Since we are all reborn, let’s arrest the senior!

She stuck out her tongue, took the shower gel he offered, and squeezed it onto the bath sponge: "Then let's keep an eye on each other, and neither of us is allowed to overwork ourselves." Lu Mingze nodded, then suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms, the foam from the bath sponge smearing onto her pajamas: "Deal—but now, Mr. Snowman is going to start his counterattack."

At ten o'clock at night, the rain stopped. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, casting its silvery light onto the balcony. Jiang Zimei, wrapped in a blanket, squatted in front of the succulents, watching Lu Mingze water them with a spray bottle. The man was wearing the cartoon pajama pants she had bought him, the cuffs still damp from the wet wipe he had used to clean the cat's paws. He looked both comical and tender, like a big boy pampered by life.

“This succulent is called ‘Youyou’,” she said, pointing to the one with thick leaves and reddish tips. “It’s always plump up, like it’s eaten too much dried fish. That one is called ‘Lu Ge’,” she said, pointing to another succulent next to it with long, thin leaves that always tilted towards the sun. “It’s because it always tilts its head to look at the sun—like someone who always tilts their head to look at me. Every time I take a picture, he stares at me like that, which almost makes me drop my camera.”

Lu Mingze chuckled, flicking her forehead with his fingertip, water droplets from the spray bottle splashing onto her nose: "Did someone get their names from leftovers in the fridge? Like that one called 'Tomato and Egg Stir-fry,' its leaves are yellowish-red, it really does look like your culinary disasters." She glared at him angrily, but suddenly quieted down when she saw his white hair edged with silver by the moonlight—that silver was exceptionally soft in the night, like moonlight sprinkled on his hair.

She suddenly pointed to the stars in the sky, one after another, like scattered pearls: "Brother Lu, do you think there's a star that's specifically responsible for recording the nonsense couples talk about? Like our daily bickering, fighting over potato chips, giving our cat weird names, these little things, could they be collected by the stars and made into a giant candy?" The man put down the spray bottle, squatted down beside her, and gently touched her shoulder: "Then we probably have the storage space of the entire Milky Way galaxy—look," he pointed to the Big Dipper, "those seven stars lined up, don't they look like the milk carton you spilled yesterday?" Jiang Zimei followed his gesture and looked, and it really did look more and more like it, and couldn't help but laugh out loud: "So, our daily routines are reflected in the sky."

She turned to look at him and noticed the fine lines at the corners of his eyes smoothing out in the starlight, much like the wavy lines she had drawn in her notebook, each one etched with the gentleness of time. Suddenly, she reached out and took his hand, her fingertips touching the calluses on his palm—marks left from years of housework and caring for pets. She remembered him saying, "My hands are rough, don't mind them." But she felt that these hands were more precious than any jewel, because they had wiped away her tears, cooked for her, and bandaged her wounds.

“Lu Mingze,” she said softly, “I think this kind of everyday life is more precious than any glaze. I used to always dream of a passionate, dramatic love, but now I realize that being able to waste time with someone you love is the happiest thing.” The man raised an eyebrow and suddenly pulled a piece of fruit candy from his pocket—the very one she had given him that morning, the wrapper already a little crumpled: “Want to test the ‘eternal sweetness’? They say the longer it’s stored, the stronger the flavor.”

She smiled and opened her mouth, their fingertips intertwining as the candy wrapper was peeled off. The strawberry flavor exploded on their tongues, mingling with the cool night breeze, exceptionally sweet. In the distance came the soft hooting of an owl, like an overheard goodnight, or the sound of a star falling into the Milky Way.

The next day, early in the morning.

"Brother Lu, should I put the sunscreen in your bag or keep it with me?"

Jiang Zimei knelt on the bed, rummaging through her suitcase, her ponytail brushing against her pink pajamas printed with cartoon cat paws. Lu Mingze pulled two striped couple shirts from the closet, then suddenly reached out and pressed down on her fidgeting hands, his fingertips brushing against the pale blue veins on her wrist: "Let's make it clear first, no secretly helping me carry heavy things on this trip."

The man spoke with his eyes lowered, his eyelashes casting dappled shadows beneath them, and the silvery-white hair shimmering in the morning light. Jiang Zimei suddenly remembered him squatting on the balcony watering the succulents last night, his trousers still stained with the damp cloth he'd used to wipe the ragdoll cat "Snowball's" paws. So she tiptoed and stole a kiss on his lips: "Then Mr. Snowman, you must keep your promise and not always eat my breakfast too."

The sound of the suitcase zipper closing mingled with the soft rustling of the succulents on the bay window being blown by the wind. Lu Mingze stuffed a pack of band-aids into his side pocket—the image of her blistered heels from wearing new shoes was still vivid in his mind. He then slipped a packet of brown sugar ginger tea into another pocket, his fingertips touching the throat lozenges she had given him the other day, the wrappers rustling softly in his palm.

"Did you bring the camera charger?" Jiang Zimei suddenly grabbed his shoulder, her hair brushing against his chin. "The hydrangea photos we took in the park last time haven't been edited yet. Do you think we can capture the sunset at the beach this time?" Her eyes shone like scattered stars. Lu Mingze suddenly reached out and ruffled her hair. While she was glaring at him angrily, he stuffed the portable tripod he had prepared into the bottom of the box.

The 7 a.m. sunlight slanted into the carriage, gilding Jiang Zimei's eyelashes. She sat by the window, the warmth of Lu Mingze's fingertips as he applied sunscreen to her before she boarded the train still lingering on her nose. The man was intently studying a travel guide on his phone, the silver ring on his ring finger flashing in the sunlight with his movements—it was a ring she had commissioned for him with her year-end bonus, the inner side engraved with a tiny "Ze" character, like a star hidden in the clouds.

"After we get off at Linhai Station, shall we go to the guesthouse to drop off our luggage first?" Lu Mingze suddenly turned his head and found her staring blankly at his hands, so he casually placed his hand on the back of her hand, which was resting on the small table. "Or would Miss Jiang like to go to the beach to wade in the water first?"

His calloused fingertips gently brushed against her palm, carrying the warm, smooth feel of years of housework. Jiang Zimei suddenly remembered the transparent tape on his palm when she was packing her luggage last night—leftover from when he was removing cat hair from her sweater. She hooked her little finger around his, and with her other hand, pulled a bag of potato chips from her canvas bag: "Let's make it clear first, this time we're competing fairly for those chips."

The train plunged into brief darkness the moment it passed through the tunnel. Jiang Zimei heard her own heartbeat mixed with the soft clatter of a bag of potato chips when suddenly a warm pair of lips landed on her forehead. When the light returned, Lu Mingze was casually handing her a straw; the iced soda bubbled in the paper cup, reflecting the faint blush still on the tips of his ears.

As the coastline outside the window gradually came into view, Jiang Zimei suddenly pointed to the windmills flashing by in the distance: "Brother Lu, look! Doesn't it look like the carousel we rode at the amusement park last year?" Her hair was blown by the wind and brushed against his wrist. Lu Mingze suddenly grabbed her swaying hand and gently pressed her into his shoulder: "If you keep swaying like that, someone's potato chips will all spill all over my pants."

"Watch out for the rocks!"

Before Lu Mingze could finish speaking, Jiang Zimei had already leaped into his arms, splashing sand from her sandals into his trouser legs. She held up her phone, her eyes crinkling with laughter, the screen capturing the moment she had just taken—he was standing barefoot on the shallows, his flip-flops rolled up to his knees, his silver hair billowing in the sea breeze like a reed bathed in moonlight.

“This one should be called ‘Mr. Snowman Chased by the Waves.’” She tiptoed to brush the sea mist from his hair, her fingertips damp with salty moisture. “But Mr. Snowman’s flip-flops almost got swept away by the waves!”

The man suddenly bent down and scooped her up in his arms, startling her so much that she clung to his neck and gasped softly. Lu Mingze walked along the soft, damp sand towards the guesthouse. The setting sun cast long shadows of the two of them. He could feel her hair brushing against his chin, carrying the scent of coconut shampoo: "Now you're scared? Who was it that insisted on chasing after the seashells exposed during the low tide?" The guesthouse was a small blue and white house, with pink bougainvillea growing on the balcony. As Jiang Zimei pushed open the glass door, she was suddenly drawn to a glass jar on the table—it was filled with fine stardust, shimmering faintly in the twilight. Lu Mingze wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder: "The owner said that if you collect a whole jar of stardust, your wish will be carried to the Milky Way by the waves."

As she turned around, she noticed a tiny grain of sand clinging to his eyelashes. She reached out and brushed it away, her fingertips tracing the fine lines around his eyes. "How about we collect a little each day? When we get back, we can give the star fragments to 'Brother Lu's' succulent; maybe it'll tilt its head even more."

As night fell, the two sat side by side on the breakwater. Jiang Zimei dipped her feet in the cool seawater, watching Lu Mingze illuminate her sketchbook with his phone's light. She was sketching his profile, and as her pen traced the line of his slightly pursed lips, the man suddenly pointed to the horizon: "Look, the Big Dipper has shattered into milk cartons in the water."

She looked in the direction he was pointing and indeed saw seven stars shimmering in the waves, like the milk stains she'd spilled on the tablecloth last time. Suddenly remembering the mints he'd slipped into her bag before she left, she took two out of her pocket and handed them to him, their fingertips touching: "Mr. Snowman, would you like to try 'Eternal Sweetness'? This time it's sea salt."

The candy wrappers rustled crisply in the night breeze, and the lighthouse beam swept across the sea every seven seconds in the distance. Jiang Zimei leaned on his shoulder, listening to him casually talk about the tidal patterns, and suddenly felt that those technical terms had turned into dancing stars, falling into the blank spaces of her sketchbook, gradually forming the shape of the Milky Way.

I was awakened by the sound of waves the next morning.

Jiang Zimei groggily turned over and found the bed beside her empty, yet still warm from her body. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table; the screen displayed a message from Lu Mingze sent half an hour earlier: "Went downstairs to watch the sunrise and brought you a surprise."

She slipped on his white shirt and ran towards the beach. As the wind lifted the hem, she caught a lingering scent of Blue Moon laundry detergent. In the distance, she saw him standing on the sand after the tide had receded, his trousers rolled up even higher than yesterday, revealing a faint scar on his calf—a mark from last year when he fell while chasing after Snowball, who had run away for her.

“Close your eyes.” His voice came through the sound of the tide, carrying a secret tenderness. Jiang Zimei obediently closed her eyes, and suddenly felt something cool slip onto her ring finger—not a ring, but a delicate string of stardust, with a miniature seashell embedded among the grains of sand.

"These are fragments of seashells I found while collecting stardust," Lu Mingze's voice was close to my ear, tinged with slight breathlessness, "They looked a lot like the wavy lines you drew, so I strung them together with fishing line."

As she opened her eyes, she saw the rising sun leap from the sea behind him, turning his silver hair honey-colored. The bracelet swayed gently in the morning light, each grain of sand refracting tiny sparkles of light, like wearing fragments of the Milky Way on her wrist. She suddenly remembered the words he had written in his sketchbook the night before: "Every stroke of your brush is a small asteroid in my universe."

“Lu Mingze,” she suddenly reached out and hooked her arm around his neck, kissing his lips in the salty sea breeze, “how about we collect star fragments from our future travels? That way, when we’re old, we can open the box and see the entire Milky Way.”

When the man returned her kiss, his tongue still carried the crisp taste of morning toothpaste. Early-rising seagulls skimmed the water in the distance, their wings casting fleeting shadows. Lu Mingze reached out to smooth her wind-blown bangs, his fingertips lingering on her brow bone for a moment: "Okay. But first—" He suddenly bent down and hoisted her onto his shoulder, causing her to gasp and pound his back, "Mr. Snowman needs to carry someone back for breakfast first, lest she get a stomachache from hunger again."

Two sets of footprints of varying depths were left on the beach, the larger footprints always protecting the smaller ones, like two intertwined tide lines. Jiang Zimei was being swayed upside down, but she saw the newly sprouted white hair on the back of his neck shimmering in the sunlight. Suddenly, she felt that this moment was truly wonderful—no need to chase the waves, no need to look up at the starry sky, just to slowly create their own star map on the beach with the person in front of her.

The seven-day journey gradually settled in the glass jar filled with stardust.

On the train back, Jiang Zimei dozed off, leaning on Lu Mingze's shoulder, still clutching the half-eaten bag of potato chips. The man carefully pulled the bag from her fingers, startling her awake. She groggily looked up and saw him gently wiping the potato chip crumbs from the corner of her mouth with a wet wipe, his movements as light as if he were polishing a fragile piece of porcelain.

“If you’re sleepy, sleep a little longer,” he said, pressing her head back onto his shoulder and nuzzling his chin against the top of her head. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Before Jiang Zimei closed her eyes, she saw a glimpse of silver peeking out from the side pocket of her suitcase—a small box containing the stardust bracelet. She suddenly remembered the night she watched the stars from the guesthouse balcony, when Lu Mingze pointed at a shooting star and said, "Make a wish!" Her secret wish was: "I hope time can slow down, just a little bit more, so I can remember the location of every single gray hair on his head."

The moment the train entered the tunnel, she felt him gently kiss the crown of her head. In the darkness, the stardust bracelet on her wrist emitted tiny sparkles, like fragments of the Milky Way adorning the scales of time. It turns out that eternity is never a frozen moment, but rather the accumulation of countless "nows"—his breath as he applied sunscreen to her, their intertwined fingers as they grabbed potato chips, the stardust falling on her ring finger at sunrise on the beach.

When they grow old and open the jar filled with stardust, they will probably see the starlight of the entire universe contained within the lines of their intertwined palms. (End of Chapter)