Chapter 66: The Begonia Blooms Before the Rain, Not Asking About the Return Path

The MRT’s final stop is a famous tourist island. As she got off, the sun and the rainbow were both setting behind the mountains.

Ji Zhen Tang walked along the coastal street, adorned by stars and moonlight, beside a red train carrying passengers. She looked very happy, her steps light and lively, humming a tune that radiated youthful energy.

This lightness is something one cannot learn; only those with heavy hearts cannot move with such steps. Thus, in Zhong Yu Bai’s eyes, she was no different from a child. He quietly followed behind her, smiling softly.

Raindrops from the coconut trees were clearly dripping down. The space after the rain was humid everywhere; the leaves had been washed clean, and the air was filled with the scent of the sea.

Although Star Island is a country of islands, it is not known for tourism. The beaches here are narrow, and even the decorated scenery pales in comparison to the domestic resort coasts.

Several tall ships were anchored offshore.

Ji Zhen Tang entered a nearby Wine Connection and generously announced that she was in a good mood today and would treat everyone, ordering two glasses of the most expensive red wine.

“This is the tropical paradise I imagined—warm and humid. The days are long, and there is no winter.”

As she spoke, Zhong Yu Bai was lost in thought, gazing at the beach outside.

Just a few kilometers further along this coastline lies the place where the incident happened years ago. After more than a decade, the bloodshed has been covered by prosperity, and there are no traces left.

The pocket watch he held had become warm, and he turned to look at her only when he heard her speaking.

“Don’t like winter?”

Between the dark sky and the dark sea, the last traces of sunset faded away.

Ji Zhen Tang shook her head, “Not really, but I love you.”

The two unrelated statements connected by “but” felt abrupt.

His gaze flickered, then he slowly smiled, “What do you mean, so suddenly?”

Hearing this, he thought she must have done something wrong or had a request for him. Zhong Yu Bai waited for her to explain, but Ji Zhen Tang smiled with her eyes narrowed, saying, “Oh, nothing much. I just think that saying ‘I love you’ at sunset makes the night feel less long and difficult to bear.”

Zhong Yu Bai’s smile softened even more as he gently replied, “I love you too.”

She laughed brightly, “Do you feel like I’ve grasped the essence of sweet talk?”

“Keep learning; it’s quite pleasing to hear.”

She gathered her long skirt in front of her.

Ji Zhen Tang asked, “Do you think if we secretly ran away, people would gossip about us?”

He replied, “Who would dare?”

She laughed with relief, then looked at him meaningfully, “Do you sometimes just want to be an ordinary person?”

Zhong Yu Bai found her words somewhat ambiguous: “I’m just an ordinary person with a bit more money.”

“And what about an ordinary person without money?” She naturally included the ordinary in terms of wealth.

He thought for a moment, “Without money, just work hard and be steady.”

“How hard do you need to work to be satisfied?”

He answered calmly and seriously, “As long as I believe I can provide support for the person I love, I will be satisfied.”

In people’s love, there are always many interpretations. Some see growth, others see romance and warmth. In her eyes, the most fitting interpretation of love is support and being supported.

She pulled out the career pouch that allowed her to fly freely, showing it to him: “Your pouch; look, I’m carrying it. I’ll take it wherever I go in the future.”

Zhong Yu Bai glanced at it, “Carry it, otherwise, my hand was pricked for nothing.”

She was surprised and laughed, asking if it was true!

He said, “Absolutely true.”

Ji Zhen Tang nestled in his arms, kissed his now-healed hand, and cheerfully said he had worked hard.

After finishing the drinks, they set off for home.

“I want to give our little home a name.”

On the way back, Ji Zhen Tang kept murmuring about this. As she pondered, she looked up, and the road sign for this seaside avenue read: St Cosmo Rd.

She had a sudden idea: “How about calling it Little Universe?”

“Our Little Universe.”

Zhong Yu Bai responded hastily; regardless of what universe it was, he needed to find a way to get the tipsy person home.

Her skirt spread out on the sofa, Ji Zhen Tang’s complexion was rosy as she draped her arm around his neck and laughed, “Thank you for your hard work, Boss Zhong.”

He gently helped her remove her makeup and take off her clothes, saying it was no trouble.

Ji Zhen Tang said, “You should poke my head and scold me, saying I shouldn’t drink so much next time.”

But he said, “As long as you’re happy.”

It sounded like five sarcastic words, yet it was Zhong Yu Bai’s most sincere expression.

“Live for today and drink for today.”

He tossed aside the last piece of makeup remover cotton and looked at her sleepy eyes, smiling softly.

His indulgence towards her showed in the absence of restrictions.

If she wanted to stay up late, let her; if she wanted to drink, let her. Nothing was more important than feeling happy in body and mind.

Once he removed the heavy fabric, lifting her became much easier. Amid the sounds of water in the bathroom, she felt his gentleness. Zhong Yu Bai was gentle; at first, she thought it was a disguise to cover his cold heart. A real man should be, as rumors said, killing ruthlessly while feigning affection.

Such people often have supreme means and the most stable status.

Only later did she realize the meaninglessness of those rumors. Beyond the mundane, his heart matched the warmth and height of the phrase “the river is blue and the birds are whiter.”

Zhong Yu Bai held her, sitting on the countertop, shoving an electric toothbrush into her mouth.

In the end, he helped her rinse her mouth.

Ji Zhen Tang didn’t have to move at all; someone even held the toothbrush for her. This was perhaps the highest realm of enjoyment.

“Zhong Yu Bai,” she looked at him, suddenly serious, saying, “I once heard a saying: the one who loves you will never leave; they will only stay in a different way. They will turn into the wind, the rain, the sunlight, or dust, always accompanying you.”

The bathroom echoed, and infinite warmth spread through the night.

She usually didn’t dare touch on his painful memories and could only bring them up in passing, feigning a casual mention under the influence of alcohol.

Ji Zhen Tang spoke with a trace of sadness, looking at him with a hint of encouragement.

“Noted, thank you,” he smiled, kissing her on the forehead, “You’re a little philosopher tonight.”

She smiled back. The comfort, though late by many years, was something she hoped might soothe his scars a little.

“Are you afraid I won’t leave if I stay here?” she asked, letting her drunken thoughts bring out her true feelings. In the dense steam, she looked at his still-clear eyes.

Perhaps everyone who is drunk thinks they’re still sober. Ji Zhen Tang, too, believed she was completely clear-headed, listening intently, awaiting his answer.

Zhong Yu Bai gave no direct answer, only advised, “Focus on your craft.”

With water-drenched eyes looking at him, she seriously said, “Why don’t you just stay here with me?”

“Give me some time,” he said, his gaze distant and voice low. “I still need to go back and take care of some matters.”

The terrace outside the window was an eco-garden he had created for her. The light scent of greenery erased the dampness in the air. Swaying yellow trumpet flowers and acacia leaves cast shadows, intertwining in the post-rain mud.

He carried a faint scent of cologne, now reduced to its mellow base notes by the time it reached her.

The cool serenity and lingering charm of Buddhist monasteries wrapped around her until midnight. Ji Zhen Tang kissed him, falling softly into the sound of water. Using fragrance as a time machine was a sly move; it made her close her eyes and forget the day, forget whether this was a foreign land or home.

But Ji Zhen Tang didn’t cling too hard to reality, because wherever he was, that was her home.

She now firmly believed this.

With her last bit of consciousness, she opened her mouth and whispered, “I’ll wait for you.”

One of the brand team’s renowned designers, Melody, was from the Canton region. Ji Zhen Tang met her in the second week after New Year’s Day.

She didn’t let Zhong Yu Bai come along, fearing that if he showed up, Melody would switch from being a mentor to a friend, and her sincerity would turn to flattery.

So, in her senior year at Art Institute’s training program, Ji Zhen Tang slowly found her path, learning from internationally acclaimed jewelry designers and coming to understand the limitations of book knowledge.

What she learned in school was quite basic. When it came to brand operations—strategizing, planning, considering the business beyond the product, and paying attention to every detail—there was still so much to learn.

Zhong Yu Bai often returned to her, but worried that she wouldn’t adjust to living alone, he gifted her a cat.

He was overthinking; Ji Zhen Tang made new friends, and her social circle gradually became lively.

She spent the New Year with Melody and her group, chatting with him on New Year’s Eve, giving him an update on her studies, talking about whatever came to mind—

“I showed my friends the account I manage, and they loved the Chinese cultural creativity. They’re fascinated by the charm of our region. The rain in here is hot, humid, and sudden, like an impulsive yet passionate young man, while the rain in Jiangnan is light, gentle, like a kind-hearted girl.”

“I feel now that you were absolutely right about that ‘turn of luck’ you mentioned. If my creative work didn’t feature Dr. Zhu’s stunning face, it would likely go unnoticed.”

“Though I want to be part of this project, there’s no way I’ll stay here working for this brand indefinitely. I’m determined to learn useful operational strategies to set up my own studio, maybe even my own company. Plus, I want to meet valuable connections, people worth knowing.”

“Everyone here comes from different backgrounds, and being in such a diverse place makes me feel that every person has limitless potential.”

“Hello, are you listening, Mr. Zhong?”

After her chatter, a hoarse voice from the other end replied, “I’m listening. Happy New Year.”

Ji Zhen Tang looked at her phone and checked the time. “Wow, really?! I’m eating durian in Chinatown—Happy New Year!!”

She looked up, and amidst the voices of Chinese people counting down around her, fireworks bloomed in the night sky.

Zhong Yu Bai smiled gently, glancing out the window. “It’s snowing in Qingcheng.”

After returning to the country, he had fallen ill from moving back and forth between hot and cold environments, leaving even his usually robust self weakened and bedridden. It was just a mild cold, not severe, but as he sat dazed in his office, his energy and focus were deeply hindered.

He leaned his head against his hand, massaging his temples, unable to snap out of it. By the third day of the new lunar year, he was already sitting in his bleak, silent office. The alternation of heat and cold not only impacted him physically but also stirred up subtle fluctuations in his mood.

Looking out at the depths of winter, he saw that this year, an unexpected cold front had swept through the usually snowless southern regions, blanketing everything in snow, freezing the lake, and leaving the ancient temple in the distance as a faint silhouette in the mist.

What should have been a golden, love-filled sunset was now a somber gray.

With a feeling of emptiness, Zhong Yu Bai stood at the window, observing the scene outside.

It wasn’t until Ding Jialing arrived with medicine and a cup of tea that he snapped back to reality.

Ding Jialing cleared the empty desk, noticing the untouched medication. “Hey, how come you still haven’t taken this morning’s meds?”

Zhong Yu Bai glanced at it, replying, “Forgot.”

He took the medicine.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take it—he truly forgot.

He then looked at the ever-diligent Ding Jialing and smiled, a bit apologetically. “You’re working so hard. Just let Xiao Gao handle it.”

Ding Jialing sighed with exasperation, “I don’t get it. Whether it’s me or Xiao Gao, I don’t mind helping. But I don’t understand why you’re so wary about hiring a few employees. Does it really require so much caution?”

Zhong Yu Bai drank a few sips of warm water, sitting in the comfortable sofa with the water cup in hand, gazing at his computer screen, slowly zoning out.

In truth, he didn’t trust others easily, especially in his work at Boyang, where everyone treaded carefully, and Zhong Yu Bai was no exception.

Fear can sometimes be relative.

He seemed like a prisoner, locked in this massive glass box, for many years now.

Returning to the country back then with evidence of his second brother’s crimes was meant to seek justice for his mother. When that matter concluded, he simply stayed.

Because, really, there was nowhere else to go.

So he remained at the Zhong family estate, where no one thought of him anymore. Over the years, he completed the daily tasks of survival in a busy and mechanical way.

Zhong Yu Bai had long ago lost any desire for wealth. He would rise early to burn incense and look through fragrance books, but all he ever received were scents to attract wealth. When others flattered him, he just let it pass.

How did life turn gray after achieving both fame and fortune?

Zhong Yu Bai said, “Thank you. I’ll be hiring new people tomorrow. You can clock out for the day—I’ll ask someone else to drive tonight.”

Ding Jialing looked at him with an expression full of meaning, smiling and shaking his head.

Noticing Ding hadn’t left, Zhong Yu Bai asked, “How have these past years been at Boyang?”

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t wronged you in any way, have I?”

Ding Jialing replied, “Of course not.”

Zhong Yu Bai let out a faint “hmm” and, after a moment, remarked, “The New Year is over, and some things that need addressing should be dealt with.”

“You mean—?”

Zhong Yu Bai thought it over. “But until now, I haven’t figured out a good way to handle it. I’m talking about Zhong Yu.”

Speaking so directly was his way of asking Ding Jialing to offer a suggestion.

Ding Jialing understood his concerns and immediately reported, “The young master has been staying in the west wing recently and hasn’t returned to the main Zhong estate. He’s more restrained now than when he first arrived, perhaps because the second young mistress has also been doing better recently.”

With a sigh, he added, “Ah, people need something to hold onto, something positive to strive toward. If all they think about is vengeance, who wouldn’t go mad? Family reunions, however melodramatic, are surprisingly therapeutic.”

Zhong Yu Bai pondered his last comment: *family reunions, however melodramatic, are surprisingly therapeutic.*

He remained silent for a long while, just looking at Ding Jialing.

Slowly, Zhong Yu Bai revealed the true reason for Zhong Yu’s restraint: “You’re right. If his mother weren’t still alive, he’d probably turn into another me.”

He spoke objectively and with calm detachment, as if he were merely a spectator of the bloody schemes that had unfolded.

People always collapse at their vulnerabilities, yielding to warmth.

On that day, Zhong Yu called him for New Year’s greetings—well, barely a greeting, with words dripping in hostility: “Zhong Yu Bai, I lost. But it wasn’t to you. I lost to my mother. After the New Year, I’ll return to Gothenburg. I hope you can leave her out of this.”

Even through the phone, he could hear the tremor in Zhong Yu’s voice, each word a carefully restrained plea wrapped in pride.

Zhong Yu Bai was silent for a few seconds before saying, “Don’t you want to stay and spend her final years with her?”

Zhong Yu hesitated. “What do you mean?”

Zhong Yu Bai left it at that and hung up.

He stopped thinking about how to handle the matter, letting his mind relax slightly.

Then he took from the safe the watch Chen Yinglian had left him and carefully unfolded the damp handkerchief tightly wedged inside.

Bracing himself, he opened it for a look.

There were only four characters written on it, in blood.

Over the years, the handwriting had faded and become blurry.

But these four characters were simple, with each stroke still clearly visible at a glance.

His Adam’s apple trembled slightly as he sat in the dim office, adjusting his glasses, and stayed that way for a long, long time. Zhong Yu Bai did nothing else, sitting on the sofa until late at night, accompanied only by that handkerchief.

A few days later, he paid a visit to the west wing.

Despite all the grudges he held against his second brother and sister-in-law, he handled things properly and sent them a New Year’s gift. It was a large courtyard, and he had long forgotten what he felt the last time he walked out that door. This time, he was calm.

But his purpose was far from friendly—Zhong Yu Bai was there to settle a score.

Not long before, Zhong Yu had tailed him in his car.

Later, Zhong Yu Bai sent Xiao Gao to keep watch at Ji Zhen Tang’s school gate, where he actually discovered some suspicious individuals.

If it weren’t for Xiao Gao’s vigilance, the consequences could have been unimaginable.

Zhong Yu had tried everything to attack his weak points, but his skills were far from sufficient.

Instead of capturing his target, he ended up captured himself.

Outside the courtyard, before the car even came to a stop, Zhong Yu Bai spotted Xue Jinyun sitting in the warm sunlight, with Zhong Yu by her side, reading poetry to her. The woman’s hair had turned gray, and in her somewhat muddled state, she wore a faint smile, softening her once-sharp features.

She tugged absentmindedly at her white hair, listening to her son speak.

Holding a book, Zhong Yu looked down at the words, his face free from its usual gloom, embodying only a scholarly grace as he took on the role of a son.

Zhong Yu Bai watched quietly, feeling a sudden pang of reluctance.

Reluctance to interrupt this rare moment of peace between mother and son.

He raised his hand slightly and told the driver, “Let’s stop here.”

From the car, he listened as Zhong Yu finished reading “Mooring by Maple Bridge at Night.”

*”From the Cold Mountain Temple outside Suzhou, the midnight bell reaches the guest boat.”*

So it wasn’t some profound literature, just a simple poem that every Chinese person knows.

Zhong Yu chuckled and said, “Do you remember, Mom? You taught me this when I was young. In recent years, while I was away, I often revisited these first- and second-grade poems. I realized that Chinese people have a unique way of expressing homesickness.”

As he spoke, his smile held a rare gentleness.

The sunlight seemed to beautify everything.

Through the muted colors of the car window, Zhong Yu Bai watched for a long time, until their faces blurred, leaving only two figures leaning close together.

Those two figures brought back memories for him.

In the end, he left the gifts at the door. Zhong Yu Bai instructed the driver to move on, ultimately deciding not to disturb them.

After the New Year, Boyang held a meeting.

A meeting related to a share transfer.

Zhong Yu Bai didn’t make a big announcement—he only called in a few shareholders of Boyang and didn’t give any advance notice. During the meeting, he introduced his idea of stepping down.

Amid gasps of surprise, Zhong Yu Bai continued calmly, dividing his shares into a 3-3-4 split, like cutting a cake. The larger portion would go to his eldest brother, Zhong Jing, who would then manage the company.

Of the remaining shares, he would keep one part for himself, with another portion allocated to Zhong Yu.

At that moment, Zhong Yu, sitting by his side, was utterly stunned. He wanted to ask why, but he couldn’t get the words out.

Seeing his confusion, Zhong Yu Bai offered an explanation, disregarding the others in the room. “I can’t give you everything you want, but I’m giving you this portion out of sentiment. Learn well from your uncle.”

Zhong Yu Bai’s gaze was sharp and resolute as he looked at Zhong Yu.

His words were clear, yet also vague. Words like “sentiment” subtly hinted that this was an act of grace, and that, in his view, Zhong Yu Bai didn’t owe the Zhong family anything.

After the meeting, Ding Jialing, who had been following him, couldn’t help but ask why he had finally decided to separate himself from Boyang.

Looking at the now-clear sky outside and the ground that still resembled a wasteland, Zhong Yu Bai replied, “I used to think there was no one in this world who truly cared about me, so I stopped worrying about my own future. But I was wrong.”

Those who love him will never leave; they’ll just find another way to stay in this world.

He believed that sentiment, feeling her presence constantly.

She was the sunlight, the rain, the leaves, even the dust on him, observing his every move, turning everything he cared about into her deepest concern.

Ding Jialing looked at his tall figure, half-understanding.

Zhong Yu Bai thought deeply, then turned back to look at Ding Jialing. “Come with me,” he said.

Ding Jialing hesitated, “But…what about those external partnerships?”

“No need to keep close watch. If they’re profitable, we’ll collect. No losses, at least.”

Zhong Yu Bai wasn’t naïve; he was simply giving back to the Zhong family what originally belonged to them.

He wouldn’t let go of the “eggs in the basket”—he still held the net, only now shifting from company investment to his personal one.

It was a well-calculated, prudent move. Zhong Yu Bai would never let himself lose. Only by shedding his shackles could he reach greater heights.

Ding Jialing looked down at the share transfer agreement and sighed, “You’re really willing to let go.”

Glancing at the document, Zhong Yu Bai said casually, “It’s just a partial cut. Among current shareholders, I’m still one of the largest. Getting others to work for me—why not?”

After considering it, Ding Jialing agreed and smiled, “So now, Boyang’s survival isn’t your concern?”

“If it survives, it earns for me. If it dies, I don’t need to clean up the mess.”

Zhong Yu Bai’s lips curled in ease. “Zhao Gu’s play stopped abruptly, without leaving an ending for the audience. Now you have to fill in the gaps, imagine, even live it out.”

Only when one becomes part of the story, struggling to understand the ending in times of hardship, do they trace back to the beginning and find glimpses of what might come after.

“Funny how, in the end, I just want peace and ease.”

Under the longing tree in Zhong’s residence, Zhong Yu Bai looked up at its crown.

After looking at it for a while, Zhong Yu Bai called over the gardener who handled cleaning and, without a trace of reluctance, said, “Find someone to come and cut down this tree.”

Sitting in the cold living room, listening to the sound of machines sawing through wood outside, Zhong Yu Bai took out the handkerchief his mother had left him.

On this dreary winter day, sunlight streamed through the ornate window panes, briefly clearing away the dust and revealing four clear characters in his gaze—

“Freedom” and “Joy.”

It is said that everything in this world has a cycle of cause and effect, but who would have thought that love, too, follows a circular path.

—

In March, just before Ji Zhen Tang’s birthday, the rainy season in Xingzhou came to an end. With less rain, she flipped through a Chinese calendar, checking the seasonal cycles and thinking about how spring must be approaching in her hometown.

Before leaving the teahouse last year, Ji Zhen Tang had made a promise with Shen Shu, saying that when the crabapple flowers bloomed next year, he should give her a call. Whether or not she could go back to see it, she wanted to know as soon as possible.

And so, she spent a long March in anticipation.

But on her birthday, the call she was waiting for from Shen Shu didn’t come. Instead, an old acquaintance made an appearance.

After wrapping up some work matters with Melody and walking out of the company’s headquarters, Ji Zhen Tang looked up in the dazzling sunlight and saw a man in a crisp suit leaning against a car.

In a moment of pure joy, she sprinted over—

“Ding Jialing!! Long time no see, I’ve missed you so much!”

Though she said she missed him, the moment she reached the car, her hand quickly pulled open the door.

The next second, she saw the empty interior and let out a sigh, feeling disappointed.

Hearing Ding Jialing beside her say, “Happy birthday, Miss Ji.”

He had a gentle smile, full of warmth.

Ji Zhen Tang, however, couldn’t match his warmth. “Is he still busy tidying up things?”

Ding Jialing took a small step forward, with a slightly enigmatic expression, and said softly, “The crabapple is in bloom, and all is well.”

It was as if he were delivering a carefully prepared report.

She couldn’t help but smile.

There was a good chance this message had come from Zhong Yu Bai, and Ji Zhen Tang could even picture the calm, thoughtful look on his face when he’d said it—more refined and profound than Ding Jialing’s delivery.

Thinking this, she got into the car and quickly asked, “Where are you taking me?”

He replied, “Mr. Zhong prepared a birthday surprise for you.”

As he spoke, he handed her an envelope and said, “A small gift.”

Ji Zhen Tang quickly opened it and pulled out a photo of them taken back at the teahouse.

In the vibrant spring, with the crabapple trees yet untouched by rain, they sat among the blossoms, their smiles gentle and serene, like the quiet ending of a story. Back then, their entanglement wasn’t so deep; they were still tentatively probing the boundary between liking and love.

“I really like this one.”

She looked at the photo, a smile forming as she cherished this beauty that had passed yet felt eternal.

Then, Ji Zhen Tang looked up at the road sign outside, her smile vanishing abruptly as she looked out at the sea. In shock, she asked, “Wait, are we going to Liulu Bay?”

That evening, with the sunset painting the sky, she questioned him. He didn’t respond, only saying, “You’ll know once we get there.”

Ji Zhen Tang gripped the edge of the photo, her heart suddenly in disarray. “Do we… have to go?”

Ding Jialing gave a soft laugh and replied, “There’s no turning back, miss.”

He spoke without deeper intent, meaning it literally, but Ji Zhen Tang couldn’t help but hear more in his words. They were on a path with no return.

Misinterpreting his words, she felt a subtle sense of relief, smiling faintly as she gazed at the setting sun.

In the distance, she spotted a cruise ship docked at Liulu Bay, with the words “Noah’s Ark” engraved on its side.

She got out of the car, joining the group of tourists climbing the steps up, asking Ding Jialing as they went, “Is this… his ship? It’s huge.”

Ding Jialing replied, “It’s a ship that Mr. Zhong spent half a year building for you, Miss Ji.”

Ji Zhen Tang stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him in shock, “Seriously? For me…? This cruise ship?”

Ding Jialing smiled, answering with a question, “Miss Ji, do you know the story of Noah’s Ark?”

She thought for a moment, looked at the English words, and replied, “It’s a story from Genesis in the Bible, right? God unleashed a flood upon the world, and to escape it, Noah built an ark, sheltering his family and a selection of animals. Eventually, God relented, and they survived.”

Listening to her, Ding Jialing nodded, then continued to test her, “Do you know the meaning behind it?”

“Maybe…” Ji Zhen Tang pondered briefly, guessing, “It might symbolize faith? The faith to survive, perhaps.”

He replied, “And also salvation and rebirth.”

Her steps halted on the deck, and with the sunset reflecting off the sky and sea, the world seemed drenched in gold.

Standing on that radiant ground, Ji Zhen Tang looked down at the words “Noah’s Ark” underfoot, reflecting on the ideas of salvation and rebirth.

After a moment, she smiled and said, “I understand. But, you know, my ark isn’t a ship; it’s a person.”

Liulu Bay—the place where she’d once fallen off a boat, washed ashore through bloodstained waters. Her mother had told her never to look back, never to bring up this piece of history.

After so many years, secrets were no longer secrets. Here, someone had built her a new ark.

At that moment, she understood Zhong Yu Bai’s intent.

Where the last chapter broke off, the next would set sail. Lowering her head, Ji Zhen Tang stepped down into the slightly lower part of the cabin. In the golden evening light, soft rays illuminated the paintings hanging on the walls.

Seeing these youthful, vivid works from her childhood, she froze in place.

Those bold, radiant strokes—once buried and nearly forgotten in a dusty box—were now framed on the walls, sunlit, for all to see.

He cherished every word she had spoken.

Last year for her birthday, he’d gifted her a tea house and a field of flowers.

For this year’s birthday, Zhong Yu Bai had arranged an art exhibition for her, fulfilling her last uncompleted dream.

The art exhibition was titled *Fly Free*.

She walked past each painting, reaching the end of the path.

Standing before a beautifully framed painting, Ji Zhen Tang felt a surge of emotion, a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to take out her phone to snap a few pictures as mementos.

While rummaging through her bag for her phone, she accidentally pulled out a thin piece of paper.

Her little gift had fallen to the floor.

Ji Zhen Tang quickly bent down to pick it up.

The photo was lying face down, and to her surprise, she noticed that Zhong Yu Bai had written something on the back.

His handwriting was powerful and steady, just like the man himself—dignified and refined.

She couldn’t bear to rush through it and read each word slowly, savoring it.

*”Today, the sea of flowers blooms for you, spreading over hills and valleys. And I still long to love you without concern for the journey’s end.”*

As she finished silently reading this line of affection, steady footsteps approached and finally stopped right in front of her.

“Ah Zhen.”

Zhong Yu Bai smiled gently, his voice deep, slow, and magnetic, carried to her ear by the sea breeze.

“Happy birthday. I love you.”

He had once said that he wanted to celebrate her birthday with her again next year.

She had told him that as a child, she had always dreamed of holding an art exhibition, and if she could name it, it would be *The Free Bird*.

She had also told him that declaring love at sunset made the long night seem less arduous.

So he had come at the right time to make it all come true for her.

Golden light spilled onto the ground, the setting sun sinking into the sea in a spectacular farewell, guarding each of her pure and unblemished dreams.

It was the highest form of romance he could offer her.

Ji Zhen Tang looked up and saw her *Noah’s Ark*.

**[The End]**

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