A few days later, Zhou Wei and Steward Xu’s whole group also made their way to Hong Kong after various twists and turns. As soon as they arrived, they each took up their duties, busying themselves everywhere, and in the blink of an eye, this once-quiet, large estate regained the liveliness of the Shanghai days.

With this, Kuang Zhilin could set out with peace of mind for Nanyang to preside over Old Master Lu’s funeral arrangements.

Originally this should have been handled by Lu Shicheng in person, but “inconveniently,” Lu Shicheng had just been injured by a gunshot wound protecting the Lu family’s assets from falling into Japanese hands; setting out immediately would risk aggravating the wound or even causing a whole-body infection.

In wartime, everything ought to be kept simple anyway, and besides, the Nanyang clan members also worried that if any further accident occurred along the way, the Lu family would end up with no one at all in charge—the living mattered more than the dead. Furthermore, this was now Republican-era new society, and the old elaborate rituals were no longer emphasized either.

So, everyone urged Lu Shicheng not to act rashly, and under this unanimous opposition, Lu Shicheng reluctantly entrusted Kuang Zhilin to go to Nanyang in his stead, and once in Singapore, Kuang Zhilin would join with several venerable elders of the clan to jointly handle the funeral arrangements.

This arrangement thoroughly resolved Wen Tingli’s biggest worry—she didn’t know how much she’d feared Lu Shicheng traveling back and forth would worsen his injury, and had also feared some ambush or turmoil occurring along his way back. Now, with her mind at ease, she grew even more inseparable from Lu Shicheng.

But she also knew she could only steal a few more idle days before she’d have to return to handle company affairs, and with Lu Shicheng’s return, many Lu family matters had gotten back on track too—every day countless calls came in requesting his instructions, and every day countless calling cards were sent to the Lu residence.

This day, the doctor came for a follow-up examination, confirming Lu Shicheng’s wound had fully healed. That night, Wen Tingli said to Lu Shicheng: “I’ll go back to Kowloon Tong tomorrow.”

Lu Shicheng lay in bed, head resting on both arms, just watching her walk back and forth in the room.

He hadn’t mentioned marriage the whole day today. Hearing this, he showed no particular reaction, and she was just wondering to herself what might be off with him when she heard him say: “I’ll buy another house in Kowloon Tong. Once we’re married, I’ll move there with you.”

There he went again, she smiled, turning to look back at him under the lamplight. Since he’d been recuperating, he’d rarely worn formal clothes these days; lying down like this, he wore a long dressing gown, the sash at his waist loosely hanging to one side, with a sapphire-blue pajama shirt underneath, its collar also open.

She couldn’t help but look a few extra times; he immediately noticed her gaze, and unhurriedly re-tied his loose robe, thereby becoming “buttoned up” again, even the collar of the pajama shirt underneath now hidden.

Once tied properly, he rested his head on his arms again, eyes fixed directly on her.

He wasn’t going to let her look.

Childish. She made as if to leave; he flipped over, got out of bed to stop her, and whispered in her ear: “Not until we’re married.”

He was actually using his own body to tempt her into agreeing to marry him. Her face reddened; she shook off his hand, but he made an “ouch” sound as if his tooth hurt.

“Did that touch your wound?” she asked, alarmed.

“This afternoon while teaching Xiao Taozi to play tennis I accidentally pulled it, must have torn open again. Check it for me.” His expression didn’t seem feigned.

She hurried to undo the top two buttons of his shirt. There was clearly nothing wrong at all; she glared at him, but glare as she might, she didn’t re-button his shirt afterward. Lu Shicheng’s body radiated a kind of dangerous aura, like an electric current, passing through her fingertips straight to her heart. Gradually, both their expressions began to shift, he watching her like a hunter about to make his kill, her eyes too, sticky as candy, wandering all over him.

That was a bewitching kind of aura; staying any longer, she wouldn’t be able to control herself.

She fled from his room.

But after taking a bath back in her own room, she suddenly made up her mind, and came to find him again.

Lu Shicheng had also just finished bathing, still using a white towel to dry the water off his hair as he opened the door. Wen Tingli pressed both hands against his chest, pushing him inside, meanwhile using her foot to hook the door and swing it shut. She’d already personally confirmed earlier—his wound had thoroughly healed.

Lu Shicheng was pushed all the way to the bed, saying: “What’s this for?”

“Don’t be handsy.” He tried to protect his own collar.

“Are you using force?”

But when she began undoing his pajama buttons one by one, he suddenly kissed her lips. When she started biting his ear, he simply picked her up and put her on the bed.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck the whole time; his body was scalding hot, and she herself nearly melted away in his arms.

He wanted her.

She wanted him too.

Not knowing what tomorrow might bring, dying in each other’s arms this very second would be good too.

They had each other twice.

The first time ended in just a few minutes; Wen Tingli was still dazed, while Lu Shicheng himself was entirely stunned.

The second time went on and on without end…

She, so lively and energetic normally, eventually fell somewhat behind too. This Lu Shicheng in bed was completely different from the usual one.

By the end, she was exhausted, while he was still full of vigor… afterward he leaned close to her ear: “Even your toes are pretty and fragrant.”

She didn’t open her eyes, laughing as she bit his uninjured shoulder.

Both times he’d finished outside.

Afterward, she buried her head against his chest to rest; he stroked her hair over and over, and she nearly fell asleep in his arms, but Lu Shicheng finally gently pushed her, only then reminding her this was practically openly living together as an unmarried couple. He hurried to sneak her back to her own room under cover.

Back in her room, she wouldn’t let Lu Shicheng into her room, but wouldn’t let him leave either: “You say, aren’t the two of us like—”

She was too embarrassed to say the words “having an affair.”

Lu Shicheng simply gave her a quick “affair-style” peck by her mouth.

The next day, passing by Lu Shicheng’s room, she found his bedsheets had already been changed for a new set—she didn’t know if he’d changed them himself in the night, or had someone come do it. Wen Tingli secretly guessed the former—Lu Shicheng would never let others have anything on him.

Everyone came down for breakfast as usual. Lu Shicheng had the kitchen prepare Xiao Taozi’s favorite meat buns and fruit platter for her; Zhou Sao got soy milk and fried dough sticks, while Wen Tingli’s side had her longtime favorite rice cakes and juice.

During the meal, Lu Shicheng remained his usual calm, gentle self, speaking quietly, not glancing sideways at all.

Just from his appearance, no one could tell what had happened between the two of them last night.

Wen Tingli gently kicked Lu Shicheng’s calf under the table; he didn’t even blink.

Shortly after, Zhou Sao and Xiao Taozi went to play in the garden; Lu Shicheng followed casually behind, and while walking, quickly pulled Wen Tingli aside to give her a quick kiss.

They’d agreed to take them back to Kowloon at ten o’clock, but Lu Shicheng kept making calls in the study, and later, unable to hold back, Wen Tingli went up to find him, just as Lu Shicheng put down the phone.

“What happened?”

“My grandfather’s funeral affairs were settled this morning.” Lu Shicheng said matter-of-factly. “I’m asking Lawyer Gu when he can come help us handle the marriage registration.”

“What?!”

“What?” Lu Shicheng showed an expression even more surprised than hers. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on your word—last night we—”

Wen Tingli hurried to cover his mouth, sneakily pushing him into the room, meanwhile shutting the study door with her back. In fact his voice was quite low, and besides, there wasn’t a single person upstairs at this moment, but she still instinctively wanted to do this.

He let her cover his mouth, his eyes smiling as he looked at her.

“But you haven’t formally proposed to me yet. Just saying it verbally, what kind of proposal is that? I can see your attitude isn’t serious at all.”

“Close your eyes first,” Lu Shicheng said.

Wen Tingli obediently closed her eyes. He seemed to head toward the desk; she forcibly resisted her curiosity and didn’t peek. She heard him fumbling around over there for a while, then coming back to her side: “Alright.”

The moment she opened her eyes, she was captivated by brilliant, dazzling diamond light—it was a three-piece jewelry set, the smallest box on top, below it a necklace strung with dozens of diamonds, and beneath that, a dazzling diamond tiara.

Lu Shicheng set the other two aside on the desk, first opening the smallest box.

This man, whenever happy, gave her jewelry, but seeing clearly it was a sparkling diamond ring, she still couldn’t help but cover her mouth.

Such a traditional gesture, yet it deeply shook her heart—clearly this was the ritual most in keeping with human psychological needs before marriage; no one could escape it.

Lu Shicheng took the diamond ring out of the box: “I’m an old-fashioned person. To me, marriage is a lifetime matter. If you’ll agree to me, I’ll keep my promise, always be faithful to my marriage, always love and protect you wholeheartedly. Wen Tingli, this is a formal proposal—think it over carefully, whether you’ll agree to me.”

No grand declarations, only plain, genuine feeling.

Having said this, he held up the diamond ring, kneeling on one knee before her. Wen Tingli was already in tears, unable to wait to hold out her left hand to him: “I’m willing, so very willing, quickly put it on for me!”

Lu Shicheng laughed, his eyes bright as stars—the ceiling seemed brightened several shades by his smile. He slid the ring onto her ring finger, his movement reverent as if performing a rite of worship, then bent his head to kiss her fingertip, and rising, kissed her cheek: “If you want to keep it secret, we’ll keep it secret; if you want to make a grand announcement, I’ll send invitations far and wide, so everyone comes to our wedding banquet.”

Tears had already blurred Wen Tingli’s vision; she held tightly onto his waist, saying happily: “Our own wedding, why would we need everyone to know.”

Though she said this, she still happily informed several of her good friends—Gao Xiaowen, Huang Yuanshan, Cao Renxiu, Tan Guiwang, Yu Peiling, Tian Ling and others, not a single one left out.

She also wrote letters overnight to Principal Zou, Zhao Qingluo, and Yan Zhenzhen, all far away in Chongqing.

As for Lu Shicheng’s side, if he wanted to invite people to his wedding, half the city might come join the fun.

Considering that a grand affair might negatively affect Wen Tingli’s career, in the end he only notified a few most trustworthy people: Principal Zou, far away in Chongqing; Kuang Zhilin; and a few local trusted contacts from the Lu family—such as Manager Duan of Lixin Bank’s Hong Kong branch, Manager Du of the ocean shipping company, and several directors of Nanyang Hongye Group’s Hong Kong branch.

Half a month later.

Witnessed by a group of close friends, Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng held a small, secret wedding ceremony in the great parlor of the Lu residence. Though there were only twenty-some guests present, the atmosphere on scene was lively and warm.

Xiao Taozi served as flower girl, walking behind her sister carrying the train of the wedding dress; because her legs were too short, her movements were somewhat comical, occasionally provoking laughter from everyone.

Zhou Sao, however, turned away several times to secretly wipe her tears—only she knew best how difficult it had been for her “big child” to reach this point today. Thinking of those days caring for the mister at Cixin Hospital, it truly felt like a different lifetime ago.

Things in this world often turn out unexpectedly.

Three days after the wedding, Lu Shicheng accompanied Wen Tingli moving back to Kowloon Tong—having delayed this long, Wen Tingli had to go back and handle the new film’s release. Living up in the mountains wasn’t convenient for staying in touch with Huang Yuanshan about work matters at any time, but unfortunately the house they’d newly bought in Kowloon Tong was still being painted, so the two of them had no choice but to stay temporarily in Xiufeng’s staff dormitory.

At first, Lu Shicheng had dreamed of moving away with Wen Tingli as soon as possible.

On one hand, Wen Tingli’s dormitory room was truly too cramped—the room had only three pieces of furniture: bed, wardrobe, dressing table.

Actually, no matter how run-down the place was, it wouldn’t have mattered. What really bothered Lu Shicheng was that the bed was too small, just barely big enough for two people lying side by side—which meant they had to lie perfectly still at night.

But as it happened, Wen Tingli wasn’t a still sleeper. Some nights, Lu Shicheng dreamed he was being crushed under a great mountain, gasping for breath, just like Sun Wukong of old pinned under Five Elements Mountain. Startled awake, he’d find Wen Tingli’s leg and arm both draped across his chest; he’d gently, carefully move her arm and leg away, then pull her back into his embrace, kissing the top of her head as if she were a treasure, and only then fall back asleep.

Yet, when he woke again the next morning, Wen Tingli would inevitably have half her body draped over him again, or else have pushed him to the edge of the bed, so that the slightest movement would send him tumbling to the floor—dangerously close a couple of times.

Twice he’d actually fallen off the bed onto the floor.

That “thump” sound startled Wen Tingli awake from her dream; groggily sitting up, at first unable to find Lu Shicheng, she turned her head and found him sitting on the floor by the bed, looking at her. She was both startled and amused, apologetically pulling him back onto the bed, cupping his face to kiss him repeatedly: “Sorry, sorry, from tonight on how about I sleep on the outside, if there’s crowding to be done, you’ll have to be the one crowded.”

Lu Shicheng didn’t believe any of her guarantees in the least: “That way, maybe I won’t get pushed off the bed, but I’ll definitely get squashed against the wall—I don’t want to be a gecko.”

Wen Tingli laughed until she couldn’t breathe.

Might as well get a bigger bed—but the room was too small, a bigger bed wouldn’t even fit if bought.

Of course, none of this was really a problem for Lu Shicheng—whether she wanted to fight him for the blanket, or push him off the bed, come the next day in his office thinking back on the night’s events would only make him smile knowingly. In truth, as long as he was with Wen Tingli, even sleeping on the floor would make him happy.

What he wasn’t used to was this communal way of living. He’d always preferred a quiet, independent life, but ever since moving into this staff dormitory, his ears were constantly filled with noise—every morning at five o’clock he could already hear people moving about and washing up in the corridor, and at night, Yu Peiling often organized Li Zhen, Gu Jie and others to play mahjong with her, the sound of laughter and chatter audible deep into the night.

Then there was Ding Xiao’e, who ever since coming to Hong Kong with Wen Tingli, had come to regard Xiufeng’s colleagues as her own family. Every day besides diligently learning to read with Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan, she’d also found a way to get a flock of chickens to raise, saying she wanted to give everyone extra nutrition. Before dawn one could hear her “cluck cluck cluck cluck-ing” out front feeding the chickens, that sound piercing straight through the door panel into everyone’s ears.

Lu Shicheng slept lighter than Wen Tingli; jolted awake, he’d only lie there staring blankly at the ceiling.

In this environment, Lu Shicheng inevitably worried about the dormitory’s soundproofing not being good enough; every night when he and Wen Tingli got intimate, he never forgot to cover her mouth, to keep her from crying out too loudly. Several times Wen Tingli, made breathless by him, thoughtless of her sweat-soaked face, bit down hard into his palm.

They’d tried it once—next door lived Xiao Taozi and Zhou Sao—with the door closed, they truly couldn’t hear anything, but this still nagged at Lu Shicheng, he always felt neither of them could truly let loose, not like those first nights right after the wedding, when even being more reckless didn’t matter.

Because of all this, in Lu Shicheng’s first week after moving in, his mind was full of nothing but wanting to move out as quickly as possible. To this end, whenever he had time he’d personally go check on the progress of the new house, wishing he could move in the same day it finished.

But unexpectedly, as time went on, he actually began to grow somewhat fond of this communal way of living.

Every morning, jolted awake, he’d rest his head on his arms in the bed in the early dawn light, watching Wen Tingli sitting at the dressing table combing her hair.

The room was small, so she was that close to him; he could see her beautiful face reflected in the mirror clearly. Noticing his gaze, she’d exchange smiles with him in the mirror. This was a scene that had only ever existed in dreams before, now truly unfolding right before his eyes—every time this happened, a solid, real sense of happiness filled his heart.

He’d wait for her to finish changing, then go with her to the front building’s “staff cafeteria” for breakfast. On the way, they’d run into Yu Peiling, who would inevitably tease Wen Tingli a bit, then look at him with that smiling gaze: “Boss’s husband, getting used to living here?”

Just as a male boss’s wife would be called “Boss’s wife,” Lu Shicheng, being Boss Wen’s husband, naturally should be called “Boss’s husband.” Wen Tingli laughingly scolded Yu Peiling a bit, while Lu Shicheng maintained a nonchalant attitude about it.

Breakfast was fixed—soy milk and fried dough sticks, nothing else besides. Xiufeng had only recently relocated to Hong Kong, and as the saying goes, everything is difficult at the start, plus it was wartime, so all expenses had to be economized.

Even with material scarcity, every morning the cafeteria was full of laughter and chatter, the atmosphere unified and lively.

After breakfast, Wen Tingli would hurry off to work, sometimes asking Lu Shicheng in front of everyone: “What time will you be done tonight?”

“I’ll try to be early anyway.” He’d say, putting on his coat, looking at her, his tone so naturally intimate.

Tan Guiwang and the others would banter along beside them. All these people, who from the very start had been willing to follow Huang and Wen in building their venture, were without exception optimistic and brave; at this special time, the shining points in human nature manifested even more vividly. Everyone worked hard at their jobs; even the usually most unkempt Yu Peiling seemed like a different person once she stepped onto the set.

Lu Shicheng saw all of this, and gradually, he began to think of this place as his own home too, growing to like being “bothered” by this lovable bunch of neighbors more and more. Sometimes, coming back early, he’d proactively head to the set to help out, unhesitatingly rolling up his sleeves to move equipment, help with lighting, and so on.

At first, everyone treated Lu Shicheng with polite reserve, afraid that a wealthy young man like him wouldn’t be used to the food and living conditions here.

Later, seeing him eat whatever was served, being genuinely sincere and easygoing, able to take a joke too, never putting on airs when invited to play cards in the evening, everyone gradually grew relaxed around Lu Shicheng, each of them coming to sincerely like him from the bottom of their hearts. Even the Cantonese chef in charge of serving meals in the cafeteria would call him “handsome boy” this and “handsome boy” that upon seeing Lu Shicheng.

Once the honeymoon period passed, as the Lu family’s various enterprises gradually relocated to Hong Kong, Lu Shicheng grew increasingly busy, while at the same time preparing the “Patriotic Merchants’ National Salvation Materials Committee,” calling on local businessmen to jointly donate money and materials for the resistance effort.

Sometimes when Lu Shicheng had too much official business, but was still eager to get home early to Wen Tingli, he’d bring some less important documents back to the dormitory to work on. Wen Tingli, coming back from outside, would see Lu Shicheng sitting on the stool at the foot of the bed, engrossed in reading documents—this working environment looked rather shabby, and yet he didn’t seem to mind sitting on such a small stool at all.

She’d tiptoe over, bend down and gently blow a breath toward his profile. Lu Shicheng’s gaze would continue moving line by line across the text, not even glancing back at her.

Wen Tingli, smiling, would sit down at the dressing table to look over her script. For a while, the room held only the sound of pen writing and paper turning. Occasionally raising their eyes, seeing the other person under the warm yellow light, a sense of quiet, beautiful contentment would quietly spread through their hearts.

Once the two of them finished their work, they’d secretly cook noodles together in the room.

Earlier, Wen Tingli had bought a clay stove to bring back, preparing eggs, scallions, and noodles—she couldn’t cook, so in the end it was still Lu Shicheng who did the cooking. Now he already knew to add salt when boiling noodles, and his skill had grown better and better.

He’d ask her: “Better than last night’s, right?”

“There couldn’t be more delicious noodles than these anywhere!”

The smile in Lu Shicheng’s heart would spread to his face. The two of them, heads together, ate with great relish, not expecting the aroma to alert two other people—one was Yue Zhaoyun, who’d been writing her script until now without having eaten anything, currently going door to door scavenging for food; the other was Huang Yuanshan, just back from the set out front, also starving with eyes swimming with gold stars.

Like two hungry wolves drawn by the smell of meat, they came “thump thump thump” knocking on the door from outside: “Eating alone is shameful, shameful, utterly shameful!”

Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng kept eating without changing expression, at first even trying to pretend they’d already fallen asleep, but eventually unable to hold out, Lu Shicheng laughingly got up to open the door. Yue Zhaoyun and Huang Yuanshan swept in like a gust of wind and snatched the noodles clean; shortly after, Yu Peiling, Li Zhen and the others, having finished their mahjong game, came over too, and seeing this, wanted to join in the fun and eat too.

Lu Shicheng simply took out all the noodles in the cabinet and cooked them all together in one pot; everyone crammed into the ten-square-meter small room, shoulder to shoulder, back to back, eating with great enjoyment.

This was all a kind of happy atmosphere Lu Shicheng had never experienced before; despite the noise, Lu Shicheng gradually stopped mentioning moving out. Wen Tingli guessed part of the reason, and often teased Lu Shicheng about it.

Sometimes Lu Shicheng would help Ding Xiao’e feed the chickens, coming back covered in chicken feathers; Wen Tingli would laughingly use a feather duster to pat him clean, asking what had happened, whether he’d gotten into a fight with the biggest rooster in the chicken coop, glad at least he hadn’t gotten any chicken droppings on him.

More often, Lu Shicheng and Wen Tingli took turns patiently teaching Xiao Taozi to write English in the corridor—this place had a heavy colonial culture, and the kindergarten Xiao Taozi had newly switched to communicated almost entirely in English.

Xiao Taozi grew quite anxious over this, so the two of them dedicatedly taught Xiao Taozi solidly for an hour every night; children adapt quickly, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d have no problem at all.

Every evening around eight or nine o’clock, that one low voice and one childish voice would drift into the room, and Wen Tingli would happily raise her head to look over—that tall-and-short pair of silhouettes gave her a sense of stability and happiness she’d never experienced before.

Once Lu Shicheng wasn’t so busy anymore, Wen Tingli’s side grew busy in turn. As the release date for Resistance drew near, there were countless matters to personally handle day and night. That poster she and Huang Yuanshan had personally designed, once hung up at the New World Theatre, caused quite a sensation, and the newspaper discussions about “who’s truly superior, Wen Tingli or Yu Peiling” grew increasingly heated. By opening day, a long line had already formed early at the New World Theatre.

Half this long line were fans of the two of them; even before the film opened, they’d already argued themselves red in the face. Today, coming to line up, many had prepared in advance, holding flags printed with “Wen Tingli” or “Yu Peiling” in hand, ready to wave them enthusiastically inside the theatre to boost morale.

The other half had come simply out of curiosity to watch the spectacle.

Whatever the case, once released, box office proved unexpectedly good, running for thirty consecutive showings, earning a full house each time. With this battle, Xiufeng Film Company had thus made its name in this locality. Following this, Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan, according to their original plan, donated half the box office revenue to the “Anti-Japanese National Salvation Committee,” and this move likewise caused quite a stir.

At the same time, Xiufeng’s new film lot was also nearly built. The company, needing to both handle the film’s promotion and rush a new production, inevitably found itself short-staffed, urgently needing to recruit professional talent like script supervisors, editors, and cinematographers. Once the recruitment notice went out, quite a few people came to apply.

This morning, Huang Yuanshan was giving technical direction on set, while Wen Tingli and Yue Zhaoyun were in the office working on the script for the next film, when Tian Ling ran in and said: “Boss Wen, Manager Li wants you to interview candidates with him.”

It turned out among today’s applicants were two old acquaintances—one was Manager Bai, who used to handle production affairs at Huangjin Films, whom Wen Tingli also counted as an old acquaintance; the other was Manager Fu of Huamei Film.

After the war broke out, the two of them had brought their families to flee south, and were currently truly unable to find work, so seeing Xiufeng recruiting film professionals, they’d hurried over to apply.

As for these two people’s business capabilities and work experience, Li Zhen was quite satisfied, but after all they’d come from two rival companies, so he couldn’t help but be cautious, and had to invite Wen Tingli to come personally vet them.

Wen Tingli chose to interview the two of them separately. Sitting down, she said unhurriedly: “I’ve always valued talent, but you know how unpleasant things got between our Xiufeng and your former company over this past year. Let’s do this—just casually chat about whatever shortcomings your former employer might have had, help us learn from your experience, and let’s let those unpleasantnesses go with the wind. Otherwise, I don’t see the sincerity in your coming over to us.”

Manager Fu understood the implication in Wen Tingli’s words at once, immediately launching into an unstoppable stream of criticism of Chen Maoqing, even exposing Chen Maoqing’s past practice of colluding with theaters to fake box office numbers.

Manager Bai, however, kept his mouth firmly shut, pondering for a long while before shaking his head and standing up: “It seems I’ve come to the wrong place.”

Tian Ling, watching from the side, guessed Wen Tingli would hire the eloquent, likable Manager Fu, but unexpectedly, Wen Tingli invited back the silent Manager Bai instead, hiring him on the spot as theater manager.

“Why?” Tian Ling asked, puzzled. “That Manager Bai is so poor and destitute yet so arrogant, someone like that seems hard to work with at first glance.”

Wen Tingli smiled: “A person who seems easy to get along with on the surface isn’t necessarily trustworthy. He’d rather be down on his luck than badmouth his former employer for the sake of a position—that shows this person has his own principles. Give things to him to handle, and you won’t need to worry he’ll stab you in the back someday.”

“I agree with Boss Wen.” Li Zhen said from the side. “Little Tian, following Boss Wen, you’ll learn quite a lot. She has her own way of reading people.”

Just then Lu Shicheng came by to find Wen Tingli, and hearing this, couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful—such insight couldn’t be gained without personally suffering through countless hardships; it was hardship that had forced Wen Tingli to mature.

As soon as Wen Tingli came out, she saw Lu Shicheng standing dazed in the corridor; surprised, she smiled and went to meet him: “You’re back so early today.”

“Steward Xu said the new house is almost finished being decorated, want to go take a look together?”

Wen Tingli’s eyes lit up, delightedly putting on her sunglasses and hat to go out with Lu Shicheng. Arriving at the new house, the two of them, hand in hand, headed straight upstairs to see their master bedroom.

The moment she saw that rose-colored wallpaper, Wen Tingli was stunned—Lu Shicheng had almost perfectly recreated the decorating style of her house on Haige Road. And not only that, Xiao Taozi also had her own private suite—a study and bedroom combined in one—while Zhou Sao got a spacious south-facing bedroom, with space left in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows where a rocking chair could later be placed.

He’d considered all their family’s needs, not overlooking even the smallest requirement. In that instant, Wen Tingli was so happy she didn’t know what to say, standing in the middle of the room looking around, murmuring: “I love it so much, so much.”

He took her hand to go downstairs: “Let’s go look at the garden out back too.”

After a full round of touring, both their moods were quite stirred—this house was far from as large as the Lu residence, but it was truly, in a real sense, a small world belonging entirely to them. Crucially, it wasn’t far from the Xiufeng offices, so everyone could come visit anytime in the future. Lu Shicheng had even prepared three guest rooms on the ground floor, so that whenever Gao Xiaowen, Huang Yuanshan, or Yue Zhaoyun came to visit and stayed too late, there’d be no need to worry about having nowhere to stay.

Moving day arrived, already mid-December, the weather growing colder. Steward Xu brought people early in the morning to tidy and arrange everything, cleaning every corner of the house until it gleamed.

Xiao Taozi was overjoyed, running up and down like a little steam engine chugging along, while Zhou Sao wept tears of joy, ceaselessly praying with hands pressed together.

Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng stayed in the upstairs master bedroom; once the door shut, Wen Tingli laughingly jumped onto Lu Shicheng, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, ordering him: “Quick, take me to the balcony to look.”

But he took her straight to the bed instead, falling down onto it together with her—the bed was extremely wide and soft, and the two of them falling onto it felt like falling onto a golden wheat field, boundless.

He simply spread his arms wide, saying to the ceiling with satisfaction: “This way I won’t have to worry every night about Mrs. Wen kicking me off the bed anymore.”

Wen Tingli pressed down on top of him wanting to pinch his mouth, but Lu Shicheng took the chance to flip her underneath him instead, pinching her chin to squeeze her mouth into an “o” shape, bending down for a peck, thoroughly delighted.

Wen Tingli wasn’t idle either, reaching up to pull loose his tie, laughing until she couldn’t breathe: “Don’t touch me there, it tickles to death, stop, stop, we haven’t even bathed yet!”

Lu Shicheng had no intention of stopping, and as they undressed, he simply picked her up and carried her into the bathroom; before long, Wen Tingli’s laughter could be heard from the washroom, mixed with the sound of splashing water, then suddenly Lu Shicheng cried out in pain: “Are you a puppy?! Biting again!!”

After moving in, Xiufeng’s colleagues came by every weekend to sit and chat. Wen Tingli was warm and hospitable, Lu Shicheng gentlemanly and easygoing; friends gradually came to think of this place as their social center, gathering here every week to talk about work, current affairs, and film.

Sunday afternoon, an overcast day, Wen Tingli invited friends over for dinner.

Yue Zhaoyun, as soon as she sat down, asked Gao Xiaowen: “I have a question—why on one hand are you renewing Wen Tingli’s Aoshuang face cream contract, and on the other hand signing Yu Peiling to advertise her Qinian lipstick too?”

“What’s the harm, they’re both Xiufeng people anyway,” Gao Xiaowen said cleverly, blinking. “Besides, the papers argue every day about which of the two of them is more impressive—why not just sign them both, let them keep ‘competing’ in my display windows. Don’t worry, the fans will flock in.”

Cao Renxiu laughed from the side: “Miss Gao’s getting more and more shrewd. I bet you’ll become a great tycoon sooner or later.”

“Tycoon? That goes without saying—if I, Gao Xiaowen, don’t succeed, I’ll die trying! Back when I first came to Hong Kong out of anger, I’ve stumbled countless times this past year without even realizing it, but I’ve slowly learned how to read people and situations.”

Yue Zhaoyun, quite moved, patted Gao Xiaowen’s shoulder, and Huang Yuanshan without a word wrapped Gao Xiaowen in a hug. Just then Wen Tingli came in carrying a tea tray; seeing this scene, she hurried to set the tea aside and, overwhelmed with mixed emotions, embraced her three good friends.

After a brief silence, Gao Xiaowen brightened up: “Fortunately, storms haven’t crushed us—from here on we’ll keep facing everything together!”

She raised her hand to high-five her friends; Yu Peiling wouldn’t have it, forcefully squeezing herself between Huang Yuanshan and Wen Tingli: “How annoying, have you forgotten me?”

Cao Renxiu pulled Little Tian over too: “And us too!”

Wen Tingli, laughing, pulled the standing-aside Ding Xiao’e over as well: “And Xiao’e too!”

Everyone burst out laughing, all high-fiving together. After laughing for a while, Li Zhen and Tan Guiwang, looking around, asked curiously: “Where’s Boss’s husband?”

“He’s upstairs taking a call, the materials procurement committee needs him for something. Also, that new pharmaceutical factory of his needs to be rebuilt, he’s been so busy these days.”

While speaking, Lu Shicheng came downstairs; everyone teased him: “Boss’s husband, is it noodles again tonight?”

“No more noodles, we’ve got steak and red wine, will you all make do with that?”

Everyone burst into an uproar of laughter.

After dinner, Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng walked out into the garden to look at the stars, unconsciously thinking back to last New Year’s Eve, when they’d made a wish under the North Star on the ancient Shaobai Ridge trail in Ningbo. In that moment of shared understanding, both their thoughts had aligned—she remembered that night, she and Lu Shicheng had made the same wish: to be together forever.

Almost a year had passed unnoticed; feeling quite emotional, she looked up, but sadly there were no stars to be seen tonight, the sky curtain so dark, carrying a bit of the meaning of “darkest before dawn.” Thinking of the war situation, both their moods sank at the same time; she asked him: “How long do you think this war will last?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll ultimately win. Are you afraid the war will reach Hong Kong?”

“Not afraid—every extra day I get to live, I’ll spend one more day doing what I want to do: making films, raising funds, supporting the front lines of resistance—just like Dean Deng and Sister Li, holding onto my convictions.”

Lu Shicheng fell silent for a moment: “Dean Deng must have helped you a great deal.”

“Without her, there’d be no me today—without her, in fact, the two of us might never have gotten together at all.”

She leaned close to his ear, telling him the secret of that contract he’d once been so troubled about.

Lu Shicheng gazed ahead and laughed—it no longer mattered at all now.

At this point, he only felt gratitude that Wen Tingli had encountered people like Dean Deng and Li Chengying at the critical juncture of her life. Deep in his heart, he too had long since, like Wen Tingli, come to regard Dean Deng as his own greatest benefactor. He knew Wen Tingli’s biggest current worry was Dean Deng and Liu Xiangzhi’s safety; he too worried immensely about it, but still did his best to comfort her: “I’ve always felt that Dean Deng won’t sacrifice herself.”

Seeing her stunned, he pointed at her heart: “Look at yourself and you’ll know. Dean Deng’s soul will live on in the bodies of everyone she’s helped. I even think, in her youth, Dean Deng herself must have met another Dean Deng who influenced her whole life—inspired by that other person, the old lady resolutely walked the path she later took. So, whether before her time or after, there will always be a new Dean Deng emerging, one after another, and to Dean Deng herself, the battlefield is her true home. She’ll fight until the very last moment, leaving no regrets behind.”

Passed down generation after generation, that spiritual force never extinguished. These words greatly comforted Wen Tingli’s heart; she looked up, eyes reddening, gazing at the pitch-black night sky—yes, no matter how dark the night, the stars never truly vanish. They’re merely temporarily obscured by clouds, but even if they don’t appear tonight, they’ll surely appear tomorrow night.

If not tomorrow night, then the night after.

Just wait quietly beneath this sky. The stars’ brilliance will eventually illuminate every heart, just as they have eternally illuminated every stretch of history through the ages, dispelling darkness, lighting the path underfoot for travelers on their way.

Her heart’s knot, in that instant, completely opened. She gripped his hand, so tightly, like two hearts pressed close together, and Lu Shicheng’s brow relaxed, kissing her forehead. In comforting her, hadn’t he also been comforting himself? He remembered, in his childhood, countless nights when he’d looked up searching for those two stars belonging to his parents, searching yet never finding them, crying himself to sleep time and time again.

Now, he no longer searched. Fate had its own arrangement; his star had already come to his side.

“Tomorrow night let’s go take a look at the new pharmaceutical factory.”

She rested her head on his shoulder: “Still calling it Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory?”

“Still Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory.”

She smiled; behind them came the sound of laughter: “Boss Wen, you and Boss’s husband really can’t bear to be apart for even a moment.”

“Sister, Mr. Lu, come quick and have some chocolate and candy.” It was Xiao Taozi’s voice.

“Still calling him Mr. Lu, Xiao Taozi, that’s your brother-in-law.”

“Sister brother-in-law, come have candy.”

Sister-brother-in-law! Everyone laughed until they nearly rolled on the floor.

Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng exchanged a smile, walking back together hand in hand—day after day, year after year, with such a group of lovable, admirable companions accompanying them, why should the two of them worry about tomorrow’s affairs.

Sixteen years later.

Hong Kong Lishijie Theatre.

Tonight this place had no stage play, yet it was unprecedentedly lively, because tonight would hold the 【Wen This Life—Celebrating the 18th Anniversary of Miss Wen Tingli’s Career】gala.

Fans quite liked this theme name—the character “Wen” not only encompassed Wen Tingli’s surname, but also highly summarized the achievements Wen Tingli had attained throughout her life. Since entering the industry, she had not only achieved being “renowned for a time,” but over many years had also achieved being “renowned far and wide.”

Eighteen years in the film industry, Wen Tingli had filmed a total of forty-six movies, was righteous and warm-hearted in character, and highly respected within the industry. Recently, when running for Vice President of the Hong Kong Film Association, she’d won unanimously by an overwhelming majority vote.

It happened to coincide with the 18th anniversary of the release of Wen Tingli’s first film, Southern Belle, hence this gala, jointly organized by fans and the Hong Kong Film Association. Seeing the gala’s name, Wen Tingli joked: “I don’t plan to retire from film yet, why not just call it ‘Wen Half a Life’ instead.”

Backstage, she met with a group of good friends she hadn’t seen in many years—Zhao Qingluo, now a renowned senior lawyer, had arrived in Hong Kong just yesterday, planning to co-found a law firm with Liu Yaqiao.

Yan Zhenzhen, after graduating in diplomacy years ago, had finally come to face her own talent, devoting herself wholeheartedly to writing since then, publishing bestseller after bestseller.

The turmoil of the era, the interruption of war, had kept them apart for many years, seeing each other only rarely; this reunion, none of them could hold back their tears.

All three felt the other had aged, yet couldn’t help but feel proud of each other all the same—the marks of aging were a gift the years had given them, and even more, a badge of maturity and wisdom. Over these years, the three of them had each been striving in their own respective fields, never once betraying Principal Zou’s teachings back then.

Chatting idly, they mentioned Principal Zou—after the war of resistance ended, Lu Shicheng and Wen Tingli had wanted to bring her to Hong Kong to retire, but the old lady had insisted on returning to Shanghai to continue teaching. The year before last, she had passed away peacefully in her own home; countless students had come to see her off after her death. Fortunately, over these past years Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng had returned several times to visit Principal Zou, so it wasn’t too much of a regret.

“I heard Xiao Taozi got into Hong Kong University’s medical school?”

“Yes, but when she arrives later, don’t call her Xiao Taozi in front of her anymore—she goes by Kuang Weihang now.”

“Right, right, right, soon she’ll be Dr. Kuang.” Thinking of the old days, the three of them started crying again. Gao Xiaowen, wiping her tears beside them, said: “Back then everyone called them the Three Heroes of Wushi—look at them, so many years without seeing each other, and they’re still such children at heart.”

Huang Yuanshan came looking for them: “Wen Tingli—”

Everyone swarmed toward Huang Yuanshan upon seeing her. Huang Yuanshan, only just in her forties, already had graying temples, but fortunately her demeanor and bearing were still as young and unrestrained as ever. Having worked in the film industry for many years, she was now a celebrated master director; last year she’d taken Yu Peiling to a European film festival, coming back with a directing award and a Best Supporting Actress award. Industry insiders, whenever mentioning Huang Yuanshan, regarded her as a monument of the industry.

“Sister Huang, that day we went to look around Xiufeng’s former site in Shanghai—the one the Japanese burned down back then, they say now they’re planning to rebuild a museum there.”

These words suddenly made Huang Yuanshan break down entirely, thinking back on those bygone years, thinking of the many storms Xiufeng had weathered over the years, crying like a child in front of everyone.

Fortunately it had all passed. Once Huang Yuanshan’s emotions had settled, Yan Zhenzhen asked: “Where’s Sister Yue? Why isn’t she here today?”

“She’s home sleeping. Last month she won a small literary prize, and being wined and dined every day has worn her out completely, she says she won’t attend any gala for a whole year.”

Everyone laughed: “Sister Yue’s temperament hasn’t changed a bit.”

Just then, a round-faced, short-haired middle-aged woman came over smiling, looking for Wen Tingli: “Boss Wen, the press conference is about to begin.”

It was Ding Xiao’e, Xiufeng’s most diligent worker. Through years of hard study, she’d not only learned fluent English and Japanese, but had also successfully earned a degree from a local business school. She was now Wen Tingli’s most capable assistant.

Before the gala began, as usual there was a small press conference. Friends took their seats one after another in the front row below the stage; once settled, everyone looked up at Wen Tingli on stage with gratification.

Wen Tingli gazed back at those familiar faces below the stage, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

A reporter began asking questions: “Miss Wen, in your many years in the industry, some have highly praised your character, others have looked down on your conduct with contempt—for example, Huangjin Films’ Mr. Liu Menglin has publicly called you a sinister villain more than once, and since Huangjin relocated to Hong Kong, he’s kept relentlessly targeting Xiufeng. What are your thoughts on this, Miss Wen?”

Wen Tingli smiled: “I only have one thing to say to Mr. Liu: he did me a great favor once, and no matter what he says about me, I won’t take it to heart.”

The reporters burst into laughter—Boss Wen was still this witty, a single casual remark leaving Liu Menglin as if he’d punched cotton, unable to strike back despite being upset.

“Miss Wen came to Hong Kong in 1937, right? I heard as soon as you arrived here, you actively worked to rebuild Xiufeng, even got your Huzhou academic credentials transferred here to study while starting a business—after Hong Kong fell, you and Boss Huang led a group of employees to relocate to Chongqing, and after victory, made your way back to Hong Kong again—in your life’s résumé, I see one word: unyielding. I’d like to ask, Boss Wen, where does this unyielding spirit come from? Who in your life are you most grateful to?”

Wen Tingli fell suddenly silent, and in this instant, one familiar, dear face after another flashed through her mind.

Through the vicissitudes of time, deep marks had been carved into her heart. Some people had passed away, some had stayed on.

But just as Lu Shicheng had said that night—spiritual strength never dies out.

Raising her head again, tears glimmered in her eyes: “There are so many people in my life I’m grateful to. Cixin Hospital’s Dean Deng Yi, Head Nurse Liu Xiangzhi, underground patriotic organization member Li Chengying—they were both heroes of the resistance and benefactors in my life. Before liberation, they helped me during my most difficult days; I’ll be grateful to them my whole life. But the one who’s influenced me most deeply—that would be my mother, Ms. Kuang Xiuzhen. As you all know, my mother was a pitiable woman sold to a brothel in the old society, who went through untold hardships to finally live a normal life, but for as long as I can remember, I never once saw my mother frown, never once heard her complain about life. From her, I learned one thing: don’t dwell in regret and hatred over the past, and don’t worry about tomorrow either—just do what’s in front of you, one thing at a time, and any difficulty in life can eventually be overcome.”

She said these words in tears; the audience below fell into complete silence—these words struck a chord in many hearts. Everyone has their own struggles in life, but perhaps the answer to living has always been right there. And everyone knew that a few years earlier, Wen Tingli, to commemorate her mother, had made a film called Rouge Skeleton, a semi-documentary work depicting the plight of prostitutes in the old society, which had caused quite a stir upon release—many had walked out of the cinema in tears.

To ease this heavy atmosphere, a reporter from a gossip weekly smilingly changed the subject: “Boss Wen, people say you and Mr. Lu have never quarreled in all these years—is that true?”

Wen Tingli lowered her head with a smile—how could they never quarrel, she and he had once quarreled to the point of nearly breaking up. She smiled and blinked: “This question, it’s not that I don’t want to answer, I just don’t know how to answer it—if I started from the beginning, I don’t think one whole night would be enough to finish telling it.”

“Can you at least share how you and Mr. Lu first met?”

Before Wen Tingli could answer, Huang Yuanshan took the microphone: “I know this one—it was backstage at the Huangjin Theatre, all thanks to a bullet. Speaking of how the two of them met and fell in love, it really is quite the legend.”

The venue immediately erupted with joyful commotion: “Since it’s such a legend, Director Huang, have you ever considered making Miss Wen and Mr. Lu’s story into a movie?”

“That question’s for the people involved themselves.”

Wen Tingli smiled without responding.

Just then, at the theatre’s back entrance, a young man came stumbling and running over, only to arrive a step too late, blocked by security.

He hurried to show his reporter’s ID to the guard: “I’m Li Long, a reporter with Nanshang Bao, I have an invitation.”

“Go on, go on, the show’s already started over an hour ago, the real reporters all arrived long ago. You look like you’re here to cause trouble—get going.”

Li Long was frantic: “But I really am—”

Several guards, without another word, pushed him aside, and his interview materials scattered all over the ground.

Both angry and helpless, he hurried to crouch down to gather them up, and in doing so, couldn’t help but hiss in pain—it seemed something was injured.

Just then someone happened to walk over, and seeing this, bent down to help pick things up with him.

Li Long, embarrassed, said thanks—seems there were still plenty of kind people in this world. Glancing over incidentally, he noticed this person’s fingers were very handsome, his cuffs unusually neat, his cufflinks quite distinctive too.

That was a kind of silent nobility.

The moment he looked up, Li Long’s expression froze. As a man himself, he was reluctant to use “handsome beyond compare” to describe another man, but the person before him left him unable to think of any other word.

Wait, why did he look so familiar—a flash went off in his mind, and the person before him turned out to be none other than the famous Lu Shicheng—the head of the Nanyang Hongye Lu family, who during the war of resistance had donated enormous amounts of supplies and money to the front lines, with businesses spread across Nanyang, Hong Kong, America, and elsewhere.

Among them, the most widely known was Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory, a pharmaceutical enterprise famed both at home and abroad, its products effective and low-priced, widely popular among the people.

He’d originally assumed such an iron-willed, patriotic industrialist would necessarily look imposing, even fierce and formidable, until he’d once by chance seen a photo in a special newspaper feature and learned that Lu Shicheng was actually such an elegant, refined-looking person. And now, in the instant of seeing Lu Shicheng in person, he found himself even more at a loss for how to even open his mouth to greet him.

In the end, it was Lu Shicheng who handed the gathered materials to the reporter.

“Mr., Mr. Lu, please stay.” Li Long chased after him limping, one leg dragging—Lu Shicheng must be here to attend Miss Wen’s fan celebration gala, the whole world knew this married couple was deeply devoted to each other. “Could you please take me into the venue? I didn’t mean to be late—my motorcycle got into an accident on the way, I— today has just been terribly unlucky. Mr. Lu, please help me out, if I don’t bring back a story to report to my boss, I’ll lose my job.”

Saying this, Li Long felt uneasy inside—everyone knew that although Lu Shicheng appeared easygoing on the surface, he was in fact extremely decisive inside; under his management, the Lu family had weathered all sorts of storms over these years, and Lu family clan members were without exception respectful of him. No matter how many excuses he had, being late was being late—he was afraid that with Lu Shicheng’s usual style, he’d refuse to help him.

But Lu Shicheng noticed the reporter’s knee was still bleeding, and this scene couldn’t help but remind him of the time Wen Tingli had fallen in the rain delivering newspapers back then—so pitiable, so wretched. Wen Tingli back then must have been about the same age as this reporter, both having tasted hardship, so why not give the young man a chance? Lu Shicheng smiled: “The interview segment has already concluded. Why don’t you wait outside for a bit—later, once Miss Wen comes out, she might just give you a few minutes for an individual interview.”

Li Long was overjoyed beyond expectation, thanking Lu Shicheng nonstop.

Miss Wen Tingli had always been especially sympathetic toward young people from disadvantaged backgrounds like theirs; even in front of reporters, she never put on the airs of a big star. She had a famous saying: “I’ll never forget that I’m just an orphan girl who came out of Ping’an Li… a person who forgets the road they’ve traveled can hardly walk the road ahead well.”

Among his fellow reporters, even those who didn’t like Wen Tingli’s films couldn’t help but admire this big star’s manner of conducting herself. He knew she would surely agree to give him a few minutes; he wiped the sweat off his forehead and stepped aside. Before long, Lu Shicheng had someone bring over a small stool for Li Long to sit and wait outside.

About an hour or so later, Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng came out together through the side door. Li Long, taking one look, felt an inner turmoil that words could hardly describe—scene after scene from the movies he’d watched suddenly merged seamlessly with this living, breathing woman before him. He felt dazed, as if he were in a dream, and yet her smile felt so real.

After the interview concluded, Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng walked off gracefully hand in hand, while Li Long still stood there, dumbstruck.

He heard Lu Shicheng say quietly to Wen Tingli: “Where should we go for a late-night snack?”

“Let’s go to Yau Ma Tei, I heard there’s a new fish ball shop there called Wong Kee, said to be even better than Chan Kee’s.”

The two of them walked further and further away, like a pair of immortal lovers. Li Long once thought about chasing after them to say thank you, but he could neither move his feet nor open his mouth—he was reluctant to disturb them any further, “not daring to raise his voice, for fear of startling the people above the heavens.”

Lu Shicheng and Wen Tingli came out and got in the car. Wen Tingli, thinking back to the press conference, smiled contentedly: “Tonight a reporter asked me how you and I first met—my mind held nothing else but the scene of first seeing you at the Lu residence feeding pigeons. At the time I thought, how could there be such a beautiful man in this world.”

For an instant, Lu Shicheng showed a wistful expression—so many years had passed already, time really did fly. He turned to look at her, curiously studying the expression on her face: “So it was love at first sight for you, then.”

“Nonsense.” Wen Tingli sat herself up straight. “I think it was the same for you—I don’t believe that the first time you saw me, you felt absolutely no fondness toward me at all.”

Lu Shicheng smiled and shook his head—the him of that time had still been a little mute who’d lost all faith in human nature.

Toward everyone who proactively approached him, he’d held a guarded, defensive attitude.

Especially toward her.

“Why?”

“I suspected you were a little spy specially crafted according to my exact preferences. How could there be a girl in this world as adorable as you? I was afraid of being deceived, and could only try to find ways to avoid you.”

Wen Tingli chuckled: “Put that way, it was you who fell in love at first sight for real then—no wonder I so easily managed to lure you out to eat. You weren’t avoiding me at all, clearly you were half-willingly waiting for me to make the first move.”

She leaned over to plant a big kiss on the side of his face. Lu Shicheng looked into her eyes: “The commemoration event’s business has come to a close for now. Can we finally go take a proper vacation? How about this time we go to Egypt—didn’t you always want to see the pyramids? I’ll have someone book the flight tickets tomorrow. This trip, it’ll just be the two of us, let’s properly enjoy our world for two.”

“Yay—” Wen Tingli happily opened her arms wide to the night wind. Only in front of him would she allow herself to show such childlike playfulness.

Lu Shicheng gazed at her for a long moment, then smiled and drove the car forward.

Another dreamlike, beautiful night, the sky filled with countless stars, the cars on the road, the men and women walking by, the dazzling neon lights—all the sorrow and pain seemed to have receded far away.

They had once fled together amid artillery fire, had once silently embraced each other in moonlit ruins; several cities had witnessed their shared memories. The years had taught them how to love, and what was worth celebrating was that his heart and hers had never once truly parted—in love, in companionship, in the vastness of time, using their lives and passion to spend one spring blossom and autumn moon after another, together.

————THE END————