The wedding banquet was held in a small restaurant next to the church, occupying the entire floor.

They hadn't invited too many people, just their closest friends and colleagues.

Manager Zhao also came, bringing a glass over to clink with Elena. "Elena, are you still going to work after this?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"I thought you wouldn't need to work anymore after marrying into a wealthy family."

"I didn't marry a wealthy family; I married Arthur."

Arthur, standing nearby, squeezed her hand and smiled.

The banquet didn't end until very late.

When they returned home—not the apartment in Emerald Bay, but a villa Arthur had recently renovated.

The star chart on the wall was hung back up; it wasn't the old one, but a newly painted one.

He had found someone to recreate it, stroke by stroke, based on his memories.

"Do you like it?" he asked, standing beneath the star chart.

"I like it."

"There’s something else." He led Elena upstairs and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

The room wasn't large, but it was cozy. On the nightstand sat photos of the two of them—

One was a candid shot he had taken on her eighteenth birthday.

One was a photo of them together in Zurich, with snow-capped mountains in the background.

"When was this taken?" Elena picked up the photo, stunned. She didn't remember ever taking this.

"When you were in Switzerland, I went to visit you and took it through the glass of the sanitarium."

He said, "You were facing away from me, and I was on the outside. I Photoshopped us together."

She looked at Arthur, her nose feeling sore.

"Arthur, just how much do you like me?"

He thought for a while, then said very seriously: "From when you were twelve to twenty-four—twelve years."

"And there will be many more years to come."

On their wedding night, Elena leaned in Arthur’s arms and pulled out her phone to browse the forum.

The post was still there; the latest update was from tonight:

[I married her.]

[Thanks to all the netizens who gave me advice. This post ends here.]

More than ten thousand congratulations followed below, and some people were asking him for photos.

He replied with one—

It was a photo from their wedding. Elena wore her wedding dress, he wore his tuxedo, the sunlight was perfect, and they were both laughing like idiots.

Elena exited the post and looked up at him.

"Shouldn't you delete the account?"

"No rush, I’ll keep it as a keepsake."

"A keepsake of what?"

"A keepsake of how a fool used a post to win over another fool."

Elena playfully hit him.

Arthur laughed, pulled her closer, and rested his chin on her head.

Outside the window, the moonlight was just right.

Elena thought back to twelve years ago, that night she first met Arthur.

Arthur had squatted down, looked at her, and said, "Elena, come home with me."

Back then, Elena didn't know that following him home meant for the rest of her life.

—The End—