Chapter 1: Paper Crane

Wang Jiexiang gripped her pillow with her left hand, clutched the blanket tight with her right, and curled her trembling legs around the slippery neck of the giant paper crane. The howling wind numbed her limbs; only the cold sweat rolling down her forehead reminded her she was still conscious. Peeking down through squinted eyes, she saw the city lights below receding like fireflies.

Oh god.

How high was she? Thousands of meters?

***

Before bedtime.

After an ordinary day, just as she was about to go to sleep, Wang Jiexiang discovered a paper crane on her pillow.

It was folded from chewing gum wrapper, poorly done, its creases showing it had once been crumpled into a ball. On its wing was a string of wobbly black lines, like writing.

Wang Jiexiang leaned in and read aloud, “Come to… my… island?”

Her face scrunched. She flicked the crane off the bed with a snap of her fingers, disdainful.

Assuming it was something a kid upstairs had folded and discarded, she paid it no mind. She turned to shut the window, pulled the covers over herself, and drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night, she awoke to violent shaking. She heard a creaking at the foot of her bed and pushed up to sit. The bedboard at her feet was elongating and rising, the section beneath her rapidly extending sideways. Amid loud construction-like noises, the bed transformed into something else entirely. Just as she realized she should jump off, it surged upward, and the gut-wrenching weightlessness made her curl up instantly.

Moonlight spilled in through the window, illuminating the thing lifting her—it had the same color, texture, and crumpled folds as that paper crane she’d flicked off her bed before sleep! Just bigger.

Right now, it was facing the sealed window, flapping its broad wings as if contemplating how to break through.

“Break through?” Wang Jiexiang thought, no way. But the next second, a force hurled her forward. With the crisp sound of glass shattering and her own string of curses, the crane smashed through the window and soared into the sky.

Pain! But Wang Jiexiang couldn’t care less about her throbbing head—she was flying!

A man on the balcony above was smoking; a girl in a lit-up window was doing her homework; a few drunk folks were grilling on the rooftop. These were the few who saw the flying paper crane with her on it.

When Wang Jiexiang screamed and waved, the man upstairs recognized her and waved back; the rooftop crowd laughed and raised their drinks to her; the schoolgirl paused, clasped her hands together, and made a silent wish to the heavens.

“Help meee!”

Her small voice was lost in the wind. The cool night returned to silence.

The paper crane spread its wings, flying higher and farther into the night.

Street vendors’ tents looked like red umbrellas; the roads were strings of beads—cars shining like multicolored jewels. Skyscrapers glowed with shifting neon, quietly radiating a kaleidoscope of color.

Once the city lights faded and she adjusted to the altitude, Wang Jiexiang looked down from the crane, sniffling—half from cold, half from tears.

She saw a glimmering stream.

A pitch-black forest—the crane skimmed over the treetops.

A flock of gray, nameless birds flew past her toward somewhere else.

This must be a dream, right? Though some parts of her still ached.

Everything she saw was surreal, yet felt real.

She looked around in numb astonishment.

A paper crane had come to life—what else could be impossible?

So, where was the crane taking her?

She calmed down—numbed, unwilling, but clear-headed.

“Come to my island.”

It sounded like some dark force had chosen people to trap on a deserted island for a deadly survival game. With that in mind, Wang Jiexiang preemptively searched for potential weapons.

Pillow, blanket… well, maybe they could be used to smother someone?

While she was letting her thoughts wander, she noticed the crane beginning to descend.

She squinted—there really was an island ahead. A small, round one surrounded by sea. A few lights glowed orange against the black island, like nuts sprinkled on a chocolate chip cookie. As they neared, she could make out street lamps, and a patchwork of little houses with stone paths leading to their doors.

The paper crane slowed its wingbeats. Wang Jiexiang looked around warily—no sign of people.

At last, it landed smoothly in a clearing with a wooden signpost, then stopped flapping entirely.

When her feet touched the ground, her ankles buckled. She nearly collapsed, staring up at the star-dense sky—she could hardly believe she’d just flown down from up there.

Though the paper crane was scary, she didn’t dare stray too far. She didn’t know where she was—what if aliens or beasts were nearby? At least with a mode of transport, she could escape farther. She inspected the crane but found no buttons or levers. She tried talking to it—it gave no response.

Swallowing hard, she turned to examine the wooden sign.

It was plain—a wooden stake nailed with a board. Two mushroom-shaped lamps, one pink and one yellow, lit it up in a cute glow.

“Little Rabbit Island.”

She felt like she’d heard that name before. Resting her chin on her hand, she tried to remember.

Before she could recall, the bushes behind the sign rustled. Her hairs stood on end. Reflexively, she hurled her pillow at the noise.

Direct hit!

The rustling stopped. She was shocked at her own aim. The bush was low—not really big enough to hide a person.

She retrieved her pillow and carefully parted the leaves.

A chubby little rabbit sat there. Its fur was fluffy and white, ears perked, eyes shiny black with pretty double eyelids and a soft yellow tint around them like eyeshadow. It looked stunned, unmoving, as if her pillow had knocked the sense out of it.

“Aww, it’s just a little bunny.”

Wang Jiexiang dropped the pillow and gently cupped the rabbit in her hands, loving it instantly.

“Did I hit you? Did it hurt?”

She rubbed her cheek against its fluffy head, smiling like a doting mother.

“It hurt.”

“…” That deep adult male voice—was that her inner voice?

Wang Jiexiang’s smile froze. She looked down, meeting the chubby bunny’s eyes. That must’ve been her subconscious voice… right? Hah, who knew her inner voice sounded so gruff?

“You hit me.”

As the rabbit spoke, its soft paw tapped her face, confirming the accusation.

Talk about a hot potato. A bolt from the blue.

She didn’t know whether to let go or keep holding on. Her head was filled with flashing thoughts: A talking rabbit! A talking rabbit! His voice is so deep! His paws are so soft!

Wait.

Amid the chaos, a strange sense of familiarity surfaced.

She shifted her face aside, looked at the bunny, and blushed.

“Say that again.”

The chubby bunny glared with round eyes, puffed its cheeks, and sneered.

“You hit me. Again.”

Too familiar.

That voice, that expression, that infuriating tone.

Wang Jiexiang blurted a name: “Yin Xian?”

Now the bunny looked shocked. Its mouth shut, paws raised in defense across its chest, face solemn.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

Oh boy.

Wang Jiexiang nearly choked on air.

Never mind why Yin Xian had turned into a rabbit—regardless of his form, how could he not recognize her? They’d been together five years. She heard one sentence and knew it was him. It hadn’t been that long, and she hadn’t aged so badly she’d become unrecognizable, right?

“I’m Wang Jiexiang,” she said testily, setting the rabbit on the ground, not wanting to deal with him anymore.

The rabbit’s eyes rolled around, face contemplative—but still no recognition.

Wang Jiexiang took a deep breath.

“I’m Wang Jiexiang. Your ex. We used to date.”

The rabbit pondered.

“We always argued. Remember that?”

A small headshake.

“You used to call me a pig. Remember that?”

Another shake.

Wang Jiexiang was getting irritated. She clenched her teeth and went for the ultimate weapon. She pinched her own cheeks—the thing Yin Xian used to love to do.

“You always called me ‘Chubby, Chubby.’ I hated it. You still did it. Remember now?”

She shoved her big face in front of him, twisted with frustration, eyes full of murderous intent. “Chubby!”

“Oh,” the rabbit coughed, backing up. “I guess that does ring a bell.”

Wang Jiexiang relaxed.

“Still as annoying as ever,” she said with a smirk, patting his head. “Pretending not to know me.”

The rabbit saw stars. He and this woman were not in the same weight class. He didn’t agree with what she said, but couldn’t refute it either.

“I’ve been stuck here. I can’t get out.”

Since she clearly knew him, he cut to the chase.

“You’re the first living thing I’ve seen in forever. Did you come to rescue me?”

Well…

Wang Jiexiang paused, met the bunny’s hopeful gaze, and cheerfully replied:

“Nope.”