"Oh, God!", Rong Xinghe gasped, covering her wide-open mouth. Amid all the conspiracy theories she'd been solving and decoding these past few days, she hadn't seen this one coming. "Are you sure?", she asked.
"I've never been this sure about something, Xinghe. I want this.", the man smiled, picking up the glass from the tray the waiter had brought. The Virgin Mojito. The drink that wasn't just a drink to them. It was a memory. A beautiful and unforgettable memory.
"I know you can not promise me a 'forever'. There will always be uncertainties and fears and dangers. There will always be the possibility of you not returning back home one day, for you are a valorous and remarkable soldier. I know all of it.
"But even after all that, I want this. I want to build a home. With you. Every morning, I want you to wake up to the smell of breakfast I make. Every evening, I want to be the reason you would want to wind up every mission and come back home.
