Tonight’s weather was even better than usual.

What Ming Chi saw on the way was a shallow beach. The terrain was flat, and the seawater was so clear that you could see the fine sand between the crevices of the stones.

There was no wind, but being by the sea, the temperature at night was already very comfortable. Even the falling moonlight seemed cool.

The manual navigation system mister was responsible for giving directions. They first turned back home to get new fireworks.

Those fireworks were completely unlike a performance—not lively or dazzling. As one was about to burn out in the dark night sky, another would slowly rise up.

Their shadows overlapped, reflecting on the calm water surface, like a staircase, steadily walking farther and farther away.

Ming Lu noticed that the little mister hadn’t brought his cane, so he got off the ship and followed the direction of the fireworks to deliver it.

…

The content depicted in that painting was from this time.

Butler Ming, combining what he knew and saw, summarized it concisely. He spoke unhurriedly up to this point, then stopped and stood up.

Xun Zhen’s eyes were wide. “That’s it?”

The butler straightened his clothes and looked at him amiably. “Does Dean Xun want to keep listening?”

Xun Zhen was stunned for two seconds, then suddenly came back to his senses, firmly shut his mouth, and shook his head decisively and quickly.

…It was about this time.

The butler went to deliver the cane and saw the little mister who had driven away with his mister.

Ming Chi’s rehabilitation plan was going very smoothly. Not only was running and jumping no longer a problem, but he could even lead his mister to chase fireworks without a cane.

But some people had not only boarded the ship a week late but also couldn’t bring their family along due to a work trip.

Xun Zhen was staying in a large open-plan room alone this time. When he was listening to the story just now, his mind was completely in the words, and he didn’t notice anything amiss.

Now that the story was over, Dean Xun sat alone in his chair, his briefcase on his lap, and suddenly felt that the boundless sea outside the window was a bit too lonely and vast.

Xun Zhen thought of his wife, who was traveling with friends, and a touch of causeless sadness arose. “Butler Ming…”

The butler had already received a message from the little mister.

They had passed through many places on this journey. Although they were all coastal, the cuisines were quite different. Some were light, some heavy on spices, and there were also more stimulating raw marinated and raw mixed dishes. Every time they docked at a port, they would encounter different flavors.

The little mister was still teaching his mister how to make filled bread and had also casually created a few new dishes himself. He had sent a message over, asking Uncle Lu to come back for dinner.

Ming Chi had always liked to study cooking. When he was a child, he would often hang around the kitchen with Madam Ren, sometimes baking pastries, sometimes researching new dishes. Each time, he would come up with a finished product that tasted quite good.

In the past, he would research and eat by himself. Now, of course, the whole family would taste it together. When they ate a particularly amazing dish, it could also provide a lot of inspiration for the restaurant.

Because some dishes couldn’t wait to cool down, and having dinner too late was bad for one’s health, he had to go over immediately.

Ming Lu explained the reason in detail, straightened his collar, and nimbly left the room.

Dean Xun carried his briefcase, faced the lonely and overly vast sea outside the window, and watched the moon alone for five minutes.

Dean Xun returned to his large open-plan room alone, ordered two small cakes on his way past the restaurant, and made a video call to his wife.

…

Ming Lu knocked on the door of the living room. The master and the little mister had already prepared dinner and were making fruit wine together.

Ming Chi added an extra shot of base liquor to Mr. Shadow’s glass, winked at Uncle Lu, and secretly made a gesture. Ming Lu also nodded calmly and discreetly blocked the master’s line of sight.

The painting was placed on the balcony, waiting to be continued tomorrow. The progress was a little more than before.

The colors of the painting were warm and quiet, as if covered in a layer of exceptionally soft mist. Besides depicting the fireworks between the sky and the water, human figures reflected in the water had also begun to appear.

…The events of that time were indeed not suitable for telling to a Dean Xun who had boarded the ship alone.

In fact, if one really wanted to know the details of that night, probably only the two people involved knew.

The butler had already accompanied the previous master in chasing after a lady once. He was experienced and knowledgeable and knew that at times like this, the two of them needed their space the most. So he didn’t get close, only brought loose casual clothes and waited near the car.

When Ming Weiting and Ming Chi returned together, those clothes did indeed come in handy.

The fireworks bloomed in the sky, shone on the water. Chasing the falling reflections, of course, their clothes would get wet from the seawater.

However, the two, a big friend and a little friend who were not at all reassuring and had proactively run out to get drenched in the rain, had their clothes almost completely soaked through this time. It was inevitable that they would be nagged a few times by Uncle Lu, who was bringing up old scores.

Ming Chi placed the mixed fruit wine on the table. He had added more grape juice and pulp this time, so the taste was fresher and the texture better than before.

Ming Lu sat down at the table. Seeing Ming Weiting actually proactively reach for the glass with more grapes, he couldn’t help but be curious. “Since when did the master like grapes?”

“A few days ago,” Ming Weiting thought for a moment. “On the Qixi Festival.”

The cruise ship didn’t have the custom of using the lunar calendar. Ming Lu was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, calculated back, and finally remembered what was special about that night. “So that day was the Qixi Festival.”

Ming Weiting nodded. He had looked up the relevant information. “It’s a legend from folk culture. A scattered family is reunited on this night with the help of magpies and can spend a night of family reunion together.”

Ming Lu had never understood this festival from this perspective before, but the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl meeting on the magpie bridge, explained this way, was completely faultless.

“Uncle Lu,” Ming Weiting said, “the family will also celebrate Qixi in the future.”

Ming Lu cleared his throat, looked at Ming Chi’s red ears, immediately understood, and nodded with a smile. “Good.”

“We should celebrate it,” Ming Lu nodded. “I’ll remember the date. From now on, the master and the little mister will celebrate Qixi every year.”

The little mister buried his steaming face in his rice bowl, firmly expressing his position with a nod.

The vote was unanimous. The butler also recorded this matter on the family’s major events schedule.

Realizing the specialty of that day, Ming Lu couldn’t help but be curious about the situation that night. He looked up at the balcony and carefully examined the painting for a while.

To be fair, the weather and scenery that night were really good.

On the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, the moon was neither a sliver nor full, but it was quite bright, reflected particularly clearly in the water, as if you could scoop it up with your hands.

Two people were there, chasing a fireworks display. One of them didn’t have a cane, perhaps flexible enough but lacking in strength. But it didn’t matter at all; there would always be someone by their side, so there was no need to worry about falling.

They might be picked up, though—that would be more efficient. And their chests would be closer to their ears, so close that even without specifically wearing a hearing aid, one could clearly hear the heartbeat.

That night, someone learned about Qixi, and someone started to like grapes.

…

Ming Chi buried his head, diligently picking at his food, diligently drinking his low-alcohol fruit wine.

Having learned his lesson from accidentally drinking too much last time, Ming Chi was careful this time, strictly guarding his own glass. Yet he was curious and wanted to know the taste of Mr. Shadow’s glass.

He would take two sips and look up, take another two sips and couldn’t help but look up again. He quickly caught Mr. Ming’s attention.

Ming Weiting ruffled his hair, picked a grape from the fruit platter and placed it in his hand, then lowered his head to wait for the little mister to speak.

Ming Chi gently pressed his lips together.

After confirming that Uncle Lu was focused on the painting, Ming Chi, with a straight face, quickly held the grape above his head.

…This was also a legend from folk culture.

Legend has it that on the night of Qixi, if you go under a grape trellis, you can hear the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl whispering sweet nothings.

The Cowherd Star and the Weaver Girl Star are both stars, so of course, this isn’t true. But the custom was passed down. If you whisper sweet nothings under a grape trellis, the more sincere and heartfelt your words, the more likely they are to come true.

That night, they had chased the last firework, had walked very far from the shore, and the rising tide was about to submerge the stone beach.

Ming Chi had found a very flat, wide, and high stone, spread his arms, and lay down.

The seawater surged, gently washing over him, wrapping him in the waves, then slowly retreating.

Ming Chi tried to close his eyes and hold his breath. The moment his ears were submerged in the seawater, he couldn’t help but choke and cough twice, and seawater immediately rushed in.

Someone reached out an arm to support his shoulder and neck, wanting to lift him out of the water, but Ming Chi held that hand.

Ming Chi still had his eyes closed, holding Mr. Shadow’s palm.

The next time the seawater washed over him, he successfully held his breath, opened his eyes, wiped his face, and smiled brightly at Mr. Shadow.

Ming Weiting looked at him, also revealing a smile, and lay down with Ming Chi.

He also mimicked Ming Chi’s action, lying down beside Ming Chi, and very dedicatedly extended his arm to be the little mister’s pillow.

Ming Chi knew how to swim—even if he couldn’t surf or dive yet, he had lived at the Seaview Villa for so long and had always been dragged out to play in the water by his aunt. He was at least good at swimming.

These past few days, Ming Chi had also tried practicing holding his breath in the bathtub, but it seemed to be different from the feeling of the sea.

The seawater surging up, occupying his vision and hearing, with only the sound of the flowing water audible, could still easily make one flash back to that overwhelming feeling of suffocation, and the mind would instantly go blank.

…But as long as they were holding hands, it was no problem at all.

Not only was his mind not blank, but he also had the leisure to think of other things.

Ming Chi suddenly remembered that he seemed to have hidden a bunch of grapes in the cliff wall above his head.

Grapes he had bought on the way back. When the navigation mister had led them back here, Ming Chi had jumped up and hidden them there.

The reason he had bought grapes was that tonight was Qixi.

Tonight was Qixi, but at such a good time, there wasn’t a single grapevine here.

On the seaside beach, besides the cliffs and reefs, the seawater was salty and the sea breeze fierce. It wasn’t the grapes’ fault that grapevines couldn’t grow.

Ming Chi adapted to the situation, bought a bunch of the sweetest-tasting grapes on the way back, borrowed some water from the stall owner to wash them, and decided to use them as a temporary substitute.

He had told this legend to Mr. Shadow, and then they had stood up from the water, soaking wet, and found the hidden grapes.

On Qixi, whispering sweet nothings under the grapes, if your heart is sincere, your wishes will come true.

…

So the two of them, under that bunch of grapes, chatted while picking and eating grapes, and whispered about a hundred sweet nothings.

This was the thirty-ninth happy thing.

The fortieth was that the little mister had finished carving his first seal, took it out, dipped it in some seawater, and properly stamped it on Mr. Ming’s palm.

The seawater wouldn’t leave a mark. Ming Weiting looked down at him and said softly, “We’ll use ink paste when we get back.”

“No rush,” Ming Chi was not satisfied with this seal. “I’ll practice a few more times and pick the best-looking one.”

Ming Weiting asked, “It’s fine even if it’s not on Qixi?”

Ming Chi didn’t quite react and was stunned for a moment. “What?”

“The stamp,” Ming Weiting said, “has the same legal effect as a signature.”

He closed his eyes, recalled the touch from just now in detail, slowly traced the hidden patterns on Ming Chi’s palm, and read out the characters on it, “明熾之” (Míng Chì zhī).

Ming Chi hadn’t expected Mr. Shadow to have this move up his sleeve. His eyes widened, and his ears felt a little hot.

He cleared his throat and honestly admitted, “The last character ‘印’ (yìn – seal) wasn’t carved well, so I chiseled it off.”

“It’s very suitable.”

Ming Weiting shook his head. “These three characters are enough.”

“The character ‘之’ (zhī), when used in a modifying structure, is equivalent to the modern Chinese ‘的’ (de – of). You stamped it on my hand,” Ming Weiting translated. “I am yours.”

Still remembering the requirement to whisper sweet nothings, his voice was very low. Amidst the rising and falling tide, it exuded a completely serious, solemn gentleness.

“I am yours.”

Ming Chi’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.

Ming Chi looked up at the figure before him.

The moon was very bright, and they were standing under the grapes.

Although there was only one grape left, it was still a grape, and they were standing under the grapes.

If the heart is sincere, the wish will come true.

Ming Chi reached out to pick that grape but was held by the hand by Ming Weiting, who looked down at him.

“Eating it is the most effective,” Ming Chi pursed his lips. He closed his eyes and said in a low voice, “To spend a lifetime of Qixi Festivals with Mr. Shadow.”

Ming Weiting lowered his head and took the grape flesh that the little mister had peeled and handed over.

Ming Chi’s hands were stained with some seawater, and the taste of the grape also carried a hint of the sea’s saltiness. Before he could react, Ming Chi suddenly took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, steeled himself, supported himself on his arm, stood on tiptoe, and leaned in with lightning speed.

Ming Chi’s fingers were in between. They shared that grape together. Their exhaled breaths intertwined at close range, their gazes crashing into each other’s eyes without any defense or reservation.

The warm touch and the cool, soft grape flesh, the taste of the sea and the bright, fiery smell of fireworks.

…

Ming Chi held the grape that had been passed to him and quickly whispered something to Mr. Shadow.

Mr. Shadow listened intently, then nodded and handed him his glass.

This kind of fruit wine needed a base liquor to balance the flavor, otherwise, it would lack a certain taste and would always be like pure fruit juice.

Ming Chi lowered his head and carefully took a small sip. He found that it was indeed better than his own and couldn’t help but take another small sip.

Mr. Shadow was always very generous about this kind of thing. He directly took a small glass and poured him half.

By the time the butler had finished admiring the painting and turned his attention back to the room, the little mister who had personally put a double shot of base liquor for his mister was already holding that glass himself, having taken small sips and finished more than half of it.

Ming Chi held his liquor very well. When he was drunk, he neither made a fuss nor slept. His emotions were very stable, and his consciousness was very clear. He just particularly liked to speak in a low voice.

“I also like to eat grapes,” Ming Chi met Ming Lu’s gaze, his eyes curving even more. “Uncle Lu, I want to spend a lifetime of Qixi Festivals with my mister, but we don’t want a magpie bridge.”

Ming Lu laughed out loud and nodded in deep agreement. “What’s so good about a magpie bridge? If you want to see the master, you just have to lift your foot and you’ll see him.”

Ming Chi thought for a moment, found that it was indeed so, and became even happier. He lifted his foot and moved his chair, and himself, towards Mr. Shadow.

He moved next to Mr. Shadow and fumbled around, looking for something.

Ming Weiting guessed what Ming Chi was looking for, stroked his hair, and helped him get the logbook, flipping it to the latest page, and also uncapped the fountain pen.

Ming Chi held the logbook and pondered seriously for a long time, pen in hand.

The drunk little mister particularly liked to speak in a low voice and was particularly honest, never hiding his thoughts.

He didn’t start with the usual “The forty-first happy thing.” He wrote with a flourish, properly writing, “The forty-first thing I’m preparing to tell Mr. Shadow when I confess.”

The little mister held his logbook and wrote a memo, one stroke at a time: The seal should only have three characters. Only one grape is needed.

One box of fireworks, two people needed.

Three plus one plus one plus two equals seven. The seventh day of the seventh month is for celebrating Qixi.

He wants to spend a lifetime of Qixi Festivals with Mr. Shadow.

No magpie bridge needed. He’ll just lift his foot and jump over.

Author’s Note:
Qixi Special・End
There will be more in the future. Please wait for the if-line!