The examinations for fatal familial insomnia were still ongoing. Pei Yusheng had to endure the same rounds of monitoring and questioning again and again.
In truth, he himself hadn’t put much thought into treatment. The ones who had truly spared no effort to push things forward were the Pei family.
They dispatched people to gather nearly every documented case of the same disease, combed through vast amounts of related literature, and organized the theoretical framework to an impressive degree of completeness. But the deeper and more detailed the understanding became, the more terrifying the illness appeared.
The similarities between Pei Yusheng, Pei Xiaolin, and confirmed patients were growing more pronounced.
What was hardest to accept was this: based on the data currently available, hereditary prion diseases exhibit genetic anticipation. That is, within the same family, the onset of the disease in the next generation tends to occur earlier than in the previous one—by roughly ten years. Pei Yusheng’s great-uncle had passed away in his early sixties, and if Pei Yusheng and Pei Xiaolin were truly diagnosed, then…
Then Pei Yusheng might not even make it to fifty before the illness struck.
Fear, like an unimaginably cold silkworm, gnawed away at everyone’s hearts, bit by bit.
In B City, the Pei family brought together numerous senior, highly experienced medical experts for special consultations on the case. Yet compared to the tense atmosphere in B City, Pei Yusheng himself paid far less attention to the disease’s progression.
Despite the Pei family urging him time and again to return, he still chose to stay in S City. On one hand, the teams from Harmony Hospital and Huashan Hospital had already established real-time data sharing for this case; even if Harmony needed physical patient data, having Pei Xiaolin there alone was sufficient. On the other hand… only in S City could Pei Yusheng sleep.
Because Qi Ji was here.
Originally, under Qi Ji’s accompanying care, Pei Yusheng’s daily sleep time had stabilized at a little over three hours. Compared to before, this was already a significant improvement. But once the examinations related to fatal familial insomnia began, his sleep was disrupted again. Now, he could only fall asleep while holding Qi Ji.
It was precisely because they learned of his current sleep condition that the Pei family refrained from forcibly taking him back to B City.
Although the return to B City was delayed again and again, Pei Yusheng did follow another of the Pei family’s recommendations. He began gradually reducing his involvement in company affairs, no longer maintaining the same intense workload as before.
Instead, he turned his attention to other matters, spending more time quietly arranging Qi Ji’s future.
Qi Ji, however, knew nothing about these plans.
In the blink of an eye, the year’s end arrived, and with it, the time to welcome the Lunar New Year. Yet because of the illness, much of the usual warmth and festivity of reunion was dimmed.
In previous years, whenever Pei Yusheng was in the country, he would alternate between spending the holidays at his grandfather’s and his maternal grandfather’s homes. This year, he was supposed to go to the Xu family in Hong Kong, but he showed no intention of leaving.
After the Little New Year passed, Qi Ji brought it up. “Mr. Pei, how are you planning to spend the Spring Festival?”
“There’s a contract to sign at year’s end,” Pei Yusheng said. “I’ll be going to Europe for about a week. I’ll probably be there for New Year’s Eve and the first day of the new year.”
“Huh? You have work even during Spring Festival? That’s too exhausting,” Qi Ji said, feeling sorry for him. “Then you should rest more these next couple of days, okay?”
Qi Ji didn’t yet know that Pei Yusheng couldn’t sleep whenever he wasn’t around—he only saw how busy and tired he looked.
Hearing the first part of Qi Ji’s comment, Pei Yusheng fell silent for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”
What he didn’t say was that the European cooperation didn’t strictly require his presence. The real reason was that he didn’t intend to go to the Xu family for the New Year.
Given his current condition, going there would only dampen his loved ones’ spirits. It was better not to appear at all, so everyone could enjoy the holiday in peace.
On the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth lunar month, Pei Yusheng departed for Europe. This time, it wasn’t a Yuntu project, but a deal he was negotiating in his capacity as a senior executive at Xinghai. He was now a member of Xinghai’s board of directors. Although his relationship with the chairman and vice-chairman hadn’t yet been made public, the results of the Qingpu Lake Park project meant that no one questioned his qualifications anymore.
With the Spring Festival approaching, many executives were reluctant to travel. Pei Yusheng’s initiative in taking this trip conveniently solved a problem.
The cooperation wasn’t exactly relaxing, but because of the time difference—nightfall in Europe coinciding with daytime back home—Pei Yusheng, who was used to working through the night, now had plenty of time to talk with Qi Ji on the phone.
This year, Qi Ji would be spending the New Year at Grandma Yu’s place, which was one of the reasons Pei Yusheng felt comfortable going abroad. As the holiday drew near, Qi Ji often went over to help with decorations. Besides phone calls, he sent Pei Yusheng photos and short videos every day.
Spring couplets written by Grandpa Xue, Grandma Yu’s Eight-Treasure Duck, the bearskin cloak Midov brought back, Eric’s newly bought Tang suit, and the cats sprawled limp on the heated wooden floors—who, upon waking, treated Qi Ji like catnip and licked him enthusiastically.
These vivid, everyday moments gently warmed Pei Yusheng’s winter.
Every moment connected to Qi Ji made Pei Yusheng love him a little more.
Qi Ji sent the most photos of cats—besides those adopted by Grandma Yu, there were also the two little white kittens he’d run into the last time he met Wen Chuming. Treating their injuries and parasites shouldn’t have taken that long, but the injured kitten later contracted feline panleukopenia and had to stay hospitalized. The uninjured one, having been with it the whole time, was also kept for observation. They still hadn’t been discharged, and whenever Qi Ji had time, he’d go visit them.
The adult cat occasionally appeared in Qi Ji’s photos as well. It hadn’t stayed at the hospital—since it disliked human contact, it continued living alone in the wild. It would return from time to time to check on the kittens, and Qi Ji would sometimes feed it.
Before long, Pei Yusheng’s photo gallery was filled with cats. He messaged Qi Ji: 【There’s still one cat you didn’t photograph.】
🍓：【? You missed one?】
After a moment, Qi Ji replied again: 【That’s all of them. There aren’t any more—I’ve sent everything!】
Pei Yusheng replied: 【Hold your phone steady, switch to the front camera, and take a picture.】
He gave him a little time to do it before adding: 【Then send it to me.】
🍓：[Image]
Pei Yusheng quickly received the photo. In it, the boy was staring blankly at the camera, looking confused.
He smiled and replied: 【Good. Now they’re all here.】
🍓：【……】
Only then did Qi Ji realize who the last “cat” was.
From time to time, Pei Yusheng also sent Qi Ji things—clouds thick as oil paintings, plazas covered in white pigeons, Gothic architecture. Qi Ji loved looking at these in his spare moments; unfamiliar scenery always sparked his inspiration.
Of course, the things that earned his most enthusiastic responses were all kinds of European desserts.
Once, Pei Yusheng bought a pair of cufflinks and sent Qi Ji a photo. They were designed as two strawberry-shaped碎钻—one large, one small—delicate and unique.
Qi Ji immediately replied: 【They’re so pretty!】
He liked anything related to strawberries.
Pei Yusheng took one cufflink, fastened it on, and snapped another photo.
He was wearing a dark suit, which paired nicely with the cufflink. The moment he sent the picture, Qi Ji replied: 【SealClapping.jpg Looks great!】
Then Qi Ji added, surprised: 【Hey, this strawberry is blue—it’s not red】
Pei Yusheng smiled faintly and replied:
【Yeah. Like you. A miracle.】
The chat bubble on the other side showed “typing…” for a long time.
Even without seeing him, Pei Yusheng could imagine the boy’s ears turning pink.
Time slipped by quietly. With distance stretching between them and the examinations temporarily suspended, it was as if only Qi Ji and work remained in the world, making things feel much lighter.
Still, when the unusually smooth negotiations wrapped up early and his return date could be moved up to New Year’s Eve, Pei Yusheng gave up the chance to rest for a few days and chose to return to S City.
Even with daily images and voices, Mr. Pei still wanted to be a little closer to his boy.
Europe had been snowing constantly these days, with many flights delayed or canceled. He didn’t tell Qi Ji in advance, worried the boy might wait in vain.
Fortunately, the weather cleared briefly, allowing the plane to depart smoothly.
By the time the flight landed in S City, it was already late at night.
When Pei Yusheng returned to Rose Villa, the house was empty—no one was there. He was about to call Qi Ji when he received a message from him instead.
As usual, the boy was sharing photos. The pictures were lively and abundant, filled with festive red—an utterly perfect New Year.
Pei Yusheng looked up and glanced around again.
With Spring Festival approaching, the cleaners and housekeepers were all on holiday. Since no one had planned to return on New Year’s Eve, the villa hadn’t been stocked with any holiday goods. Everything looked cold and desolate, barely a bright color in sight.
So he didn’t rush to make the call.
Before he could call, though, Pei Yusheng received another call—from his mother. She and his brothers were celebrating the New Year in Hong Kong. The Xu family was busy, and this was one of the few times in the year they could all gather.
“I’m fine, Mom. Yes, I’ve been sleeping. You don’t need to worry.”
Pei Yusheng sat on the sofa. The warm light overhead fell into his eyes, yet for some reason, it seemed to add a cold pallor.
The other end of the line was lively. Xu Yunchi couldn’t quite set her mind at ease and took the chance to call him. Besides her, Pei Yusheng chatted briefly with a few uncles on the phone, exchanging New Year’s greetings.
The New Year was approaching. Everywhere was filled with joy and celebration.
The entire world was rejoicing in reunion.
By the time the call ended, it was even later. Pei Yusheng checked the time—there were only a little over thirty minutes left before midnight.
As usual, he saved the photos Qi Ji had sent and looked at them again for a while. In the end, he decided not to disturb Qi Ji.
Pei Yusheng didn’t particularly care about holidays or special moments, but he didn’t want to ruin Qi Ji’s celebration.
This was supposed to be a time of pure joy and bustle.
But because the surveillance plan had been suspended, Pei Yusheng couldn’t even sneak another look at the boy. All he could do was save the photos and flip through them again and again. As a result, he had no idea what Qi Ji was doing at that moment—how the boy would cross midnight, whether he’d stay up to see in the New Year or go to bed early.
Suppressing that urge was hard—really hard.
But Pei Yusheng still forced himself to give up monitoring Qi Ji.
Love gives rise to desire, and love must also overcome desire.
After sitting alone in the empty villa for a while, Pei Yusheng finally put his coat back on. He was afraid that if he stayed any longer, he’d give in and pull up the surveillance footage from the past few days. It was better to go out for a walk.
He drove himself to the wooden cabin by the coast—the place he’d prepared for himself during bouts of insomnia, and the place he’d brought Qi Ji to last time.
Only, ever since Qi Ji entered his life, Pei Yusheng had never come back here again.
Compared to the usual cool quiet of the past, the coastal area was far livelier tonight. Fireworks were banned within S City proper, with only a few designated zones marked out in the nearby outskirts—and this coastline happened to be one of them. Even late at night, the plaza by the shore was packed shoulder to shoulder, crowded with people who had come to watch the New Year’s countdown fireworks.
Pei Yusheng didn’t go join the crowd. The cabin stood about five hundred meters from the plaza, and the stretch of beach around it was his privately leased area. Entry required passing a fingerprint lock, programmed to recognize only his and Qi Ji’s prints.
So the beach itself remained mostly empty, though faint traces of noise from the plaza still drifted over.
Midnight was almost here. The crowd was buzzing with excitement.
With his back to the lights, Pei Yusheng walked along the beach and looked out toward the distance. The sea was still the same vast sea. Under the glow of the shoreline lights, reflections scattered across the rolling surface like shards of silver, gently gathering together before being broken apart again.
He walked for a while, then turned back toward the cabin, planning to change into a pair of soft-soled shoes and feel the sand under his feet again.
The cabin was fully equipped, with water and electricity still running. As soon as Pei Yusheng unlocked the door, the lights inside turned on automatically.
He lowered his head to look for shoes in the cabinet. Outside, the noise swelled wave after wave, so loud that even this beach could hear the distant cheers clearly.
Yet amid that faraway clamor, Pei Yusheng caught a faint sound coming from nearby.
The soft click of a lock opening, and light footsteps, woven into the excited countdown echoing from afar.
He paused and turned around.
Rationally, he knew who could enter this beach. But the shock of the unexpected still shattered his defenses in an instant. The soft-soled shoes he’d just taken out slipped soundlessly from his hand. All the sounds in the world vanished, leaving only the thunderous beat of his heart.
Standing at the door, wrapped in the gentle night as if stepping out of a dream, was Qi Ji.
Qi Ji clearly hadn’t expected to see Pei Yusheng here either. Surprise flickered across his face as he opened his mouth to ask something—just as the distant, resonant chime of a bell rang out.
Midnight. The ancient bell tolled. A million households celebrated together.
Brilliant fireworks streaked across the sky. Everything was swallowed by the roar of explosions, so loud that even at arm’s length they could no longer hear each other.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
The final distance dissolved. Their lips met, fingers lacing tightly as they spoke through touch alone. In that instant, all the fireworks blazing across the night sky rose for them.
Amid the cascading fireworks, they held each other close.
After a long while—when the noise finally began to fade—the boy at last found his voice and let out a soft sound.
“I forgot to say Happy New Year at midnight,” Qi Ji said, a little regretful, though not much. “But it’s okay. We’ll have many more New Year midnights.”
Pei Yusheng looked at his slightly swollen lips, at the glimmer of moisture when they parted, and his gaze darkened.
He lowered his head and pressed a light kiss to them before answering softly, “Mm.”
Even if there aren’t.
That would be fine too.
He had nothing left to fear.
Without Qi Ji, Pei Yusheng might not even have survived his last loss of control. He wasn’t afraid of an illness that might strike twenty years from now. Every day he had now was already an extra gift.
“Happy New Year.”
With a creak, the door closed. Only then did Qi Ji realize that earlier—after all that time—he had forgotten to shut the door behind him.
Warm air filled the cabin, soothing and relaxing. Holding a mug of hot orange juice, Qi Ji explained why he’d come over tonight. Grandma Yu and the others had gone to bed early; the four younger people were still full of energy and decided to go watch the New Year fireworks. The spot they’d chosen was the plaza by this very coastline.
Qi Ji had a good memory. Even though he’d only been here once, he hadn’t forgotten the way. He wanted to take a look at the cabin. He’d assumed no one would be here, but seeing the light on inside, he’d nearly thought a burglar had broken in.
Pei Yusheng chuckled and reached out to straighten the boy’s collar. “What a coincidence.”
Qi Ji fell silent for a moment before saying, “Actually… it was my idea to come to this plaza. I even took a bit of a detour.”
“I thought you wouldn’t be back, Mr. Pei. I planned to come here at midnight, take a photo by the sea, and send it to you.”
Mentioning how he’d deliberately come out of his way made the boy a little shy. Then he remembered his question. “Why did you come back?”
“The contract wrapped up early, so I came back first,” Pei Yusheng said, topping off his mug with more hot orange juice. “I didn’t want to interrupt your New Year with Grandpa Xue and the others, so I didn’t tell you in advance.”
Qi Ji pressed his lips together.
Others might not understand Pei Yusheng’s reluctance to disturb people, but Qi Ji himself knew that mindset all too well.
He could more or less guess the reason.
That undiagnosed illness had, after all, affected Mr. Pei’s state of mind.
“There are definitely things you can’t tell me,” Qi Ji said, looking at him. “Like with Mr. Lian before—not saying anything is also a form of protection.”
“But you don’t need to stay silent just because you’re afraid of bothering me,” he said seriously. “You’ve told me so many times about not disturbing or troubling others. I feel the same.”
“I won’t ever feel bothered by you, Mr. Pei.”
Pei Yusheng paused, the corner of his mouth curving in something like a smile and a sigh. “Alright.”
He’d always known.
His boy had always been strong.
Just as the words fell, Qi Ji’s phone rang.
It was Qi Mingyu.
Qi Ji had said he’d go take a photo and come right back—he’d even missed the countdown entirely. Now it was more than ten minutes past midnight and he still hadn’t returned, so Qi Mingyu had grown worried.
“I’m fine,” Qi Ji said. “I’m over by the beach.”
“But we’re on the platform by the beach,” Qi Mingyu replied. “Why don’t we see you? We just see a cabin with its lights on.”
Qi Ji startled—he hadn’t expected them to have come this far. As he hesitated, Pei Yusheng stood up. “Let’s go meet them.”
Qi Ji nodded. “I’ll be right there,” he told Qi Mingyu.
When they stepped outside, they saw three people on the platform. Besides Qi Mingyu, Xue Zhongqi and Midov were there as well.
Qi Ji waved to them and, together with Pei Yusheng, passed through the code gate and walked up to the platform.
Being caught by his younger brother walking out of a cabin with someone else made Qi Ji a little uneasy. Fortunately, he was used to keeping up appearances. He introduced Pei Yusheng quite properly. “This is Mr. Pei, my boss. You’ve met him before at Eric’s event.”
But no matter how well Qi Ji played it, no one there truly believed him. At most, they chose to see through it without saying anything.
Qi Mingyu: “…Oh.”
Where Qi Ji couldn’t see, he shot Pei Yusheng a chilly look.
Pei Yusheng smiled and greeted him. “Hello.”
Qi Mingyu replied reluctantly, “President Pei.”
As for Xue Zhongqi and Midov, there was no need for introductions. Pei Yusheng already knew them well—and he and Midov were even related by blood.
The four of them walked together toward the plaza. Though the midnight fireworks had ended, there were still several more shows planned. They intended to watch for a while longer before heading back.
Qi Mingyu hurried ahead, pulling Qi Ji away from his so-called boss. Midov said something to Xue Zhongqi, who followed them, leaving only Pei Yusheng and Midov walking behind.
They spoke in Russian, unconcerned about being overheard. After a few brief exchanges, Midov asked directly, “Pei, your assets… have you really thought it through?”
Pei Yusheng nodded. “I’ve already started.”
Midov frowned, then said, “I still think you should consider it carefully. Your assets are too extensive, and doing this in the current environment requires extreme caution.”
Midov himself had made a similar choice before, but their nationalities were different, their financial systems vastly so. The resistance Pei Yusheng would face could only be greater.
“And with moves of this scale,” Midov added, shrugging, “you’re bound to attract rumors—tax evasion, or worse speculation. Speaking from experience.”
He didn’t say the worst part aloud: Pei Yusheng’s physical condition, though confidential, wasn’t entirely unknown. Any shift in his assets would only invite more suspicion and controversy.
“I know you have experience,” Pei Yusheng said. “That’s why I came to you—because I intend to do the same.”
Midov asked again, “Are you really sure, Pei?”
Pei Yusheng gave the same answer.
It wasn’t only because of the possible illness. This decision had also grown out of his earlier conversation with his mother about surveillance.
He lifted his gaze toward Qi Ji in the distance. His voice was low, but without hesitation.
“I’m sure.”
His boy had suffered for far too long. He wanted him to spend the rest of his life slowly tasting the sweetness he’d been denied.
Midov sighed. “Alright.”
“Thank you,” Pei Yusheng said softly.
“No need,” Midov replied, looking toward his own lover. “I’ve been lucky. He’s never made me regret it. I hope you’ll be just as lucky.”
Pei Yusheng smiled. “I will.”
In the distance, fireworks bloomed again, bursting across the night sky. Bathed in that light, the boy’s soft silhouette seemed to glow faintly.
His boy had always been this beautiful.
Silently, Pei Yusheng called to him.
Qi Qi.
My miracle.
I don’t want you to forget me.
But I hope you can be happy even without me.