“Where are the beauties?!” Yan Xi vomited violently at the dock. His face turned green as he clutched A-Heng’s clothes, refusing to let go. He decided to hate her until death and haunt the Wen family’s ancestors for eight generations as a ghost.

A-Heng looked at the young man’s gleaming eyes and rubbed her nose.

She was innocent.

There were indeed many “beauties” on the boat, except they weren’t real beauties but rather a type of small blackfish. They were tiny and plump, extremely ugly, but delicious. Fishermen jokingly called them “beauties,” so she hadn’t lied.

However, when Yan Xi saw the “beauties” served at the table, he wilted like a frost-bitten eggplant, shutting his mouth and glaring at Wen Heng with his beautiful large eyes.

“Little sister, let your brother try the fish. I just caught them, they’re fresh,” said the old fisherman sitting nearby, his skin darkened by the sun, puffing on a pipe as he spoke warmly.

“I understand, Grandpa,” A-Heng nodded with a smile, repeating the old man’s words to Yan Xi.

Yan Xi stared at the aluminum basin full of small black fish, poking them with his chopsticks, his expression gloomy and his appetite poor. He had just gotten seasick and vomited, leaving his stomach quite uncomfortable.

A-Heng sighed and asked the old man, “Grandpa, do you have any mint leaves?” She knew fishermen had the habit of keeping mint leaves in their mouths to stay alert.

The old man walked to the bow and brought back a small jar, smiling as he handed it to Yan Xi.

When the young man pulled out the stopper, the cool sweetness of mint wafted out. Inside were dark red plums that looked extremely tempting.

“They’re bayberries,” A-Heng’s eyebrows curved upward.

“They’re soaked in mint leaves. Let your brother eat a few and he’ll feel better,” the old man said in his thick water town accent, taking a deep drag from his pipe as spots of light flickered in the pipe bowl.

Yan Xi silently chewed several pieces. At first, he found the taste extremely strange – spicy and astringent without any sweetness. But after eating a few more, although the taste wasn’t refined, he found it had a unique flavor, and the discomfort in his stomach gradually subsided.

A-Heng smiled faintly, picked up a piece of fish, removed the bones, and placed it in Yan Xi’s bowl.

At home, Yan Xi had always enjoyed emperor-like treatment, with Officer Li taking care of everything comfortably for him. He had never had to worry about his meals.

Now when A-Heng picked fish for him and carefully removed the bones, he ate it out of habit, naturally assuming it was proper without realizing the inappropriateness of the situation. As for A-Heng, she hadn’t thought much about it either, simply doing what she wanted to do, completely unaware that her actions carried undertones of pampering and intimacy.

When both treated it as ordinary, it truly wasn’t a big deal. After finishing the meal and wiping their mouths, he could go back to being Yan Xi, and she could return to being Wen Heng – a bridge is just a bridge, a road just a road.

The old man had stewed the small black fish in lake water with red peppers, completely natural and deliciously tender. Yan Xi ate contentedly, the gloom gradually fading from his eyes as he broke into a sweat from the spiciness, his cold seemingly improving.

The night deepened, and moonlight reflected off the lake’s surface, creating rippling waves of silvery light.

The old fisherman helped prepare their beds while Yan Xi and A-Heng sat at the bow, somewhat absently taking in the mountains and waters around them.

The southern winter lacked the bitter cold of the north, carrying only a subtle chill. As the wind gently blew, water waves slowly rolled in one direction, creating round whirlpools one after another, overlapping the passage of time in a casual yet gentle way that could easily make one lose oneself in it.

Yan Xi sat with his long legs crossed, his posture comfortable with a hint of childishness.

Suddenly, a smile appeared at the corner of the young man’s mouth.

He softly hummed a tune.

A-Heng had never heard it before. The melody carried a faint laziness, a faint comfort – completely in Yan Xi’s style.

However, it was unexpectedly pleasant.

Later, by chance, she learned that this was G.L.’s classic love song “Willingly.”

Love is being willing.

The lyrics were written with conviction. Yan Xi’s casual humming didn’t match the current scenery, but coincidentally, it matched her feelings many years later.

Yan Xi stood up, returned to the cabin, and came out carrying a drawing board and an oil lamp.

“Are you going to draw?” A-Heng tilted her head and asked.

The young man nodded, his black hair gently lifted by the wind, revealing his smooth forehead.

“What will you draw?” She smiled.

The young man pointed to the green mountains surrounding the lake shore. He sat on the deck, bent his knees, placed the drawing board on his legs, and beside his fair hands lay a complete box of oil paints.

A-Heng helped find a black crude porcelain dish from the cabin. Yan Xi washed it with lake water, and then like a magician, under the dim yellow lamplight, he took out several tubes of paint and slowly mixed them by hand into an ink color.

He picked up the brush, his expression no longer casual but focused, all his attention concentrated on the paper before him. He held the brush between his index and middle fingers, gently measuring its position, his lips pressed together, his black eyes devoid of emotion, appearing cold and serious.

When A-Heng watched him slowly and decisively imprint the lake light and mountain colors onto the pure white paper, beyond amazement, she felt moved.

Nature creates too much beauty, and this beauty is often coldly overlooked, existing in lonely obscurity. People might look upon it with appreciative hearts, but they always let this beauty grow on its own, helpless, letting the desire to possess it torment their souls.

But when she saw its life continue to flourish – just a thin piece of paper, all the measure of its lonely years but a moment in time – her heart’s longing for this beauty completely stopped. She was amazed by the young man’s talent but moved because a landscape had found its harmonious string.

Time passed second by second, he couldn’t stop his brush, and she couldn’t stop her gaze, carrying an unrestrained madness.

After who knows how long, the young man finally smoothed the last stroke with his thumb and dropped the brush.

“Beautiful,” A-Heng looked at the painting, and although she knew her description was clumsy, she still curved her eyebrows and chuckled.

Yan Xi also smiled. He took the paper bearing the mountains and waters from the drawing board, holding one corner with one hand, slowly drying it in the wind.

“It’s for you,” the young man gently handed her the painting, his delicate eyebrows rising, black bright eyes carrying mischief, “But, you need to help me with something.”

A-Heng carefully held the paper with both hands, seriously nodding, but when she looked up, she found an abnormal flush on the young man’s face.

A-Heng’s heart tightened, and she reached out to feel the young man’s forehead, only to find it frighteningly hot.

Oh no, he had a fever!

The young man reached out, pushing away her hand on his forehead, his eyes showing a barely noticeable displeasure as he spoke flatly: “I’m fine.” Then he stood up and entered the cabin.

When A-Heng followed him into the cabin, Yan Xi had already covered himself with the blanket, lying curled up motionless on his side. She stood by the young man’s bedside holding the oil lamp, still worried, so she moved a small bamboo stool to sit at the foot of the bed and blew out the lamp.

Outside the cabin came the sound of waves, flowing, splashing, then still, flowing again.

In the moonlight, she watched that curled-up silhouette on the bed, this shadow outlined vaguely, the feeling of unreality growing stronger.

A-Heng felt empty inside. She knew Yan Xi knew she was there; she knew that with her present, this young man wouldn’t let down his guard and rest properly.

But she still held the smoke-scented oil lamp, unwilling to let go, her hands full of the frightening heat from when her fingertips had touched him earlier.

She wanted to do something but found her presence meaningless.

A-Heng had always thought herself stupid, but this young man’s thoughts, at a glance, were clearer to her than they could be. Yan Xi was stubbornly maintaining his dignity; he would rather suffer through a fever than let a stranger casually approach him.

So, she sighed and quietly turned to leave.

At this moment, the young man let out a muffled groan from under the covers. A-Heng’s heart tightened, and she hurriedly turned around, intending to walk out of the cabin to call the fisherman.

“Wait.” A hoarse voice tinged with restraint.

A-Heng turned back. That young man was sitting up, supporting himself with both hands. In the moonlight, his lips were pale, making his face appear even more flushed. After a while, he weakly opened his mouth: “Wen Heng, will you stay and talk with me for a while?”

“You’re sick,” A-Heng said softly.

Yan Xi lowered his head somewhat irritably, his tone slightly uneasy: “I don’t like strangers getting close to me.”

Then gripping the quilts under his fingers again, after a while, he weakly opened his mouth: “Wen Heng, will you stay and talk with me for a while?”

“You need to rest,” A-Heng shook her head.

Yan Xi smiled faintly, ignoring A-Heng’s words, and continued speaking: “Wen Heng, how old were you when you learned to talk?”

A-Heng quietly looked at him, saying nothing.

“I was one year old. Officer Li was holding me then, letting me feel his throat as he made sounds. The first word he taught me was ‘mama,’ and I learned it, so I happily called him ‘mama.’ Unfortunately, he didn’t praise me for being clever.”

Yan Xi smiled slightly, his breathing somewhat heavy: “Really now, shouldn’t you encourage such a small child?”

His voice forced cheerfulness, but listening to it was like a sponge slowly sinking in water.

“At one and a half years old, when I was learning to walk, the old man in my family squatted on the ground waiting for me to come closer. At that time, I was too small, the path seemed too long, and walking was very tiring, but I wanted the candy in his hand. It was American candy that neither Siwang nor… had – sorry, I’m not very used to calling them ‘dad and mom’ – they sent it back. I thought if I got it, I could show off to Siwang.”

A-Heng’s lips felt somewhat dry. She moved closer to the young man, raised her hand, and then powerlessly lowered it, saying with a gentle laugh: “Then what?”

Yan Xi couldn’t stop laughing, and after a while finally raised his head, his temples already covered in a thin layer of sweat: “I made a fuss about having Officer Li carry me to Siwang’s house, holding the candy, smugly preparing to show him. Then, Zhang Sao told me that Uncle Wen and Auntie had taken Siwang to the children’s park and wouldn’t be back until evening.”

She looked into his eyes, the scattered, slowly flowing light like tides, washing over, flowing away.

“I waited until evening to see Siwang. But that little guy still dared to smile at me. So I beat him until he cried…” The young man slightly closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling lightly.

A-Heng’s mouth felt dry, and she didn’t know what to say. At that time, she was still in swaddling clothes, spending each day hiding in her mother’s embrace, holding her hand while sleeping. Although her mother wasn’t her birth mother, she was the source of all hope and love.

“Yan Xi…” she hesitantly called out to him, her tone apologetic. Though she didn’t know what she was apologizing for.

But the young man didn’t answer. He was leaning against the bed, already asleep, his hands still tightly curled, like an infant’s pose.

A-Heng sighed, brought over the blanket from her bed, and covered Yan Xi with it. After confirming he was sound asleep, she gently arranged him to lie flat on the bed, watching his head slowly sink into the soft pillow.

In the middle of the night, A-Heng boiled water and applied a wet towel several times. Fortunately, it was only a low fever, and after breaking into a sweat, by dawn, the young man’s temperature had returned to normal.

She had been pondering how much of what Yan Xi had told her he wanted her to know.

Sick people are too vulnerable, vulnerable to the point they cannot hide themselves. But the unmasked person wasn’t within the range of what she, who was barely familiar, should have seen.

She wasn’t sure if Yan Xi, when clear-headed, would still want her to know this fact.

Many years later, when the dust had settled and she asked about this, Yan Xi smiled: “I was just having a fever, not drunk.”

Those words were indeed genuinely meant to be told to her.

A-Heng shook her head, she didn’t think Yan Xi was someone who enjoyed confiding in others. Many times, because he buried things so deep, it took considerable thought to understand him.

Yan Xi hesitated, and after a while finally spoke: “A-Heng, although I never said it, at that time, I was indeed treating you as my future wife, even though you didn’t know the circumstances. Because I always believed that between husband and wife, there should be honesty.”

A-Heng smiled bitterly.

When Yan Xi regained consciousness, it was already morning, and a light mist had settled over the lake’s surface.

He lightly moved his fingers, wanting to get up but feeling something heavy on him.

One layer of blanket, two layers of blanket, and… a person.

Yan Xi raised an eyebrow, mischievously wanting to push the girl away, but found the girl’s hand tightly gripping his left hand. Instantly, he froze in place.

He frowned, then after a while, the displeasure between his brows dispersed, and he smiled, gently pushing away the girl’s hand, carefully getting out of bed.

He stretched, feeling he had slept well through the night, but unfortunately, his body was sticky and wet with sweat.

Yan Xi disgustedly sniffed his shirt, wishing his nose could be eight zhang away from himself, but sadly that wasn’t realistic, so he strode out of the cabin, calling out toward the bow: “Ah ah ah, I want to go ashore, young master needs a bath!”

The old fisherman wearing a straw hat laughed and waved to him.

A-Heng also laughed. She had woken up earlier, but fearing Yan Xi would feel embarrassed, she had pretended to be asleep.

But now, she was truly sleepy.