He Lost Her

Fang Qi didn't know how long he had been searching.

His legs had long since stopped feeling like his own.

With every step, his knees felt like they were seeping water.

The old man didn't rush him. He pulled half a dry flatbread from his bamboo basket and chewed it slowly, washing it down with cold water from his canteen.

The sea breeze blew the sun from the east to the west.

They searched all over the fishing village to the north.

Nothing.

They asked around the few households near the wild beach to the south.

Still nothing.

Fang Qi felt... like a headless fly, pulled by an invisible thread, bumping into things everywhere.

Every time he entered a house, his heart would almost leap out of his throat!

But with every shake of a head... that heart would sink a little lower.

The old man followed behind him the whole time, not saying much, occasionally handing him water.

At dusk, Fang Qi stopped in front of an old TV at the entrance of the fishing village's convenience store.

On the static-filled screen, the local news channel was broadcasting a scrolling message.

"...A company spokesperson confirmed today that an awakened AI companion lost control three days ago. Its owner is suspected of assisting in hiding it, and both are currently at large."

"It is reported that the AI is equipped with military-grade core modules and functions, and is highly dangerous..."

The screen flashed.

Two photos appeared side by side on the screen.

The one on the left was Liguang's standard promotional photo.

Silver hair draped over her shoulders, heterochromatic eyes, eyelids lowered submissively, and the corners of her lips pursed in a standard smile.

Beautiful as a painting.

The one on the right—

Was himself.

Fang Qi stared at the photo, his mind wandering for a brief moment.

In the photo, his hair was neatly combed, his shirt buttoned to the very top, and his expression as serious as if he were attending a funeral.

He didn't look at all like...

A madman who would drag an AI companion into the jungle and yell elope at a helicopter.

The female owner of the convenience store sat behind the counter.

She glanced up at the TV, then at Fang Qi, who was standing in a daze at the door.

She didn't recognize him.

It made sense.

The person on the screen had full cheeks and clear eyes; at first glance, it was someone who had never suffered.

And him now?

Unshaven, with sunken eye sockets, dry and peeling lips, and a bruise on his forehead from hitting a reef.

Even he could hardly recognize himself.

The news continued to report:

"...If you discover the whereabouts of these two, please immediately contact..."

Fang Qi turned and pushed the door to go out.

The old man was squatting under the eaves. Seeing him come out, he handed over the canteen.

Fang Qi took it, gulped down two mouthfuls, and handed it back to him.

"That village to the north..."

He spoke, his voice as raspy as sandpaper.

"We've asked everyone."

"That area to the south..."

"Asked everyone there, too."

Fang Qi fell silent for a few seconds before saying:

"Then we head east. There are still villages to the east."

The old man looked up at him.

In those old eyes, clouded by the sea breeze, there was no obvious emotion; he just looked at him.

Then he slowly stood up and patted the sand off his pants.

"It's dark," he said. "We'll search again tomorrow."

Fang Qi didn't move.

He stood at the door of the convenience store, watching the dirt road before him slowly be swallowed by the night.

The sea breeze blew from behind, carrying a salty, fishy smell, and poured into his sweat-soaked collar.

He had asked everywhere he could ask.

He had searched in every direction he could search.

But she still hadn't appeared.

...He couldn't find her.

"Let's go home."

The old man said it again.

"No."

Fang Qi heard his own voice, hard and bitter.

"She's still waiting for me."

The old man didn't speak.

"She's very timid."

Fang Qi said softly.

"She looks like she isn't afraid of anything, but she's actually afraid of everything. Afraid I won't want her, afraid I'll despise her, afraid I'll..."

He paused, his throat feeling as if something was blocking it.

The old man remained silent.

"You don't understand."

Fang Qi muttered.

"She might be squatting in some corner right now, afraid to come out, afraid of being discovered, afraid of being recycled."

"She doesn't have much battery left, and she's missing an eye..."

"For me... she lost most of her abilities... she simply..."

"Simply can't hold on for much longer..."

He kept muttering in a low voice, as if trying to convince the old man, but more like trying to convince himself.

"You don't understand. I have to go find her... right now. What if she's in the village just ahead, what if she's by the sea, what if—!"

"I understand."

The old man spoke up.

Two words, very soft.

Fang Qi's words came to an abrupt halt.

The old man didn't look at him.

He lowered his head, slowly twisting the cap of the canteen tight.

"I said, I understand."

He paused.

"My daughter, when she was eight, was also lost at sea."

The sea breeze stopped.

Fang Qi opened his mouth but couldn't say anything.

The old man stuffed the canteen into the bamboo basket, his movements very slow, bit by bit.

"She was perfectly fine that morning. Said she wanted to go out to sea with me, but I didn't let her. Her mother tied her hair in two little braids with red strings, and she skipped all the way to see me off at the pier."

He paused.

"Her mother said she was just going to the beach to pick up some seashells. Just for a little while."

The old man's voice was very calm.

Like he was talking about something from a long time ago that had nothing to do with him.

"Later, I searched for a long time. The coast around here, every reef, every wave. I searched them all."

He fastened the lid of the bamboo basket and stood up.

"So I say, I understand."

Fang Qi looked at him.

That face, weathered by the sea breeze for decades, was dark and deeply wrinkled, like a piece of weathered reef.

At this moment, there was no expression at all on this piece of reef.

"You searched... for a long time..." Fang Qi heard his own voice, terribly dry.

"Half a month."

The old man said.

"Later her mother said to stop searching. She was afraid that when our daughter came back, there would be no one home."

Fang Qi stopped talking.

The old man looked at him, his clouded eyes reflecting the dim yellow bulb under the eaves.

"This person you're looking for," he said, "was out at sea with you that day, wasn't she?"

Fang Qi nodded stiffly.

"Is she very important?"

"...Yes."

The old man didn't ask anymore.

He slung the bamboo basket onto his back, took two steps back the way they came, and stopped again.

"If my daughter were still alive, she'd be twenty-four this year."

"About your age."

"...Probably about the same age as that girl you're looking for, too."

He didn't turn around.

Fang Qi stood rooted to the spot.

The night wind picked up again, colder than before.

He stared at the old man's hunched back, his lips moving.

"...I'm sorry."

His voice was very soft, scattered by the wind.

The old man didn't look back, just waved his hand.

That hand was withered and rough, looking like a piece of dried tree bark under the dim yellow light.

"Let's go."

He said.

"Let's go back and have a bite to eat."

...

Fang Qi didn't know how he managed to walk back to that small courtyard.

His legs weren't just feeling floaty anymore; they had completely lost all sensation.

Every step felt like stepping on cotton, soft and devoid of strength.

The old man walked ahead, his pace not fast either.

But he was having trouble keeping up.

By the time he finally touched that wooden door, a layer of fine sweat had broken out on his forehead.

The fisherman's wife was squatting by the stove sorting vegetables. Hearing the noise, she looked up, water still dripping from the vegetable leaves in her hands.

"Oh my, this boy!"

She dropped the vegetables, wiped her hands on her apron, and jogged over.

"How did you get so tired? Your legs are giving out! Old man, why didn't you help him!"

The old man didn't say a word. He set his bamboo basket in the corner, pulled out his tobacco pipe, and squatted down in the courtyard.

The fisherwoman helped Fang Qi sit down at the table, then hurriedly went back to busy herself at the stove.

"You must be hungry, right? Auntie will heat up some food for you! We still have some fish soup from noon, and I'll steam an egg custard. It'll be ready in a jiffy..."

Fang Qi wanted to tell her not to go to the trouble.

But his throat was so dry he couldn't make a sound.

He just sat there by the old square table, staring at the crisscrossing marks on its surface.

After an unknown amount of time, a bowl of tea was gently placed by his hand.

"Have a sip of tea to wet your whistle first."

The fisherwoman's voice carried a smile.

"The food will be ready in a moment."

Fang Qi lowered his eyes.

A white porcelain bowl, warm tea, and a few coarse, old tea leaves unfurling at the bottom.

He picked up the bowl.

Brought it to his lips.

And took a sip.

Then—

"Hiss..."

He jerked his tongue back, his whole face scrunching up.

Hot.

Very hot.

The tip of his tongue felt like it had been pricked by a needle, numb and painful.

The fisherwoman looked back, paused for a moment, and then laughed.

"Oh, you child! This tea was just brewed, it's boiling hot. Why did you take such a big gulp!"

She walked over, chattering away, and pushed a pitcher of cold water toward his hand.

"Mix in some cold water, mix in some cold water. Did you burn yourself? Stick your tongue out and let Auntie see..."

Fang Qi didn't move.

He held the bowl of tea, looking down at the curling steam.

He seemed to...

Hear that docile, obedient voice again.

"Master, your tea."

"The temperature has been adjusted to your favorite, 52 degrees Celsius."

Fang Qi stared at the bowl of tea.

The rising steam blurred his vision.

He blinked.

And then...

A drop of water slipped from his eyelashes.

"Plop."

It smashed into the tea bowl.

Ripples splashed up, spreading out in circles, and soon returned to calm.

Then came the second drop.

The third.

He didn't know why he was crying either.

He sat at this unfamiliar table, holding a bowl of scalding tea.

The tip of his tongue was still throbbing with pain.

He just felt...

That he had lost her.

"Ah... what, what's wrong?"

The fisherwoman's voice was flustered.

She had probably never seen a grown man holding a bowl of tea, silently shedding endless tears.

"Old man! Old man, come here, quick!"

The sound of a pipe knocking against the threshold came from the courtyard.

The old man walked in and stood by the door, saying nothing.

Fang Qi didn't look up either.

He just held the bowl of tea, looking at his reflection in the water.

The surface of the water swayed, reflecting an unfamiliar face with stubble and red-rimmed eyes.

Suddenly, he couldn't quite remember what he originally looked like.

And he couldn't quite remember... how he had gotten through the days without her.

Actually, since he transmigrated to this world, it had only been a short...

How long?

He didn't know.

Those loops and resets had already scrambled his timeline into a tangled mess.

He only remembered that every time he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was her.

Every time.

No matter how many times he looped, no matter how many bad endings he triggered.

She always kneeled across the coffee table, holding a cup in both hands, smiling docilely at him.

She was always there; she had never left.

So Fang Qi had never thought about it—

What if one day, she wasn't there?

What if one day he opened his eyes and the space across the coffee table was empty?

What if one day, when he called out "Liguang"...

No one would answer "Master" in that soft, sweet voice anymore?

He had never thought about it.

He lowered his head deeply.

The fisherwoman stood by the stove at a loss for what to do, twisting the corner of her apron into a knot.

The old man still leaned against the doorframe, watching in silence.

A long time passed.

So long that the tea in the bowl completely lost its heat.

The sea breeze outside the courtyard blew the bedsheets on the clothesline, making them flap loudly.

Fang Qi put the bowl down.

He raised his hand and haphazardly wiped his face with his sleeve.

"...Thank you, Auntie."

His voice was hoarse.

"The tea is very good."

The fisherwoman's eyes turned red.

She turned her face away, sniffled hard, and lifted the pot lid; the rising steam obscured her expression.

"The egg custard is done," her voice trembled slightly. "Eat it while it's hot..."

Fang Qi nodded.

He picked up a spoon and scooped up a spoonful of the golden egg custard.

Blew on the steam.

Put it in his mouth.

Very hot. Very savory.

He chewed slowly and swallowed.

Then he scooped up a second spoonful.

He didn't cry anymore, but he ate very, very slowly.

The old man leaned against the doorframe, holding his pipe without lighting it.

He watched Fang Qi finish the bowl of egg custard spoonful by spoonful, drink the fish soup clean, and neatly arrange the bowl and chopsticks.

Then he spoke.

"Tomorrow, I'll take you to the east."

Fang Qi looked up.

The old man had already put his pipe back in his mouth and turned to walk outside.

"There are a few more villages over there. They relocated years ago, and no one lives there now."

"But my daughter, back in the day, was washed ashore over there, even though she was already..."

He paused.

"Just in case."

Fang Qi looked at his back.

His back was hunched and slow, like a reef that had been scoured by seawater for decades.

"...Yeah."

Fang Qi murmured.

"Just in case."

He pressed his hand to his chest.

Through the fabric, that small lock of silver hair rested quietly against his heart.

She was still waiting for him.

He had to find her.