1. Shipwreck

“Here follows a missing person announcement.”

At 19:30 Hua Country time, the advertisements that were supposed to air right after the evening news did not appear as scheduled. Instead, a striking photo of a beautiful, fierce woman took over tens of millions of television and computer screens across the nation in an instant.

The woman in the photo appeared no older than sixteen or seventeen. She had a delicate face, eyes shaped like blossoming peaches, lips slightly upturned, and skin so fair it seemed to glow with vitality. Even through the distorted LCD screens, one could sense her proud, unworldly bearing.

What was going on?

Millions of households, waiting for their 60-second golden advertising slot, all wondered the same thing.

The graceful voice of the anchor continued from the screen.

“Chen Ruomin, female, seventeen years old, only daughter of Chen Liwan, Chairman and founder of Twin Star Vogue. She went missing today at 16:00 during a major tsunami in the East Sea. If you have any information regarding her whereabouts, please call 02X-6888xxxx or 138xxxxxxx to contact us.

Anyone providing valid clues will receive a reward of ten million yuan; anyone who finds her and safely escorts her home will receive one hundred million yuan from Twin Star Vogue.”

Upon hearing this missing person announcement, the immediate reaction from the public was not awe at the staggering reward, nor confusion as to why the prime 60-second ad slot had been replaced by a search notice, nor curiosity about why the heiress of Twin Star was in the East Sea—trivial details, really. Instead…

“This girl, Chen Ruomin, is really beautiful…!”

It was only when the announcement played a second time that everyone realized what had happened.

Twin Star Vogue’s heiress was missing after a tsunami?

These days, anyone who uses the internet knows Twin Star Vogue. The brightest male and female actors, the highest-rated and most awarded dramas, the trendiest music, the fastest-selling concert tickets, the hottest variety shows, the magazines with the largest sales share—all originate from this entertainment giant.

Ten years ago, Twin Star began expanding into peripheral industries. They launched an app called Twin Star Film & TV, integrating all their shows and reclaiming broadcast rights from other platforms.

After that, every other entertainment app in Hua Country faded into oblivion.

Rumor had it that in recent years, Twin Star was considering IP adaptation dramas and even venturing into social media apps and reality talent shows—domains they had previously scorned. The entire entertainment industry grew anxious, fearing that if Twin Star made a bold move, their own companies might collapse…

Now, with Twin Star’s heiress missing, could this be the handiwork of a rival company?

The anchor’s hand trembled as she removed her headset. In the studio, the entire production team instinctively switched off their equipment, ending the sixty seconds of work.

“Ahem, director…”

The anchor brushed her hair aside, flashing a polished, professional smile.

“I’m not feeling well today. Could I… take a day off?”

The director grunted, agreeing to the small request.

The remaining camera operators and lighting technicians exchanged glances, rubbing their hands and coughing as they queued up before the director.

“Ahem, director, my throat’s a bit sore…”

“I just got news from home—my child caught a chill at kindergarten…”

“Director, I…”

The director tossed aside the intercom impatiently and waved his hand.

“Alright, alright, just want to go to the East Sea and look for her, don’t you? You lot never seemed so eager at work, always dreaming of getting rich overnight. Think about it—if Twin Star’s resources couldn’t find her quickly, do you really expect to get lucky?”

The men exchanged embarrassed glances. At last, the boldest among them timidly asked,

“So… about the leave request?”

“Go on, all of you, just go!” the director barked.

The group looked at each other in delight, quickly packed their things, and hurried out. The director remained, muttering curses. Once the studio was empty, he knocked on the office next door with a sigh.

“Manager, I just got news from home—my child caught a chill at kindergarten. Could I… take a day off?”

…

While the people of Hua Country were thrown into chaos by the astronomical missing person announcement, on a nameless, insignificant island south of the East Sea—so obscure it wasn’t even marked on maps—Chen Ruomin, the subject of the search, stared with disgust at a pile of green fruit before her, the only food available.

“You expect me to eat this?”

What bad luck—truly unfortunate! Chen Ruomin’s life had always been smooth, never before had she experienced such misfortune.

Today was, in fact, her birthday. Just last month, she had presented a promising entertainment-and-real-estate cooperation proposal at Twin Star’s board meeting. Her father, delighted, gifted her a yacht for her seventeenth birthday. As a well-versed heiress in the pleasures of life, Chen Ruomin naturally gathered her circle of friends and set out to sea.

They’d only intended to throw a yacht party near the coast, but the forecast of calm seas and clear skies proved false. A sudden tsunami struck. Her yacht capsized after just a few waves, and she hadn’t even time to put on a life jacket before being thrown into the sea.

When she woke again, she found herself on this deserted island. Her phone was gone, her food gone—only the person beside her remained: Bai Jingyan, who had jumped from the yacht just before she lost consciousness and pulled her to shore.

Bai Jingyan was also from the circle of wealthy heirs in South City, though he was the most unconventional among them.

He wasn’t like the dissolute types who spent their days idly, nor like the ambitious elites who started learning the family business at fourteen or fifteen. Instead, he was more like the “model child” from ordinary families—studious and diligent. He became the only one in their circle to gain admission to one of South City’s best high schools—South City No. 1.

Someone like him should never have fit into their group, yet at age seven, during a school climbing competition, Bai Jingyan had once helped Chen Ruomin. Ever since, she’d had a vague fondness for him, always wanting to draw him into her circle.

Fortunately, they’d known each other since childhood. Even though Bai Jingyan’s personality had grown less warm over the years, he always cared for his childhood friend living on the next street.

“It doesn’t look appealing, but it tastes alright. There’s nothing else to eat on this island—you can’t starve yourself forever,” Bai Jingyan said, breaking off a piece of breadfruit and handing it to Chen Ruomin.

“Try it.”

She wanted to say she’d rather starve than eat such a half-raw wild fruit, but seeing Bai Jingyan’s clean, gentle profile, she muttered a few complaints and took the breadfruit anyway.

“Is it good?” Bai Jingyan asked, popping a small piece into his own mouth.

“No, it’s terrible,” Chen Ruomin huffed, frowning, her lips turned up high.

If there had been anything else on the island, or if anyone else had handed it to her, she wouldn’t even glance at such food. Chen Ruomin had lived seventeen years—never eaten anything so crude.

Bai Jingyan chuckled softly, ruffling her hair, which had tangled from soaking in seawater.

“Just bear with it a little longer. Once the weather improves tomorrow, we’ll gather some dry branches, light a fire, and signal for help. Given the search speed at home, we should be able to leave by this time tomorrow at the latest.”

He’d done this gesture before, yet for the first time, the bold and shameless Chen Ruomin blushed.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Bai Jingyan asked quietly, noticing her unease.

Shifting awkwardly, Chen Ruomin replied in irritation,

“My clothes are all soaked—it's uncomfortable.”

It wasn’t that Bai Jingyan didn’t know how to make fire outdoors, but after the tsunami and the heavy rain, there wasn’t a single dry branch to be found. All his survival skills were useless; they could only sit in their salt-crusted wet clothes, exposed to the sea breeze.

Bai Jingyan wrung out his own clothes, showing a helpless expression.

“My clothes are still dripping too—can’t give them to you. Luckily, it's only early August. If it were autumn or winter, it’d be even harder.”

Chen Ruomin turned her head away and huffed again.

“Even if you could, I wouldn’t wear someone else’s clothes. I’m thirsty. I want water.”

Bai Jingyan glanced at the breadfruit in his hand and handed it to her.

“The juice is drinkable.”

Chen Ruomin made a face of disgust.

“No!”

He pointed to the puddle at their feet.

“Rainwater can be filtered a bit—it’s drinkable.”

At the bottom of the puddle lay gravel and mud. Just thinking about it made Chen Ruomin grimace.

“I won’t drink it!”

Bai Jingyan then pointed to the dark coastline nearby, nodding seriously.

“In that case, you’ll have to drink seawater.”

“Bai! Jing! Yan!!”

Chen Ruomin roared.

He chuckled again and pushed the remaining half of the breadfruit into her hands.

“All right, drink this instead. Be good.”

His lips were pale, whether from dehydration after soaking in the sea too long, or from the effort spent protecting Chen Ruomin during the shipwreck.

Suddenly, Chen Ruomin remembered Bai Jingyan hadn’t had any water either. While she rested, he’d been scouring the island for food and water. There were two breadfruit trees here, but each rose ten meters high, and so far, they had only managed to find this one fruit. People can survive for days without food, but without water…

Looking at his slender but gentle figure beside her, Chen Ruomin suddenly felt that tasting a wild drink so unlike her usual refined fare wasn’t such an impossible task after all.

She brought the breadfruit to her lips and took a cautious sip, letting out a long sigh.

Ah, it’s surprisingly good.