Physical wounds do not touch the heart, so they are of little consequence.

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Xiao Qi lay sprawled on the sofa like a corpse—her signal transmitter was nowhere to be found, Xiao Bai had crashed again, and she truly felt as if all hope was lost.

Fang Yun opened the door and entered. “What’s wrong? You look so down.”

“Auntie, I forgot to get Lin Yichen’s signature on that poster.”

“Oh, is that all?” Fang Yun pulled her up. “You just forgot, it’s not like he refused. Besides, you can just go find him again.”

Xiao Qi anxiously twisted her plump fingertips. “Auntie, I don’t want to go see him.”

Fang Yun sat beside her, lowering her gaze to Xiao Qi’s face. “Then who do you want to see?”

“I want to see…”

Suddenly, a voice called out, “Xiyang!”

Xiao Qi had already gotten used to being called Xiyang. She immediately ran out. “Yiyang, what brings you here?”

Yiyang looked down at her, grinning broadly. “I’m here to have a drink with you! I’ve reserved this whole place today.”

Xiao Qi gave him a look that said he was being wasteful. “Isn’t this a bit extravagant?”

“Don’t worry. My family is rolling in it—I couldn’t waste it all if I tried.”

With that, he slung his arm around Xiao Qi and led her to the dining table.

Behind them, Fang Yun watched their playful exchange.

Was it possible that the amnesiac Xiyang had fallen for Lin Yiyang? This young man—knowing full well that Xiyang and his brother used to be a couple—was still trying to wedge himself in. Not to mention, Xiyang was six years older than him! But even after these five years, Xiyang looked just as she always had—a young girl. People say time spares no one, but for Xiyang, time seemed to stand still. Xiyang, the ageless one.

“Xiyang, cheers!”

Xiao Qi remembered how easily she got drunk last time, just after a sip. She decided not to drink.

“Yiyang, I can’t handle alcohol. Is it okay if I just have juice?”

“Of course,” Yiyang replied easily. “You never really drank before, either. My brother would shoot you a look if you did, and you’d instantly act like the perfect little wife.”

“…”

Yiyang didn’t bother with glasses, just took the wine glass and started downing it.

Xiao Qi noticed he didn’t seem too happy. “Yiyang, drinking like that is bad for your health.”

Yiyang forced a smile. “It might hurt my body, but at least it doesn’t hurt my heart. So it’s fine.”

What did he mean by that?

On Earth, people smile when they’re happy. They cry when they’re sad.

Xiao Qi scrutinized his handsome face. His lips were curved upward—he should be smiling, right? But why did he look so sad? Was it because Lin Yichen had locked him up? Right, wasn’t he supposed to be confined at Lin Yichen’s villa?

“Yiyang, did you sneak out again?”

“What do you mean ‘again’? I’m here for my art exhibition—I have the freedom to live my life,” Yiyang didn’t want to elaborate, and took another swig.

“Yiyang, don’t drink so much. You’ll get drunk.”

“Getting drunk is the point. When I’m drunk, I don’t have to think about so many things.”

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Hmm? Why did Yiyang seem different from before? He looked really unhappy. What could be the reason?

With a thud, the bottle slipped to the floor. Yiyang was slumped over the table, reeking of alcohol.

Was he drunk?

Xiao Qi stood up, picked up the bottle from the floor, and nudged him. “Yiyang?”

“Why don’t you like me? Why?” Yiyang mumbled, “Why did you leave only to come back? If you don’t like me, then why send me messages… why…”

“Yiyang, what are you talking about?” Xiao Qi was curious, leaning in to hear more clearly. Unexpectedly, Yiyang suddenly raised his head and grabbed her hand. “Why? Tell me why…”

Xiao Qi’s eyes flew wide open—her skin covering had slipped.

“Yiyang, let go!”

Yiyang gave a forceful tug.

The skin covering on her hand came off in his grip.

“It’s over—without the skin covering, the freezing defense system will activate.”

Xiao Qi immediately ran into the bedroom and wrapped herself in a quilt.

She felt icy cold all over; her face and lips turned deathly pale in an instant.

Her phone rang from somewhere on her body, but her hands were so numb with cold that she couldn’t hold it, and it slipped to the edge of the bed.

The phone kept ringing, but no one answered on the other end.

Lin Yichen, driving, frowned and located her position.

Ten minutes later, Yichen arrived at the restaurant, which was empty.

“Aunt Fang?”

Hearing his voice, Fang Yun hurried over. At the sight of the tall man, she knew who he was looking for.

“You’re finally here—Xiyang is inside drinking with your brother!”

Yichen’s face darkened as he strode inside.

He found Yiyang slumped over the table, dead drunk.

“How did he get so drunk?” Fang Yun glanced around. “Wait, where’s Xiyang?”

Yichen took out his phone and called Fang Li, asking him to take Yiyang home.

He hadn’t been sure Yiyang would actually come here, but he had. It was the perfect chance to find both Yiyang and Xiyang.

His dark eyes scanned the area. “Aunt Fang, are there any rooms here?”

“Yes, yes,” Fang Yun pointed to the left. “Go left, it’s Xiyang’s usual resting room.”

Yichen headed in that direction.

Fang Yun was puzzled.

Yiyang was drunk—why wasn’t Xiyang taking care of him?

Could it be that Xiyang didn’t like Yiyang?

Thinking this, Fang Yun smiled.

Good, that’s just as well—Xiyang and Yichen were the perfect match.

Lin Yichen stood outside the door and knocked a few times. There was no answer.

“Xiyang?”

He pulled out his phone and called her. The ringtone sounded from inside.

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Confirming she was inside, he pushed the door open.

A small lump was huddled under the covers.

The phone was still lit up on the edge of the bed.

He picked it up and glanced at the screen.

His name was displayed on it—"Lin the Rascal." He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Xiyang?”

Yichen tapped the blanket.

Looking carefully, the whole bundle was trembling.

“Xiyang?”

He pulled back the covers in one swift motion. The person before him was drenched in cold sweat, her complexion white as paper.

“Xiyang, what’s wrong?” When he touched her hand, it was ice cold.

“Xiyang, are you sick? I—”

The moment she felt the warmth of his hand, Xiao Qi threw herself into his arms, nestling into his embrace as if she’d found the very source of life, desperately absorbing his body heat. “Hold me… hold me tight…”

He was so warm, unlike anyone else on Earth—warmer than the sun, warmer than a furnace.

Wasn’t sunlight supposed to mean warmth? Then why was this man so much warmer?

Xiao Qi clung tightly to his lean waist.

She was freezing, but to Yichen, this embrace felt incredibly warm—so warm that even the last trace of bitterness in his heart evaporated.

Let it be, he thought. Although Xiyang no longer remembered the past, she was here, by his side, holding him like this.

That was enough. The past could remain forever in the past, never to trouble him again.

Because he was so tired.

So very tired, and yearning for happiness.

Fang Yun noticed how long Yichen had been inside and, curiosity getting the better of her, tiptoed to the door and peered in.

Oh my, what luck—they were in each other’s arms.

There was hope yet.

She quietly closed the door.

The sky gradually lightened with the first hints of dawn.

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin floor-length curtains, casting a gentle glow over the two of them.

Xiao Qi’s delicate brows furrowed slightly; her cheek brushed against something warm and firm.

She nuzzled against it, feeling a bit puzzled, and instinctively reached out to grab it.

Hmm, why did it feel so familiar?

She slowly opened her sleepy eyes, only to see the white shirt of the person next to her—and her own hand resting…

She blinked her large eyes a few times, then a few more.

Raising her face, she looked straight into a pair of burning eyes and was left momentarily stunned.

“You’re awake?”

“Ahh! What are you doing here?” Xiao Qi shoved him away and leapt off the bed.