[All countries in this story are fictional.]
America, East Sea, State of Honolulu. [1]Honolulu is the capital and largest city of the state of Hawaii, which is part of the United States. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3352133_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3352133_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
A heavy rainstorm had just passed, leaving the air so humid it felt like it could be wrung out like a wet cloth.
The harvest season was in full swing; machines were uprooting the spent pineapple plants, revealing an endless expanse of rich, black soil.
The volcanic goddess “Kalinu” had blessed the island with incredibly fertile earth. As the older generation liked to say, the soil here was so rich that even a chopstick stuck into the ground would sprout.
For generations, people had cultivated sugarcane, pineapples, and coffee on this land, while the azure waters and fine sandy beaches drew tourists from all over the world.
A young farmer, dressed in an ivory linen shirt, was driving a second-hand pickup truck across the vast fields toward the distant harbor.
His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and his lean, sturdy arm rested on the window frame; the humid breeze pressed his soft, dark hair against his broad forehead.
The sun finally broke through the clouds, casting shafts of light through the post-rain mist. A golden glow settled upon the young man’s handsome, clean-cut profile and long eyelashes.
The truck pulled up in front of a lively eatery near the small town.
The sound of waves and the laughter of tourists drifted in from the beach behind the building; a wandering musician strummed a ukulele under the eaves, and the sea breeze carried the aroma of pineapple wine and coffee.
The young man pushed open the door, and the bell above chimed.
“Jay!” the proprietress called out warmly from behind the bar. “I figured you’d be here soon! Here, this is what you ordered. I also threw in one of our new smoked meat sandwiches—give it a try.” She placed the packed meal box onto the counter.
“You are truly as beautiful as you are generous, Mrs. Gira.” Li Jie flashed a charming smile. “I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful woman on the island! So, when are you going to leave Mr. Gira and run off with me?”
“Oh, you charmer!” Mrs. Gira—standing five-foot-three, weighing nearly 150 pounds, and boasting a deep bronze tan—gave Li Jie a playful, flirtatious wink as she handed him a cup of coffee. “No wonder the pineapples from your farm are the sweetest on the island! I hear your harvest was excellent this year?”
“Thanks to you.” Li Jie took a sip of coffee. “The yield from the coffee plantation wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, either. Rhode, my foreman, was absolutely stunned.”
“I knew it!” Mrs. Gira laughed. “Back when you bought Anuba’s estate, nobody thought you’d make it. They said a city boy like you was just acting on a whim and wouldn’t be able to handle the hardships of farming. But the moment I saw your hands, Jay, I knew you were someone who could handle hard work.”
The young man of Asian descent had a refined, fair-complexioned face and a tall, well-proportioned physique, along with large hands featuring prominent knuckles and palms and fingertips roughened by light calluses.
“May the Goddess Kalinu bless you and your beautiful soul.” Li Jie raised his cup and drained his coffee in one gulp. “The pigs I’m raising are ready for market. Once my kitchen is repaired, I’ll bring you a piece of roast pork chop from my hometown.”
Carrying a large bag of food, Li Jie exchanged greetings with a few old acquaintances in the diner before taking his leave.
A group of women in bikinis—their skin a golden-honey hue—walked into the diner, chatting and laughing; Li Jie nimbly stepped aside to make way. The women watched the handsome, refined young man walk away, then huddled together, giggling and whispering.
“Is that the guy who bought Old Man Anuba’s farm?” a local man drinking in the corner of the bar asked Mrs. Gira.
“Yes,” Mrs. Gira replied. “He offered a great price—enough for Anuba to pay off all his debts to the bank.”
“Yaxing Federation?” [2]亚星联邦 (Yaxing Federation)/ Asian-star Federation. I assume the author uses this name as a fictional world referring to the Asian region (China). jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3352133_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3352133_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
“An American. I heard he used to work as an accountant in New York City; his fiancée dumped him, so he ran off to the island and bought a farm. I really don’t know what his fiancée was thinking—Jay is such a lovely young man. I was even planning to introduce him to my niece…”
After leaving the Gira family’s diner, Li Jie drove to the town’s hardware store.
A few days ago, a short circuit caused a fire that completely gutted his kitchen. To save money, Li Jie planned to rebuild it himself. His trip into town today was not only to buy food for the next couple of days but also to pick up some building materials.
Asians make up 35% of the population in New Honolulu, and young men like Li Jie are a common sight on the island.
He was of average height and rather slender build, dressed in plain, unassuming clothes. Although he had a fair, refined complexion, he habitually kept his head down to avoid making eye contact with others.
Walking through the bustling market crowd, he was the sort of young man who would never draw a second glance.
Yet, just as he was loading the purchased building materials onto his vehicle, Li Jie suddenly paused and cast a wary, sweeping glance into the distance.
This was the liveliest part of town; traffic flowed in a ceaseless stream, and the sidewalks were packed tight with tourists and vendors. In a place like this, trying to catch a fleeting, indistinct gaze was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Perhaps he was just being paranoid again—much like the many times this had happened over the past few years.
Li Jie withdrew his gaze and got into the vehicle.
More than an hour later, Li Jie arrived back at his home—a farmhouse located on the western side of the island.
The wooden bungalow sat beneath a seaside cliff, surrounded by dense groves of palm and banana trees. A small path behind the house led up the cliff to a snow-white lighthouse.
As the vehicle approached, a Labrador and a grey-and-white Teddy dog came trotting up to greet him, their tails wagging.
On the steps of the spacious porch, a slender-bodied orange cat with a large, round face stretched lazily, its tail curling into a hook.
“Maka, Yigu, Dixi…”
Li Jie greeted his “fur babies.” Dixi rubbed its large face against his trouser leg.
The cabin was spacious yet rustic; its interior design blended indigenous styles with furniture and ornaments from the Yaxing Federation, while photos from Li Jie’s travels adorned the walls and the top of a chest of drawers.
Anyone walking in would immediately sense that the owner was someone who loved life and intended to settle here for the long haul.
Dusk fell; the gray-blue sky gradually merged with the sea, and the lighthouse atop the cliff lit up.
After dinner, Li Jie sat on the back porch with a bowl of yogurt topped with rose petal jam, eating leisurely in the sea breeze.
Dixi, the ginger cat, played by pouncing on moths beneath the lawn lights, while the two dogs—Maka and Yigu—lay at Li Jie’s feet, gnawing on chew sticks.
Guided by the lighthouse, several fishing boats were returning to their home port; their twinkling lights drifted across the water like stars that had fallen to earth.
The sea wind whipped briskly, and the broad-leaved forest beside the house rustled loudly, sounding like a ceaseless rain.
Amidst that familiar rustling sound, Li Jie closed his eyes.
International news drifted out from the television inside.
“…American President Lewis has once again called on the Xiluo government to reach a ceasefire agreement with Pennsylvania …”
“…The [X]th East Asia Financial Forum is being held in Dongdu City, Yaxing Federation…”
“…The Supreme Court of Suman will hold a court session on the 17th of this month to hear the ‘Changlin Road terrorist attack’ case. The suspect will face the maximum penalty…”
“…Yesterday, the Suman military held a ceremony to honor the victims of the ‘Changlin Road Terrorist Attack.’ The ceremony was led by the commander of the National Army’s 1st Regiment, Army Colonel Pei…”
“Woof!” Maka suddenly barked loudly.
Li Jie opened his eyes.
A small black shadow darted across the lawn outside and vanished into the bushes—clearly an animal out foraging in the night.
Li Jie soothed Maka.
The news broadcast inside had ended, giving way to the weather forecast.
“…Typhoon ‘Rose’ is expected to make landfall on New Honolulu Island on the 14th, with wind speeds reaching up to Force 8. Local residents are advised to take precautionary measures…”
Li Jie stood up amidst the sea breeze and stretched.
As he moved, his shirt lifted to reveal a supple, slender waist; his skin gleamed as white as a pearl in the dim night.
Li Jie lowered his arms, glanced once more at the bushes where the small animal had disappeared, and turned back toward the house.
Tomorrow, he had to inspect the farm, meet a coffee distributor, and fix the kitchen. He decided to turn in early tonight.
After sleeping for only four or five hours, Li Jie suddenly woke up.
He didn’t open his eyes immediately; he even kept his breathing slow and deep, mimicking the rhythm of a sound sleep.
It was too quiet!
The sea breeze was still blowing, and the waves crashed noisily against the cliffs below. Yet, Li Jie couldn’t hear the breathing of Dixi, the cat that should have been asleep in its bed.
Perhaps the cat had slipped out—something that happened often—and he simply hadn’t heard it while asleep.
But tonight, something felt wrong.
The lighthouse beam swept rhythmically over the house. Even with the curtains drawn, the light inside pulsed faintly between brightness and shadow.
Seizing the moment, Li Jie reached for the gun kept beneath his pillow.
Something intangible in the room had shifted.
In that split second—
Li Jie sprang from the bed, aiming his gun at a dark corner of the room where the light didn’t reach. But his opponent was faster; a hand seized his gun-wielding arm and wrenched it violently to the side.
Bang!
The bullet left the chamber and struck the floor.
There was no sound of barking from outside.
Ignoring the searing pain in his wrist, Li Jie lunged forward, slamming his opponent hard against the chest of drawers.
Crash—ornaments tumbled from the furniture, clattering onto the floor.
Seizing the moment his opponent’s grip loosened, Li Jie didn’t linger; he turned and bolted for the door.
The intruder had clearly cut the power; the room was pitch black. Li Jie sprinted, relying on his familiarity with the layout, but tripped the moment he rushed out of the bedroom.
The intruder had been prepared—a chair had been placed across the doorway.
A rush of air signaled an attack from behind as a hulking dark figure lunged at him.
Li Jie executed a nimble roll, but his opponent was equally agile, grabbing Li Jie’s ankle at the critical moment.
The grip was like an iron vice. Unable to break free, Li Jie surged upward to counter-attack.
The hand gripping his ankle released its hold as the man raised his arm to block Li Jie’s punch. In the absolute darkness, the two traded blows rapidly—the sounds of impact echoing incessantly—exchanging over a dozen moves in the blink of an eye.
Amidst the fierce struggle, tables and chairs toppled, and ornaments crashed to the floor.
The lighthouse beam swept overhead again. The uncurtained living room was briefly illuminated, casting light on the two figures locked in combat.
The intruder, clad in black, was larger than Li Jie; while his movements were slightly slower, his muscular strength was superior.
With a thunderous crash, the man executed a shoulder throw, slamming Li Jie onto the coffee table. The force of the impact instantly shattered the wooden table into pieces.
Agonizing pain shot through Li Jie’s back, but he instinctively grabbed a ceramic vase and smashed it against the man’s head.
The man grunted, swore under his breath, and hauled Li Jie back up.
In that instant, the young man’s seemingly slender frame erupted with astonishing power; springing up like a bow drawn to its limit, he violently broke free from the man’s grasp.
He planted a foot on the man’s thigh, vaulted into the air, and straddled the man’s back, immediately locking him in a rear-naked choke.
The two tumbled backward amidst the wreckage; the muscles in the arm Li Jie used to clamp the man’s neck bulged as he tightened his grip inch by inch.
The lights suddenly flared bright, revealing the chaos of the room and exposing several figures clad in black—who had been lurking in the corners—to Li Jie’s view.
The figure closest to them was holding none other than the missing Dixi.
The cat hung meekly by the scruff of its neck, its slender body going completely limp and dangling straight down like a “cat stick.”
The person holding the cat was pressing a knife against Dixi’s throat.
Dixi wore a vacant expression, its tail flicking innocently.
“Fuck!” Li Jie let go.
In the next instant, the man flipped over and pinned him hard against the floor, like a wolf that had finally captured the prey it had long coveted.
A brief but fierce scuffle left both men panting and drenched in sweat.
The man—who had appeared in international news just hours ago and had presided over a memorial ceremony led by Suman only yesterday—stood with his back to the light, looking down at the young man pinned beneath him.
His gaze roamed over a face that differed significantly from his memories yet bore an unmistakable resemblance; it was a look that seemed intent on peeling back the skin to see exactly what lay beneath.
“What should I call you?” the man asked, gripping the young man’s jaw. “Li Jie? Wen Shuyu? Or… Indigo?”
The young man took several deep breaths, rapidly adjusting his facial expression.
His muscles, previously taut to the breaking point, visibly relaxed; the sharp, defiant glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by the docile look the man knew so well.
Looking up at the man above him, the young man offered a practiced smile—one that was affectionate yet tinged with a hint of obsequiousness.
“Young Master Chen.”
It was just as it had been whenever he saw this man over the past many years.
Instead of loosening his grip, Pei Jiangchen angrily tightened his hold on the young man’s jaw; the pads of his fingers instantly left red marks on the fair skin.
He leaned down, his lips hovering so close they almost brushed against the young man’s sweat-beaded nose tip.
“Did you miss me?”
“I did!” the young man said instantly, without a moment’s hesitation. “I missed you like crazy!”
Pei Jiangchen lowered his head, pressing his lips against the young man’s ear, and enunciated clearly: “I don’t believe a single word you say.”
The young man’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.
The man stood up expressionlessly, yanked the young man to his feet, and roughly dragged him back into the bedroom.
The door slammed shut, cutting off the light from outside.
The young man, barefoot, stepped on scattered debris on the floor and stumbled, only to be pinned onto the bed by the man.
The beam from the lighthouse swept past; the man’s broad shoulders blocked most of the light, obscuring his expression in the shadows—only his eyes, burning with hatred, gleamed coldly in the gloom.
Yet, the young man had completely given up resisting, much like a cat that doesn’t care if it’s being hauled up by the scruff of its neck.
The man gripped the young man’s throat and asked, “What is your name, exactly?”
“Zhang Jiaming,” the young man said.
The hand encircling his throat tightened instantly.
“Wang Guodong!” the young man quickly corrected himself.
The hand tightened further.
The young man gripped the man’s wrist and offered a strained, ingratiating smile. “Y-Young Master Chen… whatever you want to call me… I’ll answer to that…”
It was as if the right incantation had been spoken; the iron grip on his throat suddenly loosened.
The man gazed at the young man, his expression complex—an equation that even a mathematician couldn’t solve.
Just as the young man tried to offer a few more placating words, the man leaned down, his scorching breath washing over him.
It was less a kiss than a savage mauling.
Pain seared his lips and tongue; the man’s sharp canines bit ruthlessly into the young man’s lower lip, filling both their mouths with the metallic tang of blood.
The sound of his pajamas being torn apart rang clearly in the darkness; the pain of the biting moved down from his neck, lingering intensely around his collarbone and the hollow of his throat.
The young man felt as though the man might tear him to pieces and devour him whole. All he could do was try to relax and avoid resisting, lest he provoke an even more ferocious suppression.
“Y-Young Master Chen…” the young man managed to say with difficulty. “You’ve come such a long way… it must have been exhausting… let me go make you some… Mmph—”
He took a heavy blow to the neck; the skin had surely been broken.
The man licked the wound, feeling the fine tremors running through the young man’s body. Whether those tremors stemmed from excitement or fear, they pleased him immensely.
“Does it hurt?” Pei Jiangchen asked.
“It hurts,” the young man answered honestly.
Pei Jiangchen pinned him down and stripped away the last scrap of clothing.
The lighthouse beam swept past once more, illuminating the young man’s sweat-dampened face, which remained calm and composed.
Pei Jiangchen leaned down to kiss him again—still heavy and domineering, though he no longer used his teeth.
The young man submissively parted his lips and closed his eyes, clutching the bedsheets tightly amidst the wave of intense, dull pain.
“Does it hurt?” Pei Jiangchen asked again, his breathing growing ragged.
“It hurts,” the young man replied, trembling slightly.
Pei Jiangchen smiled with satisfaction, then surged forward with ferocious, unbridled intensity.
The lighthouse beam swept silently across the room; inside, it was as if a wild beast were tearing into its captured prey. “Remember this, Shuyu,” Pei Jiangchen whispered into the young man’s ear. “The pain you feel right now doesn’t even amount to one ten-thousandth of what I’ve endured over the past few years!”
Wen Shuyu kept his eyes tightly shut, his eyeballs trembling violently beneath his lids. The hand he had been using to clutch the bedsheets was forcibly pried open; the man pinned it against the bedding, fingers interlaced tightly with his own.
In the sea breeze, the shadows of the trees outside the window swayed with increasing intensity; the rustling sound was like a downpour that had never ceased for years.
It was a rain that stretched from an island in the North Pacific all the way to that island nation in the South Pacific—south of the equator—falling upon a magnificent, opulent, and imposing estate.
That was where the story began—
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