Du Lai raised his hand—and truly wanted to slap some sense into her. But looking at that face, drenched in tears, his hand wouldn’t come down.

Maybe she was right.

He did like her—liked her looks, liked her willfulness, liked the world she represented, that world of wealth and privilege he could never touch. In a way she embodied everything glamorous and unattainable, and what man wouldn’t be drawn to that? But how much of that attraction was genuine feeling?

That kind of liking was not enough to carry two people forward.

And suddenly he felt deeply sorry for both of them. Sorry for himself, sorry for her—they were both grasping at things they could never have.

Du Lai released her and slumped to one side, leaning against the cold hard wall, eyes shut.

Fu Miaoxue was still in the same position, crying softly.

That night, neither of them spoke again.

……

It rained in the second half of the night. A thin, pattering rain.

Though it wasn’t heavy, the temperature plunged, and by morning the sky was dark as dusk, the rain still falling in a fine gray curtain.

Du Lai felt waves of chill move through him. On instinct he reached for warmth, but as he shifted his body, he found he had no strength at all—couldn’t even lift his head.

He knew he was probably sick.

He felt a flicker of regret. Without fire, he was the one who suffered for it.

Though his body had always been strong—he hadn’t fallen ill once in all their time on the island. This time, falling sick now was in all likelihood Fu Miaoxue’s doing. She’d made him sick.

That woman clung to him like a ghost. Even now, sick as he was, she was murmuring in his ear: “Du Lai, wake up… What’s wrong with you? Don’t scare me… Please wake up… wake up…”

He very much wanted to tell her to stop, it was unbearably loud.

But his voice wouldn’t come. Even his eyelids were too heavy to lift.

Half-unconscious, he drifted off again. He didn’t know how much time passed. He felt cool water brush his lips—Fu Miaoxue must have cupped some water in her palms and was trying to help him drink.

Du Lai thought, *She must be terrified right now. If I die here, she’ll have nothing but a monkey to keep her company for the rest of her life.*

And somehow, thinking that made him want to laugh.

*I must not be thinking clearly anymore… here I am like this, and I still want to laugh…*

Du Lai had no strength in his body and no will in his heart. Half-delirious, he heard Fu Miaoxue say, “Du Lai, my grandfather is sending people soon. Hang on a little longer. Someone will come rescue us.”

He thought: *Good. So the wretched woman has some conscience after all. She couldn’t bear to watch me die.*

Fu Miaoxue was crying softly. “When we get back to the estate, you and Alice have to stay by my side forever, alright? I won’t scold you anymore, I won’t bite you anymore—I’ll dress you in nice clothes and feed you delicious food. At home there’s an enormous gold cage, the most beautiful one, and I’ll let you live in it. Just get better, please—I’ll take care of you, I will, I will…”

Du Lai: ……

Damn.

That was not the outcome he wanted.

……

Consciousness returned. Du Lai opened his eyes.

The moment he registered his body had recovered, his first instinct was to check himself for anything unusual attached to him—no collar, no handcuffs, no chain, and no gold cage anywhere in the room.

What about outside? Would there be bodyguards posted?

He forced himself to sit up and get out of bed, walked to the door—and before he could open it, the door swung inward from outside. A woman in black looked at him without expression. “Mr. Du, you’re awake.”

Du Lai went still.

He recognized this woman. She was Fu Miaoxue’s female head-of-household. Which meant—they really had been rescued. Fu LiSheng had sent people.

But where was Fu Miaoxue? Where was she?

The housekeeper handed him a card. She said in an even tone, “This is a small token of appreciation from Mr. Fu, in thanks for your care of the young mistress during that time.”

—