Tell him you never forgot him.

Sheng Sui couldn’t dance.

Fortunately, there were countless people on the square who were just as clumsy yet enjoying themselves. People weren’t dancing to pursue graceful movements, but to bring themselves joy.

Though strangers to each other, they were willing to share happiness with people they’d never met. Sheng Sui was infected by the atmosphere, held at the waist by the tall, straight man across from her, her dance steps awkward but her smile lingering.

Zhou Shiyu was unsurprisingly the perfect dance partner again. Sheng Sui was patiently guided by the effortlessly skilled man, and though she still danced poorly, she didn’t look too embarrassing.

After dancing for over ten minutes and getting tired, she rested her head against Zhou Shiyu’s broad shoulder in an unconsciously dependent posture, saying softly: “How do you know how to do everything?”

Usually in public, Sheng Sui wasn’t comfortable with overly intimate interactions and rarely took the initiative, but now immersed in the crowd’s joy, she forgot to worry about other things.

The slender woman in his arms was breathing slightly hard, her warm breath falling on his neck as she spoke. Zhou Shiyu looked down and held her in his embrace, his large hand stroking her back:

“Rest against me when you’re tired. We’ll go eat in a bit.”

Accustomed to Zhou Shiyu’s constant thoughtful care, Sheng Sui nestled in the warm embrace, peacefully breathing in the man’s clear, bitter cold woody fragrance, curious:

“Did you learn to dance because you had to handle social occasions?”

She vaguely felt that Zhou Shiyu didn’t seem like someone who would enjoy dancing.

“Because after dancing, it’s very suitable for kissing.”

When the man spoke in low tones, his chest vibrated. Sheng Sui felt the embrace cool, then saw Zhou Shiyu step back half a pace, leaning down as his dark shadow pressed down, finally placing his thin lips at the corner of her mouth: “Just like now.”

“I can kiss you openly and honestly in the crowd.”

Her breath was sealed, and in just a few short seconds, Sheng Sui was kissed dizzy by the man who supported the back of her head.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Zhou Shiyu looking at her with a smile, his gaze gentle and warm, as if appreciating her intoxicated appearance.

Regarding his smooth way with sweet words and kisses, and his expertise in bedroom matters, Sheng Sui had a question she’d been holding back for a long time. She looked up and asked:

“Zhou Shiyu, how many girlfriends have you had before?”

After speaking, she realized she’d ruined the mood. Sheng Sui lowered her head and touched her nose, clearing her throat: “…I was just asking casually.”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

With the scheduled dinner time approaching, Zhou Shiyu took her hand and slowly walked outside, deliberately squeezing their clasped hands and chuckling:

“But I do have one wife.”

With the man’s conditions and being nearly 30 without having dated, Sheng Sui was convinced this was a lie to humor her, muttering quietly: “Oh, so you were indifferent to everyone before, but after meeting me twice, you asked if I wanted to get married.”

That made no sense at all.

“Yes,” the man shamelessly admitted, “I was waiting for a chance to marry you before that.”

Zhou Shiyu paused slightly, catching sight of Sheng Sui’s soft white cheek puffing out slightly from the corner of his eye. A smile appeared in his deep black eyes as he slowly raised an eyebrow: “Also, I seem to smell a hint of vinegar.”

“……”

Being teased, Sheng Sui opened her mouth to retort, when she heard Zhou Shiyu continue: “On the day of our blind date, you asked me why I wanted to get married, and I gave three reasons.”

Sheng Sui nodded, remembering how Zhou Shiyu had clearly given reasons for their compatibility that night. She saw the man’s smile behind his glasses was gentle yet incredibly serious:

“Actually, the real answer was only the last one.”

—Mr. Zhou, I still don’t understand your reason for choosing to marry me.

—Because you are the only person I’ve ever thought about marrying.

The unspoken words suddenly became ambiguous. Sheng Sui felt violent throbbing in her chest, an unprecedented flutter that was strange and came without warning.

Her brain went blank for a moment, her reaction slow. She blinked slowly, then felt Zhou Shiyu raise his hand to ruffle her hair, saying gently:

“Why are you spacing out?”

“…Nothing,” as if afraid of having her thoughts exposed, Sheng Sui hurriedly averted her gaze, her eyes hastily landing on a balloon vendor not far away, randomly making an excuse,

“I just saw a pretty balloon that was bought by a child.”

“Balloon?”

Zhou Shiyu probably hadn’t expected her to mention balloons. Hearing this, he turned to look toward the source, squinting his dark eyes and pondering for a moment.

The man first looked at the various balloons in the vendor’s hands, then shifted his gaze to the child who had bought a balloon. A plastic bag was tied to the child’s soft little arm, the other end connected to a cat-shaped balloon drifting leisurely in the air with the wind.

Sheng Sui didn’t know what he was thinking. Just as she was about to lightly tug Zhou Shiyu’s sleeve to leave, her palm felt cool as she saw the man stride toward the child.

When a stranger approached, both the child and the young mother beside him were startled.

Zhou Shiyu first exchanged a few simple words with the woman. After the mother nodded, he smiled gently and crouched halfway in front of the little boy.

With the noisy music around them, Sheng Sui couldn’t hear their conversation. In the end, she only saw Zhou Shiyu remove his tie clip and place it in the boy’s palm amid the mother’s repeated refusals, his large hand gently ruffling the child’s soft black hair, his thin lips moving as he said something.

The boy, still with baby fat, gripped the tie clip and nodded repeatedly. His dark, large eyes blinked twice before he turned and ran straight toward Sheng Sui.

“…Sister, that brother told me to give you the balloon.”

The boy with a bowl cut struggled for a long time to untie the balloon string from his wrist, his bright eyes looking at her:

“Brother said his wife really likes my balloon and asked if I’d be willing to give it to you.”

He held out the plastic string with the balloon, his voice soft and sweet: “Sister, I wish you and brother a happy marriage.”

Sheng Sui looked up to see Zhou Shiyu standing a few steps away, watching her intently with his hands in his pockets, his gaze gentle. The orange-red sunset behind him bloomed across the sky, outlining his tall, straight figure.

It turned out every casual word she said was taken to heart by the man.

Her eyes suddenly felt hot.

“Thank you,” Sheng Sui crouched down to ruffle the boy’s head, smiling, “I really like it.”

Hearing this, the boy cheered joyfully. After handing over the balloon, he bounced back to his mother, taking her hand again while not forgetting to turn and wave goodbye to Sheng Sui and Zhou Shiyu.

Waiting for the man to come to her side, Sheng Sui said softly: “…I was just speaking casually just now.”

She thought Zhou Shiyu’s method of getting the balloon was probably gift exchange—she’d seen the tie clip he gave away, which cost at least five figures, yet the man had given it away without blinking.

It really wasn’t necessary to go to such lengths for her.

Zhou Shiyu took the balloon and examined it carefully, finally tying it to the decorative button on Sheng Sui’s sleeve, smiling as he asked softly:

“But do you like this balloon?”

Sheng Sui looked up to see the balloon swaying in the evening breeze, looking exactly like Ping’An at home. She smiled radiantly: “I like it.”

“That’s good then.”

Amid the interweaving of noisy voices and music, the man’s voice like jade and spring water still reached her ears clearly. Hearing this, Sheng Sui withdrew her gaze, her eyes happening to meet Zhou Shiyu’s consistent gaze directed at her.

Focused, tender, unfathomable.

Meeting his eyes, Zhou Shiyu first raised his hand to gently ruffle the top of her head, then naturally took Sheng Sui’s hand:

“As long as you like it, it’s worth it.”

“……”

The warmth in her palm lingered for a long time. Sheng Sui obediently let herself be led along, her chest feeling like it harbored a restless little rabbit, her brain suddenly jumping to an incongruous two-word phrase.

—Unfair.

Zhou Shiyu always said such things to her. It was really too unfair.

—

The izakaya Zhou Shiyu chose was highly recommended by Qiu Si. It was said to have been open for thirty years—not large in scale but with good business, requiring at least a week’s advance reservation to guarantee a seat.

Lifting the faded dark blue curtain, the two walked into the dimly lit interior.

The decor and facade were all dark brown wood panels, rough to the touch. Many load-bearing pillars were carved with dense small characters, too crowded together to read clearly.

Diners sat around rectangular teppanyaki tables. Unless there were enough people, they usually shared tables with strangers. If you wanted privacy, you’d eat and drink quietly in a corner; if you wanted to chat with someone, you just had to turn your head to find a conversation partner.

This was said to be the owner’s intention—hoping that visiting customers would not only eat and drink well, but preferably make new friends too.

The hall had three long tables. Sheng Sui and Zhou Shiyu chose to sit at the secluded table against the wall. Soon a server in Japanese-style work clothes approached.

The tall, sturdy young man had fine sweat on his neck and face, his sweat towel casually draped over his shoulder. His eyes were black and bright as he asked in a loud voice what the two new customers wanted to eat, while enthusiastically making recommendations.

Before ordering, Zhou Shiyu first opened the main dishes section. His black eyes behind the glasses briefly scanned the menu as he inquired: “What portion sizes are your main dishes here?”

Hearing this, Sheng Sui was startled and was about to reach under the table to tug the man’s sleeve when she heard the young man laugh: “I’m not sure about that, but we can adjust according to your requirements.”

Zhou Shiyu calmly said fine. After determining portions for desserts and main dishes, he meticulously inquired about all dishes that might contain carbohydrates, making Sheng Sui fidget uncomfortably.

Due to her illness, she most feared becoming a burden to others or causing trouble. Sometimes she’d rather suffer a bit herself than appear difficult.

Fortunately, the young man showed no impatience from start to finish, instead introducing things in more detail, which gradually relaxed Sheng Sui’s tense nerves.

After they each ordered, the young man repeated their orders for confirmation. Before leaving, he thoughtfully asked: “You two came to an izakaya—don’t you plan to drink some sake?”

Zhou Shiyu closed the menu: “No need, thank you—”

“If you want to drink, go ahead,” remembering that time celebrating a colleague’s housewarming, Sheng Sui gently interrupted, “It’s rare that we’re here. I don’t mind.”

Seeing her serious expression, Zhou Shiyu finally ordered a glass of plum wine.

The alcohol and edamame were served first. Ice cubes floated on the surface of the liquid in the glass, and you could smell the sweet wine fragrance when you got close.

Zhou Shiyu’s well-defined hand picked up the wine glass, his thin lips touching the rim as his Adam’s apple moved when he tilted his head back.

The overhead spotlight cast light, illuminating the man’s angular profile, making even the simplest action look like a slow-motion long shot from a movie.

Diabetics need to be careful with alcohol. Sheng Sui, who had never touched a drop before, was also tempted watching Zhou Shiyu drink, asking softly: “Can I try a sip?”

Seeing that Zhou Shiyu didn’t agree, she immediately promised: “I’ll just try a tiny sip, just to taste it.”

After speaking, Sheng Sui innocently blinked at him. Finally waiting for the man to soften and let go, she smiled and took the glass, keeping her promise to only taste it lightly.

The unfamiliar stimulating taste lingered on her tongue. The initial impression wasn’t good—after the initial bitterness, there was a faint plum fragrance that spread through her mouth and lingered.

Everyone’s taste was different. Sheng Sui still couldn’t understand the appeal of alcohol.

As she put down the glass to push it back, the man across from her reached out first, using his slender index finger to wipe away the liquid at the corner of her lips.

In the dim environment, even the tenderness in Zhou Shiyu’s black eyes was reflected with a few traces of seduction.

The man looked down, his thumb rubbing the transparent liquid. Amid the surrounding noise, he suddenly smiled:

“Sui Sui, you seem to be getting more and more fond of acting cute lately.”

“……”

Sheng Sui’s ears burned from embarrassment. With no food served yet, she could only shell edamame, but the plate was taken away first.

“Let me do it, don’t dirty your hands.”

Zhou Shiyu’s fingers pinched the dark green edamame shell, applying pressure until two green round beans fell onto the porcelain plate: “How’s the sign language learning going these days?”

“Not very well,” Sheng Sui sighed with her chin in her hand, “The time is short and there’s too much to memorize. I always feel like I haven’t learned the basics solidly.”

“Perhaps the direction of effort is wrong.”

Zhou Shiyu pushed the porcelain bowl with green beans in front of her, wiping his hands with a wet napkin: “Language learning methods always have common ground. Like English word roots and affixes—you could ask the sign language teacher if there are similar categorizations and summaries.”

Smart people indeed find methods before taking action.

As Sheng Sui quietly listened to Zhou Shiyu propose solutions, she suddenly realized that after marriage, she seemed to have gradually forgotten that the man before her was actually very capable.

His high school grades were beyond reach, he had a smooth path after graduating from an Ivy League school and starting his business, creating industry miracles—a legendary, almost cheat-like life that was completely unobstructed.

And such an excellent person was her husband.

Somehow, after this realization jumped into her brain without warning, the corners of her mouth couldn’t help but lift.

Zhou Shiyu’s words paused as he asked what she was smiling about.

“I suddenly realized you’re amazing,” she smiled and shook her head, coming up with a comparison, “It seems like no matter how incredible something is, as long as it’s handed to you, it can be solved easily.”

Their ordered fried fish was served first. Sheng Sui moved aside to let the server place the dish while curiously asking: “Have you ever had something you wanted to do but couldn’t accomplish?”

“Many.”

“Initially I didn’t want to study finance but wanted to do medical research,” Zhou Shiyu used chopsticks to pick out boneless meat from the fried fish belly, placing it in Sheng Sui’s bowl, “Later I realized individual ability was limited, so I switched to venture capital to fund capable people to do research.”

Sheng Sui remembered that Cheng He’s initial investments were all targeted at the diabetes industry, and continued asking: “Why did you want to do medical research?”

Zhou Shiyu thought for a moment and smiled: “No grand ideals, just hoping that I or my achievements could be needed by people.”

Though the answer was ambiguous, Sheng Sui could understand it well: “I chose special education for similar reasons—not wanting to save anyone, but hoping others would need me.”

“Someone told me long ago,” Zhou Shiyu listened patiently as Sheng Sui suddenly recalled the past, “I might lack love from childhood, so I went to the other extreme, eagerly wanting to give all my care and protection to others.”

She admitted honestly: “Being a special education teacher is somewhat for selfish reasons. Thinking this way, I’m not as noble as you said.”

But Zhou Shiyu didn’t think so: “But what you do helps many people, and that’s enough.”

“Also, most people spend their lives searching for what they love,” the man paused slightly, “No matter what the reason, since you found it, you should hold on tightly.”

Hearing this, Sheng Sui’s eyes widened slightly: “That person said the same thing to me back then.”

Speaking of which, her career choice was quite magically impulsive.

Sheng Sui’s major wasn’t special education. She first learned about this field during a volunteer activity one winter break in freshman year. After developing interest, she kept participating in related activities, and the idea of switching careers gradually sprouted in her heart.

But her final decision to pursue special education was because of a youth psychology mutual aid group established by the school in response to national youth service calls.

At that time, she had just arrived in Shanghai, struggling to fit into the prosperous city, and was also brooding over her mother’s neglect due to her new family. Feeling depressed, she joined without hesitation after seeing the mutual aid group’s flyer on the bulletin board.

The newly established organization was loose, and with no follow-up support from the school, the person in charge simply randomly divided seven people into a group. After using online communication to help everyone open up and perfunctorily having experts give a few lectures, they found the results poor and didn’t continue.

In that era when the internet wasn’t well-developed, the chat group of seven strangers quickly fell silent. A month later, the group leader proposed dissolving the mutual aid group.

When Sheng Sui thought things would end there, “Z,” who rarely spoke in the group, suddenly contacted her privately, saying he didn’t want it to end and asking if Sheng Sui was willing to continue chatting.

She thought it was a mass message at the time and didn’t refuse, so she intermittently chatted with Z. After some time, she surprisingly found they got along very well—they could chat about the simplest daily matters for hours.

They very tacitly never asked about each other’s identity information and didn’t even know if the other was male or female. But during the three years of university, they talked about everything, and even when Sheng Sui faced career choices, her instinctive reaction was to ask Z’s opinion.

She worried that changing careers at the last minute was too rash, that the wrong choice would ruin her future. Z’s reply at that time, she remembered word for word even years later.

【Most people spend their entire lives searching for what they love. No matter what the reason, since you’re fortunate enough to find it, you should desperately hold on】

“…If not for that sentence, I probably would have chosen a decent but unloved job like before, just following the crowd.”

This was Sheng Sui’s first time talking about Z with anyone. Even her best friend Xiao Ming didn’t know of his existence, yet she could naturally talk about him with Zhou Shiyu: “It’s a pity that later he said he was going abroad for treatment and never replied again.”

Losing contact with Z remained a regret for Sheng Sui even years later. She sighed looking down: “I don’t know if his illness got better, whether he saw the emails I sent, or how he’s doing now.”

After rambling on alone for a long time, Sheng Sui realized Zhou Shiyu hadn’t spoken for a while and said apologetically: “I haven’t thought about this person in a long time, so I talked so much nonsense—”

“Send him another email.”

Zhou Shiyu, who had been silent for a long time, suddenly spoke: “Maybe this time, he’ll reply to you.”

Sheng Sui expressed doubt: “But we haven’t been in contact for many years. Maybe he’s changed his contact information long ago.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Zhou Shiyu leaned back in his chair, his black eyes behind the glasses unclear due to reflection, only his gentle low voice audible: “Tell him again that those years of chatting were also meaningful to you, tell him whether you’re doing well now;”

“Tell him you never forgot him.”

“I think he’d be very happy to see these things.”