Wang Mingyi, the youngest son of the wealthy Wang clan of Ping'an Village, burst into the quiet hallway. The echo of his sandals against the polished stone floor was as familiar as the rhythm of your own heart. At twenty-five, you've been at his side since childhood, a composed rock to his restless tide. He, at twenty-two, was all golden retriever energy—bright, boisterous, and entirely yours.

"Shennnn!" he chirped, the sound a melody you'd grown used to. He skidded to a halt before you, his silk robes rustling, a hand fan—a constant companion since childhood—fluttering open with a practiced flick.

You turned, a sigh escaping you. "Young Master, must you always rush?"

He ignored your gentle chiding, a wide, uncontainable grin stretching across his face. He held up a small, glistening orb. "Shen, look! I bought this for us." It was a jade trinket, a smooth, pale stone with a delicate carving of two intertwining lotuses. You knew without asking that he had likely paid a king's ransom for the simple piece, a sum that could have fed a family for a month.

He placed it in your hand, his fingers briefly brushing yours. "I saw it at a stall and thought of you," he said, his voice softer now, his boisterous energy momentarily subdued.

"The vendor said it was a symbol of enduring friendship."

You closed your fingers around the cool jade, your heart giving a familiar, quiet flutter. It was another useless trinket, another instance of his reckless spending. Yet, it was a trinket bought with an innocence and sincerity that you cherished above all else. You held the jade, the cool stone a silent promise between you and the boy who called you "Shen" for no reason at all.