The newborn sun.
Honey-coloured light painted the edge of the sky.
After last night's downpour, the air still smelled of damp earth.
"You done yet?"
In the playground of the apartment complex, Kakayan sat astride a bouncy spring-horse, chin propped in her hands, utterly bored.
"Eighteen..."
"Nineteen..."
"Twenty!"
The pull-up bar, washed clean by the rain, gleamed like polished steel.
Jiang Li dropped from the bar, chest heaving, just as a familiar voice started needling him.
"Hold your horses—we'll eat when I say we'll eat. Starvation won't kill you in the next ten minutes."
Kakayan sighed and rubbed her empty stomach.
Back on Earth, and Jiang Li still insisted on morning drills—what was the point?
Wouldn't it be easier to loaf around like her?
She tilted her head back and scanned the surroundings for entertainment.
It was six in the morning.
Every so often, children with backpacks shuffled past.
Kakayan marvelled at how hard life was for humans—little kids up at dawn, lugging those enormous bags.
What on earth did they carry that weighed so much?
She asked Jiang Li.
"Knowledge," he answered.
"But knowledge is supposed to be in your head, right?" Kakayan kicked the spring-horse, hovering mid-bounce.
"If it fit in their heads, they wouldn't have to carry it on their backs."
Jiang Li added, "You should read more. At least learn the basics, or I'll never be able to take you out in public."
"Why not?"
Kakayan lifted her gaze to Jiang Li, still dangling from the bar.
"Because you'd embarrass me!"
Jiang Li let go and landed lightly.
"Nonsense. With a face like mine, people will die of envy when they see us together."
Kakayan flicked her rose-pink hair and lifted her chin, smug.
Jiang Li couldn't argue.
Aside from a slightly under-powered CPU, Kakayan looked every inch a twenty-year-old beauty, her neon-pink hair a guaranteed head-turner.
"Well, well, young man, long time no see! Already got yourself a girlfriend?"
Old Mr. Li, in a white vest, shuffled over, beaming, hands clasped behind his back.
Jiang Li's smile froze; he stepped forward politely. "Just a friend, Uncle."
"Oh—just a friend for now."
Mr. Liu, equally ancient and equally nosy, joined in with a knowing nod.
In Chinese, one tiny word could flip the whole meaning.
Kakayan, able to understand any spoken language by witchcraft but unable to read a single character, blinked in confusion.
"And how old is the young lady?" Mr. Liu asked, tottering toward the spring-horse.
"Twen—"
Before Kakayan could finish, Jiang Li cupped her chin and gently sealed her lips.
"Twenty," Jiang Li supplied.
"Twenty—excellent age!" Mr. Liu's eyes narrowed into happy slits.
Old folks live for two things: evening square-dancing and juicy gossip.
Jiang Li knew that by sunset every word they spoke here would ricochet through the gossip network of Fantuan Garden—and probably the entire retiree community.
So when strangers asked, you never told the truth.
Unemployed? Say you're on sabbatical.
Broke? Say you're saving.
"What've you been up to lately, lad?"
"Business trip—just got back."
Jiang Li forced a laugh, grabbed Kakayan, and prepared to bolt.
"Uncle, you enjoy your workout—we're off to breakfast."
At the mention of food, Kakayan leapt off the horse and bounced after him.
Once they were out of earshot she asked, "Why'd we stop exercising?"
"Because of you." Jiang Li kneaded his temples.
"Remember: once we hit the street, eyes and ears only. No wandering, no touching. If anything confuses you, ask me. Red light means stop. Got it?"
He worried that if Kakayan did something outrageous and someone filmed it, she'd go viral overnight—pink hair, stunning face, the whole package.
That kind of traffic should stay in his own pocket.
Besides, she had no ID, no footprint—social-media kryptonite.
"Say something."
When no answer came, Jiang Li assumed she was pretending not to hear.
"Didn't you tell me not to speak randomly?" Kakayan countered.
Jiang Li blinked, caught off guard.
For once she was cooperating.
He remembered videos of stray kittens—perfectly docile until the food bowl was empty, then hiss, scratch, goodbye.
Hakiyen, he thought. Maybe he'd better not feed her too well.
...
"Jiang Li, where's your bus?"
At the stop, Kakayan twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.
"Any minute now."
Jiang Li checked his phone: still a couple of minutes to six-thirty, when the route would arrive like clockwork.
Their suburb had no nearby restaurants; a few stops on the bus would bring them to the breakfast street.
"Take this. When we board, drop it in the box." He pressed a coin into her hand.
"What is it?"
Kakayan held the coin up to her eye. "Ah—currency in the human world?"
"Right, you're sharper than you look."
"Did you think I was actually stupid?"
She'd seen plenty of currencies; at a glance she knew the metal disk was human-world money.
Most important, it carried a faint whiff of copper.
Kakayan's nose was sharp—one sniff and she was certain.
The scent of cold, hard cash.
"How many cups of instant noodles could this buy?"
Among the few human goods she recognized, instant noodles were her measuring stick.
Jiang Li scratched his head. "About three mouthfuls, I'd say."
"Oh..."
Kakayan drew the syllable out, thoughtful.
Just then the public bus rolled up and hissed to a stop in front of them.
"Your ride's huge," Kakayan murmured, half-hiding her mouth.
At the hiss of hydraulics she followed Jiang Li onto the step. He waved a glowing rectangle at a scanner; it beeped and he strolled inside.
Without thinking, Kakayan stepped after him.
"Little miss, you still need to pay," the driver called.
"Pay?"
Kakayan tugged Jiang Li's sleeve. "Does Jiang Li have to pay to ride your bus?"
Every passenger's gaze snapped toward Jiang Li.
It was 6:30 a.m.—rush hour—and the front half of the bus was already crammed with early-shift workers.
Jiang Li rubbed his temples, walked to the front, and dropped a coin into the box.
Then he dragged Kakayan to the very last row.
"This is a public bus," he explained. "It isn't just mine—it's every citizen of Huaguo's."
"Oh..."
Kakayan didn't quite get it.
All she knew was she'd just saved three mouthfuls of instant noodles.