank. Little Huo Miao wasn’t angry at all about being shaken awake and tried his best to push more of the blanket over to her side.

Huo Miao pillowed his head on his arm and thought for a long time, then joined her in building the menu. “Then I want eleven crystal shrimp dumplings, twelve small wontons, and thirteen custard buns.”

…

She had to find a time to provide this intelligence to the gentleman opposite her.

Her little brother now was so reassuring. Zhao Lan completely relaxed and couldn’t help but become more and more curious, secretly poking her husband’s arm.

Her husband was also curious and secretly squeezed her palm under the table.

The gentleman who came with her little brother—Zhao Lan of course knew his identity. After all, just a few days ago, she had been trying to get tickets for his cruise ship. Moreover, in the recent news, both the finance and society sections often had content related to the cruise company.

On the phone, Ming Chi had said he would bring his family, but Zhao Lan actually hadn’t expected that it would be Mr. Ming himself who came.

Mr. Ming himself was probably the least skilled at conversation among the four of them. He hadn’t actively spoken again after the greetings, but his aura was not as cold as in the interviews.

Especially when he spoke to Ming Chi in a low voice, helped him get a bowl and fill it with congee, and the two of them reviewed the details involved in the documentary together.

The review was to avoid causing any disturbance to the subject’s future life. Ming Chi didn’t remember these things, so he had entrusted this task entirely to the Mr. Ming beside him.

Mr. Ming looked at it very carefully, marking out some content that was not intended for public disclosure, organizing it clearly, and returning it.

Zhao Lan had been an assistant to Director Gong for a few months. Having briefly looked at the content that was crossed out, she had an intuition. “Is Huo Miao not coming back in the future?”

After these contents were deleted, the final cut would only be a purely objective record. The protagonist would instead fade into the background, his role reduced to a thread connecting the entire story.

The heat of public opinion always passes quickly. After half a year or a year, when people see the final version of this documentary, they will mostly just be left with sighs and warnings, and will no longer pay special attention to the person involved.

“Really not coming back?” Zhao Lan’s husband, who was often online, happened to see the recent trending topic and teased with a smile, “The whole world is waiting for Young Master Luo.”

There were already many angles and versions of the recording of the beach concert that day. A few had even been trending for several days, and many people were asking for the song, but unfortunately, no one had been able to find it until now.

Since it couldn’t be found anywhere, there was only one possibility left.

The unedited raw footage that Huaisheng Entertainment’s official Weibo had released before, the guitarist who wrote his own songs, played them himself, and occasionally sang them himself, who had made a brief, stunning appearance, belatedly became popular again.

The truths that had been maliciously covered up and erased were seen again, and finally, belatedly, they burst forth with the heat and light they should have had long ago.

Ming Chi shook his head with a smile and added, “I’ll still play the guitar.”

He didn’t shy away from talking about these things at all. He put down the white porcelain spoon in his hand and gently explained his future plans.

Fang Hang and the others’ intuition was very accurate. He indeed would not debut again, nor would he set foot in that circle again, nor would he stand under the spotlight to be a standard artist or idol.

There wasn’t any particularly special reason. He just enjoyed those completely free stages more.

On the deck, by the bonfire—perhaps in the future, there would be impromptu concerts or performances. No promotion, no advance notice, tickets would suddenly be released and the show would start. The front row would have to be reserved for friends who had booked in advance.

The pre-surgery Ming Chi had written to the post-surgery himself, saying a lot about this matter.

He could go and make friends freely, could stand openly anywhere.

He no longer had to hide, because he would no longer implicate anyone. He didn’t have to hide in an unseen corner, because even if someone liked him and spoke up for him, those people would no longer be harmed in any way.

This was completely enough.

“It’s enough,” Zhao Lan’s husband nodded and also suddenly became serious. “You don’t need those things.”

“You are the kind of performer who is naturally meant to be free.”

He said seriously to Ming Chi, “You don’t need to go to that kind of place, you don’t need to be judged or directed by anyone.”

Zhao Lan’s husband had been a professor for many years, had taught generation after generation of students, had his own courses and studio, and had been invited to many shows and seen too many outstanding newcomers. He was actually no longer surprised by much.

Even so, when he was recommended the official Weibo by Zhao Lan and saw the competition recordings from a few years ago, he still couldn’t help but wring his hands in regret.

Such brilliant spirit and talent, if placed in the music scene of decades ago, given a world to express himself freely, after ten or twenty years, he might have truly reached an incredible height.

Zhao Lan’s husband didn’t mention these things again. He just looked at Ming Chi. “You don’t need to go under the spotlight.”

When he spoke of these fields, he always had a bit of an artist’s temperament and didn’t feel embarrassed to say it directly at all. “Wherever you stand, the light will naturally come to chase you.”

Ming Chi was clearly still some distance away from being an artist and was still shy. While thanking him, his ears had already steadily turned red.

Zhao Lan’s husband laughed out loud, took a sip of tea, and discreetly held onto the thumb Zhao Lan was giving him.

The night he saw the trending topic, Zhao Lan’s husband had pulled his wife over. The two of them scrolled through the comments together. They found that compared to the public opinion of the entire internet, the comments under Huaisheng Entertainment’s official Weibo were actually much calmer.

「It’s too late, after all.」

Someone had commented, standing out among the chorus of “When is Young Master Luo coming back?” and “Waaaah, I’ll wait forever.”

「Oops, he’s already discovered that this place isn’t free or fun.」

These were his heartfelt words.

Some people are suited for the dazzling spotlight, for a star-studded and brilliant career, while others are suited for the潇灑 (xiāo sǎ – natural and unrestrained) life of wandering north and south, for the vast sky and wide sea, under a thousand miles of bright moon.

There was no superiority or inferiority. It was just that if a soul was born free, it should not be bound by anything. It should be allowed to find the most fun place.

…

Having watched those videos, listened to his wife’s chatter for so long, and finally seeing the person in the flesh, Zhao Lan’s husband now also completely liked this young man. “A concert is fine, a performance is fine too. When the tickets are released, please be sure to notify us five minutes in advance.”

The events of the past few days were still fresh in his mind. He sighed, half-jokingly, and rubbed his forehead. “Ah Lan and I are really not good at getting tickets…”

Zhao Lan’s husband was gently kicked under the table by his wife. He was stunned for a moment, then lowered his voice and asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“No special treatment. We have to get them on our own merit,” Zhao Lan also whispered to him. “If we can’t get them, we’ll wait at the exit to give flowers.”

Zhao Lan’s husband thought for a moment and could also imagine that if Ming Chi really held a concert, even without promotion or advance notice, it would still be incredibly popular. “Makes sense. Then we’ll go give flowers.”

Seeing her husband so readily accept that they wouldn’t get tickets, Zhao Lan was both worried and amused. She sighed and snatched a piece of white sugar water chestnut cake from in front of him.

Zhao Lan’s husband thought his wife was hungry, so he also asked Mr. Ming where the congee bowls were and went to get two bowls of steaming hot boat congee.

Ming Chi watched their interaction seriously, completely at ease, and his eyes also smiled. “No need to get tickets. Sister Zhao Lan will sit in the family and special guests section.”

Zhao Lan was drinking her congee. Her eyes lit up at the word “family.” She made a fist and asked him, “Really?”

Ming Chi also made a fist. “Really, really.”

Zhao Lan looked at his gesture, couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and when her eyes grew hot, she immediately blinked hard.

She also focused completely on Ming Chi. Seeing the hearing aid in one of Ming Chi’s ears, she reached out and touched it gently. “Does it still ring?”

“Not at all anymore,” Ming Chi said. “I can hear very clearly.”

“Is your back better? You’re not allowed to hold a concert until it’s fully recovered.”

Zhao Lan said, “I heard from them that this is very physically demanding. Some rock musicians can even faint on stage.”

Ming Chi was still a bit far from the passion of rock music, but he still nodded very cooperatively. “I’m recuperating. I’ll definitely wait until it’s fully recovered.”

To be honest, Ming Chi actually had many habits that were not very back-friendly—for example, he would always curl up on the sofa to play games, and once he started practicing guitar or painting, he would forget to get up and move around for a whole afternoon. In short, whenever his back wasn’t hurting, he was particularly confident that he was quite healthy.

After receiving the rehabilitation advice from the physical therapist, Mr. Ming, with the little mister’s own active consent, had meticulously rearranged the daily schedule and provided very detailed supervision and reminders.

If it weren’t for coming out to eat today, the little mister would have been led to the big bed with a mattress of suitable firmness to take a nap with his mister.

Perhaps his biological clock had already been set. Ming Chi was slightly dazed for a moment. When he came back to his senses, he found that Mr. Shadow had proactively joined the conversation.

Zhao Lan’s husband couldn’t get a word in for the moment and quietly helped him catch up with the topic. “They’re discussing your health.”

No one knew Ming Chi’s old injuries better than Zhao Lan. Most of them had healed, but some were still dormant and might come back to torment him when he got older.

The two family members were discussing the subject’s physical condition. The subject himself was busy eating his thirteen miniature custard buns. The other, unofficial family member quietly got up to pay the bill, only to find that someone had already paid.

Zhao Lan had explained everything she could think of in detail. Another twenty minutes had passed, and the meal was about to end.

“I should have treated you to the first meal,” Zhao Lan was extremely pleased with Ming Chi’s condition, but this was the only thing she was dissatisfied with. “I’m the older sister. We haven’t seen each other for thirteen years, and I’m letting my little brother treat me to a meal.”

Ming Chi smiled as he was being criticized, gently touched the remote control car, and pursed his lips, giving an irrelevant answer. “I really like this.”

He hugged the pile of gifts Sister Zhao Lan had given him. Although he hadn’t had time to look at them closely yet, he was reluctant to put any of them down and added, “I really like all of them.”

Ming Chi looked up at her with a smile and said softly, “How can you be so nice?”

Zhao Lan smiled back at him, rubbed her eyes hard, and also carefully put away the seashell boat.

…

Zhao Lan’s little sister was named Zhao Min. The two sisters had a very good relationship. The remote control car was a gift from her little sister.

Before coming this time, Zhao Lan had talked a lot with her family, and her little sister had also told her many things she hadn’t said before.

Zhao Min told Zhao Lan that her ten-year-old little brother had come looking for his sister, pressing his face against the glass to look inside.

Zhao Min said that little brother was so well-behaved. He touched everything gently and spoke softly, but for some reason, he was all alone.

Zhao Min had asked the little brother where he lived, where his home was, where his parents were. The little brother had just smiled and said nothing.

The little brother had asked her if Sister Zhao Lan had cried while hugging her family.

Zhao Min had nodded and nodded, saying yes, she cried very loudly, even louder than her sister. A passing child had even laughed at her that day.

The little brother had asked if Sister Zhao Lan had gone back to her own room and slept for a day and a night without getting up.

Zhao Min had also nodded and nodded, saying that before she was admitted to the hospital for formal recuperation, she had accompanied her sister and slept all day at home.

The little brother had asked if Sister Zhao Lan had had her make-up birthdays. He had very seriously raised his hand to remind her that it was three, and not a single one could be missed.

Zhao Min had gestured to him, saying that they had ordered such a big eight-layer birthday cake. She and her parents had squeezed jam and chocolate sauce to write on it. It wasn’t very pretty, but it was delicious. They had also prepared a huge table of food and a sack of gifts.

…

These were all very simple questions.

At that time, Zhao Min also couldn’t understand at all why the child had looked so unusually nervous and solemn when asking these questions, as if he was very worried that they hadn’t done so.

As if he didn’t know at all that these things could be realized, that no reason was needed, that because they were family, they could be realized.

Zhao Min had pulled out her phone and showed him the photos.

The little brother had looked very steady and mature, looking at each photo seriously like a little adult. Then he had taken a deep breath, exhaled it long and slowly, and his lips were pursed very high.

“That’s good then,” the little brother had said, very happy, making a fist. “That’s really good.”

Zhao Min had also smiled and ruffled his head, thanking him for protecting her sister and promising to give him a gift too. The eight-layer cake wasn’t finished yet; she would get him a piece later.

The little brother sat alone on the hospital bench, watching their family busily taking care of Sister Zhao Lan.

The sunlight that day was a bit glaring. The glass reflected the light, making it impossible to see the other side clearly.

They had wanted to send the little brother home, but when they finished their tasks and came back, the child was already gone.

“Sister,” the night before she left home, Zhao Min had hugged her and whispered to her, “Can we invite little brother to…”

…

Zhao Lan took a deep breath.

Her husband squeezed her hand to give her courage. After that Mr. Ming and Ming Chi finished talking, she quietly walked over. “Little brother.”

Ming Chi blinked lightly and met her gaze.

“This year—” Zhao Lan didn’t know if he still remembered that promise, but she remembered that Huo Miao hadn’t seemed to answer her at the time. “During the New Year.”

Zhao Lan asked in a low voice, “If it’s convenient, would you be willing to come to our house for a meal?”

“Just come directly, you don’t need to bring anything.”

“Dad, Mom, and my little sister all miss you very much,” Zhao Lan said in one breath. “There will be a big table of food then, definitely all delicious.”

Ming Chi exchanged a look with that Mr. Ming, and his eyes curved into a smile. “Is it okay if I bring something?”

Zhao Lan was stunned for a moment. “What?”

Ming Chi steadied himself on the edge of the table and stood up, walking to Ming Wei Ting’s side.

He had just talked about this with Mr. Shadow. There was no tradition of celebrating the New Year on the high seas, and there were no special arrangements for those few days.

Mr. Shadow was very interested in this kind of ritual and was even more looking forward to attending it with Ming Chi.

“I might have to bring someone,” Ming Chi said. “I have a family member.”

Zhao Lan was stunned for two seconds. Her husband excitedly squeezed her hand hard. She suddenly reacted and her eyes widened as she looked at the figure beside him.

She immediately squeezed her husband’s hand back twice, exchanged a look, and then looked at Ming Chi for confirmation.

“I’ve been learning to cook all these years, and the results are okay. We can bring the ingredients over, and if you give me a kitchen, I can make a big table of food.”

Ming Chi calculated quite rigorously, “That would be two big tables.”

Zhao Lan’s eyes widened even more. She almost couldn’t contain her surprise and pulled him. “You remember! You remember it all!”

“I remember, I remember,” Ming Chi repeated with a smile, then made a fist. “A meal, a meal.”

Ming Chi remembered all these things.

He remembered the promise he hadn’t agreed to.

The dream he had that day wasn’t good. For some reason, he hadn’t agreed to his sister’s words.

At that time, he hadn’t agreed to have the two families eat New Year’s Eve dinner together, to have two big tables of delicious food, to celebrate the New Year in a lively and happy reunion.

Now he had the confidence to agree.

“Sister, I’ve never introduced you.”

Ming Chi very formally straightened his clothes.

He took out two dinner party invitation letters and placed them on the table, slowly took a breath, exhaled it long, and met Ming Wei Ting’s unwavering, calm gaze.

“This is my mister. If it’s convenient, we might visit for the New Year this year. Our two families will have New Year’s Eve dinner together and have two big tables of delicious food.”

Ming Chi said with a smile, “Lively and bustling, a happy reunion.”