Du Lai had stolen computers, stolen phones, stolen all manner of electronics equipped with tracking functions. This chip gave him an immediate and unsettling sense of familiarity.

He glanced at Fu Miaoxue, already sound asleep beside him, and said nothing. He pried the chip loose.

He wasn’t sleepy.

Du Lai sat quietly, the tiny chip pinched between his fingers.

He didn’t know the chip’s true purpose—only that he could guess. If someone put a chip in a collar, what purpose could it serve beyond tracking location?

When Fu Miaoxue had first put the collar on him, she’d clearly intended to bring him back as a pet.

If the Fu family treated a pet with such thorough consideration, would Fu LiSheng really have made no protective arrangements for his own granddaughter?

Fu LiSheng’s son and daughter-in-law were dead—kidnapped, ransomed, killed. Fu Miaoxue was now his only blood kin. How could he have left her unprotected?

Compared to surrounding her with teams of bodyguards, what could be more reliable than a small tracking chip? …And yet, they had been stranded on this island for so long, and no rescue had come.

Would Fu Lisheng really allow his granddaughter to go unrescued? Why hadn’t he sent anyone?

Had he guessed wrong? Was there no tracking device on Fu Miaoxue after all?

…Or had she hidden that fact?

Du Lai looked at Fu Miaoxue again. She slept peacefully, her face guileless and innocent. Even stranded on this island, she had never been low or despondent—she’d always seemed genuinely, enthusiastically engaged with everything.

Was she simply someone who didn’t worry? Or did she simply not fear what lay ahead for her?

Du Lai very much wanted to wake her right now and ask her directly—whether she had any means of contacting her grandfather.

But if she had deliberately concealed it, even if he woke her now, would she tell him the truth?

Du Lai held back.

The chip pressed into his palm. He gazed out at the stars, and sat there through the entire night.

……

The next morning, Fu Miaoxue woke up, blinking her bleary eyes open to find Du Lai sitting by the door. “You’re up so early,” she said.

She slowly climbed to her feet, went outside to wash up—chewing a few leaves to clean her teeth, rinsing her face and hands from a bamboo tube of clean water—then found a flat patch of ground to sit down, humming a little tune as she braided her hair.

Du Lai sat without moving, his gaze drifting slowly after her—watching her moving hands, her slender feet, the clean white curve of her earlobe as she tilted her head to pull the braid over one shoulder.

No jewelry anywhere.

Necklace, earrings, anklet, waistband—all absent. If she really did have a chip on her, where would it be hidden?

Fu Miaoxue let out a little laugh and looked at him. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

Du Lai startled slightly, then smiled faintly. “I thought you looked pretty today.”

Fu Miaoxue turned back to her braid with a smug little curl of her mouth. “Didn’t I say so? You like me. You just always refuse to admit it.”

Du Lai kept that same faint smile. “Indeed. Your charm is overwhelming.”

Fu Miaoxue cupped her face in her hands, even more delighted. “Hmph. Smooth talker.”

Du Lai thought: *If there really were a kidnapping, jewelry would be the first thing stripped away. Fu Lisheng knows human nature and its worst instincts—he wouldn’t put a chip somewhere so obvious.*

So where else?

…The shoes?

Fu Miaoxue’s delicate little leather shoes hadn’t survived the rocky island terrain. She’d taken them off and set them aside days ago. Now she wore grass sandals Du Lai had woven for her.

Du Lai thought for a moment, stood, and went to retrieve Fu Miaoxue’s leather shoes.

The lace was broken. The top was inlaid with crushed diamond fragments arranged into a butterfly. Du Lai ran his fingers over it, then flipped the shoe over and hesitated about whether to pry the sole apart.

Light footsteps approached behind him. Fu Miaoxue poked her head in, peering curiously. “Du Lai, what are you doing?”

—