Cen Jin returned with the skirt she had bought, and Wei Lai leaned over to open the car door, pulling her up into the vehicle.

But he was in no hurry to leave. His reason: this market is so interesting — let’s have a look around.

What utter nonsense. What was so interesting about this little market? Hardly any people, and nothing worth picking through either.

Yet Wei Lai seemed genuinely in high spirits. They lingered there for quite a while, and the way he shopped was thoroughly imperious — he refused to get out of the car himself. Whenever he spotted something he liked, he would lazily wave from a distance, and the vendors would come trotting over eagerly. If the goods were heavy and bulky, they’d bring one item at a time for his inspection; if the goods were small and light, they’d simply move their entire stall over to him.

By the end, the whole little market had completely reorganized itself, radiating outward in all directions with the open-top jeep at its center.

A large palm-leaf mat was loaded into the back seat. Wei Lai’s rationale: they’d be traveling through the mountains and scenic countryside, and would need to stop and rest at any moment — a mat would be convenient.

The chicken seller enthusiastically slaughtered a bird for him, helping to wash, prepare, and cut it into pieces, even throwing in local aromatic spices as a bonus. Wei Lai’s reason for buying the chicken: they could grill it on the road, which beat eating dry rations the whole way.

Two straw hats were purchased for shade. Two pairs of straw sandals were acquired to wear for fun.

……

Cen Jin watched him hold court from the side, caught between laughter and exasperation, as he threw this tiny little market into delightful chaos.

They finally set off again. The car was loaded with all manner of things, and the market vendors sent them off with such reluctance it seemed they were just barely refraining from lining up to see them away.

The car pulled onto a dirt road, leaving the clamor behind. Cen Jin looked over at him and said: “That was deliberate, wasn’t it? You were afraid people wouldn’t remember you.”

Wei Lai admitted it readily: “Indeed. I’ve made a plan.”

Cen Jin didn’t ask what the plan was. She simply teased him: “It’s rare for you to make plans at all.”

Wei Lai laughed. It really was rare.

After finishing his call with Milu, he had genuinely made a plan.

Cen Jin could treat this whole journey as a leisurely sightseeing trip. He could not.

Until her situation was resolved, there would remain a thorn lodged in his heart every single day — he couldn’t live freely and at ease.

Leaving Hu Sha’s boat meant the days of sleeping soundly were over. From here on, he would have to stay vigilant the entire way, stay alert at every moment, sleep with one eye open at night to guard against the unexpected.

When would this suffocating way of living ever end? Besides, it really didn’t suit his temperament.

Wasn’t it said that the best defense is offense?

He felt a long-dormant urge stirring — the urge to set a trap and hunt. Ke Ke Shu had opened things up for him; now that the special transit passes had been processed, his whereabouts were no longer hidden. So he’d gone ahead and cast his net a little wider at that small market.

Come on, then. I’ll stand right out in the open — no dodging, no hiding. I’ve drawn the boundaries and laid out the terms. If there’s business to settle, settle it early. Don’t hold up this old man’s carefree life.

——

By midday, the sun had climbed high. Dust and sand flew sideways; it was scorching and sweltering. Cen Jin coughed from the grit in the air. Wei Lai pulled the car over to the side of the road and placed a straw hat on Cen Jin’s head, then put one on himself.

The two of them stared at each other and burst out laughing at the same time.

Wei Lai swore: “Damn it.”

Cen Jin was equally resigned: “This car doesn’t have any kind of roof? Back when I used to watch movies and see soldiers driving this kind of vehicle with guns mounted on top, I always thought it looked so cool — no wonder those shots only last two seconds.”

Driving this kind of car for two hours under blazing sun or in a torrential downpour — how could anyone in it possibly survive?

Wei Lai looked at her: “Cen Jin, there’s something we need to discuss.”

“Do you agree or not — in any situation, practical and functional comes first. We should not be pursuing things that look impressive but are useless.”

“Agreed.”

Wei Lai said: “Good, then this is easy.”

He jumped out of the car, dragged the palm-leaf mat from the back, measured it against the car’s length, then pushed it horizontally up onto the roof rack.

He found some rope, cut it into several lengths, threaded them through where the mat met the frame, and lashed it down securely.

It was even more blunt and rough-and-ready than the time he had altered her dress.

Cen Jin nearly laughed herself to tears. The car itself had been rather stylish and rugged — but now, suddenly capped with a palm-leaf mat, it looked like a fashionable person who’d gone and got themselves a bowl-cut hairdo.

At least there was no longer any worry about being recognizable on the road.

——

Not long after setting off again, they came upon a small border town bisected by a dried-up riverbed. On this side of the river was Sudan; on the other side was Egao. Both sides had ropes strung across, with border-crossing checkpoints and guards on duty.

On the Sudan side, a long queue had already formed — many people crossing the border, carrying all manner of documents. Wei Lai drove the car up and joined the queue, moving slowly forward with the rest. It didn’t take long before they attracted the guards’ attention.

Two armed guards came over and rapped hard on the windshield with their knuckles: “Get out! Queue up! No driving through!”

Wei Lai deliberately ignored them, thoroughly enjoying the attention from all directions — until one of the guards drew his weapon and raised it level in a show of force. Only then did Wei Lai smile, and handed over the special transit passes all at once.

He couldn’t read what was written on them, and didn’t know which ones were for Sudan and which were for Egao — but the guards certainly would.

Sure enough, the two guards’ expressions shifted. They conferred quietly for a moment, then their manner improved: “Please come this way.”

The two guards led the way ahead, specifically unstringing a long section of the rope barrier for them. The car drove through the gap, descended along the sloping riverbank down to the dry riverbed. The Egao guards on the other side had clearly taken notice too, and came striding over to meet them.

The documents worked their magic again. Just as on the Sudan side, no vehicle inspection was conducted — though Egao’s procedures were somewhat more stringent; passports and transit passes were both taken away to be stamped, registered, and then returned for clearance.

The moment the barrier rope was lifted, Wei Lai said: “Cen Jin, the good times are coming — we’re about to enter a cool and refreshing new world.”

Cen Jin laughed out loud.

Although Egao was situated in tropical Africa, its altitude was relatively high — and it was currently in the transitional period between the short rains and the long rains, so temperatures in the highlands could sometimes drop below twenty degrees Celsius.

For someone who had been steaming in a place like Sudan for over ten days, that temperature was nothing short of paradise.

So after crossing the border, even though most of the roads were gravel tracks, the car tore along at full speed. Using the GPS navigation on the satellite phone, they headed south for a stretch, then turned westward.

As the terrain climbed higher, the landscape gradually changed. By afternoon, the car had clearly entered highland terrain. Sunlight was still present, but less fierce. Occasionally they passed small shacks nestled among sparse trees.

Every pedestrian they encountered was carrying an umbrella — some held them open for shade, some used them as walking sticks, and some were simply using them as poles to chase away stray dogs.

Cen Jin suddenly grew worried: “If it rains, will the roof of our car leak?”

Wei Lai said: “Light rain should be fine — it’s woven quite densely.”

As luck would have it, halfway up a mountain, they ran into a sudden heavy downpour. Rain pelted the palm-leaf mat with a loud drumming sound, and water streamed down both sides of the mat in curtains. Wei Lai quickly turned the car and drove to the shelter of a short tree higher up the slope.

The dense canopy overhead muffled much of the noise on the mat above. The water curtains dwindled into gradually dispersing trickles. Not far away was a cliff edge; in the valley below, rain mist rose and swirled.

They waited a while. The rain lightened but showed no sign of stopping. Cen Jin suddenly gave a shiver and said: “Cold.”

The moment she said it, Wei Lai felt a chill too — the highland temperatures had already been dropping, and now with rain and mountain wind, it really was rather biting.

He rummaged through the luggage bag. No thick clothes. Cen Jin wrapped the gauze shawl around herself; it looked like she had an extra layer, but having it made barely any difference, and not having it would have made barely any difference either.

Wei Lai was amused. He asked her: “Want to come over here?”

Cen Jin had been waiting for exactly this. She immediately scrambled up and burrowed into his arms, curling herself into a ball. Wei Lai held her, pulling the gauze shawl to cover her bare calves.

A man’s body seemed to radiate heat by nature. Nestled against him was both comfortable and warm. Cen Jin relaxed quickly. She watched the intermittent trickle of water along the mat’s edge, and a mischievous playful impulse suddenly arose — she kicked off her sandals and held out her foot to catch the falling drops.

A large drop landed on the top of her foot almost immediately, transparent and full, trembling and quivering, on the verge of sliding down. Wei Lai gave her waist a pinch and said: “Aren’t you afraid of catching a cold?”

Cen Jin was displeased. She buried her face and said: “What’s it to you? I do as I please.”

That’s what she said — but the foot she’d extended outside quietly drew itself back in and tucked back under the gauze shawl.

Wei Lai laughed heartily. He dipped his head to nuzzle her cheek. The past few days had been so hot that whenever he was tender with her, her skin had always carried a faint, warm dampness. Now, with the temperature dropped, her skin was subtly cool — soft and smooth and exquisite under his hands in a way that made him reluctant to let go.

He murmured: “You’re so docile now. How could you have been so fierce before?”

Cen Jin gave him a sideways look: “Fierce? I simply wasn’t particularly warm. The first time I spoke to you, wasn’t I perfectly polite and courteous?”

“You can’t look at the way I spoke firmly and sternly during negotiations with Bai Pao or Hu Sha and conclude that I’m fierce. That’s just a strategy.”

True enough — Wei Lai remembered it now.

The first time Cen Jin had spoken to him, she really had been impeccably mannered: she had addressed him as “Mr. Wei,” and when asking something, had first apologized, saying she hoped it wasn’t “too abrupt.”

She clearly had a fine upbringing. Even when distant, you couldn’t fault her on courtesy.

“Why not be more warm? Do you know that Milu described you as ‘dead and lifeless’?”

Cen Jin answered languidly: “Warmth depends on the person. I simply can’t summon the energy for others… The next time I see him, I’ll still be dead and lifeless. If he doesn’t like it, he can come bite me.”

Wei Lai gave a resigned laugh. There was nothing to be done with her.

But he had to admit, he found that answer extremely satisfying: he wasn’t the generous sort — he didn’t want his woman to be thick as thieves with his friends.

Not being warm was something to be encouraged. It should continue indefinitely.

The day Milu said to him: “Wei, this Miss Cen is so warm and passionate…” — that would be the day he’d be infuriated.

——

The rain fell in a fine, soft patter. No people, and therefore no disturbances. White mist rose in the distant valley.

There are always certain moments — remote and apart from the world — that make a person wish for time without end.

Cen Jin asked softly: “Six years ago at this time, where were you?”

Wei Lai thought for a moment: “Six years ago… I should have been… in Malaysia…”

He suddenly started laughing.

“Yes, in Malaysia — deserting. I was hiding in Port Klang at the time, waiting for word from the smuggler, preparing to cross illegally. You understand — couldn’t go through official channels, afraid of being caught and shot. I was thinking about sneaking across to Indonesia or Medan. As long as I was out of Malaysia, I’d be safe.”

“Did you have a phone with you then?”

“Yes — bought a secondhand one at a used goods market. I stared at it all day, waiting for the smuggler’s message.”

“What was the number?”

“I don’t remember.”

Cen Jin showed no mercy — she seized the soft flesh at his waist and gave it a fierce twist.

Wei Lai hissed in pain: “Ow… ow… I genuinely don’t remember.”

Cen Jin didn’t let go.

Wei Lai said: “Miss Cen, I genuinely don’t remember. A phone and number bought six years ago, only used to communicate with a smuggler… Could you remember it to this day?”

Cen Jin was being completely unreasonable: “I want the number.”

Wei Lai was exasperated: “Why?”

“Six years ago at this time, I was unhappy, and I wanted to call you.”

Wei Lai said: “Miss, we need to be realistic about this. Six years ago, I didn’t even know you. Back then, my entire world was the smuggler…”

That earned him another merciless twist.

Wei Lai said: “Alright, alright, alright…”

He negotiated with her: “Can I go find it for you later? After leaving the boat, I gave that phone to the ferryman. We first took a motorboat, and then near our destination we ‘swapped cargo’ — transferred onto a small local vessel… The ferryman was very poor; he treated that phone like a treasure. He might still have it. Can I go look for it and give it to you later?”

Cen Jin was finally satisfied.

She asked him: “And if I called you, would you have come to Ka Long to pick me up?”

Wei Lai had learned his lesson: “I would! Ow, ow…”

Damn it, answering “I would” wasn’t right either — she twisted him again!

Cen Jin said: “No lying. We must be realistic.”

Now you remember “realistic”? Wei Lai nearly burst out laughing in indignation.

So he was realistic: “Probably not. I didn’t know you. Even if I received that call, I’d have assumed you dialed the wrong number.”

Cen Jin thought about it seriously: “So what would I have had to say? Tell you I’m your girlfriend six years from now?”

Wei Lai said: “If you said that, I’d have thought you were out of your mind. If it were a video call and I could see your face and figure, I’d probably be in the mood to chat with you, just for something to do. But if I couldn’t see you, I wouldn’t even bother to talk to you…”

“Then what could I have said to persuade you to come pick me up?”

Wei Lai said: “Give that idea up entirely. If we’d already known each other, maybe. But strangers? Ka Long is so far away, and it was in the middle of a war zone. Do you really think I’d go just because of one baffling phone call?”

Disappointment flickered across Cen Jin’s eyes. She went quiet.

Wei Lai felt a pang — he really couldn’t bear to see that expression on her face. “Anyway, what’s done is done six years ago. Why are you so fixed on it?”

Cen Jin’s voice was very soft: “Because the time we’ve had together is too short. I keep wanting to go back to before, and find more possibilities.”

Wei Lai’s heart softened.

He thought for a while and said: “How about this.”

“After you call my phone — don’t say something like ‘I’m the person you’ll love six years from now.’ I won’t believe that.”

“Then what should I say?”

“Say: I am the person you will fall in love with, and I am on your boat. If you say it like that — even as a stranger — I might actually go to Ka Long.”

“Why?”

Wei Lai smiled, and was quiet for a moment.

He said: “When I was small, I spent three months on a smuggling vessel — drifting at sea day and night. So I’ve always felt that my fate is like a boat: the port of departure was not my choice, and I never knew where I would drift to.”

“Later — I’ve forgotten who told me this. He said: The things a person can let go of represent the past; the things they cannot let go of are their destiny.“

“I thought to myself — I had nothing I couldn’t let go of. My parents, my homeland, wealth, fame — I’d let them all go.”

“So what could I possibly not be able to let go of? Perhaps only love.”

He hadn’t really believed then that he would ever truly love someone. But it was hard to say — no matter how cynical a person was, perhaps somewhere in their heart, they still held out hope for love.

“I’ve always believed that the person I truly fall in love with will become my destiny — someone I could never let go of, because I would not be willing for her to become the past.”

“If she truly appears, she will certainly be on my boat, accompanying me always.”

Wei Lai lowered his head and smiled gently, looking at Cen Jin.

So — if you were to say on the phone that you were on my boat, I might actually go to Ka Long.

He had once stayed in La Pu Lan for four whole months purely because he liked it, hadn’t he? Why couldn’t he travel to Ka Long for a phone call that moved him?