Gu Liang awoke to an unprecedented sense of weakness and a hidden, sharp ache.
It felt as though every ounce of strength had been drained from his body. His bones seemed to have been dismantled and then hastily reassembled, each joint throbbing with a dull ache. Yet more vivid than this was the peculiar sensation emanating from the most vulnerable parts of his body—the treated wounds radiating a coolness tinged with heat. This sensation constantly reminded him of what had transpired the previous night—not merely the retreat of the fever, but the complete tearing away of that final, dignity-preserving veil, forcibly cleansed and saved amidst extreme agony.
The searing heat that had scorched his very insides had receded, replaced by the clammy, icy chill of sweat. With effort, he opened his eyes. Through blurred vision, he saw the rough, patterned wooden dome.
Memories returned in shards—a waterfall, a deep pool, bone-chilling cold water, then an endless nightmare of alternating freezing cold and searing heat... and a hand, steady and cool, resting on his forehead, accompanied by a low, clear voice saying, "It's okay now."
He tilted his head slightly toward the tree hollow's entrance.
Emma sat with her back to him, her posture still straight, though her shoulders betrayed an unmistakable weariness. The morning light bathed her silhouette in a soft golden glow as she carefully inspected the bowstring of her crossbow. Beside her lay a full water flask and a small packet of torn-open compressed biscuits.
As if sensing his gaze, Emma turned her head. Her complexion was pale, with faint dark circles beneath her eyes, yet her gaze remained clear and composed.
"Awake?" Her voice was rougher than usual. "How do you feel?"
Gu Liang opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry to make a sound.
Emma immediately picked up the flask and held it to his lips. This time, Gu Liang offered no resistance. Guiding her hand, he drank greedily in small sips, the faintly sweet salt water trickling down his parched throat. The initial sting gave way to soothing relief.
"Thank you..." His voice rasped like a broken gong. Setting down the kettle, his gaze fell on her wrist resting beside it—where several distinct, purplish finger marks were visible. They were from his loss of control last night.
Gu Liang's eyes froze, his throat feeling as if something had lodged there.
Emma followed his gaze and casually flexed her wrist. "It's fine. Does your temperature feel normal now?"
Gu Liang nodded silently. Seeing the exhaustion in her eyes, he recalled the unquestionable protection he'd felt in last night's haze and the warmth that had sustained him. A complex wave of emotion surged within him—gratitude, guilt, and a hint of something indescribable... dependence.
"I... slowed you down," he murmured, lowering his eyelashes. Had he not been feverish, they could have traveled farther.
Emma glanced at him, picked up the compressed biscuit again, broke off half, and handed it to him, her tone flat and unruffled: "On the path to survival, there's no such thing as being a burden. There's only whether we can survive together. You found the fish yesterday and proposed the plan to get water. That's enough."
Her words held no comfort, merely stating a fact—in this world, value was mutual. She saved him not only out of empathy, but because his calmness and quick wit by the stream proved he wasn't a pure burden.
Gu Liang took the biscuit and chewed silently. Emma's words were like a key, prying open a sliver of his closed heart. He was no longer just a victim needing rescue; he could also offer value.
After finishing the snack, Gu Liang tried to stand but was hit by a wave of dizziness, nearly collapsing.
"Don't rush," Emma steadied him. "You're severely exhausted. You need at least half a day's rest."
She gently pushed him back down and began gathering their things, though she showed no sign of leaving immediately. She took out her notebook and meticulously updated the map, marking the locations of the waterfall, the deep pool, and now this ancient tree.
The hollow was quiet, broken only by the soft scratching of pen on paper.
Gu Liang leaned against the roots, watching Emma draw with intense focus, observing the seemingly omnipotent backpack beside her. A question long suppressed finally escaped his lips in this relatively calm, even "safe," atmosphere:
"Emma," he called her name for the first time, without any hesitation or caution, just pure curiosity, "who... exactly are you?"
Emma's pen froze mid-stroke.
Gu Liang continued, his voice still weak but tinged with stubbornness: "You understand their language. You have these... things that don't belong to this world," his gaze sweeping over the backpack, the canteen, the hunting knife, "You seem to have a complete plan for surviving here—even 'thriving.' Saving me didn't feel like a spur-of-the-moment decision."
He lifted his eyes to meet Emma's, the previous suspicion and scrutiny gone, replaced by a calm seeking truth: "Tell me the truth. By the stream, you said you were 'given' language. What about the rest? Why did you come here? Why... me?"
Emma slowly set down her pen and notebook. She knew this question would come eventually. Last night's mutual dependence on the brink of life and death had shattered the fragile equilibrium that had existed before, creating a sliver of possibility for genuine honesty.
She didn't answer immediately, instead falling silent for a moment, as if gathering her words or making a decision. Only the soft sounds of their breathing filled the hollow.
Finally, she lifted her head to meet Gu Liang's gaze, her eyes honest to the point of cruelty.
"I come from the same world as you. That much I didn't lie about," she said slowly. "In my world, I just lost my last family member—my younger brother. My life... is nothing but emptiness now."
Gu Liang froze, stunned by such an opening.
"As for why I came here..." Emma's voice was soft, yet carried the weight of a thousand pounds. "I told you, through the 'fissure,' I sensed you. That was no lie. I sensed your loneliness, your despair, your struggle... and your refusal to let your defiance die."
Her gaze seemed to pierce through Gu Liang, seeing something deeper: "That feeling... was intense. So intense that when I realized an 'opportunity' might come here, I hesitated barely at all. I needed a reason to survive, and pulling you out of that hell seemed to become that reason."
She paused, her voice growing huskier. "When I was sent here, besides this gear, I was 'given' only two things—the ability to understand their language, and a physique strong enough to endure this world. No retreat, no turning back. From the very start, my purpose here has been singular—to find you, and then, together, figure out how to survive."
After she finished, a long silence fell over the tree hollow.
Gu Liang stared at her blankly, his mind struggling to process the information. A woman who had lost everything, sensing his pain, had embarked on a one-way journey without hesitation? It sounded absurd, insane, even... tragic.
He studied her calm, unruffled face, imagining the state of mind she must have been in while preparing for all this in that "void" world, and the sheer resolve it took to step into this unknown realm. Not for a mission, not for a reward, but solely for an elusive "perception" and an equally intangible "reason to survive."
His own resentment and anger seemed insignificant in the face of her actions.
"So..." Gu Liang's voice was dry. "You saved me because... you needed to save me?"
Emma shook her head, her gaze clear. "No. I needed a reason, and saving you was the reason that presented itself. But choosing to grasp that reason was because I 'wanted' to do it." She pointed to her chest. "Not forced, but voluntary."
A voluntary exile. A voluntary rescue.
Gu Liang could utter no more words. He lowered his head, staring at his bandaged palm and the significantly cleaner bandages covering his body. All the puzzles seemed to have found an explanation—one that sounded unbelievable yet held its own internal logic.
She wasn't a god, nor a prophet—just a kindred soul who had fallen into despair before him, and then found a glimmer of light within him.
After a long while, he lifted his head again, his voice soft yet unusually clear:
"I understand." He didn't say "thank you," nor did he make any further promises. But those three words felt like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted, representing a new kind of acceptance rooted in genuine understanding.
Emma gave a slight nod and did not pursue the subject further. She picked up the water jug and handed it to him again: "Have some more water. We'll set out again this afternoon."
Sunlight filtered through cracks in the tree hollow, casting mottled patches of light between them. The air carried the scent of decaying vegetation and earth, yet it also seemed to carry an unprecedented calm—a calm born of honesty.
The crisis had not passed, and the path ahead remained uncertain. Yet in this ancient tree hollow on this morning, two lonely exiles had finally peeled away the shells of suspicion and fear, glimpsing within each other's souls that same unwillingness to succumb to despair.
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and then Add to home screen.