"Maybe this is all really fate. As each page of the letter unfolds, it feels like my life is slowly finding its direction again." — Mike, Island Journal, Page 257
———
The wind outside was still blowing, and the sun grew hotter by the minute.
"It's almost noon," Jane said, stretching. "Let's eat something first before we keep reading. I feel like something doesn't quite line up between the first and second pages—maybe this is a good time to clear our heads a bit."
She stepped into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and frowned. "This pot is brand new, right? Or has it just never been used? This is... such a bachelor's kitchen. Seriously, how have you even survived all these years?"
George chimed in from the living room, laughing, "Didn't he just say it? Survives on instant noodles. Look at him—so skinny. Probably lives off beer calories alone."
Mike scratched his head sheepishly. "I burnt the old pot... this one's new. But I don't really cook much. I'll head over to Noah's to get some noodles and bread."
"Grab some eggs while you're at it! And anything meaty. And whatever vegetables they have!" Jane called from the kitchen.
Mike smiled and nodded, heading down the path toward the small shop. The coconut trees rustled gently in the wind, casting dancing shadows along the dirt trail. But his mind wasn't on the sunlight—it was still lingering in the letter, in the words Mei had written to Ah Shun.
That pure and trembling feeling of young love—it was so vivid, it brought Mike back to his own youth. That heart-thumping age where every crush felt like the world was tilting.
When he returned carrying eggs, canned spam, and a few packs of instant noodles, Jane already had the water boiling.
"Leave it to me." She took the groceries, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work. "You two, just sit back and relax."
George leaned in and sniffed dramatically. "Whoa—these noodles look fancier than any I've ever had."
"My mom used to hate it when I ate this stuff," Jane said, rolling her eyes. "Said it was junk. So I figured if I tossed in eggs, some greens, and a few drops of sesame oil, maybe it wouldn't count as total garbage."
Mike didn't say anything. He just sat there, eating slowly, like the act itself meant more than the food.
The three of them sat at the little table by the window. The wind slipped through the palm leaves outside, slicing the sunlight into patches of golden shadow.
After lunch, they cleaned up quickly. George popped open three cold beers and handed one to Jane. She took it, clicked it open, and let the sound ring out like a punctuation mark. Then, she unfolded the third page of the letter, glanced at them both, and said softly, "I'll keep going—"
[... previous translated content continues here ...]
Jane's voice trembled. Her fingers clenched around the paper.
George didn't say anything. He stood up, quietly got some ice and water, and handed her the glass.
She took a sip, closed her eyes.
"That part... it cut straight through me," she whispered.
Mike stood by the door, sunlight catching on his face like a stone-carved statue.
Jane said quietly, "Mei was too pitiful. As a woman… I can't imagine what she went through. Compared to her, maybe everything I've suffered isn't that unbearable."
Silence. Even the wind seemed to hush.
After a long while, Mike finally said, "We need to finish the letter."
Jane didn't respond immediately. Her gaze drifted to the sea. Then she refocused and kept reading:
A few days later, you told me I would be married off—to a man even older than Father. A businessman from Hong Kong, Master Lin. Older, but steady, you said. An old friend of Father's, with a gold shop and stakes in a foreign firm. They said he needed to balance the elements in his life, and I, being born under the water sign, could bring him harmony.
One month later, Father summoned me to his study. There, besides him, stood a middle-aged man I had never met, dressed in silk robes, his hair slicked back, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and speaking in an overly courteous tone. The air smelled of sandalwood and steeped tea.
Father said, "This is Mr. Lin, an old acquaintance of our family. He's here today to propose marriage."
I froze.
Lin smiled and said, "Though she will be a concubine, the betrothal gift is generous, the dowry will be fully prepared. I promise your daughter will live a stable and comfortable life."
Father nodded and added lightly, "Xiaomei, from now on, you must serve Mr. Lin well as his wife. You can't be willful anymore."
I didn't cry. I didn't protest.
I just thought—so this is what it means to be the favorite daughter. In the end, even I couldn't escape the fate of being bartered.
Only then did I understand. You raised me lively because I could sing, because I could amuse Father. But no amount of affection could outweigh family reputation and the weight of tradition.
Jane took a deep breath. "There are still two more pages... Let's leave it here for today. I need a moment to clear my head."
She looked at George and Mike. "You coming?"
George nodded. "I'll go with you."
Mike looked at them, then turned his gaze toward the sea and said softly:
"You two go ahead."
To be continued…