Jiang Yu swiped past Jiang Yao’s Moments with a blank expression and turned off the screen.
Her place? That depended on whether she even cared to stand there anymore.
The relentless drizzle had been falling for two days. Deer Antler Island was already humid, and now it was thoroughly soaked through.
The abandoned stone house, years past its prime, had finally given out—the roof was leaking.
Drip. Drip.
Rainwater seeped through the cracks in the stone, splattering onto the wooden floor and pooling into small puddles.
Jiang Yu sighed, dug out a torn piece of plastic sheeting, and stepped onto an old plastic stool, trying to patch the gap.
The old house had a high ceiling, and even on her tiptoes, she was still short of the mark.
Suddenly, the stool leg slipped beneath her. Jiang Yu’s body tilted, and she began to topple sideways.
A hand caught her elbow, steadying her. The temperature of that hand was startlingly cold—like it had just been pulled from the freezing rain outside.
Jiang Yu steadied herself with the help of that force, turned her head, and found herself staring into a pair of dark golden eyes.
They were close—close enough to catch the faint scent of seawater on him.
A beat of silence.
Jiang Yu naturally stepped back half a step, and Cang Ming released his grip, turning his head to look at the moss in the corner. Neither spoke.
To break the silence, Jiang Yu turned to find something to catch the water.
A red iron bucket, a chipped washbasin, a plastic bowl, and a cracked clay pot.
Four containers lined up beneath the leak, and the rain drummed into them with a clatter.
Rapid footsteps sounded from outside. Old Chen, draped in a long straw rain cloak, strode in, clutching a bundle of dry thatch to his chest.
He tossed the thatch to the ground and wiped the rain from his face.
“I knew this rotten roof would cause trouble! This house has been empty for five years, and you, a city girl, dared to move in.”
Cursing under his breath, Old Chen hoisted the wooden ladder from the wall and climbed up. “Don’t make a fuss—I’ll handle it. Once the weather clears, I’ll find someone to fix it properly. For now, we’ll patch it up and make do.”
Jiang Yu poured a cup of hot water and handed it over. Old Chen didn’t even glance at it, waved his hand, and climbed up nimbly.
With this kind of weather, there was no going out to sea. Jiang Yu dragged a small stool to sit by the door and pulled out the fishing net she’d torn on the rocks two days ago.
Aunt Lin had just taught her this task. She held the thick iron needle, her threading clumsy, tugging and pulling for ages without managing a proper knot.
Cang Ming had been sitting in the corner, staring into space. His gaze drifted to her hands, watched for a moment, then he got up and walked over.
“Let me see.”
Jiang Yu handed over the tangled net and needle. Cang Ming’s fingers rolled the thick needle, weaving through the holes purely by feel, and in a few swift moves, he pulled the torn net taut and tied a clean knot—so fast it was almost dizzying.
Jiang Yu paused and looked at him. “You know how to mend nets?”
Cang Ming stared at the knot he’d tied, his brow furrowing.
He spread his hands and looked at them for a long moment.
“I don’t know. My hands just remember.”
Jiang Yu said nothing. Her mind went completely blank, yet his body remembered the feel of the work so vividly—was this man a Sea God or a fisherman in his past life?
As she was mulling it over, the broken wooden door creaked open.
Aunt Lin, holding a red umbrella and a large aluminum pot in her arms, bustled through the door.
“Quick, quick, quick—eat it while it’s hot!”
The old woman set the pot on the table and lifted the lid.
Steam rose, revealing plump, white glutinous rice balls. “Today, by island custom, we have to eat tangyuan. All sweet—come eat!”
Aunt Lin wiped her hands on her apron, looked up, and spotted Cang Ming and Jiang Yu sitting side by side on small stools, working on the net.
Her gaze flicked between the two, and a grin creased her face.
“Oh my, busy, are we? Then Auntie won’t disturb you—eat it while it’s hot.”
With that, she turned and hurried out, moving so fast she nearly forgot her umbrella.
The room fell quiet again, the two of them staring at each other. Cang Ming tossed the mended net aside, picked up a coarse porcelain bowl, scooped out two tangyuan, and used his chopsticks to lift one into Jiang Yu’s bowl.
Jiang Yu looked at the steaming tangyuan. She usually avoided sweets, found them cloying.
But after two days of rain, her stomach was hollow and cold.
She didn’t say thanks, just picked up the iron spoon and took a bite.
Black sesame filling—so sweet it nearly stuck in her throat.
With nothing to do that afternoon, Jiang Yu pulled out the leftover fish from last night and cured them the way Aunt Lin had taught her.
She grabbed coarse sea salt, rubbed it evenly into the fish bellies, strung them on rope, and hung them at the vent.
Within ten minutes, the stone house was filled with the mingled smell of sea salt and fish.
It was the signature scent of Deer Antler Island—salty, damp, and raw.
Cang Ming leaned against the doorframe and sniffed.
His body, tense all day, slowly relaxed.
To him, that smell was just right.
Jiang Yu crouched by the basin, washing her hands. “You’ve got strange taste—you actually like that smell?”
Cang Ming thought it over seriously. “I don’t dislike it.”
Jiang Yu grabbed a towel to dry her hands and shot back casually, “You know there’s a word between ‘dislike’ and ‘don’t dislike’ called ‘like’?”
Cang Ming froze, his face turning awkwardly toward the outdoors. He said nothing.
The rain began to ease. A-Wang came running over in his rain boots, legs caked with mud, holding up an old flip phone with a cracked screen.
“Sister Jiang, something’s happened.”
His breath came in ragged gasps. “Someone posted a thread online specifically studying you! They’re analyzing your livestreams frame by frame, trying to find a pattern in when you haul in big catches. They’re saying you must have some kind of special ocean-sensing ability. The post hit fifty thousand views in half a day!”
Jiang Yu didn’t pause in pouring the water. Netizens had wild imaginations—what pattern? It was clearly just her natural talent for attracting trouble.
A-Wang lowered his voice, looking tense. “That’s not all. A new face showed up on the island, and he’s making a big show of it. Goes by the name Sea Overlord—a big seaside-hunting streamer with over five hundred thousand followers. He brought his whole crew and chartered a boat here last night. They booked out the entire dock guesthouse.”
Jiang Yu handed him the cup. A big-shot influencer with half a million followers, skipping the big cities to come all the way to Deer Horn Island, where the internet could barely hold a signal.
It was obvious—he was here to leech off her popularity.
That night, the rain came down harder.
The roof that hadn’t been finished during the day was still leaking, and the drip of water into the basin was especially clear in the darkness.
Jiang Yu lay on the hard wooden bed with her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling.
“That uncle who came today—he’s the first person in my family to come looking for me on his own in twenty-two years.”
Her tone was calm, like she was reciting someone else’s story. “I spent twenty-two years in the Jiang family, and no one cared whether I lived or died. They’re coming to me now only because the family’s divination went wrong, and they need me back to keep being their tool.”
There was no complaint, not even much anger.
In the darkness, only the sound of rain remained. Just as Jiang Yu was about to assume he’d fallen asleep, Cang Ming spoke.
“I’ve thought about it for a long time, but I can’t remember anyone ever caring about me before.”
His voice echoed through the cold stone room, carrying the dull weight of ancient years. “Before I was sealed beneath the sea, I could feel that I’d been betrayed, but I can’t remember who did it.”
Jiang Yu turned her head to look at him. This time, she didn’t look away from those bright eyes in the dark. “So is there anything you care about now?”
Cang Ming thought for three seconds. “Not sure.”
Honest words were always the hardest to respond to. Jiang Yu sighed and decided to lay it all out.
“My constitution is a curse. Since I was little, anyone who got close to me would have terrible luck. To keep from hurting people, I grew thorns and scared everyone away with my sharp tongue.”
She paused. “Guess why I dared to let you follow me around every day?”
Cang Ming clearly didn’t understand the logic.
Jiang Yu gave him the answer: “Because I figured a guy like you—amnesiac and with a face like a brick—already had luck so bad it couldn’t get worse. No matter how twisted my constitution is, there’s probably nothing left to drain out of you.”
Cang Ming was silent for a long moment, then hit back with something even harsher: “Actually, people who get close to me also have terrible luck. I’ve known that for a thousand years.”
The air in the room froze instantly.
After holding it in for two minutes, Jiang Yu couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing, genuinely this time.
Two walking disasters of bad luck, bound together by sheer coincidence. A perfect match.
Cang Ming watched the relaxed curve of her eyes, and suddenly a flash of memory struck him—the deep sea floor, blinding light, and a strange, ancient incantation.
His hand, hidden in the shadows, clenched hard. A searing burn shot up his left arm, and a dark red pattern like a chain surfaced on his skin, blazing hot.
He didn’t make a sound, silently pressing his hand beneath his leg.
Dawn came.
The endless rain finally stopped, and sunlight broke through the clouds to fall over the fishing village.
Jiang Yu pushed open the broken wooden door, ready to head out for the early tide. She looked down and found an old iron basin sitting neatly on the doorstep, holding a large sea bass—cleaned perfectly, at least two pounds.
No note left behind. She looked up and saw that the half-finished roof Old Chen hadn’t patched yesterday was now tightly thatched with fresh straw.
Jiang Yu stood in front of the dead fish for two full minutes without moving.
Cang Ming walked out and followed her gaze. “Someone does care about you.”
Jiang Yu bent down and picked up the heavy iron basin. She turned around and replied in a very soft voice.
“I know.”
At the same moment, on the other side of the island.
On the flat three-story rooftop of the dock guesthouse, several men in black tank tops were setting up massive fill lights.
The man called Sea Overlord took a drag from his cigarette and snapped his fingers.
Four of the latest high-definition drones rose into the air simultaneously, like hungry wild birds catching the scent of blood, heading straight for the shallow waters of Deer Horn Island.