Morning held its breath as the sun climbed from the east, its mild light spilling like warm silk over the sea and draping the scattered isles.

On one quiet island, a young boy and girl savored breakfast, steam rising like pale mist and bread warm as a little hearth.

Lin Fan’s head-pat landed like a sneaky crit, but a pale, soft fist answered; thump—he flew back like a leaf kicked by wind.

“I’m not a kid! I said don’t touch my head!” Little Loli puffed up, her cheeks round as buns and her glare bright as gold.

“Hiss—” Lin Fan pressed his face, pain pricking like salt, and pushed himself up from the grass like a slow tide.

Little Loli set her empty milk glass down, the ring of moisture bright as a halo on the table. “Lin Fan, how’d you know I was on this island?”

“Uh… satellite.” He thought a beat, words dropping like pebbles into a pond. “I tracked you by satellite.”

“Satellite?” Her little brows pinched like twin willow leaves. “I don’t have a tracker on me, right?”

“Of course not some cheap tracker.” Lin Fan stood, smoothing the creases in his shirt like ironing waves on sand.

“I knew you went missing at sea, so I used satellite imagery to sweep every island along the route. I spotted fire marks here, then choppered in.”

He lifted the glass and finished the last sip, milk cool as moonlight. Little Loli weighed him anew, her gaze bright as polished amber.

“Satellites… and you knew I went missing. Lin Fan, you’re not simple.” Her golden irises fixed on him like twin coins in clear water. “Who are you, really?”

“Me? Just someone with a bit of status.” He slid the rinsed cup and plate back into the crate, each clink neat as shells lined on a shore.

“I wrangled three days off just to come vacation on this island with you.” He patted a crate half his height, sturdy like a traveling trunk. “Since we split, I’ve been training. Look—gear’s all here.”

“…” Little Loli stared at his grin, speechless, her sigh light as a feather. “A few quiet days… a vacation does sound nice.”

She let the reason she’d reached this island sink like a stone in deep water, and she didn’t pry into who he was—just as Lin Fan never asked about her strange gifts.

“Heard you’re in seventh grade. How’s school?” Lin Fan dragged a chair to Xiao Qianxue’s side and sat, one leg crossed, lazy as a cat in sun.

Scenes from school flickered like lantern slides in her head, a carousel of chalk dust and chatter. “So-so,” she said, eyes on the blue sea like a calm mirror.

The sea breeze lifted her golden hair, a few strands brushing Lin Fan’s face like soft grass. “That jasmine scent… I missed it,” he murmured, closing his eyes to taste the note like tea.

“School’s a place you can take or leave—a crowd of bored folks and books dry as sand.” He laced his fingers behind his head, posture easy as driftwood.

“You don’t go?” Little Loli turned, surprise bright as a dropped bead.

“Not much. But that won’t last.” Depth moved in Lin Fan’s eyes like a shadow under waves; his gaze met her gold like sun touching water.

“Must be nice. If I didn’t have to study, I’d be set—anime every day.” She fell into a daydream, floating like a kite: sleep till the sun is high, wake to games, binge shows till stars come out.

“I skip school because I’ve got bigger things to do,” Lin Fan said low, his voice steady as a blade laid flat. “It’s not as easy as you think. Even without school, tutors grind you like a whetstone.”

“Sounds exhausting…” Little Loli sighed, a hint of guesswork glinting like a fish under the surface.

“Alright, enough of that. Let’s explore the island today!” Lin Fan stood, excitement sparking like flint; he looked down at Xiao Qianxue, heart beating quick as a drum.

“Sure.” She nodded, crisp as a tap on glass, and they headed into the green behind them like two figures entering an old ink painting.

They hadn’t gone far when Xiao Qianxue shrieked and dove into Lin Fan’s arms, her face burying in his chest like a frightened sparrow seeking a nest.

His heart took an arrow—shock first, then a rush warm as fire. “Spi—spider!” Little Loli pointed back, finger trembling like a reed in wind.

“I’ll handle it!” Lin Fan saw a gaudy, rainbow spider drop from a thick branch, colors slick as oil on water.

His hand flashed; a crimson blade flared like a comet. One thrust, clean through—the spider fell, limp as cut rope.

“Taken care of.” He soothed the golden-haired girl in his arms, palm gentle as stroking a kitten. “Really gone?” she asked, eyes glossy with tears like dew on petals.

That adorable, fragile look could melt stone; Lin Fan’s words stumbled like pebbles. “Y-yeah, it’s gone!” She was truly terrified of bugs.

“Lin Fan, you go first.” She slipped behind him, one small hand pinching the back of his shirt like a chick clutching a wing.

“Got it. Leave it to me.” He thumped his chest, promise firm as a drumbeat, and they threaded through the trees like shadows crossing moss.

Bugs blundered in their way, heedless as dull flies; Lin Fan’s blade whispered, slicing them to neat pieces like chopped twigs.

“This is the worst. I’d rather fight a dumb bear like last time,” Little Loli pouted, lips round as a cherry.

“Not bad to me. This feels like real adventure,” Lin Fan said, shameless as a rogue grinning under rain.

After a while, a strange tug rose in Little Loli, a pull like a hidden current under calm water.

“Wait, Lin Fan. Something’s calling me,” she said, voice distant as a bell across fog.

Her eyes bled red like twin garnets, her form shifting as if moonlight bent her shadow; the pull grew stronger, a rope drawn tight.

“Huh, that weird?” Lin Fan muttered, but the sight of her crimson gaze sealed his questions like a lid on a jar.

Following that feeling, Little Loli drifted to a small pool, its surface dark and clear, a little bowl of jade set in the forest’s green.