"Prepare a plane for me. Get everyone to go to the Pacific Ocean and search for her. If you don't find her, don't come back to see me."

After hanging up the phone, Luo Xiu walked out without looking back.

Luo Wuyan stood there stunned on the sofa, swirling her wine glass in her hand.

Luo Xiu turned around and glared at her: "You still have the mood to sit? Isn't she your best friend?"

Luo Wuyan immediately stood up, put down her wine glass, and followed Luo Xiu's steps: "I just can't accept this fact for the time being."

"That woman is clever and cunning. She might be trying to use her fake death as a smokescreen to avoid me. She's really going to great lengths to avoid me." Luo Xiu seemed to realize this after calming down.

Even so, Luo Xiu still mobilized a large number of people to search for Lu Zhiwei's whereabouts in the area where the plane crashed.

What if it really is an accident? Who knows what's true and what's false?

This devastating news also reached Yunzhou from across the ocean.

Upon hearing the news, Jiang Zhan, a family member, was utterly dejected and slumped back into his office chair.

A few seconds later, he suddenly sat up, recalling what Lu Zhiwei had told him before she left.

An Yang hurriedly knocked on the door of the president's office from the outside.

"President Jiang, something has happened."

"I've already heard about it." Jiang Zhan had regained his composure.

“But I think Sister Wei might be fine. Before boarding the plane this afternoon, she suddenly disguised herself as me and drove off in the car I used to take her to the airport. And that was a private plane without a pilot, I think…” An Yang calmly analyzed the situation with Jiang Zhan.

"Yes, I believe my sister is alright, but she must have her reasons for making all the media report on her crash. Let's just go with the flow and confirm that her plane crashed. Later, I'll take a few bodyguards and go to the Pacific Ocean to search for her. You take care of your work first."

Jiang Zhan quickly came up with a solution.

Since it's a play, there must be supporting characters in addition to the main characters.

An Yang was genuinely impressed by Jiang Zhan's ability to handle things: "You are becoming more and more like Sister Wei. No wonder she was willing to entrust the Lu family to you with peace of mind."

Every day after finishing his work, Shen Jiarui would visit Shen Jinmo, who was in a coma, at the hospital and give him rehabilitation massages.

At the bedside, he held Shen Jingmo's hand and said, "Brother, the plane my sister-in-law was on to go abroad crashed over the Pacific Ocean. The police haven't found her body yet, and I'm afraid there's no trace of her."

This is how it was reported in the news, and Shen Jiarui copied it verbatim to Shen Jinmo.

suddenly--

He seemed to feel Shen Jinmo's hand move slightly.

Shen Jiarui thought it was his imagination, so he lifted Shen Jinmo's hand and looked at it carefully.

The fingers are indeed moving.

"Doctor—my brother moved, he seems to have moved."

Overjoyed, Shen Jiarui rushed to the doctor's office, forgetting that he could press the call button directly in the ward.

A gentle breeze blew, and the seawater carried a salty, fishy smell.

Wearing a blue sundress and a straw hat with a round top, Lu Zhiwei stood on the deck of a cruise ship at sea, holding onto the railing and gazing at the boundless sea.

Azure sea and sky, magnificent mountains and rivers.

Her life is heading towards a much broader horizon.

——

Four years later.

The 9th art museum dedicated to healing the soul has been opened in the United States.

Unlike traditional art museums filled with paintings, this venue in the art capital of M country has only completed its architectural design and decoration; there are no paintings inside.

Three months ago, the curator recruited artists from all over the world, asking all artists to bring their paintings to the museum on the opening day and place them in the exhibition area.

Each visitor will be given a rose and will leave a rose below their favorite painting.

Those who have more roses can have their paintings exhibited in the museum for a long time and receive corresponding and generous compensation.

Inside a black, extended Bentley, a little boy of about five years old sat in the back seat. He was wearing a nice tie-dye T-shirt, loose pants, and a black baseball cap.

A delicate, fair face with exquisitely sculpted features, like a porcelain doll, and large, bright eyes.

The little guy was holding a painting, which was framed very beautifully.

He kept urging the driver, "Uncle Mike, could you please drive faster? My mommy's catching up. If she finds out I stole the painting and took it to an exhibition, she's going to spank me."

“Young Master, Madam has her reasons for not letting you publicize the painting. You should listen to her.”

"She's afraid my dad will recognize my paintings and find her, since she's the one who taught me to paint. But I'm almost five years old and I've never even met my dad. Is that reasonable?"

"Ah... well... I've never met your father either," Mike, the driver, chuckled.

"You must have met your dad, right?" the little guy asked Mike in his childish voice.

"certainly."

"You've all met your fathers, but I haven't. Isn't that unfair to me?"

The driver was speechless.

He was speechless because a five-year-old child had left him speechless.

Arrived at the art museum.

Mike parked the car and opened the door.

The little guy jumped out of the car, pulled his baseball cap down low, and, clutching a sign that was taller than himself, sneaked inside, looking every bit the thief.

After carrying the painting to the registration area, the staff looked at the little one and said, "Little friend, you're so thoughtful to help your parents carry the painting. Where are your parents?"

“This is my own painting.” Lu Anyu placed the painting on the table.

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