The sea was quiet as a mirror, swallowing the moon whole.
He stood there silently, gripping the lily a bit too tightly, his knuckles faintly white, but his palm held back, afraid of damaging it.
--It’s not a lily.
--It’s you.
Shen Yi had seen him criticize everything with a venomous disdain, but she had never seen him like this, clutching a flower, standing there almost pitifully.
She knew how hard it was for someone who preferred to speak of "hatred" rather than "love" to utter such an honest confession.
"I know you’re a little insecure."
On the sea, the moonlight shattered again in the wind, glinting in ripples.
His features flickered in the shifting light.
Shen Yi took a half-step forward, holding the flowers in her arms, reached out to embrace him, resting her head against his chest.
Through the fragrance of the bouquet.
"But this time, you have to trust me."
Shen Wenta stiffened for a moment, nearly dropping the lily in his hand. His fingers curled, then slowly tightened.
He looked down at her, seeing only the crown of her head and the nape of her neck, lit by the moon.
Shen Wenta remembered that, since she had grown up, they had rarely been this close. She no longer naturally drew near to him as she had when she was a child.
He had grown used to that distant politeness.
So when she suddenly pressed into him, his voice wavered, the tail end rising faintly as he denied it:
"...I’ve never not trusted you, have I?"
Shen Yi smiled. "That’s not certain. I know you better than you know yourself."
"..." He tried to hide that subtle stir of emotion, but when she unerringly saw through him, he fell into silence.
Sensing his quiet, Shen Yi tilted her head back slightly from his chest, her eyes curving as she gave him a smile.
"Don’t be mad."
Shen Wenta looked down at her, lifting his free hand to rest on the top of her head.
"...I’m not mad."
Shen Yi pointed out, "You are. Your face looks terrible."
"That’s the moonlight. Anyone would look pale under this light."
"You were trembling just now."
"It’s because the sea wind is too cold."
"..."
"Shen Wenta." She pressed her lips together, but couldn’t suppress her faint smile.
"Hmm?"
Shen Yi teased him with mock seriousness, "You’re hugging too tight. Our flowers are going to get crushed."
He paused, unusually obedient, and loosened his arms.
But just as he was about to pull away, Shen Yi reached out from behind the bouquet and grabbed the front of his shirt.
"A little longer. The flowers were meant to cheer you up," she murmured, her voice buried between the petals and the moonlight. "Now the flowers are useless."
Just as he needed to confirm her promise over and over again.
She, too, needed a little comfort.
After all, knowing ahead of time that you were doomed to die was terrifying.
Their embrace felt more like huddling together for warmth than a hug.
When he heard her words, Shen Wenta’s thoughts went blank for a moment.
...The flowers were meant to cheer him up.
To cheer him up.
He froze at first, then the joy that had been suppressed for so long rose like air bubbles from the bottom of the water, surfacing uncontrollably, gradually forming a smile.
Shen Yi had to admit, seeing him so ridiculously delighted was a bit foolish.
When he socialized with people, he would barely lift the corners of his mouth, grudging even a full smile.
Now the curve of his lips was too wide, discarding every bit of his usual dignified restraint.
Looking at him like this, Shen Yi couldn’t help but laugh too, pressing closer to him.
The wind came again, and the sea shattered into a thousand silver scales, rustling with sound.
Both of them thought, at the same time:
If only this moment could last forever.
Right now.
Only now.
…
That night, Shen Yi stayed in the adjacent suite Shen Wenta had arranged for her.
He had evicted the original guests beforehand to free up the space for her.
The next day, when she woke up, the door to the adjoining room was locked.
Shen Wenta was nowhere to be seen—he must have gone off to some social engagement.
He left no message, only having a server deliver breakfast to her door. On the tray was a note with three words: "Don’t wander off."
Shen Yi flipped the note over. The back was blank.
She folded it twice, tucked it into her pocket, and went out.
Shen Yi circled the main deck, passing several small lounges and a cigar room, then went down one level to the guest quarters.
The corridor was long, lined with neatly numbered doors and deep red carpet. Everything looked exactly what you’d expect from a high-end cruise ship.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Her whole walk yielded nothing.
Just as Shen Wenta had said, the place was too vast.
There were countless rooms alone, along with innumerable servers, guests, and staff of every rank maintaining order and preparing for the banquet.
Most of the people moving about the ship were foreigners. By mid-morning, Shen Yi was starting to lose track of faces, unable to tell who was who.
"Beautiful miss."
"Good afternoon—"
From a distance, his distinctive, heavily accented Chinese greeting caught her attention precisely.
Shen Yi turned to see Lorenzo Visconti crossing the deck toward her.
He had changed into a light blue casual suit, his collar open, no tie. His stereotypical Italian features stood out sharply in the daylight, like a model who had just stepped out of a vacation advertisement.
Shen Yi looked at him and twitched the corner of her mouth.
Last night, Shen Wenta had specifically mentioned this foreigner.
A good-for-nothing second-generation heir, the Visconti family’s social figurehead, whose future was either an arranged marriage or living as a trust-fund loser.
Lorenzo approached, wearing a standard ingratiating smile.
"Your brother isn’t here, is he?"
"No."
"Good."
Lorenzo looked visibly relieved. He grinned. "I wonder if I could have the honor of inviting you to a meal this time?"
Shen Yi turned down his invitation.
This Lorenzo made her deeply uncomfortable.
She had encountered many types of shady people, but only Lorenzo gave her the most dissonant feeling.
That deliberately faked aura of sunshine was eerily similar to what Shen Ruxu had shown at their first meeting.
Like a fake positive personality.
"Mr. Visconti·Lorenzo?" Shen Yi addressed him politely.
"You can call me Lorenzo." He smiled, revealing a row of even white teeth.
Shen Yi followed his lead easily. "Alright, sir."
Using the word "sir," she gently pushed aside the ladder he had extended to her. "How long will your banquet last?"
"Two nights, three days." He gestured with his hands, grinning, his tone relaxed and confident.
"Your brother is quite fierce. Perhaps it’s because you’re still too young, but, miss, you must understand that love doesn’t care about age. And I would be a perfect boyfriend. We’ll definitely be a good match in the future."
He said this while looking at her.
In those misty blue eyes, there was not a trace of flirtation—only a cold, calculating scrutiny.
