Shoulder to shoulder, they strolled slowly up the slope beneath the streetlights’ glow.

No buses ran back this late, so Chen Dao planned to borrow a bed from Uncle Zhao.

Surely the gift that left him 320 yuan in debt warranted a meal and one night’s stay?

“When did you contact my aunt?”

Xia Jiuli asked curiously, fingers gently rubbing the shell’s slightly rough surface inside her down jacket pocket, as if searching for some hidden reply.

“Around five years later?”

Chen Dao paused. In his past life, he hadn’t just chased money—he’d tried learning about Xia Jiuli too, but she never shared a word.

He knew he meant nothing to her. How could he expect honesty?

All he’d gathered were scraps from their class advisor.

He still recalled turning twenty-five, traveling to Xiangzhou for business, finding his way to her aunt’s house… yet too afraid to ask about her.

Now, he felt he’d inched just a little closer.

What his future self failed to do, his past self had accomplished. Not bad at all.

“What about this time?”

“I called when we arrived. They were really worried.”

Xia Jiuli frowned, catching Chen Dao’s faint panic.

She understood his thoughts well enough—she just refused to keep guessing.

Even if the world ended, Chen Dao’s mouth would still run.

And this shell in her hand? It was his answer.

*Send him the shell when you can’t see a way out.* Two meanings: he’d meet her before she took her life without stopping her; and he couldn’t walk beside her forever.

Whether she used Chen Dao as an “excuse” to live or not, the path remained hers alone—damp, muddy, clinging. Even on a bright summer day, she might cry, whispering she’d dreamed of her mother.

Hands clasped behind her back, fingers tracing the shell, she quickened her steps.

“Can I call this a token of affection?”

A light shoulder bump, then a glance upward—a casual combo that sent Chen Dao dodging left, putting distance between them in a flash.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not dating anyone!”

He grumbled under his breath, seemingly ready to take that sharp tongue to the grave.

Chattering all the way up the slope, they spotted Zhao Lexuan’s relative waiting—phone gripped tight, poised to call the police.

Relief washed over the man the moment he saw them.

Auntie Zhao generously offered a room, bathroom, and spare clothes.

Uncle Zhao laid out a feast: seafood perfection, home-style dishes equally superb.

Xia Jiuli, a total lightweight, giggled after one sip and insisted on cartwheels until Auntie Zhao ushered her to bed.

Chen Dao and Uncle Zhao drank merrily. Not one to freeload, Chen Dao suggested moving the shop downtown and guided Auntie Zhao through food-delivery app setup—Uncle Zhao, aging and unfamiliar with the booming group-buying scene, listened intently.

Chen Dao left his number, promising help anytime.

Next morning: dry clothes, clear heads, Xia Jiuli calmer.

After breakfast, Bus Route 56 carried them away.

Side by side they sat—Xia Jiuli by the window, Chen Dao on the aisle.

Morning light gilded her hair caramel, framing her delicate face, softening her faint smile.

Then—a frown. She tilted her head toward the passing streets.

Confusion melted into relief. A light sniff (checking for odors?), fingers smoothing stray bangs and temple strands, a soft sigh escaping—

“Chen… Dao?”

She turned. Met Chen Dao’s unwavering gaze. Words vanished.

*He saw everything.*

Mortified!

She jerked away—then stilled. No need to hide. Slowly, she turned back, ethereal profile returning to his view, cheeks flushed, meeting his eyes again.

A blink. A gentle bite on her lower lip.

As her plump cherry lips released, she whispered:

“I-I-I’m telling my aunt about you… D-Do you feel scared?”

“Huh? What’s it to me?”

Chen Dao had zero interest in entanglements.

Xia Jiuli puffed her cheeks like a hamster, turning away.

“I can’t say I came touring! This is Xinchi—eight hundred kilometers!”

Slight irritation colored her tone.

“I want to introduce you… I stayed at your place. You saved me.”

She looked away again, done with his clueless face.

“Me? No way. Haven’t farmed enough gear. Not ready for the boss.”

Xia Baixiao wasn’t as easy to fool as Xia Jiuli. Chen Dao needed more leveling up.

(Though her real question hung unspoken: *Hey Chen… want a wife?*)

He definitely wouldn’t reply, *“Sure! Deliver her tomorrow?”*

“How do I explain it back home?”

Her voice muffled but determined.

She couldn’t hide it—running eight hundred kilometers from home? Unreasonable.

And she couldn’t claim she was *reborn*, could she?

“Say it was an online friend meetup.”

Chen Dao’s only plausible cover: an orphaned high school girl meeting an internet buddy for comfort… only to find a kid, returning home defeated.

Still, her words hinted she wouldn’t seek darkness again. He could finally focus on studies.

But the clean severance left Xia Jiuli with a sour taste.

Chen Dao, oblivious to her expression, missed it entirely.

Time to regain ground.

“So… I’ll stay at your place these next days. You don’t mind?”

“Uh… How about alternating bed nights? My neck nearly broke last time…”

“Then… half each?”

Chen Dao blinked. Turned.

Xia Jiuli faced away—ears already flushed crimson.