At dawn—around five—the forest breathed softly.
A pale ribbon of light slipped through the cracks of the cave, brushing against Meilin's lashes. She stirred, waking slowly, instinctively adjusting before she realized—
She was held.
Firmly. Carefully. As if the world itself had claws and he was shielding her from all of them.
Zihan's arm was wrapped around her waist, his body angled just enough to place himself between her and the cave entrance. Even in sleep, his posture was protective, vigilant… achingly familiar.
Her heart skipped.
The same.
Exactly the same as her first life.
When everything had collapsed, when fear had swallowed her whole—this was how he had held her back then.
Selfishness rose in her chest, raw and unashamed.
I want him.
Not as fate. Not as gratitude.
As mine.
She tightened her arms around his waist, pressing closer, greedy for the warmth, for the solid proof that he was alive, breathing, here.
And that was when his breathing changed.
Slow. Deep. Awake.
But Meilin didn't notice.
Her fingers lifted, tracing his face with reverent care—his brows, sharp and composed even in rest; his eyes, long-lashed and steady; the bridge of his nose; the lips she had seen smile far too rarely.
Perfect.
She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Zihan's forehead.
"I will protect you," she whispered, voice trembling but resolute.
"In this life."
Then, exhausted by fear, relief, and longing all tangled together, she curled closer—hugging him tighter—and fell asleep again.
—
Zihan lay utterly still.
His eyes opened slowly, heart pounding so loudly he was certain it would wake her.
What… is this feeling? ,kiss
Warmth spread from his chest outward, not feverish, not painful—something deeper. Something frighteningly gentle.
Her words echoed in his mind.
In this life.
This life?
His gaze dropped to her sleeping face, so close that he could feel her breath.
Did I… meet her before?
Confusion tangled with a strange ache—an instinct telling him that something precious had brushed past him just now, something he hadn't been meant to fully understand yet.
He closed his eyes again.
Just for a moment longer.
—
When Meilin woke the second time, sunlight had already begun to creep higher.
Reality crashed back in.
She stiffened.
Her eyes darted up.
Zihan was awake, sitting up slightly, his expression calm—but far too thoughtful.
Oh no.
Awkwardness bloomed instantly.
She cleared her throat and moved away, helping him carefully to his feet. Neither spoke about the moment. Neither dared.
Outside, the forest looked harmless again—dew-kissed leaves, golden light filtering through branches, as if the night's danger had never existed.
They walked back in silence.
—
At the Liu residence, she guided him to the stone path in the garden.
"Sit," she said briskly, professional armor snapping back into place.
Before he could respond, she disappeared upstairs.
The house was still asleep. Meilin moved soundlessly, retrieved her first-aid kit, and returned just as quietly.
She knelt beside him.
Her touch was precise, controlled—yet gentle.
"The bleeding has stopped," she said while unwrapping his bandage. "The herbs worked well. But don't let this hand touch water for at least a day."
He nodded, watching her more than listening.
She rebandaged him neatly, fingers steady, avoiding his eyes.
"All done."
A pause.
"Go freshen up," she added, standing. "We'll meet in an hour. At the hiking spot."
He nodded again.
As she turned away, Zihan looked down at his hand—then up at her retreating figure.
In this life, she had said.
For reasons he couldn't explain, his chest tightened.
Whatever she meant by that—
He knew one thing with absolute certainty.
From this moment on, he would catch up to her.
No matter how far ahead she was.