Today was his last day before being discharged from the hospital. Julian Grant ate with even more care, his reluctant expression as if he were treating this as the last lunch of his life.

The Vault had prepared shrimp and chicken for him, along with tofu and greens. She meticulously peeled the shrimp, then brought the meat to Julian Grant's mouth.

Julian Grant kept staring at her face, a bit distracted, and as a result, the shrimp fell onto the blanket.

Before The Vault could react, Julian Grant had already, in a flash, picked up the shrimp and popped it into his mouth.

Only after finishing did he realize something was off. He looked up and met The Vault's calm gaze, and justified himself, “Not nimble, not nimble at all!”

The Vault understood. Just like some people are blind in both eyes and heart, Comrade Lao He’s real disability was a phantom limb.

She acted as if nothing had happened, calmly finished feeding him the rest of the meal, tidied up, and told him she was going to handle his discharge paperwork.

Julian Grant, feeling a bit guilty, obediently agreed. After changing clothes, he sat on the small sofa waiting for her to return.

Handling discharge should have been quick, since everyone in the hospital knew The Vault. But even after Julian Grant finished a round of his game, there was still no sign of The Vault.

He checked his watch and saw that half an hour had passed. He opened the door and looked around outside, but still didn’t see any trace of The Vault.

Julian Grant frowned, sensing something was wrong, and took the initiative to go downstairs to look for her.

The place where The Vault was wasn’t remote at all. As soon as Julian Grant walked past the lounge area, he saw a crowd gathered inside, chattering noisily.

He couldn’t help but laugh—it turned out to be Trident's group.

When Julian Grant walked in, these guys were all gathered around The Vault, eyes shining, excitedly shouting out words he didn’t understand. The Vault, though calm in expression, had a commanding presence, enjoying the crowd’s admiration with perfect ease.

Susan Scott saw him and excitedly raised his hand, calling out, “Boss! The Vault is amazing at fortune-telling. I never knew she had this talent!”

Julian Grant began to wonder just how much intelligence his employees actually had. It seemed like letting them handle Trident's daily operations was a real challenge.

Everyone was laughing and joking, full of curiosity about The Vault's “piercing insight.”

Julian Grant waved his hand, shooing them away: “All right, disperse, get back to work. I’m being discharged today—what are you all doing here?”

The group sighed in disappointment and quickly scattered, leaving the two of them alone.

Julian Grant looked at her in confusion and said, “Aren’t we going home? Let’s go.”

But The Vault didn’t get up. Instead, she crooked her finger, signaling him to come over.

Julian Grant bent down. “What is it?”

The Vault hesitated, then said, “There’s something I want to tell you.”

Julian Grant nodded. “Go ahead.”

The Vault’s expression grew serious, her gaze roaming over his face, making Julian Grant nervous. At last, she spoke slowly, “I’m thinking about how to tell you in a way mortals can understand.”

“…Just how stupid do you think I am?!” Julian Grant protested. “That’s enough, let’s go home!”

Just as he turned around, The Vault’s distinctive voice sounded behind him: “Be my boyfriend.”

It was as domineering and abrupt as she was, and a little unreasonable.

Julian Grant felt as if some part of him had been scalded. Maybe his brain, maybe his heart, maybe his fingertips. It made all his muscles tremble, even more than when he’d been injured.

Fortunately, all his excitement was hidden beneath his suit. He took a deep breath, mustering all his self-control to stay calm.

His racing heartbeat made it impossible to gauge the passage of time. Once Julian Grant had composed himself, he took a step back and turned to look at The Vault again.

…The whole atmosphere was ruined by The Vault’s leg propped up in a “king of the world” pose.

Julian Grant thought that her words just now might as well have been, “I’ve got my eye on you.”

The Vault urged him, “Say something.”

Julian Grant raised his hand. “Wait a second.”

The Vault said considerately, “Hurry up.”

Julian Grant pointed at her. “Put your leg down first.”

The Vault put her leg down, but inevitably, it had gone numb. She massaged it with her hand, eyes still fixed on him, urging the man in front of her to hurry up and give an answer.

Julian Grant felt it was a bit unfair.

When he confessed before, The Vault had been indifferent, barely bothering to come up with an excuse. Now that it was her turn, he was expected to cooperate wholeheartedly?

It felt like there was a glass rod stirring in Julian Grant’s head. He tried to use what little reason he had left to think, and after a difficult search, finally found the words he wanted to say.

Julian Grant looked up, afraid she wouldn’t hear clearly, and said each word with utmost seriousness: “From a worldly perspective, you’re marrying up, because I’m especially rich.”

“I’m also especially smart. I’m super smart,” The Vault replied instantly. “Genetic modification is a contribution for the ages, benefiting generations to come. Can your wealth last that long? So you’re the one who’s getting a good deal.”

Julian Grant: …?

Julian Grant gritted his teeth. “Can’t you just let me win for once? Can you give me a break?!”

“All right, all right,” The Vault sighed indulgently. “Go on.”

Julian Grant paused, wanting to say, from a worldly perspective… but in my heart, you’re the least worldly of all… But when he turned and saw The Vault’s helpless yet proud face, he found he couldn’t go on.

He gave up.

Julian Grant said dejectedly, “Forget it, I have nothing more to say.”

The Vault asked, “So?”

“All right, what else can I do?” Julian Grant said, defeated. “What do you expect me to do, go get a marriage certificate right now?”

“That would be great. You’re willing to start today.” The Vault took his arm and led him out of the lounge. “I want to visit Logan Carter’s grave. As family, come with me, okay?”

Julian Grant replied numbly, “Okay.”

When the two of them reached the hospital entrance, The Vault finally realized something.

She looked at Julian Grant’s slightly regretful expression and asked, “Did I interrupt your skill cooldown or something?”

Julian Grant’s face twitched. “…Thank you so much.”

The Vault said modestly, “No need. It’s nothing.”

Julian Grant almost spat at her, but since their relationship had just started and couldn’t withstand any turbulence, he forced himself to hold back. He took The Vault’s hand and, without question, stuffed it into his own pocket, staring straight ahead and pretending to be casual. Only his ears were a little red.

Soon, Harry Forrest’s car stopped in front of them. The window rolled down, signaling them to get in.

The two sat together in the back seat, with the quiet girl in the front. Harry Forrest looked much better than before. When he saw their joined hands, he smiled and tentatively called out, “Shigong?” (Grandmaster?)

Julian Grant was instantly amused by the term. If Harry Forrest were an employee of Trident, Julian Grant would have doubled his salary on the spot.

The car started smoothly, weaving through the streets toward the cemetery on the outskirts.

Halfway there, The Vault called out, “Harry Forrest.”

The driver leaned against the window, lazily responding, “Hmm?”

“Any plans? Teacher can arrange a job for you,” The Vault said. “You’ll need to learn some professional skills, matched to your abilities. No overtime, moderate workload, several holidays a year, and you can easily make over a million annually.”

Harry Forrest perked up a bit and smiled. “Really?”

The Vault glanced at Julian Grant as she spoke, then nodded. “Yes, I’ll pull some strings for you.”

Julian Grant pondered for a moment after hearing this.

There was a subtle feeling, but he couldn’t quite put it into words.

An hour later, they arrived at the cemetery.

White flowers were placed in front of the tombstone, their petals trembling gently in the breeze.

Harry Forrest knelt down and bowed his head in reverence.

He didn’t know what to say, so he just kept running his hand over the words on the tombstone, as if this could convey his well-being to her.

The Vault stood behind Harry Forrest, her emotions mixed, and said softly, “I’ve brought him back to you.”

In that moment, it was as if all the stones had fallen to the ground, all the fallen leaves had returned to their roots. There was no longer any weight on her shoulders.

The woman on the tombstone had the same gentle features as always, her faint smile watching over them, her expression melting into the warm autumn sunlight.

Harry Forrest then got up and walked to Andrew Forrest’s grave, head bowed, his tone sorrowful yet gentle, as if whispering in her ear: “An An, I’m sorry… I came too late. Next life, okay? Next life, I’ll be the first to find you…”

Many people who have been hurt want to use the so-called tomorrow to forget the painful past, but in truth, every tomorrow carries the imprint of yesterday. It is only through step after step of bloodstained footprints that we arrive at today. To deny the past is to desperately deny oneself.

Perhaps life is a road with no way back and no way to avoid it. Even if you must cut through thorns and cross mountains of blades and seas of fire, you must keep moving forward.

Wishing you peace, traveler on the road.