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Psst! We're moving!
Shang Zhitao finally found out about Luan Nian’s wild plan on the morning of their departure.
They were going to travel along a 13,000-kilometer border route, eventually returning to Beijing.
“So we’ll be on the road for thirty days straight!” Shang Zhitao sat in the passenger seat, suddenly excited. Luke barked: “What? I’m going on a journey of over ten thousand kilometers?”
“I originally wanted to take you to see the aurora, but it’s hard for us to leave the country. So,” Luan Nian shrugged, “let’s go!”
“I love the aurora, but I love being with you more. So, let’s go!”
“Let’s go!”
They set off under the morning glow. The northern highways were clear and smooth, and it was early June — early summer — everything thriving and lush green. Shang Zhitao was full of anticipation for the journey. She suddenly felt very grateful that Luan Nian had insisted she clear her schedule to join this crazy plan. After all, she was no longer at the age to act on a whim — yet here she was, with the always-whimsical Luan Nian.
“Why don’t we just travel the entire national border?” Shang Zhitao asked. “I can arrange my work! We can go for three months! Forget everything else!”
“There’s still time ahead of us.” Luan Nian turned to glance at her. “If you want, we can do this every year. I’ll join you every time.”
Shang Zhitao liked how he said join you every time, with his usual dominance and intensity, and his unintentional sexiness.
“But I only brought personal items. Nothing else, because I had no idea where we were going.”
“Everything’s in the trunk.”
“All my clothes?” Shang Zhitao was confused.
“Yes.” Luan Nian had picked out her travel wardrobe based on his own preferences. He was confident in his taste — she’d like it. And if she didn’t? She’d have to just deal with it.
Dr. Liang had always worried that Luan Nian would treat Shang Zhitao poorly. Before the trip, he warned him, “Listen to the girl more. Don’t speak so blunt and harsh.”
“If Zhitao gets tired or sick, you better take good care of her. If you take her out properly, bring her back properly.”
“And also, use protection. No getting pregnant before marriage.”
Luan Nian thought Dr. Liang was overly fond of Shang Zhitao, which he found amusing. He teased, “Aren’t I your son?”
Dr. Liang shook his head. “You’ve got a terrible temper. Zhitao’s a mentally and physically healthy person.”
Their car sped along the highway. Luan Nian handed Shang Zhitao a hand-drawn route map — his own sketch of China. He’d circled the destinations they would visit, though without labeling them. Apparently, he was really good at drawing.
“You’ve got good handwriting. When we stop at a rest area, you can add the writing.”
“Write what?”
“Day number, date, and corresponding location.”
“So we’ll have a travel map we created together?”
“Exactly.”
“Can we do this every trip?”
“We can.”
Had Luan Nian attended some kind of romance boot camp? Shang Zhitao was genuinely surprised. He had never been the soft, sentimental type. In the past, if she had done something like this, he would have laughed at her.
But this idea was amazing. He could draw, and she could write — they’d complete a travel map together.
At the rest area, they found a table. Luan Nian pulled out a box of colored pens. “Go ahead — start from today. Each mark represents a day.”
Shang Zhitao wrote carefully and finally saw the full route of their journey. She had no idea how long Luan Nian had been planning it, but he must have memorized every corner of the country.
From Mohe in the north to Manzhouli on the China-Russia border, from the Mongols’ sacred Argun River to the city of Arxan in the Greater Khingan Range, from Xilingol’s meandering rivers to the poplar forests of Ejina, from the dreamy Keketuohai to Kanas, from Alashankou to the Nalati grasslands, from exotic Kashgar to the desolate Ali region, from sacred mountains and lakes to Everest Base Camp, from Shigatse to the pilgrimage site of Lhasa, and from Lhasa to the sunlit city of Nyingchi. This was the route Luan Nian had mapped — crossing mountains and seas, finally arriving at the gate of time.
They would pass through mountains and grasslands, cross uninhabited zones and snowy lakes. The end of one road would lead to another. Beyond one mountain was yet another.
To Shang Zhitao, this journey was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.
As she wrote the dates, she asked, “Did you plan this for a long time?”
“Of course.” Luan Nian smiled at how silly her question was.
“Then why didn’t you let me help plan?”
Luan Nian couldn’t tell her the truth — Because this is my honeymoon gift to you.
The map turned out beautifully. Shang Zhitao picked it up and couldn’t stop admiring it. She really wanted to show it off. “Can you take a picture of me holding the map? I want to post it on my Moments.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I drew it. You have to take the photo with me.”
Luan Nian set up a tripod. He leaned against the car casually. Shang Zhitao held the large map in both hands. Luke sat in front of them. Shang Zhitao smiled at the camera, and Luan Nian smiled at her — it looked like a professional travel ad.
Shang Zhitao posted:
“With Mr. Luan, traversing mountains and rivers.”
Luan Nian glanced at it and posted his own — basically copying hers:
“With Ms. Shang, traversing mountains and rivers.”
Everyone knew what these posts meant.
It meant they had officially gone public. There was no turning back — not that they wanted to. This was perfect.
To love and be loved, openly and proudly.
Jiang Lan messaged Luan Nian:
“You’ve really settled down?”
“Completely,” he replied.
“Well, I’m heartbroken. I’ll never get to sleep with you in this lifetime.”
She was joking. They were good friends now, and Jiang Lan was known for being blunt.
“Not even in the next life. Shang Zhitao stamped her seal on me.”
Luan Nian stubbornly believed that he and Shang Zhitao would be together in the next life, and the one after that. He was too lazy to adapt to someone else — better to stick with her for eternity.
He shivered — Man, that was cheesy.
Chen Kuannian tossed the photo into the group chat and joked:
“Looks like Luan’s about to have 30 days of non-stop action.”
“Don’t overestimate him. He’s getting old. Probably can’t handle that much,” Tan Mian chimed in dryly.
Luan Nian only tagged Chen Kuannian:
“Remember to oversee the site every day.”
“If I don’t, I’m a bastard. Happy?”
Luan Nian was reassured.
His friends might talk nonsense, but they were reliable when it mattered. As he was about to put his phone away, he saw a message from Zang Yao:
“Congrats on finding love halfway through life.”
And then from lumi:
“Oh my! That girl looks so familiar. Isn’t she my Taotao? So Luke’s got a crush on my Taotao!”
Crazy woman, Luan Nian muttered.
They put away their phones and looked at each other — then at Luke.
“Officially setting off?”
“Officially!”
Luke barked: Let’s go!
Luan Nian put on his sunglasses and tossed a pair to Shang Zhitao. She put them on and realized they were a matching set. Her heart melted a little, but she teased him: “Didn’t someone used to say couple items were the tackiest thing ever?”
Luan Nian took off his sunglasses, gave her a long look, and put them back on — not admitting a thing.
“So, are there any more surprises on this trip?”
“Every single day,” Luan Nian said.
He had poured his heart into planning this journey — so that when Shang Zhitao looked back one day, she would feel nothing but happiness. So that even in moments of comparison, she’d always feel like she’d won. Even though he knew she didn’t care about things like that.
They headed for Mohe.
In the vast northern lands, the black soil stretched out to meet mountain ranges, grand and stirring. Shang Zhitao sat in the passenger seat, snacking. Luan Nian looked at her snacks with disdain:
“How old are you? Still eating this junk?”
“What is that even made of? Gutter oil, probably.”
“One bag of chips costs you three hours of swimming to burn off.”
“You eat that crap too?”
Shang Zhitao rolled her eyes: “Blah blah blah, says the turtle preaching.”
Then she tore open a pack of spicy snacks and neatly handed him a piece. Luan Nian refused. She glared at him: “Eat it!”
He reluctantly accepted. It actually tasted surprisingly good. Shang Zhitao watched his expression and knew he liked it, so she carefully prepared another bite and fed it to him. She knew him — he hated getting food on his lips. Always so picky.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Meh.”
She smirked. Stubborn old man, acting tough.
“What should we eat in Mohe tonight?” Shang Zhitao asked. “If only we could go to Yanbian — Little Korea — the food’s amazing.”
“Yanbian’s always an option. But check what’s good for dinner tonight.”
“Got it!”
Shang Zhitao pulled out her phone to browse. The screen was filled with “Iron Pot Stew” results. She put the phone away: “Iron Pot Stew it is.”
“Goose?”
“Yep!”
Agreeable and peaceful.
Dr. Liang called to check in.
“You guys on the road?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. Stay safe. Say hi to Zhitao for me.”
“She’s right here.”
“Dr. Liang, I’m here. Thank you.”
Dr. Liang chuckled on the other end. After a moment, he said:
“Luan Nian told me you were working on your health. I found a specialist for you. When you’re in Beijing, I’ll take you to see them. But no matter what, rest is the most important thing. Understand?”
“Got it. Thank you, Dr. Liang.”
“No need to thank me. Enjoy your break — have fun. If Luan Nian bullies you, bully him right back.”
Shang Zhitao burst out laughing: “Okay! I’ll bully him right now!”
Luan Nian scoffed and hung up, turning to glare at her:
“Try bullying me, I dare you.”
“Hmph!”
Shang Zhitao only understood what Luan Nian meant by “a surprise every day” when she opened her eyes the next morning.
Each day, their outfits had been carefully selected. After she dressed and looked at Luan Nian, she realized they were wearing matching couple’s clothes. But not the common kind found in stores—these were custom-made from the same fabric, with matching details at the cuffs, collars, or seams. Subtle, but truly beautiful.
Standing in front of the mirror, they looked at each other. They really did resemble a young married couple.
Shang Zhitao was delighted. “You actually went and secretly had clothes custom-made! And mine fit so well! How did you know my size?”
“I’ve touched you so many times…” Luan Nian glanced at her. He knew her measurements like the back of his hand—his lips and hands had measured them personally.
“You’re such a pervert!”
Luan Nian ignored her and continued on the road with her.
On the border highway from Manzhouli to Erguna, the early summer grass was just beginning to grow wildly—changing by the day. Luan Nian stopped the car in front of a boundary marker and said to Shang Zhitao, “Let’s take a commemorative photo.” The deeply buried romanticism in his bones had been surfacing nonstop. He wanted to collect all the boundary stones and monuments in an album, so they’d have plenty of stories to tell in the future. Besides, their custom outfits had a bit of a couple’s travel-shoot vibe. A 15,000-li journey captured in photos—grand enough.
They spent a long time taking photos with just one small boundary marker and a tripod. Luke played by himself, blocked by a metal fence, barking at a foreign hunting dog on the other side: Come here! I’m not afraid of you!
The hunting dog on the grassland was fierce. It growled low and took a step forward. Luke’s tail drooped, and he ran back to Luan Nian’s side: Woof! It bullied me!
“Didn’t you provoke it first? Serves you right.” Luan Nian paid him no attention and got in the car to review the photos. The background was vast, and they both looked great—very photogenic.
“Will we have lots and lots of photos together from now on?” Shang Zhitao asked.
“Lots and lots.”
Shang Zhitao felt a little emotional. She had regretted that they never had many pictures together. Luan Nian regretted it even more—he had watched that old drone video of them countless times. After so many years together, they only had that video and a set of photos to prove their shared past. It felt too thin, too fragile.
“I have a surprise for you too,” Shang Zhitao said.
“What surprise?”
“I think you should look forward to it.”
Luan Nian was thoroughly intrigued. One night, midway through their journey, Shang Zhitao suddenly craved fruit. The fruits in the old town of Kashgar were, of course, delicious. Other than the fact that the sun set late, there was hardly anything to complain about.
Luan Nian left for half an hour. When he returned and pushed open the hotel room door, the lights were off. He called out, “Shang Zhitao?”
“Close the door,” she said.
Luan Nian shut the door. A dim nightlight came on, illuminating a pole reaching from floor to ceiling.
Shang Zhitao stepped out from the side and walked up to him, pressing one hand against his chest and grabbing his collar with the other, guiding him along.
Luan Nian’s gaze landed on her outfit. Between the black tube top and her pants was a stretch of pale, exposed waist; her thigh-high socks reached just above the knee.
Shang Zhitao looked irresistible.
This kind of surprise—Luan Nian wanted it every day. His gaze darkened with desire. Before he could make a move, Shang Zhitao pushed him onto the bed and whispered against his lips, “Tonight’s performance is to reward you for a hard journey.” Mimicking his tone, she said, “Take it like a man!”
When she’d learned pole dancing with Shang Zhishu, it had just been a passing whim. It wasn’t easy to master, and though she was naturally flexible, she’d still ended up with bruises all over. Back then, she thought she was being ridiculous. Why was she learning this?
But seeing the look in Luan Nian’s eyes now, she understood—this was useful. What man was truly a gentleman?
She hadn’t learned it for Luan Nian. She really just wanted to please herself. Every woman probably has a moment of rebellion like that—throwing off society’s traditional views. When her body flew through the air on the pole, she felt closer than ever to freedom.
And in this moment, she liked the way Luan Nian looked at her. Couples can’t play coy every single day. There should be times like this—moments that belonged only to the two of them, of indulgence and surrender.
The music was sultry, the air hazy. Shang Zhitao mounted the pole. She twirled in the air, her long hair spinning with her, eyes locked on Luan Nian. His eyes burned like fire, as if he wanted to consume her whole.
As she leaned back against the pole in a graceful arch, she saw Luan Nian stand up, slowly removing his shirt. His eyes never left her. Finally, they locked gazes as he walked toward her.
Shang Zhitao flipped off the pole just as Luan Nian’s hand landed on her waist, pulling her away.
She protested, “I haven’t finished yet…”
Luan Nian threw her onto the bed and covered her with his body. “You can finish tomorrow.”
The fire raging inside him had everything to do with Shang Zhitao lighting the match. He couldn’t go slow—he needed her now. Urgent, a little rough, he pulled her into his world and burned with her.
Shang Zhitao refused to surrender so easily. She whispered against his lips, “Tonight, I’m in charge.” She pushed him down, straddled him, and pressed his head back. “Let’s take it slow.”
The sky in Kashgar darkened late and brightened late—it was still early. No rush.
They didn’t stop. Maybe her performance had left too deep an impression. Every time Luan Nian closed his eyes, he saw her dancing on the pole. She had that angelic face but let loose when no one was watching. Clever and thoughtful—one of a kind.
When they finally finished, deep into the Kashgar night, Luan Nian pointed at the pole. “Where did that come from?”
“Portable. Can be installed and removed anytime. Fits into a little suitcase.”
“How come I didn’t see it?”
“I hid it under the gear you packed…” Shang Zhitao looked smug. “How else could I surprise you?”
“I love that stubborn streak of yours. Keep it up.” Luan Nian kissed her cheek and held her close as they fell asleep.
________________________________________
As they neared Lhasa, Shang Zhitao’s mind drifted to the past. Back then, they’d left on a whim, young and free. Once or twice since, she’d felt the impulse to come back to Tibet alone, but for various reasons, she never made it.
She never imagined returning to Tibet—with Luan Nian.
So many years had passed. In a lifetime, there really aren’t that many decades.
Shang Zhitao was overwhelmed with emotion. As the car entered Lhasa, her eyes turned red.
“Luan Nian, can you pull over?”
Luan Nian stopped the car. Neither of them spoke. The car was silent. Shang Zhitao let out a quiet sob and took off her sunglasses to wipe her tears.
She had thought she was strong now. It had been years since she cried. She had chased meaning in life, tried to ignore the pain in between, telling herself again and again that it was just part of the journey—everyone goes through it.
Still, she had regrets. She had loved someone in the best years of her life—and couldn’t be with him.
Looking out at Lhasa, the Potala Palace visible in the distance, she remembered once coming here to make a wish: that they live long lives together. If possible, that they might walk a little farther together on life’s road. She hadn’t even dared to hope for forever.
Luan Nian held her hand. He took off her sunglasses and gently wiped the corner of her eye. His own eyes were red.
If he could turn back time, he knew he would do everything better. He wouldn’t waste ten years—from his twenties into his thirties. He felt deeply sorry that Shang Zhitao had met him when he was at his worst.
They walked along Barkhor Street, with Luke. That photo studio was still there. From across the street, they saw their photo still hanging inside. Luan Nian went to retrieve a copy. The savvy owner gave him the original negative, keeping a copy for himself. He thought they would never return.
In the photo, they were smiling brightly—young and full of life, faces glowing under the Tibetan sun.
The shop owner came out to see off another customer. When he saw them standing across the street, he froze, then stepped forward to welcome them, even calling out to passersby, “Look! My models are back! They’re still together!”
He had seen so many people come and go—together and apart. Travelers often pointed at that photo, saying, “We want one like this.”
While getting makeup done, they’d ask, “Were those two models?”
“No,” he’d reply. “Just a young couple traveling together.”
“Are they still together? Did they get married? Have kids?”
He’d never known how to answer. “Maybe.”
This time, they asked the owner to take another photo. The owner asked what they wanted to wear. Luan Nian said, “What we’re wearing now.”
He had prepared over twenty outfits for the trip. On the day they arrived in Lhasa, their clothes were the most formal. He retrieved a custom-made white veil from the car, decorated with tiny osmanthus flower buds like early spring blossoms. In Shang Zhitao’s warm gaze, he placed the veil over her himself and whispered, “Let’s leave springtime behind in Lhasa, shall we?”
“Alright.”
As the shutter clicked, Shang Zhitao and Luan Nian looked into each other’s eyes. In that glance—deep affection and unwavering trust.
This time, the owner didn’t charge them. He only asked, “Can I hang this photo next to the old one?”
“Yes.”
“And when you have a child, will you come back again? Same place, I’ll take a family portrait. Make it whole.”
“Okay.”
From then on, anyone walking down the bustling Barkhor Street, looking at that photo studio, would see the story of two people—time remembered everything.
________________________________________
The night before their journey ended and they returned to Beijing, Shang Zhitao received a call from Lin Chuner.
“Tao Tao, is Luan Nian with you?”
“He stepped out to take a call. Said it would take a while—acting all mysterious.”
“Good.” Lin Chuner chuckled. “I want to send you a video. Watch it alone. Don’t let Luan Nian know you’ve seen it, alright?”
“Okay.”
Their friends all knew how hard it had been for the two of them over the years. They worried that Shang Zhitao’s heart hadn’t fully thawed yet, afraid Luan Nian might end up empty-handed after all his effort. So Lin Chuner came up with this idea.
She said, “That video sitting in your phone—what’s the point of just using it to tease Luan Nian? It should go to the one who most deserves to see it.”
Shang Zhitao opened the video. The first thing she saw was the Northern Lights.
That New Year during their wedding trip in Lhasa, Luan Nian had said to her: “Next year, let’s watch the aurora together.”
Later, they separated. Luan Nian went with his friends to chase the aurora.
The aurora was truly beautiful, ethereal between heaven and earth. Shang Zhitao heard a few men talking, and the sound of glass clinking. The camera shifted, and she saw Luan Nian.
He was on the phone.
The person filming asked, “Who are you calling?”
Luan Nian seemed drunk. His eyes and the tip of his nose were red, and his speech was slurred. “I’m calling the one I love.”
“I want to share the aurora with her.”
Shang Zhitao heard him mumble her name: “Shang Zhitao, I came to see the aurora. It’s so beautiful.”
“It’s really cold here, colder than Ice City.”
“The aurora is too beautiful. We promised to see it together, but you disappeared. It’s okay, I came to see it. Now I’m telling you about it…”
As Luan Nian spoke, he broke down crying. His snot ran, and he wiped it away with his hand, no longer caring about his dignity or poise: “The aurora is incredibly beautiful, so beautiful it doesn’t seem real. It’s like a dream, vast and hazy.”
“I’m sorry, sorry for so many things. I hope you live well. In your lifetime, you must come chase the aurora once.”
“I miss you. I miss you so much. I’m not drunk. I really miss you.”
“I love you. I hope you know that.”
“I also hope you know, in those years, I loved you with all my heart.”
“I know I’m awful. I don’t deserve to be loved. I’m ready to live out the rest of my life alone. I hope you marry someone truly wonderful, with children around your knees, a life full of happiness.”
“You must come see the aurora once. It’s really beautiful. Truly.”
He rambled on, calling again and again, speaking again and again. At the end of the video, someone grabbed his phone. A robotic voice said: “The number you have dialed is not in service.”
Shang Zhitao’s tears fell freely. That time when she left him, she experienced a pain that pierced to the bone. So many nights she sat at the window watching the wind blow dead branches in Ice City, thinking of him over and over. At an age when they both believed they were unworthy of love, they had come close to it. But they missed their chance.
“Tao Tao, what I want to tell you is that once you’ve parted, it’s already so hard to meet again. We all hope you two grow old together.” Lin Chuner sent her a message. Shang Zhitao replied: “Okay.”
===
Luan Nian drove the car all the way up the mountain. Shang Zhitao asked, “Aren’t we going home to drop off the luggage?”
“We haven’t reached the end of our journey.”
The end of the journey was a garden Luan Nian built for Shang Zhitao.
The green trees and wild grasses along the mountain swayed with the summer breeze, sunlight dappled their faces, shadows flickering like time weaving a dream.
Luan Nian stopped the car. “Let’s go.”
That day, they wore the final set of outfits Luan Nian had prepared for the trip. Shang Zhitao was in a simple white dress; he wore white pants and a white shirt. Holding her hand, they walked slowly forward, turned into a small path, and entered a whole new world.
The rose garden was overflowing with fragrance. From beneath her feet stretched a cobblestone path, flanked by dazzling hand-painted murals. The paintings led forward, eventually converging at a sunroom.
It was stunning.
Shang Zhitao had never seen a place so beautiful. She loved flowers. She once misunderstood him for giving flowers to someone else and was jealous in her twenties. He remembered that—and now, he built her a garden.
Luan Nian pointed to the side. A small, inconspicuous plaque was tied to the fence. On it were the words: “Shang Zhitao’s Space-Time Museum.”
Luan Nian shed his usual unruliness and said earnestly, “Welcome to Shang Zhitao’s Space-Time Museum. I am the museum’s senior tour guide, Luan Nian.”
Let’s begin with the year 2010, the first year Ms. Shang Zhitao came to Beijing.
A giant hand-drawn mural showed Shang Zhitao standing late at night, waiting for a bus in Beijing. The city lights sparkled around her, yet everything seemed unrelated to her. All the drawings were hand-painted by Luan Nian, then scaled to size. He wouldn’t allow a single flaw.
That year, Ms. Shang joined Lingmei. She was full of curiosity and fear toward this unfamiliar city. She left early and came home late, devoting all her time to work. Unfortunately, she met a boss who tried to discourage her every day. That boss was a bit of a jerk.
When Luan Nian said that, Shang Zhitao laughed.
But that boss fell in love with her—he just didn’t realize it. Even though his route home was a different one, he always detoured to the building entrance, pretending to “bump into” her and walk her home.
From 2010 to 2021, each mural captured Shang Zhitao in that year—her hairstyle, her clothes, all accurate to the time. These massive hand-drawn images pulled her into the tide of memory.
She saw herself completing her first project at Lingmei, her first promotion; saw her trembling on a mountain road when her car broke down; saw her dragging a suitcase across four cities in a week, sometimes waking not knowing where she was. She saw herself alone in the Northwest, enduring loneliness to finish a project. She saw herself learning languages in Houhai, at the Great Wall, on campus—her thick vocabulary notebooks piling up one after another. She saw Luke, just two months old, pawing at her bed, wanting to sleep beside her through the long lonely nights. She saw the year Sun Yuanzhu left—how she stood in front of his company building, crying silently into a white sheet.
She saw herself singing on a stage, waving glow sticks and shouting with her colleagues, “I love you!” She saw the train leaving Beijing, how she sent Luan Nian one last message, then let them become strangers again.
She saw herself climbing a highway overpass, her body trembling in the air, and how she shook like a leaf when she came down. She saw herself drinking at a business dinner, a male client putting his hand on her back—and how she smashed a wine bottle over his head. She saw herself being followed late at night after a conference, fleeing in panic with scissors clenched in her purse.
She saw herself burning the midnight oil over formulas, charging recklessly into a new track. She saw the office grow from two people to nearly seventy.
She saw the first photo of her and Luan Nian in Barkhor Street. And finally, she saw Luan Nian standing beside her now.
Luan Nian built this Space-Time Museum. He was meticulous and perfectionist, personally drawing blueprints and choosing materials. He spent countless hours here, demanding beauty under every kind of lighting and shade. He insisted the museum withstand sun and wind—it had to be here, always. He demanded every flower in the garden bloom to his will, because this garden was his gift to his beloved. He built dreams in this garden. The museum held her past and would hold her future, too.
Luan Nian was the kind of person who, once he made up his mind, would never turn back.
Some laughed at him—spending a fortune on this, what for? What if the money runs out, the person leaves, and the museum becomes a ruin? The flowers wither, everything turns to dust.
Luan Nian said, You don’t understand.
Money can be earned again. But the person—she can’t be lost. I want to be entangled with her for a lifetime.
Luan Nian had never spoken so many words in his life. He told year after year of Shang Zhitao’s life—humble, frightened, determined, brave, clever, kind, mischievous, obedient. She was in his words, and in his heart. At last, he led her to the museum’s end.
Everything displayed there, Shang Zhitao recognized.
Her newborn hand and foot prints, her first baby clothes, her first pair of shoes, her first calligraphy, her first award, her first bicycle, her first Walkman, her first school uniform, her first contract at Lingmei, the first note she left on Luan Nian’s pillow, her wish list.
Luan Nian placed a key in her hand. “My love, this is the museum I built for you. I hope it can hold every beautiful dream of your life.”
Shang Zhitao gripped the key, holding his love in her hands. At some point, their friends and loved ones had gathered around them, forming a small circle. Luan Nian didn’t want to propose in front of a big crowd. He didn’t want to pressure her morally. He only wanted those dearest to them to witness it—and that was enough.
Luke barked and ran over, a little plaque hanging from his neck that read: “Marry Daddy.” Luan Nian knelt down, pulled a ring box from the dog’s backpack, looked at it for a long time, and finally stood up.
He said, eyes red, “Shang Zhitao, will you marry me?”
Shang Zhitao couldn’t stop crying. The sunroom was bathed in light, sunlight covering them both. At that moment, everything felt pure.
She wiped her tears and finally nodded. “Yes.”
Luan Nian embraced her—embracing her at twenty-two, and again at thirty-three.
They would grow old, as time spares no one.
But they were no longer afraid, because they knew—this time, they would never be apart.
Not ever again.
Their love had endured the winter and finally welcomed their early spring sunshine, and at last entered the blazing summer—the most passionate season of life.
And that passion would never fade.
May you and I, may we all, be well.
(End of Main Story)
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