Regarding Rong Qian’s identity as a police officer, Shen Yi had previously made some guesses about this.

Therefore, upon hearing Rong Qian say it herself, Shen Yi was not at all surprised.

What actually caught his attention was that other statement of hers — that she was not a time-space traveler.

Following the thread of her words, he asked her: “If you’re not someone who can freely travel through time and space, then how have you managed to appear at different stages of my life?”

“Because of the photograph, hic—” Rong Qian said, unable to help letting out a tipsy hiccup. She was growing drowsy again, and she flopped softly against Shen Yi, wrapping her arms around him and wanting to go back to sleep.

Since she had been the one to bring up this topic, Shen Yi could not simply pretend he had never heard it. He coaxed her gently, “A’Qian, wait a moment — don’t fall asleep yet. You just mentioned a photograph. What did you mean by that?”

“Right, I still need to explain it to you. I can’t sleep.” Rong Qian pushed him away and sat up again. She patted her cheeks, trying to rouse her spirits, but her eyelids were drooping so heavily she could barely keep her eyes open.

Seeing how exhausted she was, even Shen Yi found himself unable to press the matter. “All right, I won’t ask anymore. Sleep first, and we’ll talk tomorrow — is that okay?”

“But I’m supposed to tell you. Even though it makes me so sad… No, I can’t cry. This isn’t a big deal. Rong Qian, pull yourself together!”

Rong Qian wept without meaning to, wiping her tears as she cried. She was trying to make herself be strong, yet she could not rein in the flood of emotion — leaving her feeling torn apart, deeply tormented.

Shen Yi had never seen this side of Rong Qian before.

Watching her fall apart while simultaneously fighting to suppress and control herself, Shen Yi felt his heart clench tight.

Rong Qian had always been his soft spot. Her every joy and sorrow, her every mood, tugged at his emotions without cease. One could say that she was the pillar holding up his entire spirit.

Shen Yi could sense that Rong Qian was bearing a weight that ordinary people could not endure, and the realization cut him deeply with heartache.

Because of the alcohol, Rong Qian had shed the mask she wore every day — and Shen Yi now saw clearly what lay beneath the confident, vibrant surface she showed the world: the fragile, vulnerable side hidden deep within her heart.

In the end, it was Rong Qian who cried herself to exhaustion, nestling into Shen Yi’s arms and sinking into a deep sleep.

Shen Yi kept gently stroking her hair, and only once she was sleeping soundly did he lay her down on the bed. The sleeping Rong Qian looked very much like a child — quiet, still, and wonderfully well-behaved.

Standing in the perspective of someone older than her and looking down at her now, Shen Yi suddenly realized that the Rong Qian in his memory — that strong, indomitable person — was, in truth, nothing more than a kind and optimistic young girl.

Shen Yi sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at her in silence for a long while before taking his leave from the room with careful, quiet steps.

The moment he stepped out, he found Butler Fu standing at the door, offering him a small smile — the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening a little more with it.

Shen Yi walked out to the balcony, with Fu Bozhong following behind him.

The night had grown deep. The entire residential compound was wrapped in silence, with only the street lamps casting pools of dim amber light through the darkness — tranquil and at peace.

Shen Yi lit a cigarette. As he exhaled rings of smoke, his sharp, refined profile in the night carried an air of nobility, as though he were some divine being descended from on high.

“Butler Fu.” Shen Yi called out to him, his magnetic low voice even more subdued than usual.

Fu Bozhong replied, “Young Master, whatever you wish to say, please go ahead.”

“Given your years and experience, what do you make of her — what kind of person do you think she is?” Shen Yi lowered his gaze, concealing any trace of his expression.

Fu Bozhong knew exactly who the “her” in his question referred to. He simply had not expected that one day the young master would ask him this. “Young Master, do you not already know her very well?”

“I was presumptuous to think so before. If I truly understood her, I would not be at a loss now over why she was so heartbroken.” The memory of Rong Qian’s state just a little while ago surfaced in Shen Yi’s mind, and he drew another pull from his cigarette.

Fu Bozhong considered this for a moment before answering, “Although she appears very cheerful every day, she is in truth carrying a great burden within her heart. She is under pressure — I can feel it. She is often weighed down by her thoughts, and it’s quite evident that she has been hiding something from us.”

“What do you think she is hiding from us?”

Fu Bozhong shook his head. “That, I cannot guess. If the young master wishes to know, it might not be a bad idea to ask her directly. Perhaps you might even be able to share some of that burden with her.”

Even if Fu Bozhong had not said so, Shen Yi would have asked regardless. Things had come to this point, and it was indeed time for him to sit down with Rong Qian and get a clear answer — exactly why had she crossed through time to find him?

Rong Qian woke up early the following morning.

She had slept wonderfully through the night, and she stirred with her eyes half-closed, stretching out languidly in contentment.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Very well!”

Rong Qian answered on instinct — and then, as her mind caught up with her, she immediately opened her eyes wide.

She turned her head, and there was Shen Yi, seated on the sofa near the full-length window, his eyes warm and gentle, a faint smile resting at the corners of his lips.

He had one hand propped beneath his chin and held a book in the other; his legs were crossed, and his every movement carried an air of refined, understated elegance.

The morning light streaming through the window fell across him as though it had laid a layer of radiance over his skin — and together with the atmosphere around him, he looked as though he had descended from the heavens themselves.

“Shen Yi?”

Rong Qian was a little disoriented. She had absolutely no memory of what had happened the night before. How had she ended up finding Shen Yi — and then come back to this home of his?

Shen Yi snapped his book shut with a crisp sound, rose from his seat, and walked toward her with long, unhurried strides.

Under Rong Qian’s unblinking, fixed gaze, he settled down on the edge of the bed and asked her with complete seriousness, “This time around — do you still remember who I am?”

“Hmm?” Rong Qian’s thoughts had not quite caught up yet.

Shen Yi’s gaze dropped to her wrist. “That watch — you’re actually wearing it.”

Rong Qian looked down, and when she saw the watch on her hand, she paused for a moment.

During the previous times she had crossed over, she had never had the watch on her. Only this time had it crossed over along with her.

Which meant the timelines had aligned — the Shen Yi she had met during her very first crossing must, from his perspective, have been several years ago.

“When was the last time you saw me?” Rong Qian asked hurriedly.

Shen Yi answered her, “Four years ago. You departed in haste, and now, here you are before me once more.”

“Sure enough — the timelines match up.” Rong Qian rubbed her chin thoughtfully. She suddenly realized that, given the way things were unfolding, the fact that she would cross over to find him might very well be something that had already happened.

In other words — she, too, was moving along the historical track.

Did that not mean that Shen Yi’s disappearance at sea had already been set in stone?

The thought sent a look of sheer horror crossing Rong Qian’s face. She buried her face in both hands, her eyes going wide as saucers, suddenly struck by a profound doubt about everything she had assumed.