Many people came. Joanne came, arm-in-arm with the man in the black coat.

She sent a row of flower baskets and smiled at me, saying, "May your business flourish."

I said thank you.

She looked up again: "A bookstore combined with a cafe is beautiful. One can tell the design was thoughtful."

Liam raised an eyebrow on the side: "Of course, this is a gift I gave to my wife."

Joanne sneered, and he went quiet.

Joanne didn't stay long; she bought two books and had a cup of coffee before leaving.

When she left, the man helped her carry the bag, and his other hand held hers.

I watched their retreating figures, feeling that Joanne should also be happy.

Several of Liam's friends came with flower baskets and gifts.

I didn't know them, and they didn't know me.

But they saw Liam standing beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder, and they understood everything.

The bookstore was packed with people.

Because it had been captured by passersby and posted online during the renovation, the uniquely designed shop became a hit before it even opened.

At this moment, some were taking pictures in front of the shelves, some were sitting by the window having coffee, and some were leafing through old novels.

The few employees hired couldn't keep up, so even we, the owners, had to pitch in.

I was busy settling bills behind the counter, while Liam helped me pass bags and tidy up nearby.

We didn't speak, but we worked with silent understanding.

I reached out, and he handed me a bag.

I looked at him, and he knew exactly which size to pick.

At noon, the crowd thinned out a bit.

I leaned against the counter and took a sip of water.

He stood beside me, holding a cup of coffee.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"It's okay," I said. "Easier than being in the hospital. In the hospital, you are saving lives; here, you are just selling books and coffee."

"Which one do you like?"

I thought for a moment. "I like both. But it’s different."

He nodded, not pressing for more.

Chapter 23

In the afternoon, the crowd grew again.

I was looking for an old edition of "One Hundred Years of Solitude" for a girl when I suddenly heard applause behind me.

I turned around and saw Liam standing in the middle of the bookstore, holding a small red box.

I was stunned.

The people around us quieted down, and I don't know who started it, but everyone began to step back to the sides, clearing a path.

He walked toward me, his pace neither fast nor slow.

The lights in the bookstore shone on him, and I saw he was wearing a dark gray suit, tied with the tie I had given him.

He stopped in front of me.

"Clara." He called my name.

I didn't speak. My hands gripped the hem of my apron beneath the counter.

He knelt down on one knee.

People around us gasped, some took photos, and whispers erupted.

"Is the boss proposing to the landlady?"

"I heard this bookstore was designed by the boss specifically for her, filled with small details from their time together."

"So romantic. The boss even said he’d give free coffee to anyone who finds them..."

I didn't hear those things.

My ears were buzzing, and in my eyes, there was only him—kneeling on the floor, holding up that ring.

I had seen that ring before. Five years ago, he showed me a picture and asked which style I liked.

I said I liked simple ones, no diamonds, too flashy. He said okay.

The one he bought was that very one—he had kept it for five years.

Sunlight poured in from the window, landing on his shoulders and on that silver ring.

The bookstore was very quiet; everyone held their breath, even the wind chimes stopped.

I watched him silently.

He just knelt there, looking up at me.

"Clara." He called my name. His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet bookstore, every word was crystal clear.

"Five years ago, I waited for you at the entrance of the civil affairs bureau for ten hours. Back then, I thought waiting was the hardest thing."

He paused.

"Later, I realized it wasn't. The hardest thing was after you disappeared and I couldn't find you. The hardest thing was realizing, after learning the truth, that you had carried it all alone for five years while I knew nothing."

His hand was steady; the ring didn't tremble.

"I’ve done many wrong things in my life, so wrong that I could never repay you in a lifetime."

His eyes were red, but he didn't cry.

"But I don't want to be wrong anymore."

He looked into my eyes, saying every word clearly: "I don't care if my parents agree or not. Even if they cut ties with me, I accept it. You are the only person I have ever wanted to marry in this life. That was true five years ago, and it is true five years later."

The wind blew in from the entrance, and the wind chimes rang once.

"I didn't come back to pay a debt. Not because you suffered, so I have to compensate you. I came looking for you because I wanted to find you. I am staying here because I want to stay here."

"I want you to be right next to me when I wake up every morning. I want to hold your hand and walk home every time we close the shop. I want to argue with you, and then coax you. I want to grow old with you, and run this bookstore together until the day we can no longer walk."

His voice went hoarse, but he didn't stop.

"Clara, I'm done speaking. Will you marry me?"

My tears fell down.

People around us started shouting, "Marry him!"

He didn't rush me. He just knelt there, waiting.

I remembered the first time he said this to me five years ago.

It was beneath the old city wall in Linwood, when he held my hand and said, "Clara, marry me."

I smiled and said okay.

Back then, I didn't know what would happen later.

But no matter how the world changed, five years later, he was still kneeling here, saying the same thing.

"Okay," I said.

The crowd cheered.

He put the ring on my finger, stood up, and pulled me into his arms.

I leaned on his shoulder, my tears smearing onto his suit, soaking into a small dark patch.

He didn't push me away, just tightened his arms, holding me even closer.

The wind blew in, and the chimes on the door rang.

Chapter 24

The days after the bookstore opened passed peacefully and slowly.

Every morning, I went to open the store first, and Liam followed with breakfast.

After the employees arrived, we sat in the corner, eating steamed buns while looking over design drafts.

Because of the bookstore’s popularity, he had received several commissions as a designer, enough to keep him busy for a while.

Our lives were like two streams, slowly merging into one; there were no earth-shattering waves, just flowing along peacefully.

But there was one thing I had never brought up—marriage.

He didn't bring it up either.

Everyone saw the proposal in the bookstore that day; I had said "Okay," the ring was on my hand, and I had never taken it off.

But things after the "Okay" were tacitly paused by both of us.

I said okay, but I didn't say when. He didn't ask.

Days went by, one after another.

I thought he could wait, and I thought I could slowly prepare myself.

But every time I walked to the entrance of the civil affairs bureau, I would remember that locked door from five years ago.

I couldn't step in.

That night, we closed the shop and walked along the old city wall.

The wind was strong, so I tucked my hands into his coat pockets.

We walked very, very slowly, like two old people.

"Liam," I said suddenly. "Have you ever thought about just living like this?"

I added, "Without getting married. Just like this."

He didn't answer, and his pace didn't falter.

I couldn't see his expression; his profile was illuminated by the streetlamp, revealing no sign of joy or anger.

We walked for a long time, so long I thought he wouldn't answer.

"I have thought about it," he said. "But do you really not want to get married again for the rest of your life?"

I was silent for a long time. "I have thought about it, but I'm afraid."

He stopped and turned to look at me.

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid that if we get married, you'll realize you chose the wrong person," I said. "I can't have children. My mother was right; the Liam family has a single heir for three generations. You don't care now, but what about five years later? Ten years later? When you see others with children, won't you regret it?"