Chapter 109

After Christmas and New Year’s, the new year began.

At the start of the new year, “Ming” held a touring jewelry exhibition in Hong Kong, Ning City, and Beijing and Shanghai. This exhibition featured not only Shang Mingbao’s classic works to date but also her private jewelry collection.

The planning for this exhibition began six months earlier, with Shang Mingbao personally overseeing all the details. The black cumin flowers, an important early inspiration for her, were in full bloom within the exhibition hall. The cascading reflections from the mirrored surfaces created a maze-like effect, enhanced by a misty, ethereal fog, perfectly fitting the theme—

“Love · Forest of Mist”

If Xiang Feiran had been there, he might have said it was a bit tacky.

What kind of mood had she been in when she began curating the exhibition six months ago? She thought about inviting him to the opening. If things went well, they might have passed through the foggy barrier. If not, she hoped this exhibition could help clear the fog between them.

Public relations events need to make an impact, and the opening day saw socialites and wealthy women coming out to support her and take photos. Some of them knew who she was, some were loyal fans of the brand, and others came to take advantage of the event or show goodwill. The flashbulbs and shutter sounds were constant as Shang Mingbao maintained a smile throughout, her usually pale face covered in makeup, both thick and colorful.

A room next to the exhibition hall was set up as an interview room. Shang Mingbao gave interviews to several media outlets and fashion journals, discussing the brand’s history, her high jewelry origins, and revealing some future financing and market plans.

She handled everything with patience and professionalism, but whenever the interviews paused for a moment, she would show a distracted, absent-minded look, as if a tightly held string had loosened.

“Let’s talk about your black cumin ring priced at one hundred million,” a reporter said with a smile. “I heard a rumor that someone once offered one hundred million to buy it, but you turned them down.”

He is a rising star in a tech unicorn, having met her once at the flagship store of Qilu. That day, she introduced him to various works as if she were a saleswoman. When he wanted to buy all the items, she politely declined: “People who like roses find it hard to appreciate cattails. Please choose the pieces you truly love.”

Somehow he learned that she is the brand’s owner, and he frequently visited afterward. However, Shang Mingbao was only occasionally in the store, and their encounters were merely nods of acquaintance. After returning from ringing the bell at the New York Stock Exchange, the new rich man, basking in his success, threw a billion in a display of affection.

That was in the middle of last year, and Xiang Feiran had not yet appeared on variety shows.

Shang Mingbao responded nonchalantly: “Anyone can see that it’s not worth a billion. Whoever is willing to offer that amount is not interested in it itself. Since that’s the case, why should I agree?”

The reporter noted that beneath her doll-like appearance was a heart hard to move.

Before the interview ended, the last question was about which piece among the displayed works and collections was her personal favorite.

“Not here,” Shang Mingbao replied with a slight smile.

The reporter said, “It must be a stunning and extraordinary piece. Have you considered displaying it in future exhibitions?”

“Not considering,” Shang Mingbao replied. The Australian white pearl earring on her right ear sparkled, contrasting with her dull eyes.

Her priceless treasure in her heart could not be displayed for others to judge.

She always wore these earrings, sometimes on the left ear, sometimes on the right. At night, she would gently wipe them with a soft cloth, removing all dust and fingerprints, and after cleaning, place them on a spotless black velvet cushion, forming a glistening heart.

“I used to be foolish, always wanting to show him the freshest version of myself during dates. I would only wear a piece of clothing or jewelry once. He seldom saw this earring; he never asked. Now I wonder if he thought I didn’t like it, or that it wasn’t worthy of me?”

Essie replied, “Xiang Bo must think you treasure it, so you keep it.”

In March, the snowy scene in New York flooded the study abroad group she once joined.

It was a blizzard in early spring, covering the city streets in a clean white blanket.

Every year there are fresh stories from new international students in that big city. Someone said, “I clearly remember the once-in-a-century snow was when I was in my sophomore year. How come, after a few years, another once-in-a-century snow comes?”

“Hasn’t been a few years? Wake up, we’re almost thirty. It’s been nine years!”

“Oh… well, aging comes quickly.”

“Returning to NYU, you’d be considered old-fashioned by new students.”

“But listening to the media is pointless. That blizzard was nothing, just hype. I even stocked up on food for seven days, and this is it?”

“The first day was quite scary, especially on Christmas Eve, when I was stuck at Burger King until six in the morning before getting a cab.”

“That’s just New York’s traffic, not the snow.”

As people age, they only want to discuss memories. Among those collective memories of the past, one can vaguely glimpse the blooming years with old friends.

After scrolling through several screens passionately, a rarely active person suddenly spoke up. Shang Mingbao firmly said, “That snow was indeed very heavy, a once-in-a-century event.”

“Impossible, you must be mistaken.”

“It’s just the normal amount of snow in New York, it happens every year.”

They all said she was exaggerating. Someone who usually shunned arguments insisted multiple times, talking about the thickness of the ice on the Hudson River and the black blizzard on Christmas Eve.

It seemed that saying the snow wasn’t significant was an affront to something sacred in her life.

Unable to reach a consensus, someone tried to mediate.

“Ha ha, is this another Mandela effect?”

“Maybe you stumbled into a parallel universe, where that snow was especially large.”

Yes, those three days of heavy snow trapped her for three days, covering her life. At night, in dreams, she saw herself sleeping against that unlit Christmas tree, waiting for a doorbell to ring.

Shang Mingbao always visited Xiang Lianqiao.

Xiang Lianqiao asked, “Is it possible Grandpa’s eyes are failing? This person looks so much like Xiao Mingbao.”

His jokes were still as distinctive. Shang Mingbao held his hand and said, “Feiran Ge is worried, so he asked me to visit and keep you company.”

Xiang Lianqiao nodded, smiling: “He went to New Caledonia and didn’t come back himself, delegating you as an ambassador? Ambassadors need official certification. Aren’t you his legitimate envoy?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but thankfully Xiang Lianqiao’s vision, not as keen as before, did not see through. Shang Mingbao maintained her smile, crouching slightly: “Of course, I’ve reconciled with Feiran Ge. He is stationed abroad, and I am here as his support.”

Xiang Lianqiao laughed heartily, leaning back in his wheelchair and patting the back of Shang Mingbao’s hand.

Shang Mingbao had Shang Lu find the top digital effects and props company in Hollywood to produce several videos. In these videos, the backdrop behind Xiang Feiran was the blue sky, palm trees, and beaches of New Caledonia, reporting on recent daily activities and research progress. The people were real, the voices real, but everything was overlaid with green screens and digital magic.

For today’s film industry, such work is straightforward, requiring only time and money. Unfortunately, this company, a top choice for high-end Hollywood investments, had its schedule booked for five years ahead. Thanks to Shang Lu and Ke Yu’s efforts, they managed to get these done in the fastest possible time.

For her, they interrupted their filming plans in the Himalayas and came down halfway.

If one had a keen eye, they might notice clues, but Xiang Lianqiao, whose vision had declined and undergone cataract surgery, could only watch repeatedly, once through, and then again from the beginning.

“Has Feiran lost weight?” he murmured to Shang Mingbao, adjusting his reading glasses. “It must be the food there; he’s not used to it.”

He never asked why Feiran didn’t personally make a video call.

However, there were phone calls, with a faint electrical buzz during the conversation. “He” coughed and told Xiang Lianqiao that he had a mild cold, advising him to eat well, sleep well, and not overindulge in reading.

The voice was recorded by a voice actor whose tone was the closest match to Xiang Feiran’s. The recording was entered into a digital library and output in real time after parameter adjustments, which is why there was an electrical sound. Before this, the parameters in the engineering software had been repeatedly adjusted for over a month to find the most accurate match.

Before calling Xiang Lianqiao, Shang Mingbao received the first call from “him” as a test subject.

“Mingbao.”

The voice was a bit tired but gentle, brushing against the receiver.

It was like a wooden bell striking her soul; her mind buzzed, her eyes lit up with astonishing speed, and tears slid down before her sobs were released.

“Are you doing well lately?” “He” asked, with Feiran’s exact tone, making it seem as if his eyes were gazing at her with a cold and focused look.

When the phone was taken away by Shang Lu, Mingbao instinctively tried to grab it back, but Shang Lu firmly restrained her arm. “Babe, this is fake. It’s not him.”

His expression, gaze, and tone were extremely calm and cold, not enough to pull her out of the illusion of this dead-end.

Shang Mingbao looked at the phone in Shang Lu’s raised hand, tears blurring her face. “Brother, let me hear it once more… just once… please?”

The call had ended. Her tears confirmed that “he” had passed the test.

“Babe, the dead cannot return to life. What you’re doing now is for his grandfather. You cannot deceive yourself with these false sounds and images. You must not let yourself drown in these illusions.” Shang Lu said clearly, word by word.

Shang Mingbao looked down, her thin body trembling, her small fists clenched. “Does it have to be this strict?”

Her tears fell continuously, but her tone was unnaturally calm. “Does it really have to be this strict?”

Shang Lu held the phone tightly, just like his own heart. “Unless you want to be in a relationship with a fake him, using a fake him to replace the real one.”

Shang Mingbao suddenly looked up, her eyes pained and filled with a pale color.

“Go listen, call every night. Be with him as if he were the real one, and immerse yourself in this false comfort as if it were the real Feiran. Let him replace the real Feiran and become your source of strength.” Shang Lu said without blinking, handing the phone back. “If you think this will make you feel better.”

Shang Mingbao took the phone, pressing the palm of her hand against her burning eyes.

Another day, she left Xiang Lianqiao’s study and unexpectedly ran into Xiang Weishan, who came to visit.

Without a word, after a polite nod, she walked past him, hearing him stop.

“Little girl.”

Shang Mingbao glanced back slightly, waiting for him to speak.

Xiang Weishan looked at her absent, calm eyes, and ultimately said nothing more. “Take care of yourself.”

This was something Suining often said.

She was in France handling the matter of leaving the troupe. It was supposed to be a year before the end, but upon arriving in France, she worried every night about the nurse’s inadequacy and couldn’t focus during rehearsals.

This was, of course, her own worry. Everything around Feiran’s sickbed was the best it could be. But she wondered if saying a bit more of what he wanted to hear would make him wake up sooner. These were things the nurse couldn’t do; besides her, no one knew Feiran better.

According to the troupe’s agreement, she would leave the troupe after the last three days at the Paris Opera House in the spring. With decisions made and the path clear, Suining ordered herself to immerse back into rehearsal. But every few days, she would carefully calculate the time difference and call Shang Mingbao.

“I consider you a big sister,” Suining said while squatting with her knees hugged, “I need to care about your eating and sleeping.”

Shang Mingbao told her everything was fine and shared Xiang Lianqiao’s health status.

“Suining, don’t worry about me or fear that I’ll ruin myself.” In the quiet of the night, Shang Mingbao calmly said, “I’ve thought it over. It’s not me waiting for him; it’s him waiting for me. It just means he’ll have to wait a little longer, five or sixty years. When my hair turns gray, I’ll eventually see him again.”

She didn’t change her hairstyle, keeping her long black straight hair with bangs. If they met again in decades, she hoped she would still be the same as he remembered, so he would recognize her at a glance.

In late spring, after the “Ming” tour ended its last stop in Beijing, Suining completed her final performance at the Paris Opera House and boarded the flight back home.

Every day, she spent four hours by Xiang Feiran’s sickbed.

Daily care was meticulously handled by the nurse, while Suining read literature to Feiran, the latest research on botany. To be honest, she didn’t understand many English terms and had to rely on a dictionary again.

The literature was organized by Zheng Ao’s assistant, who was a PhD student in biology, making it easier for them than for Suining, who was a performer.

After such a long time in a coma, the academic progress in botany was almost negligible—one day, a judgment suddenly appeared in Feiran’s long-stopped mind.

“Didn’t Mr. Xiang just frown slightly?” the nurse asked.

Suining closed the book and gazed intently at his face, her eyes as sharp as if they could burn a hole.

“I really saw it just now,” the nurse said. “But Mr. Xiang always has some shallow conscious reactions, occasionally moving his fingers.”

“Furrowed brow…” Fang Suining asked, “Has it happened before?”

“No.”

“Furrowed brow…” Fang Suining looked at her cousin’s face and then at the paper in her hand, hesitantly asking, “Feiran Gege, are you criticizing this paper?”

In the presence of a long-term comatose patient, tears and heaviness are no longer visible. During daily visits, they chat with him, talk about everyday matters, and occasionally joke. Without this, in the midst of gloom and sorrow, neither family nor patient can endure long-term.

What year is it tonight? This is the first question that intrudes upon Xiang Feiran’s consciousness.

The long coma gently dissipates like fog, transforming into a vast, uncertain expanse. This is his consciousness, a barren land, grey and oblivious to the past, with no visible path forward, waiting for slow, further development before he can once again possess his own forest.

The first tree breaks through his barren land—

Shang Mingbao, how long has she waited for him?

Xiang Feiran no longer thought about the paper but took a step back, looking at the tree that had suddenly grown in an instant with a small, puzzled expression, watching it grow taller and nearly break through the grey dome above him.

“If you think it’s bad, I won’t read it to you.” Fang Suining tossed the paper aside. “I secretly went to see her jewelry exhibition.”

She didn’t need to mention Shang Mingbao’s full name. The caregiver often heard Suining say “she,” not knowing who it was, thinking if it could evoke Mr. Xiang’s awareness, why had she never visited? But according to Miss Fang’s account, this “she” didn’t seem to be doing too well either.

“Very impressive, I didn’t expect her to come up with so many brilliant ideas, like how nature can produce so many different flowers.” Suining said, peeling an apple for herself. “I remember when I first took her to the mountains, she didn’t recognize anything, she hadn’t even picked a five-fingered peach before, and now she picks them with ease.”

The tree stopped growing, or perhaps it had reached its limit, becoming too slow to be perceived. Instead, a cluster of flowers bloomed on the trunk.

In his grey consciousness, there was the first hint of color.

Xiang Feiran smiled. It looked like an aerial garden in the rainforest, because the flowers blooming in mid-air were orchids.

In the vast fog, he wore a windbreaker, hands in his pockets, standing relaxed under the tree, looking up with a furrowed brow, a trace of incredulous joy on his face.

“I also bought her magazine interview.” Suining crisply bit into the apple, chewing. “Her eloquence is much better than yours, she expresses herself well. The interview mentioned that she had a ring priced at ninety-nine million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, which almost got bought.”

Xiang Feiran: “…”

“Ah, you’re finished.” Fang Suining chewed loudly. “It must be some rich nouveau riche chasing her. Look at how people date, talking in terms of hundreds of millions, while you have to pay off a ring worth over a million.”

She now holds the financial power over her cousin, not only managing his bank card but also taking over his credit card bills. When she saw the monthly deduction for the ring, she was silent for a long time, then laughed bitterly and wiped her tears.

The caregiver laughed heartily: “What you said, over a million isn’t money, I wouldn’t even spend that much in three lifetimes.”

In the hard soil, a small shrub named Fang Suining grew. Xiang Feiran crouched down, sighed expressionlessly, and lightly brushed aside the tangled branches and leaves: “Say something nice.”

But Fang Suining remained silent, holding the remaining half of the apple, turning her face gently to the side against her palm.

With tears in her eyes and a sore nose, she needed to calm down before she could speak normally.

“Wake up soon, she doesn’t even know you’re lying here, … I’ll take this guilt.”

She spent a long time mentally preparing before arriving each day and after leaving. Every night before bed, she hoped for good news the next morning, and the next day, she hoped that the day would bring good news.

Endless waiting is an endless drain, and Suining had broken down many times. Xiang Qiu Cheng had ordered her not to push herself anymore, to keep a balanced mindset as if Feiran Gege would never wake up, rather than expecting him to wake up the next day.

“But he’s lying there just fine, nothing has changed, normal as if he could stand up and greet us any moment.” Fang Suining couldn’t reconcile herself, “Such a normal person, how could he be in a coma for ten or twenty years, for a lifetime?!”

If he were lying there in a shabby state, teetering on the brink of life and death, it would be one thing, but he is too good and too calm, giving rise to boundless, uncontrollable hope.

The more she understands the depth of the situation, the more Suining is unwilling to drag innocent people into it. She had once thought of pulling Shang Mingbao into it to share her pain and despair, but she is only a cousin with her own emotional life. If she feels the chill of life for her, how much more so for Mingbao? Suining felt the cold wind in her life and the chill of her soul for her.

“If she really moves on one day, you can cry, ex-girlfriend is getting married, and the diamond ring is still being paid off.” Suining mercilessly mocked him.

“Tsk.”

Xiang Feiran wanted that mixed-up shrub to shut up.

“Let me let you hear her voice.” The shrub suddenly said, silencing the impatient man in front of her.

Suining dialed the phone, put it on speaker, and casually chatted with Shang Mingbao.

She always asked how she was eating and sleeping. Shang Mingbao answered patiently, not knowing that Suining was asking for the comatose man. The signal’s electric current flowed noisily into his consciousness, like spring rain quietly nourishing him.

This was the first call that Xiang Feiran clearly heard.

Her voice hadn’t changed, and it was on speaker, with the sounds of pencils scribbling and rice paddies rustling in the background.

“Today, while shopping and buying ice cream, that cashier with the mask looked a bit like him.”

Fang Suining, who had forgotten to chew her apple, stared wide-eyed. “And then?”

She was nervous for Xiang Feiran, afraid of some doppelgänger scenario. If that happened, she would be truly at fault.

“There’s nothing more.” Shang Mingbao smiled slightly. “Yesterday, after coming back from Grandpa’s, Grandpa said that you’re always performing in Paris and has never seen one of your proper shows.”

Fang Suining, worried that Xiang Lianqiao might inadvertently reveal something, hadn’t told him that she was back in the country and planned to wait until summer to mention it.

On that sparse, frozen ground, another tree had sprouted, its canopy lush and its bark mottled. Xiang Feiran sat under the tree’s shadow, leaning against the trunk, and felt a warm breeze.

A warm breeze flowed in through the open window at the end of April, stirring his overlong black hair.

His naturally closed eyes fluttered slightly with the movement of his lashes.

So warm, so gentle, as if the hem of a skirt from the human world had brushed his face.

Please, a little more. Xiang Feiran silently wished in his heart. Awaken his skin, awaken his senses, awaken his nerves and muscles.

His forest rose continuously, and in his consciousness, there were sounds of seeds sprouting and breaking through the soil—plants never miss the chance for life, whether sprouting after two thousand years or rooting in thirty-six minutes.

“Alright.” Fang Suining’s voice approached. She stood and looked at Xiang Feiran’s face again. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Wake up, don’t make me slap you.”

She bade farewell to the nurse, left the room she visited daily, closed the door, took a deep breath, and remained silent for a long while—this was her true daily conclusion.

Because she had hidden the truth from Shang Mingbao, she felt even more responsible to help Xiang Feiran wake up soon. She had done everything she could.

Under high pressure, overeating became a tendency. After a week, Fang Suining weighed five pounds more, feeling despair as the world spun. The next day, she still started by reading papers, followed by current events, and finally, small talk.

“It’s all your fault. Taking care of you made me gain five pounds. If I get any fatter, I won’t be able to play a dan role anymore.”

While others might lose weight from caring for a patient, where was the logic in gaining weight? Xiang Feiran got up from the bushes, turning around—behind him, the deep green forest was lush and the tallest trees had mosses winding up them, and the air was filled with vibrant gardens.

He passed through the light and the narrow white-lit corridor, with a creaking sound—

“Damn.” Fang Suining sprang into action.

A clattering sound rang out as the infusion bottle hanging on the wall collided, making the infusion tube and feeding tube sway. The cart by the bed was knocked away by the man who had attempted to get out of bed but failed, causing various medicine bottles on the silver tray to fall and crash. The bedside cabinet was also damaged by him—a series of noises ended with a vase shattering on the floor.

Xiang Feiran had fallen hard and was unable to get up by himself. He didn’t understand what was happening or why his forest had turned into furniture.

Only the center of his forehead throbbed—so painful, all the needles were displaced.

Fang Suining, with a ghostly expression, stood there holding an oxidized apple, completely stunned.

The nurse covered her face. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

Xiang Feiran moved his lips, trying to say something, but only a series of indistinct sounds came out. Fang Suining, as if receiving a signal, dropped the apple and hurriedly knelt to support him. “Someone! Someone! Someone!” she repeated three times, each louder than the last, as hot tears streamed down her face.

The nurse pressed the call button, and a flurry of activity ensued with someone rushing in. “What’s happening—Oh my God!”

Three women—old, middle-aged, and young—couldn’t manage to assist Xiang Feiran. In the end, two male doctors from the department came and helped lift him back into bed.

There was a subtle, shocked silence in the room until Fang Suining, tearfully giving a thumbs-up, said, “Xiang Feiran, others just open their eyes when they wake up, but you, damn it, get out of bed.”

After saying this, Fang Suining burst into tears, collapsing onto the bed. “Damn it, damn it…” She gritted her teeth, with harsh words to scold and thank him.

The nurse removed the displaced needles from Xiang Feiran, also feeling emotional. “Waking up with such a commotion, how desperate you must be to get up…”

These sounds, so different from those that drifted into consciousness through ears, were so clear, resonant, with each person’s unique tone and timbre.

It was the human world.

The sharp pain of the needles being withdrawn made Xiang Feiran instinctively lower his head. His veins looked weak but were still carrying blood.

It was the human world.

The warm evening breeze of May, carrying the voices of patients and their families chatting downstairs in the garden, gently crept in.

It was the human world.

Xiang Feiran’s gaze rested on the tearful and disoriented Fang Suining’s face, his lips moved, making a faint sound.

“What do you want to say?” Fang Suining, unable to hear clearly, stopped crying and leaned in to listen.

“How about her?”

Just that one sentence made Fang Suining cry even more. “She’s at home, she doesn’t know you’re still alive. I hid it from her. She’s been struggling and misses you so much…”

Xiang Feiran’s lips curled into a faint but gentle smile.

“I miss her too.”

“I’ll call her!” Fang Suining finally remembered to inform everyone.

Xiang Feiran’s cool hand lightly rested on her wrist. “I’ll go see her.”

The needles were dealt with, the feeding tube was removed, and the doctor conducted a preliminary examination, arranging for a wheelchair to take him for further, more detailed procedures.

The man who had been unconscious for almost six months had all bodily functions operating smoothly but still felt like everything was waiting to be revived.

That night was bustling with activity as Xiang Qiucheng and the Xiang Weishan family arrived one after another. The child named Shanshan, nibbling on her fingers, looked at him with unfamiliar curiosity and said, “Brother, you sleep so well.”

Her sweet and sticky words mixed with the laughter and tears in the room, unaware that this was the human world she was gradually stumbling into.

Xiang Feiran also smiled, gently placing his hand on her head.

After all the test reports came out, people were finally convinced that he was indeed alive and had truly awakened.

Fang Suining brought him clothes—four sets.

“All your clothes look the same, so there’s not much to choose from. Besides, you don’t have the strength to try them on.”

Having not used his mouth for six months, Xiang Feiran was far from as adept as she was. Every time he spoke, he would first pause, unaccustomed to his own mouth, tongue, and vocal cords.

As for the matter of his cousin threatening to slap him if he didn’t wake up, he decided to let it slide for now and settle the score once he regained his mobility.

Xiang Feiran chose a black T-shirt, but Fang Suining rejected it: “The doctor said you’re still weak and should wear more layers.”

In the end, he wore a loose gray sweatshirt and sweatpants. A male caregiver helped him change pants, as his leg muscles were the most weakened, making it impossible for him to stand on his own. He needed patient rehabilitation.

The caregiver, accustomed to dealing with people waking up after long periods of coma, had seen many who couldn’t handle the disparity between their current state and their previous high status. But the man before him remained calm, showing no distress over the situation. After changing, he politely thanked the caregiver.

Fang Suining pushed his wheelchair and stopped in front of a full-length mirror.

With his black hair and white skin, his features hadn’t changed in six months—he was still the same, cool and sharp.

“Hmm…” Fang Suining tilted her head, “Why do you look like you’ve rejuvenated?”

“If you didn’t work for half a year, you’d rejuvenate too.”

“…”

His speech was naturally cold and distant, and his weakened body made him seem even more so.

Outside the hospital ward, traffic was busy, and sunlight accompanied the noise.

Xiang Feiran extended his hand, flipping it over.

It was warm.

The coldness of the Naphtali River, etched in his memory, was dispelled by this ray of sunlight.

The caregiver pushed the wheelchair while Fang Suining made a phone call: “Sister-in-law.”

Her loud voice made Xiang Feiran glance at her.

Shang Mingbao was inspecting her new store and was surprised by her sudden cheerfulness: “What’s up?”

“I’m back in the country. Do you have time to meet today?”

“Sure,” Shang Mingbao replied, giving her the store’s name, “It’s on the first floor, next to Hermès.”

Fang Suining ended the call, her heart racing faster than ever. She was excited for herself and for him, feeling overwhelmed.

When they reached the car, Xiang Feiran, supporting himself with the caregiver’s shoulder, felt exhausted just sitting in the car, taking deep breaths.

The caregiver remarked, “This is only the second day since you woke up. It’s incredible. Your upper body core is very strong. Did you used to exercise a lot?”

—If carrying a 90-liter backpack every now and then counts.

The wheelchair was put into the trunk. Xiang Feiran asked, “How old is the car?”

The caregiver replied, “About twelve or thirteen years.”

Fang Suining added, “You know, I was in France… Heh heh.”

Couldn’t afford a car.

Xiang Feiran remained expressionless: “Hand over the car keys.”

Fang Suining felt humiliated and Xiang Feiran gave her a glance: “I’m afraid you’ll cause more trouble.”

“Pfft, pfft, pfft!”

The caregiver drove them towards the high-end shopping mall nine kilometers away.

On the elevated bridge, the pink and purple bougainvillea contrasted with the distant blue sky.

Nothing had changed.

Of course, it had only been six months. Xiang Feiran smiled with relief, recalling how he used to study abroad and would only return once every two years.

Could he still do it now? Although Suining said he looked just like yesterday, the closer they got to their destination, the more sweat formed on his palms.

Should he wait until he’s fully rehabilitated to see her? No, that would take at least one or two months. He couldn’t wait and didn’t want her to wait either.

His heartbeat felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

The car stopped, and Xiang Feiran took a deep breath, feeling his wrist muscles unbearably numb.

The caregiver didn’t come along; only Fang Suining pushed the black wheelchair.

At the elevator on the first floor, with a ding, people flowed in, and Xiang Feiran coughed a few times, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Hermès, Ming…” Fang Suining asked the service desk for directions, turning past the atrium to a spacious area, the orange storefront next to the greenery.

This was the second store of “Ming” since the Spring Canyon Corner, now in its third day of operation. Shang Mingbao, busy and frazzled, had just poured herself a glass of water and sat down on a leather sofa.

Her phone buzzed with Suining’s call: “I’m at the entrance.”

Suining’s voice sounded strange and tight.

Shang Mingbao didn’t think much of it, just replied, “I’m coming.”

She went to greet the guest at the entrance.

Standing up with the water glass, she walked through the counter, around a flower column, and beneath the grand crystal chandelier hanging from the second floor.

At the entrance, she inadvertently looked up, her interest in life gone—

The glass cup slipped from her hand, shattering loudly on the hard marble floor.

Just a short distance away, the man sitting calmly in the wheelchair raised his hand, opened his arms, and looked at her with a determined, focused, and smiling expression.

The tingling on her scalp spread from the back of her neck along her spine to her entire body. The sound of high heels clattering on the ground was chaotic, and Shang Mingbao didn’t know how she ended up in Xiang Feiran’s arms—

She clearly remembered every second of the past six months, but couldn’t recall these few steps.

God, oh God, is she schizophrenic, is she sick, has she thrown herself into a dream that will forever be nothing but a fleeting illusion?

All images are illusory; only his embrace and warmth are real. His palm rests on her hair, his voice close to her ear: “I’m sorry, I came back late.”

Tears and cries flow uncontrollably, an instinctive outpouring of life. Shang Mingbao cannot speak, she weeps loudly, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of his clothes.

So bitter. So bitter. It’s her half-life, her tears.

She has reconciled with fate, she is magnanimous, and in this second, she and he reconcile with all their fates.

Who, as if unconcerned, turned their face away, wiping their eyes with a finger amidst the flowing crowd and sidelong glances.

Fang Suining exhales a long, choked breath, thanking God and earth for granting this sinner, who is neither guilty nor innocent, a glimmer of conscience and life.

The weight in his arms requires his utmost support. A layer of sweat has formed on his back, but his brow does not furrow, his body does not sway. He firmly supports her, holding her tight, pulling her with all his might into his embrace.

“Don’t cry,” his fingertips gently caress Shang Mingbao’s temple, brushing her hair back behind her ear, his lips also pressing close: “You crying breaks my heart, Shang Mingbao.”

The large Australian white pearl is veiled with his breath.

He strokes her tear-scorched face, kisses pressed against her ear, eventually becoming warm, low murmurs—

“Baby, baby…”

He has left this world thinking of her.