Wen Tingli quietly wrote a note and had Zhou Wei pass it along to Lu Shicheng.

[I want to see you.]

This wasn’t easy to arrange. The premiere’s overwhelming success had made her and Huang Yuanshan the center of attention—wherever they went, a great crowd followed.

The noise around her was considerable.

Some voices offered congratulations, others carried criticism. Some wore fawning smiles while hiding traps in their words. Wen Tingli met every challenge without a single slip.

After the banquet ended, Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan bid their guests farewell warmly on the front steps, but the reporters refused to disperse.

By the time Wen Tingli got into the car, a reporter had even jumped into the car behind them, trying to follow.

She knew perfectly well that if there was the slightest stir on her end tonight, it would be splashed across the papers by morning.

She decided to lie low for now.

Back home, Zhou Sao and Xiao Taozi were already asleep.

Wen Tingli cautiously went to the window and looked out. Under the streetlamp, shadowy figures moved about—it seemed that pack of reporters would be camped outside her house all night.

Lu Shicheng, always so considerate of her, surely wouldn’t dare come see her tonight.

She couldn’t be bothered to change out of her formal dress and simply collapsed onto the sofa, looking around at the empty living room, feeling a certain loneliness settle over her.

It turned out that when a person was struggling, they longed for someone to share the burden with.

And in success, they longed even more to share it with someone.

The phone suddenly rang. The moment she heard the voice on the other end, she sprang up like a coiled spring.

“Where are you?”

“Near your place.”

Wen Tingli bit her lip, laughing. “My, Mr. Lu has quite the nerve—my whole house is under siege tonight, and you still dare come find me?”

“Come to the back door in five minutes, regardless.”

Wen Tingli went upstairs to change into clean clothes, and once the time was up, crept quietly to the back garden.

Strange to say, the five or six reporters who’d been squatting outside her back wall earlier were nowhere to be seen now.

Even so, she didn’t dare open the back door directly, because that iron gate had grown a bit old, and every time it opened it let out a piercing screech—she was afraid it would alert the reporters at the front door.

Just then, someone outside gave a low whistle. In the night, it sounded very much like some kind of romantic signal.

Wen Tingli’s heart settled, and she looked around. There was a wooden ladder in the garden that Zhou Sao sometimes used to pick fruit from the treetop of the red-leaf plum tree in the yard. She dragged the ladder over, leaned it against the back wall, and climbed up.

The moment she reached the top of the wall, she saw Lu Shicheng standing below in the moonlight.

Their eyes met, and Wen Tingli’s heart leapt with joy, nearly jumping out of her throat.

Lu Shicheng opened his arms toward her, signaling for her to jump down.

Wen Tingli jumped from the wall without a second thought, and he caught her without fail, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, feeling a thrill of excitement.

She felt like Hermia, sneaking off to meet her beloved Lysander.

“Where are we going?” she asked cheerfully in his ear.

Lu Shicheng held his “big cat” close and kissed her a few times. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The reporters, as expected, hadn’t followed. Wen Tingli felt her ears grow considerably more peaceful and comfortably dozed off in the back seat.

By the time she woke, the car had already stopped in front of the Lu family’s new pharmaceutical plant in Zhabei.

Wen Tingli rubbed her eyes, looking around in confusion—not a soul in sight for a hundred meters in any direction—then broke into a knowing smile. Leave it to him to think of coming here. There was nowhere safer than this place tonight.

Lu Shicheng came around from the front of the car to open her door, extending a hand with perfect gentlemanly grace.

Wen Tingli happily placed her hand in his and stepped out, unhurried.

He led her by the hand to the factory’s side entrance. He had a key, unlocking the door, and once inside, locked it again behind them.

With the door shut, this small world truly belonged to just the two of them.

The two of them, in perfect sync, suddenly quickened their pace at the same moment and dashed forward, running all the way up to the top floor in one breath, Wen Tingli laughing as she ran. Here, there was no need to worry about ambush, no need to worry about giving anyone something to gossip about—she could finally breathe freely and laugh without restraint.

The top floor had two rooms. Lu Shicheng led her straight to the room on the right—his office—and the moment he pushed the door open, Wen Tingli couldn’t help gasping.

The entire room was drowned in a sea of flowers. Radiant roses, elegant lilies, fragrant tulips… thousands upon thousands of them, “every shade of purple and red in full bloom,” a shameless extravagance, a dazzling, endless beauty.

She loved flowers. Back when her family had still been renting a cramped little apartment, she’d often wash out Xiao Taozi’s leftover baby bottles to use as vases, filling them with wildflowers picked from roadside patches.

She’d also grow peanut sprouts and rose moss in small pots on the windowsill at home. No matter how busy she was with school or work, she never neglected to tend to them carefully.

During her recovery at Wen Tingli’s house, Lu Shicheng had seen all of this and taken note of it. So tonight, to celebrate her success, he’d bought up every flower in the city and brought them all to her.

She covered her mouth with her hand.

“There’s more inside. Want to go look?”

Wen Tingli nodded eagerly. He led her into the inner room, but inside there were no flowers—instead, four food boxes sat on the table.

Lu Shicheng walked to the table and opened the first box.

“Braised pork belly from Zhengxing Restaurant.”

“Eight-treasure duck from Jindong Restaurant.”

“Braised fish from Changxing Restaurant.”

“Crab roe scrambled eggs.”

He opened each box in turn to show her.

“You said it yourself—the moment Spring Wind Blows Again premiered, these were the first four things you wanted to eat. There, I got them all for you.”

Wen Tingli burst out laughing and threw herself at him. “Mr. Lu, I love you so much.”

“What? The dishes are actually still warm?”

“I can’t wait any longer. Chopsticks, chopsticks.”

Lu Shicheng’s eyes were full of laughter as he first restrained her grabbing hands. “Calm down a little, won’t you? The chopsticks aren’t on me.”

He then pulled out two pairs of chopsticks and bowls from beneath the boxes, and, as if by magic, produced an ice bucket next, filled with several bottles of Wen Tingli’s favorite drink.

Seeing him like this, both dashing and a little boyish, Wen Tingli’s heart felt as though it were soaking in milk and rose petals. The two of them sat down and thoroughly enjoyed an extraordinarily delicious midnight feast—normally, even at her own house, they had to be mindful of Zhou Sao and Xiao Taozi, let alone when dining out. But tonight, the two of them were free of all constraint, able to do exactly as they pleased.

Since Wen Tingli had only just resumed normal eating, she didn’t dare eat too much, but was thoroughly satisfied all the same. After the meal, the two of them cleared the table together. Wen Tingli scooped water out of the ice bucket and splashed it at Lu Shicheng’s face; he dodged with one hand while grabbing a small dish of oil off the table with the other, threatening to smear it on her face.

The two of them played around for a while, and Wen Tingli ran off laughing, poking her head curiously out the window. She’d come here to find Lu Shicheng a few times before, but had usually only waited outside the main gate. Tonight, she’d actually gotten to come inside—too bad it was too dark out to see much, only able to trace the general layout by a few streetlamps on the ground.

This pharmaceutical plant seemed even more expansive than she’d imagined.

Lu Shicheng came up behind her, hands in his trouser pockets. “You can see better from the rooftop. Want to go up and look?”

“Let’s go!”

The two of them, in perfect harmony, went hand in hand up to the rooftop. Wen Tingli walked to the railing and gazed out into the distance, letting out a heartfelt sigh. “This must be the most magnificent pharmaceutical plant I’ve ever seen.”

Lu Shicheng led her up to an even higher platform, and the two of them sat side by side, facing the distance.

Wen Tingli gazed at the sky for a long while, then said, full of ambition, “In the past, my greatest wish was to make lots and lots of money, to build a great career.”

“And now?” he said, understanding her perfectly as always.

“I’ve experienced some things, met some friends. Even someone as ‘worldly’ as me has developed a few new aspirations.”

“Is that how this ‘help the women workers’ foundation came about?”

“Mm, I’m so grateful Yao Jie shares the same vision as me.” Wen Tingli leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling sweetly. “And I’m even happier that an anonymous donor named Little Orange gave such generous support to this charity effort. Mr. Lu, you know everything—do you happen to know who this person was tonight?”

“No, I don’t know,” Lu Shicheng said, lowering his eyes with a smile.

“I really ought to ask this person to their face—how dare they steal my childhood name?”

“Maybe it wasn’t stolen.” Lu Shicheng put on an innocent look. “Maybe there’s simply someone else out there in the world who happens to share your odd little name.”

Wen Tingli bared her teeth and pinched his cheek; he laughed, lowering his brow, reaching up to block her hand, and in the tangle of it, the two of them ended up kissing. Afterward, she traced three characters with her finger on the ground between their feet for him to see.

“Li Chengying.” Her expression turned somewhat mournful. “That’s the elder sister I told you about before—her story affected me deeply. This is her real name. I call her Sister Li.”

Lu Shicheng’s expression grew solemn, and he echoed her softly: “Sister Li.”

The words “Sister Li” had slipped out simply because she was someone Wen Tingli respected. It was a strange feeling—it was as if the two of them were growing closer and closer together, more and more intimate, until there was no gap left between their two hearts at all. From now on, sharing joy and sorrow alike, glory and disgrace together.

She took his hand from where it rested at his side and laced her fingers through his.

But because the subject had turned to something painful, she said nothing more for a while. For a moment, Lu Shicheng too simply gazed ahead, lost in thought.

Wen Tingli turned to look at his profile. “What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about how I built this factory to fulfill my mother’s wish.”

Wen Tingli’s heart quickened—this was the first time Lu Shicheng had ever mentioned his mother to her. His tone had been so casual, but she knew: the more something mattered, the more lightly one tended to speak of it.

“My mother studied Western pharmacology. Before going abroad, she faced opposition from the family—” A hint of a smile surfaced in Lu Shicheng’s eyes. “She was the only daughter in the family, and my grandmother worried about her being alone overseas. My mother told my grandmother it was a matter of ‘learning the enemy’s strengths to defeat the enemy’—that any young person with ambition shouldn’t settle for a quiet, comfortable corner of the world, but should either throw themselves into the revolution or work desperately to master new knowledge and technology. As for her, she meant to master the foreign science of pharmaceuticals thoroughly, then return home to build our own national pharmaceutical industry. If it came down to it, she’d sell off her own dowry to cover tuition—she could go without marrying, but she was determined to study abroad.”

“She truly had courage.” Wen Tingli couldn’t help feeling a surge of admiration.

Lu Shicheng smiled faintly. “My grandmother didn’t withhold my mother’s dowry in the end—she was moved by my mother’s ambition instead, and threw her full support behind her daughter’s studies abroad. My mother spent five years overseas, successfully earned her degree, and threw herself into the revolution the moment she returned home, all while trying to raise funds to build a pharmaceutical plant. During this time, she met my father. My father was in charge of the Lu family’s banking and shipping businesses in Shanghai at the time, and out of concern for the nation’s fate, often attended meetings held by local patriotic youths and businessmen. It was love at first sight for him.”

He paused, his expression tinged with regret, and after a moment, continued quietly:

“Not long after, my grandfather passed away suddenly, and my grandmother fell ill with grief. The family business was on the verge of collapse. My mother couldn’t bear to let my grandmother face such hardship alone, and set aside her own ambitions to come home and help. Since she’d never handled the family business before, she inevitably struggled to manage it all. My father quietly helped her several times. Afterward, when my mother learned of this, whether out of love or gratitude, or both, she ended up marrying my father.”

Lu Shicheng’s brow furrowed deeply. Wen Tingli watched his profile with concern, his unhappiness tugging at her heart as well.

He looked up at the night sky, his voice carrying a deep sense of desolation.

“I think, if my mother had known what would happen afterward, she’d surely have regretted this decision. She was an eagle meant to soar through open skies, and instead, by some cruel twist of fate, found herself locked inside the cage of the Lu family.”

As he spoke, he seemed to have reached his breaking point, loosening his collar and tie and abruptly standing up.

“When they married, my father didn’t ask my grandfather’s opinion at all—he simply sent a telegram to Nanyang, and immediately after held a wedding with my mother at a local church. Because of this, my grandfather never accepted my mother—wouldn’t allow her to live in the main Lu residence, wouldn’t allow her to hold any shares in the Lu family.”

A mocking edge crept into Lu Shicheng’s voice. “But my grandfather never expected that my mother didn’t care in the slightest. She and my father went off to start their own venture in Dutch Bantam, where my father opened two new factories. She went to observe at a local Dutch-run pharmaceutical plant, and eventually even applied to work there as a frontline factory girl herself.

“She drew on the lessons from her first failed attempt at building a pharmaceutical plant—that failure hadn’t come from any lack of theoretical knowledge, only from a total lack of practical experience. So this time she wanted to start from the ground up. My mother wasn’t playing around—she spent an entire year working in that factory, and wrote a thick manual of practical notes. Later, when I built this Dasheng pharmaceutical plant, I drew directly on the frontline insights from my mother’s work notebook.”

That was probably the most precious thing Lu Shicheng’s mother had left him. Wen Tingli’s heart swelled with a mixture of emotions, and she found herself wishing she could see that notebook of his mother’s with her own eyes.

“After that… my mother spent a long time waiting for her chance to return home, often corresponding with her close friend Zou Zheping—who later became Principal Zou. Zou Zheping was a remarkable woman; in her letters, she constantly reminded my mother never to forget her own ambitions. My mother, deeply encouraged, quietly finished preparing everything—she’d even already picked out a name for the pharmaceutical plant—and wrote to Aunt Zou saying she’d soon be setting off to return home. And then, right at that moment—”

Lu Shicheng’s face suddenly went ashen, his jaw clenched, and he couldn’t say another word. Wen Tingli, deeply moved, rose at once and wrapped both arms tightly around him.

Very few people could speak calmly of their own parents’ deaths, even as adults. That kind of pain was like a scar knitted permanently into the heart—it never fully healed on its own.

And Lu Shicheng’s parents hadn’t simply died—they had been murdered, and he, so young at the time, had witnessed it all with his own eyes.

Thinking of this, her eyes stung with tears. Tonight, the two of them had each shared their deepest secrets with the other, but the feeling wasn’t a comfortable one—because in this moment, some strange resonance had formed between her heart and the heart of the boy he’d once been. In that instant, she could nearly feel, as if firsthand, how terrified and helpless the young Lu Shicheng must have been.

“These years must have been so hard for you,” she said, her voice nearly breaking.

Lu Shicheng suddenly understood—she didn’t just understand him; through his account, it was as if she’d truly seen the boy he’d once been with her own eyes. In this moment, the regret buried inside him seemed to be smoothed over by some invisible force. This emotional comfort held such power—he’d never known this feeling before, and only he knew what that faint stirring in his chest meant. He’d never felt this way before, and never had he been so grateful to fate.

The wind on the rooftop was strong. He took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her, drawing her fully into his embrace. The sky was vast, the earth wide, but as long as he had her, that was enough.

The two of them stayed at the pharmaceutical plant until nearly dawn before leaving.

Watching the sunrise, both Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng felt a sense of being reborn.

They walked out of the building hand in hand as they had the night before, only now their fingers were laced together even more tightly than before.

Wen Tingli had originally wanted to take the whole sea of flowers with her, but there was simply too much to carry, and she reluctantly picked out only her favorite ten blooms to bring home.

To her surprise, the very next day, Lu Shicheng had someone deliver that entire dazzling “sea of flowers” to her house, not a single bloom left behind. Every day when she came downstairs, she’d be greeted by that brilliant sea of flowers—it kept her in high spirits for days afterward.