His seat was neither too close nor too far from the point where the plane broke apart. If he had been closer, the tearing force of the break would have shredded him to pieces; if farther, he would have fallen to the ground with the tail section, becoming a speck of dust in the universe amidst the ensuing explosions.

Luck—unbelievable luck—caused the spiral force of the falling tail to fling him out of the wreckage, along with the little girl he held tightly in his arms, allowing them to escape the subsequent explosions.

There could not possibly be any more survivors.

Charles Sutton forced a grin, giving the little girl before him an awkward smile. “Have you ever heard of Robinson Crusoe? Little one, from now on, we’ll call ourselves Robinson.”

The little girl looked at Charles Sutton with curiosity and innocently asked, “Uncle, you’re not dead yet?”

Charles Sutton moved his body; he felt sore all over, but it seemed his bones weren’t broken.

“I’m afraid I won’t die that easily,” Charles Sutton gave a bitter laugh and lay flat, as the waves continued to wash over him again and again.

“Will I be able to see my mom and dad again?” The little girl sat down, leaning against Charles Sutton, and asked sadly.

“Yes, I promise,” Charles Sutton answered with effort. “That’s a promise from uncle… The Earth isn’t that big, technology is everywhere. Wait, let me recover a bit, and we’ll go look for the black box and call for help.”

“The wind is picking up,” the little girl rested her head on Charles Sutton’s chest, speaking thoughtfully, her expression full of sorrow.

Charles Sutton opened his mouth.

He wanted to ask: Why aren’t you crying? Why aren’t you panicking? Why aren’t you afraid? Why aren’t you hysterical?

But in the end, what he asked was, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Flora, I’m seven years old. I’m very hungry. My teacher told me that if you’re hungry and can’t find food, you should sleep—it helps with the hunger. Uncle, I want to sleep for a while, is that okay?”

“My name is Flora,” Charles Sutton couldn’t help but softly repeat this sentence to his computer screen. The scene seemed to play out before his eyes, vivid as ever. The calm and strength that little girl showed in the face of disaster deeply moved him, making him stand tall.

“Go ahead and sleep,” Charles Sutton remembered that he hugged Flora tightly at the time, struggled to get up, and solemnly promised, “Sleep as much as you want. When dinner’s ready, I’ll wake you up!”

“Okay, good afternoon!” Flora obediently closed her eyes.

“Good afternoon!” Charles Sutton straightened up, ignoring the waves of dizziness. Though the scenery before him swayed, he still shook his head, trying hard to look around.

“Don’t worry,” Charles Sutton muttered in Chinese, which the little girl couldn’t understand, “This is a tropical jungle. There may be a lack of fresh water, but there’s no shortage of food.”

The little girl couldn’t understand Charles Sutton’s words. She closed her eyes slightly, and soon, her breathing became steady...

In the underground wine cellar, Yvonne Quinn was explaining to Evelyn Lewis, “I don’t know how long you’ll be able to stay here. You’re our eleventh marketing manager. The previous ones didn’t last long, but during their time here, each of them was outstanding.”

Yvonne Quinn paused, glanced at the searching Evelyn Lewis, and asked softly, “Do you know where those previous marketing managers went?”

Of course, Evelyn Lewis couldn’t answer. Yvonne Quinn continued, “Most of them married into good families, or at the very least, joined big companies—because here, they learned a sense of taste that benefited them for life. And the clients they met here helped them thrive in the business world…”

Upstairs, Charles Sutton was gradually regaining his senses. The words on the screen had turned into a smiling face—it was Flora, her cautious smile piercingly heartbreaking.

“What do you need me to do?” Charles Sutton asked. As soon as he sent this message, he immediately added, “I’ll book a flight right away to visit Flora.”

“We don’t require you to do anything,” Hagen replied quickly as well. “Flora wants to see you. We just hope you’ll stay in touch.”

“…Flora’s condition is getting worse and worse,” Hagen explained intermittently. “She’s already fallen into deep, unconscious sleep several times. The doctors say that this winter, she could fall asleep and never wake up at any moment…

Money isn’t the issue. We still have enough to continue treatment, but what we urgently need now is a technological breakthrough…

I know of a place that might bring us a breakthrough. Who knows? Maybe it’ll work, maybe there’s no hope at all.”

Hearing this, Charles Sutton immediately interrupted Hagen’s account. “If we give up, how will we know if it’ll work or not? Tell me, what does Flora need?”

There was a long silence on the other end. After a while, a few lines appeared on the screen: “This would take a whole book to explain.”

“Come to the basement,” Charles Sutton said resolutely. “Your nose must have already told you where the entrance is—it’s in the rockery in the backyard. There’s a hidden elevator there. The door lock is nothing to you. The password is xxxxxx. I’ll be waiting for you on the lowest level.”

In the basement, Yvonne Quinn was explaining the classification of the wine cellar to Evelyn Lewis, when a faint buzzing sound suddenly echoed through the quiet cellar. Evelyn Lewis turned to look for the source, only to find that the sound was coming from a spotless wall—the noise was coming from inside the wall.