It had to be said—Lin Shuwen knew her own body pretty well.
Her bleeding + severe injury state really did only last five days. By Wednesday morning when she woke up, the pain was actually gone.
Luo Ming let out a long sigh of relief, feeling like a brand new person.
These past two days of abdominal pain had really put him through the wringer.
The worst part was that the pain never let up—it was a constant, unrelenting ache.
But the good news was that the suffering wasn’t for nothing. To take his mind off the pain, he’d thrown himself completely into building his memory library over those two days.
Finally, around 11 p.m. last night, Luo Ming had finished organizing and storing all his past-life memories in the memory library.
That way, he didn’t have to worry about forgetting them over time.
With the memory library in place, even if most of his past-life memories faded, he could always revisit them by flipping through the “books” stored there.
As for his current-life memories, they didn’t need to be “cataloged” quite as urgently compared to the past-life ones.
Knock knock—”Wenjie, we should probably get going soon!” Chen Sichu called out, rapping on the bathroom door.
“I know,” Luo Ming replied. He adjusted his clothes in the mirror, then pulled the door open and stepped out.
“What time’s the flight?”
“10:35.”
“Where’s Sister Shan?”
“She’s already at the airport.”
“Let me guess—she’s been hounding us, hasn’t she?”
Chen Sichu nodded.
Sister Shan had called at 9:20, 9:27, and 9:33, urging them to get a move on.
“I figured. Alright, let’s head out.”
The three of them got into the company car and made their way to the airport.
Sister Shan was absolutely thrilled that Lin Shuwen had received an invitation from CCTV, so she’d generously booked business-class seats for all of them.
The Chen sisters had traveled quite a bit with Lin Shuwen, but this was their first time flying business class, so they couldn’t help but be a little curious.
Actually, it wasn’t just them—Luo Ming had never flown business class in either of his lives.
Luo Ming had flown quite a bit in his past life. The headquarters of his second company was in the capital, but he worked out of the Shanghai branch, so he had to fly up every month to report on his progress.
Every time, he’d check what mode of transportation made the most sense.
Sometimes he’d catch a flight on sale, which worked out cheaper than the high-speed rail and got him there faster too.
But since he was buying discounted tickets, business class was definitely out of the question.
So this really was Luo Ming’s first time in business class.
After boarding and finding his seat, his first impression was how spacious it was—business class seats were way roomier than economy.
And… that was about it, really. He wasn’t interested in the TV programs playing on the screen in front of him. He’d rather spend that time continuing to build his memory library.
And that’s exactly what he did. After the initial excitement wore off, he put on his eye mask and got to work constructing the section of the library dedicated to his current-life memories.
When you’ve got something to do, time really flies.
Before he knew it, the plane was about to land.
Luo Ming took off his eye mask at the flight attendant’s reminder and gave her a warm smile, thanking her.
Lin Shuwen’s looks, paired with that sweet smile, completely stunned the flight attendant.
Luckily, a colleague nearby nudged her back to reality—but even so, the flight attendant could feel her face heating up.
Making such a basic mistake at work was definitely not ideal. But come on—she was just too gorgeous! Who wouldn’t get a little dazed seeing someone that beautiful up close?
“Lin Shuwen is really stunning, huh. I always thought her photos online were either heavily edited or just caked in makeup. But seeing her in person, that face is absolutely unreal.”
“She’s definitely beautiful, though she looks a bit tired. She fell asleep as soon as she got on the plane—probably exhausted from work.”
The flight attendant who’d just been charmed by “Lin Shuwen’s” smile immediately perked up at her colleagues’ chatter. “You know her?”
“Of course! That’s Lin Shuwen—the rising pop diva who’s been all over the charts lately. She…”
Listening to her coworker’s explanation, the flight attendant’s mind wandered back to the smile “Lin Shuwen” had just given her.
“I’ve made up my mind! Starting today, I’m becoming a fan!”
Her colleagues didn’t think much of it. To them, Lin Shuwen was just another passenger passing through. They’d seen plenty of celebrities before—no reason to fall head over heels and become an instant fan.
The four of them got off the plane, and Sister Shan had already arranged a car in advance.
“Wenwen, I’ve called for a car. We’ll head to the hotel first—I booked one that’s…”
Sister Shan was mid-sentence when a tall woman with a crisp, short haircut stepped in front of her.
“Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?” Sister Shan asked instinctively, stepping in front of Lin Shuwen protectively.
The woman smiled and extended her hand. “You must be Wenwen’s agent, right? Let me introduce myself—I’m Lin Shuyue, Wenwen’s cousin.”
Luo Ming’s heart skipped a beat. Didn’t Lin Shuwen say she wasn’t close with her cousin? Why would she come all the way to pick her up at the airport?
But then he thought about it—this was her cousin, after all. In the old days, before families split off, cousins were practically like siblings. And in modern times, with the one-child policy meaning post-80s and post-90s generations had fewer siblings, cousins were still pretty close family.
Unless there was bad blood between the elders, or they lived too far apart to stay in touch, cousins generally had a solid bond.
With that in mind, Luo Ming took a deep breath and said, “Sister Shan, you and Miaomiao and Chuchu head to the hotel. I’ll go with my cousin—we haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“Alright, that works. Well then, Miss Lin, we’ll leave Wenwen in your hands.”
Lin Shuyue nodded.
After watching Sister Shan and the others leave, Luo Ming followed Lin Shuyue to the parking lot.
Neither of them spoke the whole way.
That convinced Luo Ming—Lin Shuwen hadn’t been kidding. She really wasn’t close with her cousin.
Lin Shuyue’s car was a white Audi A4. Luo Ming got into the passenger seat and buckled up. Only then did Lin Shuyue ask her first question: “Shuwen, what do you feel like eating today?”
“How about hotpot? I’ve heard the old-school Beijing lamb hotpot is pretty great.”
Lin Shuyue paused for a moment, then a subtle smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I thought you were going to say ‘whatever.'”
“Since I’m visiting the capital, I should at least try some local specialties, right?”
“Fair point. If you’d actually said ‘whatever,’ I was planning to take you straight to the station to try our cafeteria food.”
Luo Ming could tell Lin Shuyue was being serious. And her words revealed something else—if Lin Shuwen had been the one answering that question, her reply would definitely have been “whatever.”
The answer “whatever,” in a way, hands the choice right back to the person who asked the question.
Psychologically speaking, there are generally three reasons someone gives that answer: some people have decision paralysis and can’t pick, some genuinely don’t care either way, and some aren’t close enough with the other person to feel comfortable making the call themselves.
Luo Ming had a feeling that Lin Shuwen and her cousin fell into that third category.
