Song Yu fought to keep her lips from curving into a smile and handed over the gun with feigned nonchalance.
Pei Zhi took it as naturally as breathing and slung it over his own shoulder.
He stepped past Song Yu and said something to Kasi in a cold tone laced with an irresistible pressure, as if scolding her for her reckless behavior.
Kasi didn’t show the disdainful attitude she’d had toward Havana earlier. Instead, she obediently pursed her lips and said nothing.
“Are you still looking for Bam?” Song Yu asked.
Pei Zhi nodded and glanced at the sun’s position. “It’s almost dark.” Searching the rainforest at night would be even more difficult.
In the distance, the roar of a helicopter sounded again. It took off from the farm, carrying the next group of crew members evacuating the site. This was the last flight of the day; the rest would leave tomorrow.
Song Yu watched the helicopter, and suddenly an idea struck her.
Deep in the rainforest, Pei Zhi led the way at the front while Song Yu cradled the drone’s control unit in her hands.
She had picked up the drone when she returned to the set. Zhao Xinxin had lent it to her with a thousand warnings and reminders, terrified that she might break it.
In the dense rainforest, the drone couldn’t fly high and had to avoid getting snagged on branches, but at least its vantage point was much farther than any person’s.
Kasi had refused to return to camp and insisted on tagging along.
They trudged through the forest for a long time.
“Anything?” Pei Zhi asked.
Song Yu halted and maneuvered the drone over the treetops, sending it higher.
The display screen showed the terrain for several hundred meters around. On the palm-sized screen, spotting anything was a struggle.
Pei Zhi came back from the front, bending slightly at the waist to peer at the screen with her.
Song Yu was so focused on the controls that she didn’t notice him drawing near. After staring at the screen for a while with no results, she looked up and realized how close the man was.
She could even feel his warm breath brushing the back of her hand, sending a tingling itch across her skin.
For a fleeting moment, she lost her focus. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she stammered, “Nothing.”
Pei Zhi’s gaze remained fixed on the screen, his brows furrowed as if pondering where Bam might have gone.
He pointed to one spot. “Can you fly it over there?”
As he moved, he leaned in even closer. The faint rustle of his clothing against hers came with the brush of his shoulder against her own, like a synchronized thud against her heart.
Song Yu stared at the man’s profile—eyelashes like raven feathers casting shadows, slender brows and eyes cool and detached, jawline sharp and defined.
A very faint scent of cedar wafted through the air, clashing subtly with the tropical humidity of the rainforest.
Her thumb on the control stick trembled involuntarily, and the drone wobbled in the sky.
Kasi let out a startled cry. “It’s going to hit a tree!”
Song Yu hurriedly steadied it, directing the drone toward the spot Pei Zhi had indicated.
The light was fading fast. If they didn’t find him in this area, they’d have to head back.
Kasi crowded in too, and the three of them stared intently at the tiny screen, searching.
Pei Zhi said, “A bit farther north.”
Song Yu pushed other thoughts aside and followed his directions.
“Here?”
“Lower.”
Song Yu wasn’t familiar enough with the rainforest, so Pei Zhi guided her on the directions. Their coordination was seamless.
“There! I see him!” Kasi suddenly shouted.
Song Yu jumped, shoving the joystick too hard. The drone plummeted straight into the canopy, wedged high in the branches and stuck fast.
Fortunately, the final image showed a dark figure. The drone had fulfilled its mission and gone down in honorable sacrifice.
“…” Song Yu held her breath and glanced at the wildly jumping Kasi. What a jinx of a kid.
They eventually found Bam on the reverse slope of a dirt hill. His leg was injured, and a bear’s corpse lay beside him.
Pei Zhi supported Bam as they made their way back to camp.
Song Yu and Kasi followed behind.
She was still wary of Kasi, unsure what other uncontrollable antics the little wild child might pull. Better to avoid her if possible.
But Kasi seemed to do it on purpose. Her English wasn’t great, yet she kept sidling up for whispered chats.
“Aren’t you supposed to be leaving? Why haven’t you gone?” Her tone still held a sulky edge, like she was shooing Song Yu away.
Song Yu rolled her eyes, patience worn thin. “None of your business. I’ll leave when I want.” She shot back like a kid herself.
Kasi blinked in surprise, at a loss for words for a moment.
She looked at Song Yu. Moonlight bathed her, making her skin look luminously pale, her dense eyelashes framing lazy eyes—nothing like the haughty demeanor she’d shown during the day.
The camp’s fires burned bright.
Bam’s bear-inflicted wounds had become infected and worsened. He was burning with fever and fell into a coma the moment they reached camp.
The Old Witch Doctor treated Bam, but with little effect.
Song Yu followed Havana and watched the entire process.
The Old Witch Doctor raised his wooden staff high, a vibrant feathered headdress on his head. Animal teeth clinked softly with his movements.
His eyes half-closed, he circled Bam, muttering continuously under his breath.
With treatment like that, no wonder Bam wasn’t improving. Song Yu couldn’t help but gripe inwardly.
Finally, the Old Witch Doctor stopped, slowly opening his eyes. He shook his head at Bam, who lay on a deer hide.
“He’s going to die,” Kasi whispered suddenly from right behind Song Yu’s ear.
Song Yu turned and shot her a glance.
Thanks to Song Yu’s help in finding Bam—and the chaos of the night—the tribe was no longer watching Kasi.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“The witch doctor foresaw it.” Kasi’s eyes were wide, firelight reflecting in her dark pupils.
The tribespeople hung their heads in gloom. Bam’s mother stayed by his side, while the others returned to the campfire, speaking in low voices without their usual easy cheer.
The night air had grown chilly.
For once, Havana and Meyer weren’t quarreling.
Meyer wasn’t tending to the children but was holding Havana as they lay on the ground. Havana gently patted her arm in comfort.
Song Yu stepped out of the Old Witch Doctor’s tree hut with Kasi and spotted two men standing in the shadows of a palm tree.
Song Yu pressed her lips together and walked over. “I can take Bam on tomorrow morning’s helicopter to the town for treatment.”
The crew’s original doctor had left with the first wave of the group that day, or he could have helped directly.
Takwar’s expression was grave. He held a corn husk cigarette between his fingers, its tip glowing faintly, before shaking his head in refusal.
“Why?” Song Yu didn’t understand his hesitation. With modern medical care outside, Bam’s injuries weren’t fatal.
Takwar didn’t answer and entered the tree hut to check on Bam.
Song Yu frowned, wanting to follow.
Pei Zhi leaned against the palm tree, his index finger tapping idly on the rough bark.
He lifted his eyes slightly and murmured, “It won’t help.”
Song Yu turned and met his gaze—deep pupils like an endless night, facing the tribe’s deaths with calm detachment.
Inside the tree hut, Takwar hesitated for a long time before finally suggesting they send Bam out for treatment.
Bam’s mother wept and berated Takwar loudly.
Kasi curled her lip and kicked hard at the tree trunk. The palm swayed, leaves rustling.
“Bam’s mother won’t let him on a plane. They think the sky is a terrifying place—worse than death,” she said.
“…” Song Yu fell silent, yet it made a strange kind of sense.
Native Americans loved the earth and despised the sky.
The earth grew corn and hope, while the sky brought foreigners and calamity.
“What about bringing a doctor here?” Song Yu persisted.
Pei Zhi stood in the shadows, watching the woman before him quietly.
Her eyes were clear and earnest, a camera hanging around her neck that followed her everywhere, a smudge of dirt on her nose tip. She was disheveled from running through the rainforest all evening, yet still earnestly brainstorming solutions.
Unlike others who stood on a supposed moral high ground calling them backward, she tried to understand—tried to grasp the tribe’s self-contained values and beliefs.
He straightened slightly. “I’ll go with you.”
Kasi threw a prolonged tantrum, demanding to go to town too.
Song Yu refused, fearing Kasi might bolt uncontrollably.
Early the next morning, the helicopter’s buzz echoed through the valley.
Kasi’s face was sullen, her eyes full of sulkiness. As Song Yu was leaving, she grabbed her clothes and tiptoed to whisper in her ear.
“Why are you helping us? We don’t have anything you want.”
Song Yu paused. Underestimating Kasi’s smarts would be a mistake on her part.
Pei Zhi nimbly climbed aboard using the struts and turned, extending a hand to her.
Song Yu tilted her head up. The fierce wind whipped her hair, blurring her vision, leaving only that hand in view—knuckles defined, a callus on the side of his middle finger.
She blanked for an instant, then turned to Kasi with a raised brow. Her lips curved into a beautiful arc. “Who said we don’t? Mind your own business.”
With that, Song Yu placed her hand in his, managing to grip only three of his fingers.
Pei Zhi’s movement paused, then he clasped her hand, enveloping it in his palm.
Her fingertips were slender and pale, brushing his hand back with an itchy tingle that spread inward.
The pilot handed over two sets of headphones.
Before Pei Zhi could reach, Song Yu snatched them and fitted one over his head.
Pei Zhi froze.
Song Yu had already slipped on her own headphones. She tapped them lightly, worried that Pei Zhi might not know how to use them, and explained, “These block out the noise. Just press this button to talk.”
Pei Zhi stared at her lips as they parted and closed, completely lost in a daze.
Thinking he was just nervous, Song Yu smiled reassuringly. “You won’t die.”
The headphones’ noise cancellation worked wonders. The roar of the propellers spinning in the wind faded into the distance, and time itself seemed to slow to a crawl.
Her warm, lazy voice filled his ears, vibrating his eardrums and sending a faint resonance through his chest.
Pei Zhi slowly pulled his gaze away. Flying in a plane wouldn’t kill him.
But he felt like he might drown in the woman’s limpid gaze at any moment.