She only asked three friends before Miss Bennett got the information she wanted, and, somewhat surprised yet a bit pleased, discovered that the other party seemed to be inquiring about her as well.

The man’s surname was Griffin, given name Charles—the “important” 重, not the “repeat” 重. He was a meteorological surveyor—no one really knew what that job entailed, nor did they care; they only cared about how dazzling he was among a crowd.

Charles Griffin was the kind of person who was born to be the center of attention. Even if he was just standing somewhere, looking around in confusion, he would attract many admiring or envious glances. He was long used to it, as comfortable as a fish in water.

Besides his name and occupation, Miss Bennett also found out that he currently had no public partner. That was enough for her; she decided to make her move immediately, since there were plenty of potential rivals.

Miss Bennett was a principled person, so she first went to her current boyfriend, interrupted his grand speech, pulled him out from a circle of men, and calmly said, “I’ve thought it over carefully. We’re not right for each other. Let’s break up. I wish you happiness. Goodbye.”

Her boyfriend didn’t react at first, standing there in a daze. After a while, he would get angry and might do something rash, but Miss Bennett wasn’t afraid, because the so-called rashness would probably just be crying in public—no threat, just a bit awkward.

Before her boyfriend’s embarrassment could affect her, Miss Bennett smiled to comfort him, then turned and walked away. Passing the bar, she picked up a glass of wine and strode toward that dazzling jewel, without a hint of hesitation or timidity, and without considering what would happen if she were rejected.

She had never encountered “rejection.”

This was a love as sudden as a flash of lightning. Neither side made any effort to hide their feelings; they hit it off instantly. By the end of the party, the two had already fallen into each other’s love trap. In the eyes of most people, they were a model couple, together for a long time and worthy of blessings.

Only Miss Bennett’s ex-boyfriend couldn’t accept the reality right away, collapsing into a girl’s arms, sobbing and denouncing his ex-girlfriend’s heartlessness and shamelessness.

Miss Bennett and Mr. Griffin were in love. According to her, this was the first time she had truly given her heart; before, it was just to dispel loneliness. Mr. Griffin wasn’t so absolute in his words, but everything he said and did was full of deep affection, as if she was his everything.

Except for work, the two were inseparable every moment, the flames of love burning ever higher, with no end in sight.

A month later—astonishingly, only a month—Miss Bennett said she was surprised, because it felt like they had known each other for years—Charles Griffin invited Grace Bennett to meet his family and attend a birthday celebration for an elder.

This was an important and sensitive turning point; many couples, even after years of marriage, never reached this step.

Grace Bennett agreed without a second thought, and regretfully told Charles Griffin that she had no other family, only him.

They gave up the convenience of flying, drove a small car, brought a dozen gifts, and set off. Along the way, they toured mountains and rivers, and several times, on a whim, they visited nearby scenic spots.

It was always Miss Bennett who had these sudden ideas; Mr. Griffin never refused, quickly revising their plans to meet all her requests.

It took them a full seven days to reach their destination, just in time for the birthday banquet the next day.

This was also one of the things Miss Bennett was most satisfied with about Mr. Griffin: no matter how many changes were added along the way, no matter how spontaneous things seemed, he could always keep everything organized—taking the necessary leave, making the right calls, buying what was needed, booking accommodations—nothing was ever missed.

Mr. Griffin’s hometown was a farm—Guangye Farm. Here, they didn’t grow crops, but vast fields of solar panels. From a distance, it looked like an endless blue ocean; only up close could you see the small roads and patches of grass between the rows of panels.

“How big is the farm?” Miss Bennett asked in surprise. She had grown up in the city and this was her first time visiting a solar farm.

“Almost ten thousand square kilometers. Half is solar panels, half is other facilities.” Mr. Griffin answered with a smile, neither impatient nor launching into boring technical details. That was a common fault among farm people—talking too much and actually making visitors less interested.

They parked by the roadside, and Mr. Griffin led Miss Bennett into the depths of the “blue sea.” Hand in hand, they strolled along the path. The scenery was monotonous, but neither of them felt bored.

Their skin couldn’t feel the wind, but the roar of the wind was constant. After getting used to it, the sound became a vast kind of quiet.

“I feel like we’re two little fish swimming in the sea,” Miss Bennett said.

“Tiny fish, even shorter than a finger,” Charles Griffin gestured.

They encountered a team of maintenance workers driving oddly shaped vehicles. From a distance, someone stood up and waved, calling out Mr. Griffin’s name, signaling that he was home.

Yuanfa Guangye Farm, also called Yichang, was a place where the locals often proudly told outsiders that this was the first solar farm on the planet, established decades before “Zhaiwang Star” was even named.