Fifteen minutes later, across the vast coastline, as far as the eye could see, only one open-top off-road vehicle remained.

Wei Lai was stretched out in the back seat, dialling Ke Ke Shu’s number.

The instant it connected, all his frustration came out in one go: “You send someone to deliver equipment, and you do it with this much fanfare — scared the soul half out of me.”

Cen Jin was leaning against the vehicle frame, letting the sea breeze wash over her. She heard that and glanced at him; Wei Lai immediately covered the phone and explained: “Just an expression. How could I actually have been scared?”

Ke Ke Shu was entirely unapologetic: “Do you know who I’m protecting here in South Sudan? A senior military and political figure! I had to ask a considerable favour for you, and if not for that, the most I could have managed was to get you a minivan. Who else has the reach to call in a border garrison? Think about it!”

“My client gave the word — that’s the only reason the stationed troops came to bring you the vehicle and equipment! And you still have complaints, rambling on…”

Wei Lai laughed.

The soldiers had indeed said as much: orders had come from above, and they’d taken it seriously — set out before dawn. But the coastline was too long and they couldn’t pinpoint exactly where “Christmas Tree” would come ashore, so they’d simply driven along the coast patrolling, and when they’d been in the mood, had even raced the vehicles a few times.

He was genuinely moved: Ke Ke Shu had been protecting a high-profile figure, and at the end of it had spent no effort securing anything for himself, choosing instead to call in a major favour on his behalf.

Wei Lai said: “Then I offer you my sincere thanks.”

Ke Ke Shu was smug: “Of course!”

“Wei, this vehicle can’t be abandoned carelessly — they want it back. Wherever you end up stopping, let me know, and I’ll have someone drive it back. Also — did you see the transit passes?”

Transit passes?

Wei Lai sat up.

While going through the equipment in the canvas bag, he had indeed seen some papers tucked inside the map — he’d assumed they were put in carelessly and hadn’t paid them any attention.

He took them out now. The paper was slightly thick, with a national emblem printed at the top margin, covered in stamps, the main body of text in Arabic — he couldn’t read it.

Ke Ke Shu crowed with satisfaction: “Ordinary people couldn’t get these even if they wanted them. Those are special transit passes — you can cross borders with them, and they’ll get you into Ethiopia. I had them processed urgently last night just for you; also thanks to my client’s connections. Do you have any idea how difficult these are to get? Normal approval takes weeks. Present them together with your passport…”

Wei Lai felt a sudden sinking sensation in his chest.

After hanging up, his head began to ache. He pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose and lay back in the rear seat.

Ke Ke Shu may have done this with the best of intentions and inadvertently caused complications.

The reason he hadn’t retraced his steps was precisely to avoid, as much as possible, the people who wished Cen Jin harm — though he vaguely sensed that the other side would find them eventually. But with these special transit passes now arranged, the risk of exposing their location had increased.

And once their location was known, tracing their movements would become very easy in a place like this — two East Asian foreigners were conspicuous enough.

Cen Jin noticed the change in him: “What’s wrong?”

Wei Lai sat up and reached out to pull her down into his lap: “Let me ask you something… do you genuinely not know who wants you dead?”

Cen Jin said: “You’ve asked me that twice. Do you think I should know?”

Asked twice, answered twice — question and answer identical each time.

Wei Lai was quiet.

The first time he’d asked, her answer had seemed reasonable — after all, back in Helsinki, her social commentary had made her enemies on all sides, and the people sending her threatening objects had been more than one.

But now, Ke Ke Shu’s point had weight.

— Pursuing someone from Northern Europe all the way to Africa — a grudge like that isn’t born from a squabble of traded insults.

— Anyone should have some degree of awareness, some rough outline, some direction of suspicion.

Wei Lai tried to guide her toward it: “Think carefully — is there anyone you’ve ever provoked who has been relentlessly pursuing you?”

“Yes.”

Wei Lai was momentarily taken aback.

“There’s a man I once provoked, who kept pursuing me, and I ended up with him, and now I’ve gone off following him.”

Wei Lai could only laugh helplessly, and in the end gave a great laugh, gathering her up and being thoroughly affectionate with her for a moment.

Fine. Whatever. Whoever came, he’d have to protect her regardless.

Cen Jin asked him: “So where are we going?”

The vehicle had been sitting in the mud for quite a while now — fully loaded with equipment and supplies, everything in order, lacking only a direction.

Where to go?

Wei Lai was honest: “In principle, the sensible thing would be to find the best route back to Helsinki. But we both know — as long as the threat to you remains unresolved, going back or staying here makes little difference. Either way, the danger is equally real.”

Cen Jin made a sound of agreement: “Then pretend this danger doesn’t exist. In that case, where would you want to go right now?”

Wei Lai burst out laughing.

If there were no such danger — job freshly wrapped up, a large payday in hand, and now with the woman he wanted — his mood would probably be through the roof.

“I’d take her somewhere new, one scenic stop after another. And I’d go visit Ke Ke Shu’s place and eat him out of house and home.”

Cen Jin said: “Then let’s do exactly that.”

What?

Wei Lai hadn’t caught up yet, but Cen Jin had already settled herself comfortably in his lap and pulled the map out of the canvas bag, opening it up for a close look.

“Ethiopia… here, to the northwest — there’s the Meen National Park, the Simien Mountains, lots of wildlife: gelada baboons, Ethiopian wolves, jackals…”

“When I was doing aid work, my local colleagues used to tell me about the best places in Africa — the great wildebeest migration in Kenya, wild lions in the wilderness of Botswana… I never saw any of it. After the time in Kalong, I left in a rush and never came back.”

She looked up at Wei Lai: “Ethiopia is so close. Let’s go have a look. You don’t like the heat, and after this you probably won’t come back — while we have the chance, let’s go see it. Yes?”

Wei Lai was silent for a moment.

She spoke seriously and naturally, not at all as a jest and not as a plea.

Wei Lai found that he would not really refuse any request of hers — only —

“You know there’s someone trying to kill you. In a situation like this, you really have the heart to think about going somewhere to play?”

Cen Jin smiled. She narrowed her eyes, propped the map against the vehicle frame, and fashioned a small canopy of shade for the two of them.

She said: “Wei Lai, let’s make some agreements.”

“Go ahead.”

He couldn’t see her expression clearly — the map blocked the light, and her face was in shadow.

“When I first arrived in Africa, one day a senior colleague gathered all the new arrivals — men and women — into a room, and passed around some photographs. Too graphic to be made public: some were of men, some of women. Women, as you’d imagine, suffered worse.”

“He said: this organisation will do everything in its power to protect your safety. But nothing in this world is absolute — I need you to understand: when the situation spins out of control, the most extreme, terrible, and undignified circumstances may also befall you.”

“We passed the photographs around one by one. Some people were sick from looking at them. Some cried. I held one in my hands and didn’t let go — I held it so long I had creased the corners.”

“The senior colleague said: now, entrust your closest colleague with this: if this situation truly comes to pass, and you are powerless to stop it — what would you want them to do? Agree on it now. Don’t leave it to the moment when it happens, because there won’t be time.”

“We were all silent for a long time, and then we made these agreements with one another. I said to everyone: rather than endure that kind of repeated humiliation and then be killed without any dignity left, please kill me first. Compared to some of the things in those photographs, dying sooner is a mercy.”

Wei Lai had guessed roughly what was coming. A weight settled in his chest; the arm around her tightened slightly.

Cen Jin smiled: “People don’t like discussing the things they find unpleasant or distressing — but that doesn’t mean those things don’t happen. Wei Lai, I know you overheard my conversation with Bai Pao in the greenhouse. Some of my thinking hasn’t changed.”

“I don’t know who wants to kill me. But I know very clearly that even the strongest bodyguard by your side can’t stop a stray bullet from taking your life. Perhaps one day, while I’m laughing and talking to you, a bullet will detonate inside my head.”

“Or perhaps an explosion like the one at sea will happen again, and they’ll send more people, and the situation will be even more desperate…”

She lowered her voice: “We need to agree on this in advance: if it happens again — if you yourself are in danger — Wei Lai, please don’t throw your life away trying to protect me.”

Wei Lai was silent for a long time, then smiled.

He said: “How could that be? I’m your bodyguard.”

“I’m not following you as your client. I follow you as someone I love.”

“If I love you, isn’t that all the more reason to give everything to protect you?”

Cen Jin said softly: “You don’t understand. It’s like that time we passed those photographs around… If you died because of me, that would be harder to bear than if I died myself.”

Wei Lai reached out and yanked the map away with a rustling pull.

Cen Jin slowly closed her eyes.

Lightless bright daylight fell across her, still sharp enough to sting.

Wei Lai said: “Miss Cen, if you’re going to be this gloomy, I’m going to be displeased. I’m still thinking about how we’re going to live our days ahead, and here you are saying things about dying left and right — isn’t that putting a damper on things?”

Cen Jin smiled: “I knew you wouldn’t want to hear it… it’s only making an agreement — it doesn’t mean it’ll happen.”

“So you like agreements? Fine, let’s make one. Come on.” He held out his hand, all fingers curled inward except the little one, extended for a pinkie-hook: “Little finger — come here.”

Cen Jin smiled and mirrored him, her little finger curling lightly around his.

Wei Lai said: “We agree: first — Miss Cen, if you want to marry someone, while I’m alive, it can only be me. No doctors, lawyers, or professors need apply. If I die first, you’re free — a beautiful woman like you will have no shortage of suitors. No need to remain widowed on my account; that would be inhumane.”

Cen Jin’s eyes reddened at the corners; she worked to keep her smile in place.

“Second: if either of us dies, the other is absolutely forbidden from dying too. Live properly: eat well, dress well, sleep well. Think of the one who’s gone, mark the anniversaries, bring flowers, visit the grave each year. You may cry as needed to release the grief, but no single crying session may last more than ten minutes — it’s bad for the health.”

Cen Jin buried her face in his chest, sniffling as she nodded.

“Third: starting now — no more words of ill-omen, no letting irrelevant people affect your mood. Buy clothes, buy shoes, buy lip colour. Tour the highlands, visit the park, see the Ethiopian wolves. Apply lip colour by day, be intimate at night — that last point I especially want to emphasise. Yes?”

Cen Jin burst out laughing.

Wei Lai laughed too, then after a pause said softly: “If you agree, then seal it.”

He hooked her little finger more firmly, his thumb pressing against the pad of her fingertip — and then he lowered his head and pressed his lips gently to the back of her hand.

How strange — he’d always felt, in the past, that going to bed together was where a relationship between a man and a woman reached a kind of conclusion.

When Milu and Yi Fu’s relationship was confirmed, he and Ke Ke Shu had taken turns needling the couple from the sidelines: “Alright, got what you wanted — one thing off the list of concerns. Put her to one side for now. Surely you can come keep your brothers company now — play cards, drink, hit the nightlife.”

He now understood: it wasn’t a conclusion. It was only just beginning. How could it be crossing off a concern? She would grow and take root like a vine — the attachment of a lifetime, growing into him.

——

The vehicle wound along the muddy dirt road, lurching and swaying away from the shore.

There was actually a road sign along the way.

They passed a tree; hanging from one of its branches was a painting, swaying back and forth in the wind, and when it turned toward them Wei Lai could see clearly: it had a picture of a bar of soap on it.

What kind of custom was that?

Cen Jin said: “Advertising. Nowhere to post it, so they hang it in trees.”

What a solitary advertisement.

The vehicle entered the small town of Komke, and they were in luck — it happened to be the weekly market day. In truth the market wasn’t large — from end to end it barely stretched fifty metres; stalls on both sides selling chickens, palm oil, soap, woven hats and shoes, and also clothing.

The clothing stall was a small makeshift shelter with a rope strung across it holding about a dozen cheap, brightly coloured long skirts — nothing remarkable, but better than nothing. Cen Jin got out to browse through them. Wei Lai parked the car on the perimeter and watched her with a smile.

A local woman came over to sell small goods, her arms hung with dozens of gleaming golden ornaments, the pendants shaped like shells. They looked reasonable at first glance, but close examination revealed the craftsmanship was cheap and clumsy. Wei Lai shook his head; the woman grew anxious, and with the language barrier between them, she resorted to prising open a small shell to show him what was inside.

There was a red oil balm inside the shell. Wei Lai still didn’t understand, so the woman dipped a fingertip and brought it to her lips.

It was locally made lip colour — natural dye blended with an oil-based balm. Wei Lai’s interest was piqued; he opened several to examine them, but it seemed the technique wasn’t advanced enough to allow for different shades — they all came out the same colour.

He bought one and wound the chain around his hand twice.

A chicken was squawking and running loose; its slaughterer, cleaver in hand, was running after it.

Inside the makeshift shelter, Cen Jin was holding a sea-blue long skirt up against herself. The stall owner was moving around her in a circle, holding up a small square mirror, showing her the effect from the front and back.

Wei Lai picked up the satellite phone and dialled Milu’s number.

He said: “Do me a favour — look into the murder case that Cen Jin was once caught up in.”

Milu didn’t follow: “Sorry?”

“If her death threat has nothing to do with those social commentaries, then who has been pursuing her this relentlessly? When I think it through, there’s really only one thing that rises to the level of human life.”

“Didn’t you mention that she was once implicated in a poisoning case — the one involving pufferfish toxin? Look into the background of that case for me — there might be a lead.”

Milu was baffled, then after a pause asked: “Have you developed feelings for Miss Cen?”

Otherwise, why else would he be this invested in her affairs for no apparent reason?

Wei Lai said: “Yes.”

Milu was taken aback — he’d admitted it so cleanly and readily that it left no room for anything but helping, with nothing more to be said.

He reminded Wei Lai: “She was a suspect at the time — word has it the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. What if you dig all the way to the bottom and find out she really was the killer?”

If she genuinely was the killer — strangely, that actually made a certain sense: perhaps it was a family member of the victim, haunting her relentlessly in search of revenge.

Cen Jin turned in his direction, showing him the effect of the dress. Wei Lai gave her a wink — meaning: beautiful.

Then he answered Milu: “Even if she’s the killer, it doesn’t matter. It depends on the person who died — whether they deserved to die.”