While they were having dinner, Chandler had already arranged for someone to tidy up the house. Since it was usually kept clean, after today’s thorough cleaning, it was ready for them to move in right away.

Zinnia helped Nathan settle onto the sofa, then leaned over the coffee table to pour him a glass of water. Nathan took the glass from her and sipped it slowly.

“Is there really no other way to help you? Do we really have to find the Florivive? Isn’t there any other antidote?” Zinnia sat beside him, her eyes filled with concern as she noticed the unnatural pallor of his lips.

Even Nathan, a peerless healer, couldn’t find a cure, let alone Zinnia possibly succeed. The real reason he asked her to treat him was simply to give her something to focus on, to keep her from getting lost in her own emotions, and to help her pull herself together. Nathan was suffering from multiple organ failure caused by poisoning, a condition that had baffled even the best doctors. Even if they eventually found the Florivive and cured the poison, the toxins would have already caused irreversible damage to his body. His lifespan would still be drastically shortened.

“That’s it. This poison is incurable. Even that so-called antidote–no one knows if it’ll work in the end.” Nathan shook his head gently and said, “Zinnia, I’m telling you this because everyone has to face life and death.

“In the worst case, I might not be able to stay by your side much longer.”

Seeing Zinnia’s expression darken, Nathan gently stroked her hair and said, “Don’t worry. There’s still hope. I would never give up. I could never bear to leave you all alone.”

“Stop with that depressing talk. I won’t hear it–not one bit.” Zinnia turned her gaze away, her eyes welling up again. She just couldn’t bear to hear about Nathan’s condition.

“Alright, I won’t say it then,” Nathan sighed, lips curving into a gentle smile.

“We’ll find it. I know we will. You’re such a good person, Nathan. God will show mercy. They couldn’t bear to take you away,” Zinnia said, her voice muffled but resolute.

In her heart, Zinnia was certain. Someone as kind as Nathan–surely, fate wouldn’t dare claim him.

“May your sweet words bring me luck, Zinnia,” Nathan smiled again. Beneath the mask, his eyes were soft and clear, lit with a gentle smile, radiantly beautiful.

“Zinnia, go fetch the medical books from the archive room, okay? Let me see if you have been studying hard.” Nathan gently tilted his chin toward the archive room, signaling her to go get the books.

“Okay, you rest for a bit. I’ll go look for them,” Zinnia said softly.

It had been a while since Zinnia had been back. She got up and headed upstairs to the archive room on the second floor.

Nathan watched her go upstairs. As soon as he heard the door close overhead, he was suddenly seized by a violent coughing fit. Fumbling for his ever-present handkerchief, he pressed it desperately to his mouth, but the coughing wouldn’t stop. His complexion turned much paler. With his back to the staircase, Nathan hunched over, his entire body trembling with each convulsive cough.

Zinnia stood at the top of the stairs, her hands clenched tightly at her sides as she fought the urge to rush downstairs. She knew Nathan was deliberately trying to keep her from seeing him.

“Nathan, where did you put the medical archives?” Zinnia’s voice called from the second floor stairwell.

Nathan swallowed hard, hurriedly tucked the handkerchief behind his back, and turned toward the second floor. “It should be in the second cabinet on the right,” he replied.

“Got it,” Zinnia called back cheerfully from upstairs. Her voice faded away, replaced by the sounds of her rummaging upstairs.

Nathan exhaled slowly, feeling the dampness on his handkerchief. His gaze dropped to the dark bloodstains soaking into the fabric, his long lashes quivering.

He sighed. ‘Damn this body. Hang in there,‘ he muttered to himself.

After making sure everything was in order, Nathan pulled himself together and headed upstairs.

“Haven’t found it yet?” Nathan asked gently as he pushed open the door. There was Zinnia, crouched inside and lost in thought. He stepped into the room. “What’s wrong?” Nathan asked softly.

“Nathan, you actually kept all these things?” Seeing Nathan enter, Zinnia no longer thought about going downstairs and simply plopped down cross-legged on the floor. The wooden floor wasn’t as cold as stone.

“Here, sit on this cushion. The floor’s cold,” Nathan said gently, picking up a cushion and placing it beside her.

Zinnia scooted over and settled herself on the cushion.

Nathan bent down beside her and immediately recognized what had caught her attention. It was the toy chest from Zinnia’s childhood.

“These are all memories of your growing up. How could I ever bear to throw them away?” Upon seeing the toy chest filled with tiny, delicate toys, Nathan’s gaze softened with tenderness.

“Why do you have that ugly little doll hanging up there?” Zinnia picked up the wind chime from the chest.

Dangling from it was a small wooden figure, clumsily painted in bright colors–an absolute eyesore. It really was ugly. She’d scribbled on it as a child. Calling it a doll was generous; it was really just a long block of wood.

The wind chime was Nathan’s gift to Zinnia when she wished to hear the wind’s song and catch its whisper. He told her, “When the chime rings, it means the wind is here. Now you can listen to its melody.”

To hold the chiming wind chime was to hold the singing wind itself.

“Ugly? I think it’s adorable,” Nathan said. Seeing Zinnia poke at the wooden doll with a look of distaste, he gently caught her hand to stop her.

Back then, Zinnia was just five years old. At that tender age, every thought in her little mind was pure and adorable. Nathan was making a wind chime out of wood. Zinnia sat right beside him, her big, sparkling eyes fixed adoringly on him as she watched him work. Seeing Nathan busy, she waved her hands excitedly, eager to join in. She wanted to play too. Seeing Zinnia reach for the colored markers, Nathan handed them to her, along with a spare wooden block, sanded smooth.

Back then, Zinnia had no sense of aesthetics. She just smeared on whatever colors she liked, turning the block into a garish mess. She drew on a pair of eyebrows and a mouth. Pointing at her hideously colorful wooden block, she proudly announced, “Nathan, look. My doll. Hang it up.”

Nathan looked at her hideous little creation, and with a fond smile, obediently hung it right alongside his own exquisitely crafted wind chime, without a word of protest.

“Nathan, how can you pretend it’s pretty with a straight face? I can barely stand to look at it myself.

“Your wind chime is so beautiful, but hanging my ugly little doll on it totally ruins the aesthetic.” Zinnia held up the wind chime as she spoke.

Nathan was exceptionally skilled with his hands. Everything he made was both beautiful and flawless. The wind chime was crafted from white feathers adorned with pearls, finished at the base with magnolia-shaped tassels. In the center hung several tiny bells, all strung together with elegant string lights. Even now, it was still stunningly beautiful.

Zinnia held the wind chime and spun around in a slow circle. The little bells swayed, but not a single sound came out. They were made from a special material. They would only ring when the wind passed through.

Zinnia looked at Nathan and said softly, “Nathan, I’ve heard that if you hold a wind chime and make a sincere wish, and after you’ve finished your wish the wind comes and the chimes ring, then your wish will come true.”

“Then, would you like to make a wish, Zinnia?” Nathan smiled gently. He had never once opposed her decisions.

“I will.” Zinnia nodded, her gaze drifting to the clear blue sky outside.

Pursing her lips slightly, she closed her eyes. She made her wish and waited for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the wind to come, hoping it would hear her plea.

However, for three long minutes, not a single breeze stirred. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling across Zinnia’s face. There was a hint of stubbornness in her expression.

“Zinnia?” Nathan called softly.

Zinnia’s fingers tightened around the wind chime. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Just then, a gust of wind stirred. It brushed across both their faces.

Zinnia’s eyes welled up. The wind blew through, and the chimes rang.