Song Yu had a dream.
In it, she stood on a dividing line. Ahead lay a glittering city of revelry, alive with lights, music, and vice. Behind her surged the endless green ocean of the rainforest.
She glanced ahead, then back, hesitating between the two.
She hesitated until she woke. By then, the sun had climbed from the eastern horizon to its zenith. Sunlight poured through the window, blinding and fierce, baking her face until it burned.
Song Yu frowned. Her awareness slowly returned, and she felt a dry, raspy ache in her throat.
She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare. Her entire arm throbbed with soreness, and her body felt like it had been run over by a wagon.
What a night.
The wooden hut was empty. On the small wooden table sat a clay cup.
Song Yu struggled to sit up and reached for the cup. Its surface was still warm, and the water inside was clear, rippling gently as she lifted it.
She stared at the concentric waves, which reflected half her face.
Tear tracks lingered at the corners of her eyes. Her lips were red and swollen, still tingling with the memory of the man’s kisses—a stark reminder of yesterday’s recklessness and abandon.
She sat alone in the sparse, empty room and raked a hand through her tangled hair. For some reason, a wave of irritability washed over her.
It was that hollow emptiness that came after impulsive indulgence, when reason returned and the consequences loomed.
Song Yu pressed her lips together. Her fingertips traced the rim of the clay cup.
She turned her head toward the window. Her gaze settled on the eaves, where the arrow had pierced through, leaving a stark mark. A thin split ran down the palm trunk beside it.
Song Yu stared at the mark for a long time, lost in thought.
The water in the cup gradually cooled.
She tilted her head back and drained it in one gulp, quenching the last embers of heat in her body.
Song Yu stood, her bare feet pressing against the wooden floorboards. They creaked under her weight.
Her legs were so weak that her ankle twisted inward.
Song Yu’s expression froze. She muttered a quiet curse at the culprit, then pushed open the door and stepped outside.
Fresh air rushed to meet her. The ground was dry, baked hard by the sun—no trace of yesterday’s puddles. It was as if the rain, and the wild abandon it had masked, had all been an illusion.
The sunlight was dazzling. Song Yu squinted against it. When she looked up, her eyes fell on the ancient tree outside the hut.
Its canopy was lush and dense, the trunk thick and gnarled, roots sprawling in all directions.
Pei Zhi sat amid the branches, leaning casually against the trunk. Shafts of light pierced the dappled shadows, dappling his form with flecks of gold.
His eyes were downcast, his profile half-hidden in shadow, accentuating his high nose bridge and the sharp line of his jaw. His ever-present notebook rested on his knee, while his other leg stretched out long, swinging idly.
Time seemed to pause. Warm golden morning light floated around him like scattered gold dust.
Judy, the little monkey, poked its head over his shoulder, playfully tugging at his thick, dark hair.
The man remained undisturbed, head bent in concentration as he jotted down notes.
Song Yu stood frozen in place, staring for a long moment. Her heart itched and prickled, like it was being nibbled by rainforest ants.
The heat she had just quelled flared up again.
As if sensing her gaze, Pei Zhi lifted his eyelids and looked her way.
Their eyes met.
“Awake?” His voice was low and measured, rising slightly at the end, betraying his good mood.
Song Yu’s lashes fluttered. For no reason she could name, she lowered her eyes, avoiding his intense stare.
She gave a soft hum in response and stepped onto the ladder branching from the tree, climbing up.
The platform in the tree was spacious. She settled into a sturdy spot.
Judy leaped into her lap, blinking its curious eyes and tugging at her clothes now and then, testing her patience.
Song Yu scratched behind Judy’s neck. The monkey squeaked contentedly, nuzzling against her.
From the corner of his eye, Pei Zhi saw Judy’s face pressed against the woman’s softness. He frowned imperceptibly.
He reached out and grabbed one of Judy’s arms, pulling it aside.
Song Yu blinked in surprise, unsure why he had suddenly yanked at Judy.
Judy pulled a face at him, then nimbly swung back along a branch and flopped onto Song Yu’s lap.
Pei Zhi stared at the brazen little creature, lips pressed thin, at a loss.
Judy ignored the other male human’s possessiveness entirely. Its eyelids drooped, and it promptly fell asleep on the female human it liked so much.
A faint snore soon followed.
Song Yu smiled and stroked Judy’s coarse fur, one slow pass at a time.
Without the monkey’s antics, quiet settled over the space once more.
Neither spoke. It was as if the passion of the night before had faded, leaving them unsure how to wrap things up. The air grew thick and stagnant.
Song Yu shifted her leg uncomfortably and broke the silence. “What are you writing?”
Pei Zhi closed the notebook and handed it to her.
Song Yu arched a brow and took it, flipping through the pages.
The notebook was a thick stack, with only the last few pages blank. The rest brimmed with dense text and sketches.
The drawings depicted everyday tribal items: a clay pot with angular patterns, Havana’s jewelry, even that featherless parrot.
The text was in what looked like English script. His handwriting was elegant and fluid, with beautiful lines and curves—like a musical score.
But not a single word was familiar to her.
She tried sounding it out with English phonetics. It resembled the tribe’s speech patterns and language, but not quite.
Song Yu pored over the pages intently.
Pei Zhi’s hand rested on the tree, his index finger tapping the rough bark. A furrow formed between his brows, his mind elsewhere, restless with unspoken thoughts.
The sunlight’s shadows shifted slowly across the notebook.
Song Yu’s attention wandered too.
She reached the last page and closed it reluctantly.
A moment passed.
She glanced at her watch.
The ticking hands urged her on relentlessly.
Song Yu let out an inaudible sigh in her heart.
She closed her eyes, then opened them.
“In half an hour, I have to go,” she said at last, forcing a casual tone.
Pei Zhi froze, the words he had been about to say dying on his lips.
“What do you mean, you have to go?” he asked.
Song Yu braced herself against the trunk and leaned up, brushing a light kiss against the corner of his mouth.
It was shallow, like a soothing gesture—or perhaps a brush-off.
She shrugged. “You know why. I don’t fancy getting shot full of arrows by your tribesfolk.”
Takwar placed great importance on the tribe’s future. Everyone had been friendly to her so far, but only because their interests hadn’t clashed.
If they learned she had seduced one of their young men, who knew if they wouldn’t treat her like they had Burigude and fill her with arrows.
Song Yu’s fingers rubbed the notebook’s cover.
The hefty tome was heavy with his loyalty to the tribe—and to his own civilized world.
She knew exactly which side she belonged to.
“See, I can’t stay here. And I have no right to ask you to leave.”
Better to part while things were at their happiest. Separation was best for both.
The man said nothing. His dark eyes deepened, a chill rising from within.
She had been the impulsive one. And now she was the rational one.
Like a child who got her favorite toy and lost interest the moment she had it—just playing around.
Song Yu met his gaze. His pupils were ominously dark, sending a pang of unease through her.
She lowered her lashes and picked at her nails.
“I’ll come back to see you sometime,” she said. Whether from guilt or something else, it was a promise she knew she couldn’t keep.
Pei Zhi’s eyes drifted to her neck. The black patterns he had drawn were fading to faint lines, making her skin seem even paler. Her collarbone bore scattered, vivid kiss marks.
The traces hadn’t even faded yet, and here she was, eager to cut ties.
“…” Song Yu swung her leg nervously, stealing glances at him.
His reaction was surprisingly calm—just a cold, flat “Mm.”
Then came a long silence.
The half hour dragged longer than the entire night before.
The whir of helicopter blades echoed from above the rainforest, heading toward the farm clearing. The sound was urgent, insistent.
As Song Yu rose, she woke the sleeping Judy.
The monkey blinked in confusion. Whether from animal instinct or something else, it sensed the weird tension in the tree. Not one to get involved, it chittered and vanished into the canopy.
Song Yu hadn’t even had time to say goodbye.
For Judy, though, her farewell probably wasn’t that important.
As an outsider to the rainforest, her leaving was for the best. At least there’d be no more planes disrupting the peace.
Song Yu climbed down slowly. Her body still ached, her movements sluggish. She nearly slipped.
In the end, Pei Zhi lent a hand.
“…” Song Yu grasped his hand. His palm was warm and rough, so large that she could only hold three of his fingers.
It was as if she never wanted to let go.
Before leaving, she suddenly remembered something. “Oh, right—what was it you wanted to tell me yesterday?”
Pei Zhi’s gaze fixed on her, heavy and intent.
A long pause.
He curled his lips in self-mockery, his tone flat. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The man radiated an icy aloofness.
The distance between them spanned two entirely different worlds.
Song Yu pursed her lips, shoved her hands into her pockets, and trudged toward the helicopter, her head hanging low, one step at a time.
The wind grew stronger the farther she went, whipping her hair into disarray.
She had thought everything through so clearly, yet somehow her footsteps grew heavier with each passing moment.
Abruptly, she stopped and turned back, gazing toward the man perched in the tree.
Pei Zhi leaned against the lush trunk, brilliant sunlight enveloping him completely, as if he existed in a realm apart from her own.
Song Yu made no move to board the plane right away. She wasn’t even sure what she was waiting for.
Then the pilot leaned out and offered her a pair of noise-canceling headphones.
Song Yu gave a helpless smile. Even if he turned around now, she would still have to leave in the end.
Nothing could change that.
She accepted the headphones and ducked inside the helicopter.