Shi Meng did not choose the route taken by other fishing boats, perhaps because this boat did not have a fixed direction to begin with.

When they drifted to a deserted area of ​​the sea, the sun was already high in the sky, illuminating the cockpit brightly.

Fu Xuanliao then took a closer look at the furnishings inside the cabin: tables, chairs, radar, walkie-talkies... all common amenities. However, there were not many signs of life on the ship; not even a drinking cup was to be found.

Looking around again, he was shocked to find that there was not even drinking water on the ship.

Fu Xuanliao guessed that the ship hadn't been out to sea for a while and was most likely rented out, so it had been moored at the dock.

The person who rented the boat was sitting cross-legged on the ground, holding the steering wheel with one hand. His body remained almost motionless except for the swaying of the boat, as if he were asleep.

Fu Xuanliao shifted his position, making a sound. He "woke up" again, turning his head to look over with cold eyes, as if he were treating a trophy.

"How are you feeling?" More than why he left the hospital, Fu Xuanliao was worried about Shi Meng's injuries. "Does it still hurt?"

Upon hearing the word "pain," Shi Meng paused briefly, then released the steering wheel with his left hand and placed it on his chest, remaining silent.

Fu Xuanliao's hands were tied, but he was free to move. He tentatively took two steps forward and bent down in front of Shi Meng: "Let me see the wound."

Fearing that something might have happened to Shi Meng during the half-day he disappeared, since he was injured in the ribs and should have been resting in bed.

Fu Xuanliao stretched out his two bound hands to touch Shi Meng's tightly buttoned clothes, wanting to check if the wound had reopened, but Shi Meng turned away and dodged him.

Shi Meng wouldn't let him touch or look at her, and after a long while, she turned her back to him and said, "It's gone."

What's gone?

Fu Xuanliao wanted to ask more questions, but when he saw Shi Meng still stubbornly pressing his chest, he suddenly realized that the flame-shaped tattoo was right there, below his palm and above his ribs.

The tattoo is gone now. Shi Meng's broken rib was in that spot. It was kicked and ripped apart along with the skin, then cut open with a scalpel. Even if it heals, it will only leave an unsightly scar.

It turned out the flames had gone out.

Before he could even feel happy that he had understood Shi Meng's words, Fu Xuanliao looked at his thin figure and felt an indescribable sense of panic rising in his heart.

It was even more alarming than seeing him covered in blood and lifeless.

Fu Xuanliao seemed to understand Shi Meng's purpose in bringing him here.

“Let’s go back,” Fu Xuanliao said. “We’re not far from the shore now, so turning back will be easy.”

Shi Meng stared straight ahead, ignoring everything.

"Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

Still no answer.

“You haven’t finished your rabies vaccination course yet.” Fu Xuanliao tried to persuade him with another reason, “If you don’t finish it…”

Shi Meng suddenly interjected, "You'll die, won't you?"

Fu Xuanliao stood there, staring at Shi Meng's statue-like, calm profile, her pale lips parting slightly as she uttered the words he feared most.

"So what if I die?" Shi Meng turned to look at him again. "Didn't you want me to die?"

This time, Shi Meng did not use life and death as a bargaining chip.

He truly didn't care anymore. He once thought he would die if he couldn't get Fu Xuanliao's love, but not only did he not die, he has been lingering on until now.

It is clear that verbal curses have no effect. They are merely a way to get a momentary sense of superiority and intimidate the other party. After a few attempts, they become a joke, like the story of the boy who cried wolf.

Therefore, Shi Meng did not mean to hurt anyone by saying these words; he was merely stating the facts. It was an accidental discovery that Fu Xuanliao was frightened by his despairing tone.

"I don't……"

Fu Xuanliao only got a word in before giving up on defending himself. In the current situation, he had no grounds to exonerate himself.

He thought Shi Meng was heartbroken because of what he said on the phone. He was afraid that Shi Meng would get stuck in a rut, so he racked his brains to think of other reasons to awaken Shi Meng's desire to live.

"The police are already investigating. Don't you want them to catch the person who hurt you as soon as possible?"

Shi Meng turned away, showing no interest whatsoever.

"Do you know... about being switched?" Fu Xuanliao hesitated, but had to say, "Actually, you are Aunt Li's son, and Aunt Li is your biological mother. You are not without anyone—"

He wanted to say that you are not unloved, and that the woman surnamed Yang did not like you because you are not good enough. In the future, many people will be good to you, including me.

However, he was interrupted. Shi Meng's voice was calm but firm: "I know."

Lying in the rain that day, Shi Meng grasped the last wisp of vague consciousness and quietly pondered, connecting all the strange details. They all pointed to the same result, which was the result Fu Xuanliao had told him.

But what good will knowing do? Can time go back twenty-five years? Even if it could, who can guarantee that things won't go wrong this time?

Even if we're lucky enough to avoid any mistakes, will life definitely follow a predetermined path? Can we simply ignore all those obstacles and variables?

Shi Meng didn't even know what love should look like.

He has never experienced love, so how can he know whether love is good or bad?

So even if he can't have it, it doesn't matter, he doesn't want it anymore.

As the ship drifted on the sea, Fu Xuanliao's heart rose and fell with it.

Shi Meng was like a candle with a water-soaked wick, impossible to light.

Before boarding the ship, Fu Xuanliao still held some hope that Shi Meng's return to him after running away from the hospital was because she cherished their past relationship and wanted to continue it.

He even naively thought that after finding Shi Meng, they could get to know each other again and start over. But he forgot that their misplaced relationship had accumulated over the years and was deeply rooted. Their beginnings were contrary to the concept of beauty, and it was impossible for changes in identity and values, or the resolution of misunderstandings, to heal the festering wounds without leaving a trace.

Now he has no time to think about why he doesn't want Shi Meng to give up; he only focuses on the present and hopes that Shi Meng can cheer up and live on.

Only now has Fu Xuanliao finally admitted that when he saw Shi Meng sitting on the windowsill, teetering on the edge, he was more worried about Shi Meng's safety than about the painting.

However, he couldn't think of anything else that could attract Shi Meng. In the past, he didn't need to do anything; he could just stay there, and Shi Meng would stick to him. So much so that he never thought about what Shi Meng actually liked.

When Fu Xuanliao saw it, Meng took out a stack of papers and a very short pencil from the drawer under the table.

Shi Meng wanted to hold the pen with his right hand, but when he raised it, he remembered that he was injured and couldn't move. He looked a little angry with a sullen face, but he still wanted to draw, so he switched to holding the pen with his left hand and sketched lines on the paper with some clumsiness.

Oh, and he likes to draw!

Fu Xuanliao hurriedly said, "I also know that those drawings were given to me by you. They were simple sketches that you put in my desk." As he spoke, he stepped forward and said, "Your hand is injured. If you go back for treatment now, you still have a chance to recover to your previous condition."

The pen paused, and a hint of doubt appeared in Shi Meng's eyes, as if he was wondering how Shi Meng knew.

Then, an almost indifferent calm returned.

“But there’s a lot you don’t know,” Shi Meng said, turning to look out of the cabin. “For example, my book, ‘Flame,’ is on this ship.”

Fu Xuanliao's eyelid twitched.

His heart was also trembling.

That panic eventually spread, and he couldn't hold onto it or bring it back.

Shi Meng was no longer curious about how he knew about what happened back then, and told him the location of "Flame" so easily, even though not long ago Shi Meng had used this painting as a bargaining chip and a weapon to threaten him.

At the time, Shi Meng said the painting was hidden in a safe place and that "you can't find it," but it turned out it was hidden here.

Thinking back on his previous doubts about the true author of "Flame," an untimely thought, accompanied by a thunderous heartbeat, surfaced in Fu Xuanliao's mind at this moment.

Even more inappropriately, Fu Xuanliao recalled that although Shi Meng acted domineeringly, he only wanted what should belong to him. For example, the sapphire necklace. When Fu Xuanliao casually said that it was not for him, Shi Meng didn't want it and didn't even glance at it.

Shi Meng once declared to Fu Xuanliao, "You are mine."

Seizing upon valuable information, without bothering to verify it first, Fu Xuanliao immediately said, "I'm on this ship too, and I'm yours too."

He spoke these words without hesitation, purely on instinct, and therefore they sounded weak and powerless to my ears.

“You’re not.” Shi Meng looked down at the paper on the table. “You’ve never been mine.”

Only by telling myself this can I stop feeling so sad.

So he didn't even want Fu Xuanliao anymore.

The last possibility was declared invalid, and a tremendous sense of abandonment overwhelmed him. Fu Xuanliao stood there motionless for a long time.

As darkness fell and the wind picked up, the tide was about to rise. Fu Xuanliao had no choice but to hastily compose himself and find another way out. Taking advantage of Shi Meng's inattention, he grabbed the switchblade from the table, turned his back, and tried to pry it open with his two hands clasped together.

Hoping that Shi Meng would help him untie the ropes was impossible. Now that he was at sea, he had nowhere to run. Shi Meng had him tied up, but he was not allowed to operate the fishing boat.

But Fu Xuanliao was afraid that Shi Meng would do something foolish, so he had to take the initiative.

Although Shi Meng has not yet shown any signs of doing anything foolish, he is painting very seriously.

Fu Xuanliao fell silent, but Shi Meng became more talkative, perhaps because Fu Xuanliao hadn't come over to peek at him while he was painting, which put him in a good mood.

He asked in a casual tone, "Why don't you ask me why I ran away?"

As if knowing the answer was cruel, Fu Xuanliao remained silent.

Shi Meng then asked, "Then do you know why I hid 'Flame' here?"

Fu Xuanliao was unable to answer.

Shi Meng didn't expect to hear a reply, and continued the conversation on his own.

“But that’s not important.” Shi Meng drew a curved line on the paper, and the corners of his lips curled up slightly. “Anyway, it won’t be here soon.”