Gan Ting was very satisfied with this “kid”—not only based on his superior appearance, mature temperament, broad perspective, and witty conversation… there was also an inexplicable, indescribable sense of familiarity that made her feel like she’d met him too late.

Gan Ting was habitually bold and straightforward, joking, “If Old Ji weren’t here, I’d definitely pursue you! Little brother, please introduce me to your friends! Big sister just got divorced—no little brothers, but daddies work too!”

Zhou Hui didn’t take it seriously but agreed, “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

Gan Ting grabbed Ji Tong’s hand dejectedly again, “If you go to Canada, I’ll miss you to death.”

Just as Ji Tong was about to comfort her, she heard her add, “Help me with shopping!”

“…”

After finishing their meal, Gan Ting hurriedly had to leave, seemingly having some business. She waved goodbye vigorously, “I won’t disturb you two lovebirds being sweet together. I’ll treat you to dinner another day!”

After seeing her off, Ji Tong and Zhou Hui walked arm in arm down the street. She lightly scratched Zhou Hui’s broad palm, maintaining a moderate distance as they walked together. “Where are we going?”

“Up to you.” Zhou Hui pulled her closer to lean against him. “Staying so far away—afraid I’ll eat you?”

Ji Tong hugged his forearm. “Do you think people will assume I’m keeping you?”

Zhou Hui looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Why?”

“Because you’re so young.” Ji Tong smiled and sighed, her voice mixing happiness and regret. “At my age, I could be your mother.”

“Stop taking advantage of me.” Zhou Hui pinched her waist. “Age has never been an issue. In front of me, don’t you still act like a child?”

“That tickles.” Ji Tong twisted her waist to escape him. “Aren’t you afraid of people gossiping? Saying you found an old woman?”

“You know it’s just gossip. Even if you were a toothless old lady in her seventies or eighties, I’d still pursue you, unless—”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you had a lover and family and didn’t need me anymore.”

Ji Tong paused slightly, then pressed her whole body against him. “How could that be? I only want you.”

“I know.” Zhou Hui kissed her forehead forcefully. “What do you usually like to do?”

“Lying down, spacing out, sleeping.”

Zhou Hui laughed lightly. “I knew it.”

“Then let me guess about you.” Ji Tong looked up at his chin. “You like playing ball? Basketball.”

“Right.”

“Horseback riding.”

“Right.”

“Shooting?”

“How did you know? Are you just matching stereotypes? Keep guessing.”

“Watching movies?”

“Mm.”

“That was a random guess.” Ji Tong thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you like playing games?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you must be very good at them.”

“I play occasionally, and yes, I am quite good. We have several gaming consoles at home that my dad bought. I only play when he asks me to accompany him. But he’s terrible yet loves to play, and gets angry when he loses to me.”

“How cute. Your father sounds very interesting.”

“An old child, quite childish.”

“What else do you like?”

“I like you.” Zhou Hui leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Let’s go home.”

Ji Tong was made weak all over by his burning breath, laughing as she pushed him away. “No, let’s go watch a movie.”

Zhou Hui raised his arm to embrace her shoulders. “Alright, listening to my wife.”

They chose a fantasy film with good plot and effects, but Ji Tong still fell asleep during it. Zhou Hui didn’t wake her, staying completely still to let her sleep against him.

When the movie ended, Ji Tong still wasn’t awake. Zhou Hui tilted his head and tapped her nose. “Wake up.”

Ji Tong opened her eyes groggily. “Is it over?”

“It’s been over for a while. The theater’s been cleared—if we don’t leave, we’ll be thrown out.” Seeing her tired appearance, Zhou Hui asked, “Should I carry you?”

“No need.”

Zhou Hui took her hand and walked out. As they passed Theater 3, huge explosion sounds and gunfire suddenly came from inside.

Almost simultaneously, Ji Tong’s body trembled violently, and as a natural reflex, she grabbed him and crouched against the wall.

This action drew many passersby’s attention. Ji Tong frowned and got up, hiding beside him with her head lowered. “How embarrassing.”

Zhou Hui didn’t think it was embarrassing. He also knew why she had reacted this way, so he playfully tugged her hair. “Not embarrassing, big baby.”

Ji Tong looked up. “You’re teasing me.”

“Not teasing—my wife is so cute.” Zhou Hui took her hand again. “Home?”

“Okay.”

…

As soon as they got home, Ji Tong clung to him like glue.

From the bathroom to the entrance, to the sofa, to the stairs…

Tonight Zhou Hui didn’t go running, lazily lying with her instead.

Near nine o’clock, Cheng Yueyun called her. Ji Tong answered while leaning against her pillow, chatting briefly before hanging up.

Zhou Hui lay on the bed squinting at her, his hand reaching under the covers to the other side, wandering everywhere.

Ji Tong put her phone away and turned to look at his sexy waist dimples and lines, lying down to curl up next to him. “Aren’t you going to ask who that was?”

Zhou Hui shook his head.

“It’s a good friend of mine.”

“Mm.”

“Jealous?”

Zhou Hui turned over to lie face up. “If I needed to be jealous, I wouldn’t be lying here today.”

“He Feng.”

“Mm?”

“Does it feel strange when I call you that?”

“A’Zhi.”

“Mm.”

“Does it feel strange when I call you that?”

“No.”

“Then what’s strange about mine?”

“Pearl.”

Zhou Hui laughed and scooped her into his arms. “Here we go again—Pearl is fine, but no River Clam.”

Mentioning this, Ji Tong laughed even more happily than him. “River Clam, River Clam—”

Zhou Hui bit her nose. “Still calling me that.”

“Ow—”

Zhou Hui released her, looking at the shallow teeth marks on her nose tip, then kissed downward.

Ji Tong cupped his face, sighing mournfully, “So tired, so tired and sleepy.”

Zhou Hui stopped and lay on top of her.

Ji Tong exhaled deeply again. “You’re so heavy.”

He turned over and pulled her to lie on top of him. “Sleep.”

…

May days are long—near five o’clock, dawn was already breaking.

Ji Tong was sleeping soundly when she was held tightly by Zhou Hui in his half-conscious state. She reached for his soft hair. “Are you awake?”

He had dreamed of the worst things.

Even after waking, thinking of those cruel scenes still made his heart feel like it was being cut by knives. Hearing about it, reading about it, no matter how empathetic one tried to be, it couldn’t compare to even one ten-thousandth of the despair and pain of those who lived through it.

This was the first time he had awakened memories related to that massacre.

His fingertips trembled slightly, his teeth clenched throughout, completely enveloped by pain and hatred, unable to extract himself for a moment.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t talk.” His face was buried in her embrace, his voice muffled and somewhat choked. “Let me hold you for a while.”

Ji Tong understood—he must have dreamed of something terrible. So she gently held this big boy, saying nothing at all.

It’s like when you now recall being upset as a child over losing a beloved toy, or remember the despair when family members passed away. You only remember feeling very sad then, crying terribly. When you think carefully, it might still hurt a little, but most of the time you can no longer fully empathize with that situation. This is the power of memory and time. For Ji Tong, those past events, after being washed by long years, were buried deeper and deeper in her heart. She adapted while trying to let go, not wanting to wallow in suffering daily. So memories became just memories, sealed away for a long time, until his arrival made them flare up again.

The tragic thing was that Zhou Hui was now reliving those experiences, just like herself more than ten years ago. She understood those feelings all too well.

When the sky grew brighter, Zhou Hui woke up, his terrible mood much dissipated. He caressed Ji Tong’s neck. “I want to eat noodles.”

“Okay.” Ji Tong struggled to get up under his caressing. “Making noodles.”

Zhou Hui got up with her. “I want three bowls.”

“Three pots if you want.”

…

Zhou Hui sent Ji Tong to the hospital then went running.

There was no surgery today—Ji Tong held clinic hours in her department. Large hospitals had many rules. Ji Tong didn’t like complexity and various hidden rules, so years ago she had chosen a relatively humane small hospital. She didn’t care about titles or positions and was too lazy to write papers, so after all these years she was still just an attending physician.

After seeing off an elderly lady for follow-up, Ji Tong went to the restroom. When she returned, she saw Zhou Hui sitting beside her desk. “How did you get here?”

Zhou Hui looked over at the sound. “To get treated.”

Ji Tong paused slightly, stood in front of him, and asked nervously, “What’s wrong? Where don’t you feel well?”

“Missing you makes my heart ache.”

Her expression relaxed as she smiled and sat back down. “Smooth talker. This is cardiothoracic surgery—I think you should go to oral surgery.”

“No.” Zhou Hui gripped her hand and placed it on his heart. “There, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Ji Tong withdrew her hand. “I’m working.”

“I know, I won’t disturb you.” He got up and kissed her cheek, then immediately backed away. “I’ll wait for you to come home.”

“Okay.”

There weren’t many patients today. During free time, Ji Tong kept glancing at the clock, hoping it would move faster. Previously she would always dawdle for a long time before going home, but now as soon as her shift ended she changed clothes and whooshed out.

Even better, as soon as she stepped outside, Zhou Hui appeared before her. Seeing Ji Tong’s figure from afar, he immediately quickened his pace to meet her.

Ji Tong stood on the steps at eye level with him. “You weren’t outside the whole time, were you?”

“Not the whole time.” He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

Zhou Hui hailed a taxi.

Ji Tong asked, “Where are we going?”

He said, “To eat. I made a restaurant reservation.”

Ji Tong looked at the bag in his hands. “Are those shoes?”

Only then did Zhou Hui remember it. He opened the bag and took out high heels from inside. “I saw them while passing by, displayed in a glass case. They looked beautiful—see if you like them?”

“Where did you get so much money? This brand isn’t cheap.”

Zhou Hui didn’t respond, bending down to put them on her. “Do they look good?”

“Good.”

“The heels aren’t high, so they won’t be too tiring.” He straightened up, smiling. “Do you like them?”

“I have a salary, and it’s not low. I can buy whatever I like myself. You’re still…” She glanced at the driver. “Don’t waste your parents’ money.”

“Not wasting it.”

The destination was quite far—a garden restaurant.

Except for service staff, they were the only two customers.

This place was like a wild fairy tale world with no trace of steel and concrete. The walls were wood, the floor stone, everywhere filled with flowers, plants, paintings, antiques, and some fish and birds.

“How did you find this? I’ve lived here for decades and never knew about this place.”

“The owner is Canadian. I rented out the whole place—no one will disturb us today.”

After ordering, Zhou Hui held her as they sat on a swing. “Do you remember when we were at the mountain stronghold, I said I’d marry you?”

Ji Tong looked at him, having a vague premonition. Sure enough, he stood on the ground, steadied the swaying vines with his hand, knelt on one knee, and held up a diamond ring he’d been gripping in his palm.

Though excited inside, Ji Tong had to raise realistic concerns. “How old are you? Where did you get so much money?”

“I earned it myself. I’ve been financially independent since I was fourteen.” Zhou Hui looked at her sincerely, his eyes slightly smiling. “This break from school isn’t just to find my wife, but also for a concert tour.”

“You’re also a musician?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a musician—I play piano and have some recognition.”

“I feel like you’re showing off.” Ji Tong laughed. “How strange—you actually became a musician.”

“Doesn’t seem like me?”

“Hard to imagine.”

“There’s a piano downstairs. I’ll play for you later.”

“Okay.”

“Extend your hand.”

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

Zhou Hui pulled her hand over. “I’m not asking for your opinion. A hundred years ago you were crying and shouting about wanting to marry me.” He slipped the ring on and gently kissed her beautiful, slender finger. “So won’t you let me get up now? My legs are numb.”

Ji Tong’s heart ached, remembering the rooftop in Shanghai where he had said exactly the same words.

She didn’t pull him up, instead leaning forward to fall into his arms. “I suddenly want to eat chestnuts.”

“I’ll ask if they have any.”

“I also want watermelon.”

“They definitely have that.”

“And lychees.”

“Okay, I’ll buy them for you.” Zhou Hui pushed her away gently. “About the concert tour I mentioned—it’s in October, going to six countries. Will you come with me?”

“But I have to work.”

“Quit your job. I’ll support you.”

Ji Tong laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Being told ‘I’ll support you’ by a seventeen-year-old boy—where does that leave this old auntie’s face?”

“You’re being serious about this again. I mean it.” Zhou Hui cupped her face and kissed her lips. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I can come stay with you—I’ll drop out and transfer to a Chinese school. I was going to come back eventually anyway. But I still want to ask you: are you willing to come with me now? You always used to ask me to take you away—this time we can do it.”

Ji Tong’s eyes grew warm.

“Let’s go to the grasslands, to Tibet, Yunnan, Guangxi, Hunan and Hubei—let’s see all of our motherland’s mountains and rivers. In the last life I devoted myself to the country. This life I want to give myself completely to you, to enjoy together the land we protected with our blood and sweat.” He gripped her hand and placed it on his chest. “Come with me, A’Zhi.”