Ms. Gojo thought she was dating an ordinary person's boyfriend.

Natori was warmly invited to stay for dinner.

The Fujiwara family prepared an extremely lavish dinner. Aunt Touko brought out the last dish, tempura, and invited everyone to take their seats.

"Mr. Gojo, please have a seat." Aunt Touko warmly handed Gojo a bowl of steaming white rice, the rice piled high like a small hill. "Please don't be shy."

Gojo Satoru accepted the bowl with both hands. "Thank you, Auntie."

He sat down at the table, his back naturally straight. He ate with fluid, effortless movements, without even the slightest clatter of chopsticks or bowls.

Kikawa Sumi carefully placed the tenderest piece of grilled fish, from her plate, with all the bones removed, onto Gojo Satoru's rice.

"Try it, Uncle Zi just fished for it in the river this afternoon."

Gojo Satoru turned his head to look at him, then obediently picked up a piece of fish and put it in his mouth.

Aunt Toko, watching from the opposite side, keenly noticed that Gojo Satoru was eating Chikuzen-ni and Tamagoyaki with unusually frequent chopstick movements.

"Oh dear, Mr. Gojo, do you prefer sweet things?"

Gojo Satoru paused for a moment, then touched the tip of his nose somewhat sheepishly: "Ah... I've been found out?"

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," Uncle Zi laughed heartily. "It's common for boys to like sweets."

"I happen to have some red beans at home, I'll soak them tonight," Aunt Ta said with a smile. "I'll make you some handmade red bean buns tomorrow at noon, I promise they'll be sweet."

Gojo Satoru tightened his grip on the chopsticks slightly.

He looked up at Aunt Touko, who was smiling kindly, and then at Sumi Kichikawa, who was watching him gently beside him.

"Okay." Gojou Satoru's eyes crinkled into a smile. "Thank you, Aunt Touko. I'm really looking forward to it."

As everyone chatted, the atmosphere became more and more relaxed.

The conversation started with a newly opened tofu shop in town, then moved on to the recent weather, and finally to Natori's job.

"Have you taken on any interesting jobs lately?" Natsume asked Natori curiously.

Natori picked up a piece of tempura and said unhurriedly, "I was recently invited to attend a religious ceremony of a large family. I spent two days there, and I felt like all the etiquette I've learned in my life had been wasted."

"Very rule-abiding?" Uncle Zi asked.

"Yes," Nagoya smiled. "From the order in which we step on the floor to the seating arrangement, everything is meticulously planned. Although I was an invited actor, I could only stand properly in the third row in the main hall. There's a clear distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children, and a strict order of seniority; even the way we serve tea cannot be wrong."

"That must be too much work." Natsume said, somewhat surprised.

"It's a big family, after all," Natori thought, "and having many rules is the norm."

"Which house did Mr. Natori go to?" Gojo Satoru asked casually.

"I can't reveal the name," Natori chuckled. "They're just an old clan from the Kansai region. Mr. Gojo, do you know anything about these things?"

"No, I've just heard a few things from others before." Gojo Satoru rested his chin on his hand, a hint of nonchalance in his smile.

"Some families are even more outrageous, with numerous branches, both major and minor, each vying fiercely for the title of 'acting head of the family.' Their meetings can fill an entire Japanese-style room, filled with endless arguments."

Natori raised an eyebrow: "Does Gojo-kun know a lot about this?"

"I hear a lot of gossip," Gojo Satoru said with a smile, trying to brush it off.

Natori looked at him but didn't ask any further questions.

He picked up his teacup, his gaze intentionally or unintentionally sweeping over Gojo Satoru's chopsticks-holding posture, the way he subconsciously adjusted his clothes when he sat down, and the imposing aura he exuded when he spoke, which, despite his deliberate attempt to lower his posture, could not be concealed.

This Mr. Gojo is probably more than just a young master from a prominent family.

After the meal, Natori chatted with Natsume for a few minutes on the outer veranda before taking his leave.

Before leaving, he turned back and glanced at the two people sitting side by side in the corridor, enjoying the evening breeze.

As Sumireki was peeling an orange for Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru leaned against a pillar with his head tilted, waiting lazily like a big cat waiting to be fed.

Natori sighed inwardly.

Forget it.

Regardless of who these two people are, at least they have no ill intentions towards Natsume.

Late at night.

Only a dim floor lamp was left on in the guest room.

After washing up, Sumire Kikawa and Satoru Gojo lay side by side on the tatami mat. The night breeze rustled through the treetops in the courtyard.

"What we talked about at dinner..." Sumire Kikawa turned her head slightly, looking at Satoru Gojo's profile, which was still dazzlingly fair even in the dim light, and asked softly, "Were you talking about your family?"

"No, that's not it." Gojo Satoru rolled over to face Sumi Kikawa, a slightly wicked smile playing on his lips. "That's gossip from another family I know."

Sumi Kichikawa looked at him and asked softly, "Then... what about your home?"

Gojo Satoru blinked: "Sumiko wants to know?"

"I want to know," Sumi Kichikawa readily admitted, "but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Gojo Satoru looked at him, and after two seconds, he suddenly smiled.

"There's nothing I can't say." He tugged at Kikawa Sumi's sleeve, pulled her arm closer to him, and then slipped his fingers between Kikawa Sumi's fingers.

"My family is indeed an old-fashioned one. They always talk about ancestral precepts and family rules; there are more rules than you can imagine." Gojo Satoru lowered his eyelashes, looking at the two clasped hands, a slightly nonchalant smile playing on his lips.

"However, since I'm the only heir in my family this generation, those old men dote on me and no one dares to let me suffer any injustice."

He finished speaking in a lighthearted tone.

Kikawa Sumi looked at his smiling expression but didn't reply.

He looked down at their clasped hands.

Gojo Satoru's fingers were long and strong, with distinct knuckles, and he was currently holding his hand, his thumb casually drawing circles at the base of his thumb.

obedience.

Kikawa Sumi silently pondered these four words in her heart.

He recalled the time when the two of them had just met.

At that time, although Gojo Satoru always seemed to be smiling and joking on the surface, he always carried an extremely elusive and unpredictable sense of distance.

He seemed fearless, his laughter and swearing depended entirely on his mood, and he maintained a detached distance from everyone, as if he could walk away at any moment.

It's a kind of... long-standing, deep-seated barrier.

It's as if he's been standing in a very high position since he was a child, with everyone looking up to him, flattering him, and fawning over him.

But no one stood beside him—truly and equally.

Being raised with excessive pampering and being raised with genuine care and companionship are two completely different things.

The former will only raise a lonely person.

Sumire Kichikawa gripped Satoru Gojo's hand tightly.

Gojo Satoru sensed the subtle change in the pressure of his hand, turned his head, and asked with a hint of doubt in his pale blue eyes, "Sumi?"

"It's nothing," Sumi Kichikawa said softly, a gentle smile appearing on her lips.

He didn't expose Gojo Satoru's nonchalant tone, but instead raised his other hand and placed it on the wet back of Gojo Satoru's head, pressing the head against his shoulder.

"Your hair isn't even dry, come here."

Gojo Satoru obediently tilted his head and rested his cheek on Sumire's shoulder.

Kikawa Sumi reached for a dry towel from beside her pillow and placed it over Gojo Satoru's white hair. Through the soft cotton cloth, she gently pressed the still-damp strands of hair with her fingertips.

Gojo Satoru closed his eyes.

The warmth emanating from the towel through Sumire's fingers, along with the unhurried, seemingly patient rhythm, soothed his tense nerves, making them feel as if a warm hand was gently smoothing them out.

The guest room was quiet for a while.

The only sounds were the soft rustling of a towel rubbing against hair and the occasional chirping of insects outside the window.

"And what about Sumi?" Gojou Satoru suddenly asked, "What's Sumi's house like?"

Sumire Kikkawa was taken aback.

As the mission taker, he cannot reveal anything about time travel.

He lowered his eyelashes and spoke, half-jokingly and half-seriously.

"I... I guess you could say I'm an orphan." Sumi Kichikawa's voice softened. "From as far back as I can remember, I've been constantly wandering. I've lived in many different places, and I'm always forced to leave just as I'm getting used to a new environment."

Gojo Satoru opened his eyes, and his azure eyes reflected Sumi Kikawa's face.

"Because I've been constantly on the move, I don't really remember much about my past."

Kikawa Sumi suddenly curved her lips into a smile, a hint of nostalgia appearing in her eyes.

"However, I still vaguely remember a few things. My hometown... seems to have a snow-capped mountain that never melts. At the foot of the snow-capped mountain, there is an endless sea of ​​flowers."

"In spring, the sea of ​​flowers blooms like a rainbow ribbon. In early spring, the valley is very lively, with many sounds mixed together, like..." He tried to describe the scene hidden deep in his soul to Gojo Satoru, but he suddenly stopped halfway through his sentence.

What does it look like?

His mouth was slightly open, and his eyes looked somewhat blank.

It is said that the first thing a person forgets in their memory is their voice.

Kikawa Sumi suddenly realized that he could remember the white of the snow-capped mountains and the red of the sea of ​​flowers, but he could no longer recall any sound from his hometown.

He couldn't recall the howling wind over the snow-capped mountains, the buzzing of bees in the sea of ​​flowers, or even the sound of the flowing stream in his hometown or the chirping of cicadas in summer. All of these had been completely erased during his long wanderings.

His hometown has become a silent, lifeless film.

A sense of loss instantly overwhelmed Kikkawa Sumi. He lowered his head slightly and gave a somewhat embarrassed smile.

"I...I don't think I can remember."

Gojo Satoru looked at Sumi Kikawa's slightly lowered face.

In the dim light, Sumi Kichikawa's profile appeared somewhat fragile.

This person, who usually appears gentle, reliable, and always manages everything perfectly, now has a faint, almost sorrowful, sense of bewilderment in his eyes.

Gojo Satoru remained silent.

He moved forward slightly, stepping over the extremely narrow gap, and stretched out his long arm to pull Kisakawa Sumi into his embrace. His large hands cupped the back of Kisakawa Sumi's head, pressing his face against the crook of his neck.

"It's alright," Gojo Satoru said.

"If you've forgotten the voices from before, then forget them."

He tightened his arms around Sumire's lower back slightly, and the two of them pressed tightly together.

"Isn't the sound Xiaocheng is hearing right here?"

Kikawa Sumi leaned against that broad, sturdy chest, the unique, slightly sweet, refreshing scent of Gojo Satoru lingering around her nose.

In my ears, I could hear Gojo Satoru's steady, powerful, and vibrant heartbeat.

Thump. Thump.

That was the most real and vivid sound in the world.

As Kikawa Sumi's tense body was enveloped in this incredibly warm atmosphere, she gradually relaxed.

He slowly raised his hand and hugged Gojo Satoru's lean waist, burying his face even deeper into that warm embrace.

Yes.

Although he has lost his past memories and voice, he now has an anchor point where he can find rest.

The years ahead are long, and he will spend them with this person, listening to the wind and the rain, creating new memories that belong to them.