Chapter 113

Time flew by during the rehabilitation.

By mid-August, Xiang Feiran could finally stop relying on a wheelchair for daily life. He could manage short distances around the house with the aid of crutches, and didn’t need constant supervision anymore. However, during evening walks, Shang Mingbao still pushed the wheelchair for him.

The routine of caring for the patient had become fixed through daily repetition: mealtimes, hospital visits, and walks were all scheduled precisely, more punctual than a clock.

The villa area made it difficult to separate pedestrians from vehicles, so finding a quiet route away from the noise of traffic was not easy. Shang Mingbao spent a long time finding a suitable path. Aside from a few elderly people out for walks, there were no cars or dogs being walked, only a couple of people jogging at night.

On the fifth encounter, the girl jogging turned around, her signature high ponytail swaying behind her.

She looked familiar.

Was she a celebrity? A supporting actress from a popular drama?

As she jogged a bit further, a carambola fell from the branches of a backyard tree, splattering juice on the road with a loud smack. The girl was startled and looked up at the tree branches swaying in the wind, realizing—wasn’t that the botanist who was reported missing? Wasn’t he supposed to be in trouble? According to the official reports?

To confirm her memory, the girl stopped running and stood under the tree, scrolling through Weibo. She didn’t remember Xiang Feiran’s name, only something about Nepal, the United Nations, and variety shows. After searching through entries and official accounts, she confirmed her suspicions.

The next day, before she could encounter them again, the girl took a zoomed-in photo of the two from a distance.

In the photo, the man in the wheelchair was slightly looking up, his sharply defined jawline clearly visible in profile. The girl pushing the wheelchair had her eyes downcast, with a smile on her face.

The atmosphere was gentle, with the twilight breeze.

The girl put away her phone and casually crossed paths with them for the sixth time.

After completing her run, she crushed some eggshells at the edge of the table and sent the photo to a friend who played in a band: “Can you recognize them?”

Her friend replied instantly: “Isn’t this the drummer from the band who helped out for Botany?”

The girl: “I knew it!”

Her friend: “It’s a pity, didn’t expect he would be in trouble.”

The girl: “Check the timestamp in the bottom right corner.”

She had included the timestamp.

Her friend looked at it, then looked again, zooming in with two fingers and exclaimed: “What the hell, are you seeing a ghost?”

The girl, with a serious expression: “I’ve seen them six times.”

People find it difficult to maintain high moral standards of respecting privacy when faced with celebrity gossip, whether they are actively or passively thrust into the public eye. Once they are in the public eye, their privacy rights are often flexibly stripped away.

Soon, this photo circulated in the rock music circle, then spread from musician groups to wider networks, eventually appearing on public forums.

The poster asked: [Annual supernatural event… Does Xiang Feiran have a twin brother?]

The responses below were a string of “No.”

“So there really is someone who looks this much alike?”

“This can’t just be described as looking alike (euphemistically).”

“Don’t use old photos to play tricks.”

“This is new, the watermark matches the weather and plant details in the photo.”

“That can’t be, didn’t the embassy issue a statement?”

“The statement said ‘missing.'”

“Seven days of searching and still no ‘whereabouts,’ what’s the difference from being found dead? The word ‘missing’ is just because no body was found.”

“Yeah, and no further reports either.”

“Whether something really happened will be known after a check. Botany hasn’t accepted any commercial performances for half a year.”

A “check” refers to Xie Yi, the lead vocalist of Botany, who originally named himself Xie Yi, but intentionally reversed it. When Xiang Feiran had his incident, Botany was still in the limelight, the label continued to push resources for them, live house ticket prices kept rising, and they were on the verge of becoming very popular. Once Xiang Feiran “had the accident,” Botany immediately announced a one-year hiatus.

The label boss cursed a thousand times in his heart, the lead vocalist was stubborn.

Label: “What’s this, mourning?”

Lead vocalist: “It’s fine to treat a real brother like a father, but if my buddy leaves so suddenly and you still expect me to keep performing, is that human?”

Brand: “……”

Rock musicians usually don’t care about trending topics in their circles, and with a firm schedule ahead, no one really believes he’s resurrected. But marketing accounts don’t have such qualms; just a few seconds of peeking, saving images, screenshots, and posting on Weibo, their excitement makes their hands tremble.

The post pretends to be clueless: “Someone had a chance encounter with Xiang Feiran in the community. What’s going on?”

Comments:

“What the hell?”

“Whoa.”

“Huh?”

“Checked the date; it’s not April Fools’ Day.”

“Just looks like him. Can we stop riding the traffic wave?”

The event breaks out of the circle, entering the public eye. All the neglected questions surge forward, and suddenly everyone is encountering him:

“Encountered him before, at the hospital, he was in a wheelchair. Didn’t think much of it at the time.”

“Just noticed the research institute has always had his ID photo and resume hanging.”

“His foundation project is still ongoing, and students haven’t switched groups (but it could be understood as the paperwork not being fast enough).”

“What’s going on?”

“Prosperity, civilization, democracy, and harmony…”

“Here’s a wild thought: could he have been saved but lost his memory, the girl who saved him doesn’t recognize him, and they eventually fall in love…?”

“With the plot progressing to this point, shouldn’t it be trending? This NPC is ready for the whole internet to explode!”

“Lol.”

“Don’t be like this. Xiang Bo still has his one true love, Bai Yueguang.”

“Now that you mention it, it seems even more melodramatic.”

“One side is the life-saving benefactor falling in love over time, another is the one true love, another is the attentive care of a person, and the other is a person who cries all day regretting not cherishing them and praying for their return every night.”

“Pen for you! I want to see the full text before I go to sleep!”

“This world is just a huge romance novel…”

“Chapter One: Revival.”

“Chapter Two: She’s back, the one true love.”

…

No one still considers this an unbelievable survival story until someone recognizes the other person in the photo:

“Wait, doesn’t anyone recognize this woman? She’s the founder of ‘Ming,’ the one with the art jewelry!”

“!! I knew it! I’ve seen her exhibition!”

“Really her, had the fortune to see her in person at the Peninsula Hotel afternoon tea.”

“Ming” had recently appeared in many magazine pages and PR materials, and Shang Mingbao had been featured in a few magazine interviews. The photos were easy to find.

Regarding the founder and background of “Ming,” there were many rumors in the circle, and now they were all being gossiped about:

“Her name seems to be Mingbao, and outsiders call her Xiao Bao teacher…”

“Ah???”

“Not sure, just hearsay.”

“Exactly, ‘Ming’ is Ming, and Xiao Bao is Bao? Combined, it’s Mingbao!!!”

“Wow?”

“Stop arguing, I’m thinking!”

“Wait, what’s the name of the only love in the Doctor’s three-line dedication?”

“For the only love——Ming bao.”

“So Mingbao isn’t Ming Bao, but Mingbao?”

“So this photo is of the one true love with someone who looks very much like the Doctor?”

“!!!!!!”

“Going to sleep, my brain’s broken seeing the resurrection.”

“……………………Xiang Bo isn’t dead?”

“And there’s another, more brutal possibility: the one true love couldn’t bear the Doctor’s passing and found a stand-in who looks very much like him.”

“Ah, this.”

“This seems more logical.”

“The world has turned into a huge melodrama again, but now it’s a tragic romance stand-in instead of two women fighting over one man.”

Someone asks:

“Has anyone bought ‘Ming’ jewelry? Her original inspiration was black cumin, very beautiful, the flower language is ‘misty love,’ and their packaging is also quite clever, with a layer of glass in the gift box, covered with sand. You have to brush off the sand to see the real jewelry box inside.”

“Such a melancholic design… precious things are always buried under sand and mist, but as long as you brush them aside, you can see the true heart again.”

“If that’s the case, I can understand her finding a stand-in. She loved too much, couldn’t move on.”

“Don’t understand, and it’s only been half a year…”

“Ah, ah, ah, is it that the person didn’t die and is back together, or is it the stand-in’s tragic romance? Give me a clear answer! Can’t sleep from this melon!”

Recently, the entertainment circle is quite dull, with no big scandals or hit dramas. Under the back-and-forth propagation on forums and marketing accounts, the heat of the matter continued to rise, with “Xiang Feiran” and “Ming” both trending high, with “Xiang Feiran” even hitting the top spot.

Essie’s phone kept vibrating with clients asking her to verify the trending news. Unable to avoid it, she had to drive to the villa to talk to Shang Mingbao about the matter.

Online buzz strangely turned into brand hype, with the ex-girlfriend using the deceased ex-boyfriend for true love marketing. Essie was overwhelmed, and the PR company had already issued a public relations warning: “Though Xiang Bo isn’t a celebrity, he has a good public image and has passed away. Who came up with your market strategy? While jewelry brands should sell true love stories, these steps are too rough.”

Essie hesitated.

PR: “It’s impressive you managed to find such a lookalike.”

Essie: “…”

Without further delay, she floored the gas pedal, sped into the villa district, and rang the doorbell at eleven at night.

The maid recognized Essie, welcomed her in, and went to report.

Shang Mingbao’s recent schedule aligns more with that of ancient times; she had already slept by this hour. Hearing the doorbell, she woke up at the same time as Xiang Feiran.

“It sounds like Essie has arrived,” Shang Mingbao said softly, resting her head against Xiang Feiran’s chest to relax for a moment. “I’ll go check.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Shang Mingbao lifted the blanket, got up, and put on a shawl. Looking back, she saw Xiang Feiran already sitting up, moving his legs to the edge of the bed. He still couldn’t lift his legs easily, so he relied on his arms and core strength for the series of movements. After getting down, he picked up the medical crutch leaning against the side.

Rehabilitation couldn’t be rushed; he began to consider whether to cancel the single-knee kneeling position and make up for it later. It seemed foolish to make her wait several more months for a dogmatic position, as if tying oneself up in knots.

When they opened the bedroom door, Essie, seeing them both coming out, was not surprised. She got straight to the point: “You two are trending, and the brand is affected.”

As Shang Mingbao opened Weibo, she asked, “How is the brand affected?”

“Netizens think you’re creating hype, marketing true love.” Essie stopped short, not repeating the more unpleasant comments from netizens.

Shang Mingbao’s heart sank not because of the criticism but because Xiang Feiran’s face was now clearly exposed under the marketing spotlight. Over the past few months, thanks to their tacit understanding with Xiang Weishan, the hospital, and the research institute, the news of Xiang Feiran’s awakening had never leaked.

He needed to rest quietly; even if there were to be a public announcement, it couldn’t be now. Moreover, this was a private matter. Xiang Feiran was not a public figure, and whether he was alive or awake was enough for those directly involved. There was no need to force him into the spotlight. He didn’t depend on the camera for his livelihood.

Shang Mingbao locked her phone and smiled nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll be excited for a while, and for PR, let them handle it.”

Essie hesitated. “Aren’t you going to clarify?”

“No need to.”

“Clarify.”

The two voices spoke simultaneously. Shang Mingbao turned to look at Xiang Feiran, who said firmly, “No need. It doesn’t matter. I don’t rely on these things to make my mark; ‘Ming’ has its own positioning and customer base.”

Essie seemed conflicted, her brow furrowed tightly.

The price range of ‘Ming’ had not reached the high-end level; there were entry-level items affordable to ordinary people. Currently, the brand was in its growth phase, and the performance of this year’s financial report was crucial. It would determine how many resources and support Shang Mingbao could get from the jewelry group next year. Since she had not taken on the role of a merchant’s third young lady, she had to accept the board’s impartial evaluation.

Under the light, Xiang Feiran’s tone and expression were calm. “It’s fine. It was going to be announced eventually.”

“I don’t want them to disturb you,” Shang Mingbao pressed his hand. “You don’t follow celebrities, so you don’t understand this. Announce it after you fully recover, Brother Feiran.”

Xiang Feiran thought for a moment. “I’m not a star, so it’s not a big deal.”

Having never used Weibo before, he downloaded the app, registered, and filled in his details. After several tries with different nicknames that were already taken, Xiang Feiran let out a sound of frustration.

“Let the institute handle it.”

Shang Mingbao was speechless.

The official Weibo account of the plant research institute posted daily about flowers, plants, and recent research activities, with a moderate readership. The only highlight was when Xiang Feiran appeared on a program and it was revealed that he was a researcher.

“But the institute can only clarify that I’m not dead; it can’t clarify the relationship between you and me.” Realizing this, Xiang Feiran’s frown eased, and he smiled in relief as he continued to fill in his nickname.

He chose… “Xiang Feiran of West 56th Street.”

Shang Mingbao saw this name and her lips curved slightly.

“Why are you smiling?” Xiang Feiran caught sight of her.

“When you were competing, I voted for your team. All the names ‘Mingbao’ were taken, so I wrote…”

“‘Xiang Feiran of West 56th Street is Mingbao’s only treasure.’” Xiang Feiran said calmly, his gaze fixed on her with a hint of a smile.

“How did you know?” Shang Mingbao was astonished. The voting column refreshed very quickly; it couldn’t be that he saw it at that exact second.

“Xie Yi told me,” Xiang Feiran smiled. “I wasn’t famous then. During those days, I watched the backend for twenty-four hours, printed out a five-meter-long list, and posted it in the rehearsal room.”

In the dense black text, among all the “Mingbao” and “Mingbao” names, “Xiang Feiran of West 56th Street is Mingbao’s only treasure” was like a plant hidden in a forest. Only someone who wanted to be famous, like the lead singer, would look through it one by one, exclaiming and pulling the passing Xiang Feiran to that wall.

He staggered a step, wanting to curse, but his eyes, which were once disinterested, lingered on that line of text for a long time.

Only treasure.

Xie Yi saw him smiling faintly, and his expression was hard to decipher.

“Shang Mingbao, you really know yourself well.”

Shang Mingbao’s face turned red. She looked around and said, “You don’t need to clarify. As long as they know you’re still alive, they’ll figure out the truth.”

Xiang Feiran had already registered the account, skipping the initial follow invitations. “But I want to say.”

When these words were spoken, Essie was stunned, and Shang Mingbao couldn’t blink.

“Why?” Shang Mingbao asked softly, her heart racing. “You clearly hate…”

He hated being disturbed; all the attention from others was superfluous, and all the scrutiny annoyed him.

But the feeling of having his most treasured possession coveted was clearly more unpleasant.

“Isn’t that person who wants to spend a million to make you the fool also reading Weibo?” Xiang Feiran said calmly, looking up.

Shang Mingbao: “……”

Essie swayed a bit, thinking, so this is the real Xiang Feiran?

Xiang Feiran typed quickly, with brief wording:

[Just woke up, in rehabilitation. Mingbao is my ex-girlfriend and current girlfriend; we will not break up in the future. Thank you for your concern.]

After typing, he felt something was missing in terms of persuasion. While frowning in thought, Essie, who enjoyed the excitement, suggested, “A photo, Xiang Feiran, add a photo.”

Xiang Feiran’s old phone had disappeared in the mudslide, and the new one he had didn’t have many photos, even of flowers and plants.

Xiang Feiran opened iCloud. In the purchased cloud storage, all the so-called deleted pasts were vividly present.

Hard drives not deleted, cloud drives not deleted—what’s the point of talking about not wanting to think of you from now on?

For the abandoned, all farewell rituals are just one person’s chaos, one person’s self-deception.

Xiang Feiran precisely flipped to a certain year’s timeline and found a photo.

It was a photo that even Shang Mingbao had never seen.

Streetlights casting golden light, snow falling, Xiang Feiran pressed her against the wall, kissing her passionately. She appeared to be dressed lightly, protected in his arms, only showing half of her closed eyes and chin, and her hand gripping his coat.

—That year in the alley behind 21N, she ran to meet him, not caring about her coat in the deep winter snow, eagerly running to greet him for her fourth kiss.

Not only was Shang Mingbao deeply impacted, but even Essie was dry-mouthed.

No, this was just a very ordinary photo; the kiss happened but wasn’t explicitly exposed in the frame. Yet, this was a photo that made one desperately want to be in a relationship.

Shang Mingbao blinked, feeling her nostrils sting, “Who took this…?”

“Tommy, remember? The bassist.”

A top-notch photo, a lifelong treasure for Xiang Feiran.

Shang Mingbao, afraid he might notice something, straightened up, smiling at Essie, pretending her eyes weren’t red: “We weren’t officially together at that time.”

She remembered, remembered how she sent away Wu Baiyan, remembered the cold waiting for Xiang Feiran in the alley, remembered him holding her hand and taking her to eat ramen, the snow crunching underfoot. In that apartment with the octagonal window, her heated blow-dryer blew away her lace underwear, and her heart raced so much while kissing that her limbs went numb.

The photo was sent out along with the text.

Essie said goodbye. Although she heard the summer night crickets, she wrapped her arms around herself as if walking in the snow.

Looking back, the bedroom with the octagonal window was lit, and the light gently spilled over the courtyard.

She felt everything was so beautiful.

---

The next morning, the housekeeper opened the door to clean and was startled by the flashes of cameras and mobile phone cameras outside the iron gate.

With a bang, the noise was blocked, and the broom fell on the stone steps. The housekeeper quickly retreated indoors, describing the situation outside as if surrounded by zombies.

Shang Mingbao only lifted a corner of the bedroom curtain on the second floor, and was immediately startled by the deafening noise outside the soundproof glass, quickly letting the curtain down.

After so many years of following stars and blending into the fan circle, only to have become careless, naïve, and overconfident after just two years away. Those self-media outlets flock wherever there is traffic.

“Xiang Feiran,” was trending again.

Having survived countless dangers, he even officially announced his “life” mystery love and chose such a screaming photo. With all the buffs stacked up, he wouldn’t be allowed off the platform.

“Fans, who knows if I’m so busy I don’t know which to scream first!”

“Woke up early, huh? Alive? Official announcement?!”

“Laughing, finishing all the drama at once, truly doctoral-level efficiency.”

“That line about never breaking up, laughing, who was that for, who asked you!”

“Written for a hundred million naive fans (the person studying the materials overnight is very sure).”

“Laughing.”

“Never thought the clash between a Nasdaq tech new rich and a botanist would make me hesitate for even a second.”

“Other doctors are doctors, Xiang Feiran is Xiang Feiran.”

“Will Xiang Feiran be able to play drums after rehab? Please perform at a music festival; otherwise, how will you afford the ‘Crying Cat Head’ jewelry designed by your only love?”

“Photo, my new screensaver… dying of cuteness.”

……

Shang Mingbao had no time to pay attention to these. She called home for help. After half an hour, security from the Shangyu branch headquarters in the city center was dispatched, along with the villa property staff, to clear the scene and disperse the crowd.

Among them were many owners who came to watch the excitement. It was fine to persuade them to leave, but the problem was the few cars waiting outside, clearly wanting to follow Xiang Feiran’s schedule and figure out which hospital he was rehabbing at. These people were not just self-media outlets but also those involved in gray-market health product live streams. Xiang Feiran’s “resurrection” was a natural material for them to deceive the elderly, and capturing it was a win.

When cars were seen leaving the mansion, those waiting for live streams became alert. After a while, seeing three Bentleys and three Mercedes on the road, they were all stunned, slowly saying, “Disappeared.”

After Shang Mingbao was exposed by the media as a child, her uncle Shang Boying, who had a precedent for such situations, was very concerned about her safety. A pair of cars always accompanied her in and out of school, and no matter what happened or which checkpoint she passed, the windows of the car she was in never lowered. In terms of security level, she and her elder brother Shang Shao enjoyed the same treatment until later when she grew up, and no more photos were leaked to the media. With the significant improvement in Hong Kong’s security, this level of security was then removed.

While social media is indeed bold, it can’t compare to the unruly Hong Kong media of the past. Seeing such a scene, one can only stare in disbelief and hastily join the main traffic flow, only to be deftly overtaken by the skilled driving of the car in front.

“It feels like going back to my childhood,” Shang Mingbao sighed deeply. “Back then, I found school so annoying, and the bodyguards were always so strict. I really admire my elder brother. Even now, he always has bodyguards with him wherever he goes. Unlike me, I wish they would stay as far away as possible.”

She really didn’t like having bodyguards. Fortunately, after moving to New York as an adult, her identity was well-hidden, and she gradually enjoyed a more carefree life.

Reflecting on this, Shang Mingbao gazed at Xiang Feiran and said, “Grandpa was always the most concerned about my safety. When I was sixteen, I was able to…”

It was after many selections by Shang Boying.

Her meeting with Xiang Feiran was a possibility within a possibility, a one hundred percent certainty after countless selections.

Behind them, the red light stretched endlessly, and the car became part of a long line. Ahead, the traffic light was counting down, and busy figures moved under the tree shadows at nine in the morning.

Shang Mingbao clutched the jewelry box in her pocket, her heartbeat pounding so hard that her limbs felt numb.

She was so slow to realize. On the bed of Shang Boying in his last days, she listened to him say that the world was good and that Grandpa had seen it. She only knew to cry. She babbled about everything that had happened at summer camp, the people she met, the five-finger peach she picked, the evening primrose under the moonlight, the unspoken farewells, and the blueberry cake that Xiang Feiran had given her.

“I didn’t get to eat it,” she cried breathlessly, knowing that Grandpa must have many important things to say, wanting to hear her promise to live well, to take good care of herself, but all she talked about were these trivial matters.

His wrinkled eyes smiled as he listened to her unconsciously say “Feiran” five times.

“Be a little braver,” Shang Boying said, wiping away her tears. “Babe, be brave.”

There was no place to hide, and the servants at the rice paddy manor had already informed her that drones were flying outside.

They eventually drove up the mountain, back into the mountains.

The mountain was still the same mountain, but summer was no longer the same summer. Plants had grown in successive waves, while only the guardian of the mountain had aged.

Originally a two-hour drive, it took an additional hour due to the need to avoid being followed. By the time they drove into the mountains, it was noon.

The news said there would be heavy rain today.

Before the summer rain, the sun was still bright, but the temperature had dropped slightly, with clouds half-bright and half-dark under the sunlight. The wind blew strongly, shaping the grass and trees into a smooth form. The wind was so strong that it seemed it could be captured and stored in a jar.

The windows rattled, and in the small kitchen, the begonia glass crashed back and forth against the corner of the wall.

Aunt Lan was busy directing people to collect clothes and close windows. Seeing Xiang Lianqiao sitting on the balcony, with his hair blown back and his eyes comfortably squinting.

“Old sir!” Aunt Lan shouted urgently, “Go back inside! You’ll catch a cold!”

The assistant stood behind Xiang Lianqiao’s wheelchair and heard him hoarsely say, “Feiran, Feiran is back…”

The assistant was startled, thinking he had heard about the trending topic. But he shouldn’t have, because no one had mentioned it from yesterday until now, and Xiang Lianqiao couldn’t check his phone. His eyes were too tired to look at these small electronic squares.

“You saw wrong,” the assistant replied in the wind.

The mountain path had long been unattended. The trees were lush, the grass was long, covering the way home.

He didn’t see wrong.

The rumble of the wheels rose from the clear air before the summer rain, driving up the mountain slope, the black car casting a bright shadow in the cloud’s heart.

The assistant stared blankly, listening to Xiang Lianqiao’s slow, leisurely laugh, watching him slowly nod.

The car stopped in the courtyard. Aunt Lan stopped collecting clothes, and the servants paused in closing the windows. From the second floor, they looked down in surprise at the courtyard.

The boy who had lived here since he was sixteen had returned home.

The assistant pushed Xiang Lianqiao downstairs. In the gusty wind, Xiang Feiran got out of the front passenger seat, took the crutch handed over by the caregiver, and steadied it in the courtyard.

Xiang Lianqiao managed to stand up with support. His legs were not as good as Xiang Feiran’s, and any exertion caused unbearable pain. At this moment, he took a step forward, his frail hand reaching out, about to collapse forward, but was quickly supported by the assistant.

Xiang Feiran walked up to him on his own: “I’m back, Grandpa.”

“Your leg…” Xiang Lianqiao was blown to tears by the wind, his gaze slowly lingering on his face, his medical crutch, and his seemingly fine long legs.

“I’m fine,” Xiang Feiran said calmly. “I just twisted my Achilles tendon while collecting specimens. It’s a bit serious and requires two months of rehabilitation training.”

Shang Mingbao stood behind him, smiling at the scene, her long black hair lifted by the wind.

For the next two months, they would stay in the mountains to recover, as if spending a leisurely summer vacation.

That day, Suining came to the mountains to visit with a ready-to-use film camera. She took a group photo of Shang Mingbao, Xiang Feiran, and Xiang Lianqiao.

“Disgusting couple,” Suining said as she flicked the film, grumbling, “You’re killing me with the sweetness.”

In the photo, Xiang Feiran had one arm around Shang Mingbao from behind and the other hand resting on Xiang Lianqiao’s wheelchair. Shang Mingbao smiled sweetly, naturally leaning against Xiang Feiran’s arm across her waist, while Xiang Lianqiao laughed so hard that he nearly tilted his head back.

As for the center of the photo, the tallest and most robust man, with black hair, white skin, a warm and steady gaze, and a slightly smiling mouth, was a sight not seen for many years. It was a perfect reproduction of the sixteen-year-old.

That day, in the long-sealed specimen room, the aluminum-colored cane quietly leaned against the specimen cabinet. Xiang Feiran lifted his arm and deftly pulled out the album from the top shelf.

He was planning to update the life he hadn’t updated since he was sixteen.

Shang Mingbao licked her lips, her gaze both timid and bright.

She dared not look directly at him, yet she couldn’t bear to miss even the slightest detail of him.

Xiang Feiran had already received her signal and smiled hesitantly. “What, did you play a prank inside?”

Shang Mingbao quickly shook her head, her determination clear. “No.”

Despite saying no, her gaze followed Xiang Feiran’s to the opened album—

New Year’s Eve, snow-capped mountains, the sunset under the Brooklyn Bridge, a kiss in front of the tent, gentle teasing on a drum stool… and beneath the Rockefeller Christmas tree, smiling faces, the eternal Star of Bethlehem.

His life had long ceased to be mundane since she entered it.

The hum in his chest resonated through his limbs, and Xiang Feiran’s fingertips gently touched the plastic film.

“Shang Mingbao.” He lifted his eyes, his eyelids slightly reddened, but the curve of his lips kept Shang Mingbao transfixed.

She couldn’t wait for him to finish his sentence and stood on tiptoe, kissing his face.

Xiang Feiran lost his balance, leaning against the specimen cabinet, holding her in his arms, kissing her, and gazing at her.

Her face was red—flushed, blushing, reddened by embarrassment, and the secret that tortured her, her eyes bright with moisture.

Xiang Feiran sensed something was wrong with her expression and wanted to stop, but it was too late—Shang Mingbao’s hand was intertwined with his, and he felt the hard metal on her knuckles, the gem with claw-like settings.

He lifted her hand and himself to the side.

The pink diamond, which he thought he had hidden well, sparkled dazzlingly on her ring finger, even in the dim room.

“Feiran, proposing doesn’t have to be on one knee; just saying you love me is enough.”

His arm wrapped around her head, his kisses repeatedly falling on her ear. In the warmth of his breath, Xiang Feiran gazed at her intently, his eyes inexplicably feeling a touch of warmth.

He loved the bravest girl in the world, and only the bravest heart, the most steadfast armor, could match her bravery and her heart.

“Shang Mingbao.” He still called her by her full name, with just the right amount of seriousness, each word firm: “Before I met you, I thought life was long, long enough to be tiresome, and dying at thirty wouldn’t be bad. After meeting you, every morning when I open my eyes, the first thought is that Shang Mingbao is still by my side today. The most important thing in my life is not anything but one thing—when I wake up tomorrow, you are still by my side.

Meeting her was the beginning of his lifelong loss for her. His ideology, from then on, would only be named after her.

“Marry me.”

Tomorrow and tomorrow, overlapping into a long river;

Spring and spring, merging into green hills;

Seasons and seasons, blending into years to come.

He wants to look back at her from the depths of time, by then, with their hair turned white, but his eyes still bright as they look at her. In that brightness, he looks back at her, just as there are always birds resting in the spring.

End of the text