The golden-haired, wasteland-styled classical girl half-sat among the heap of garbage on the living balcony, scratching her head in panic, her eyes darting around. At this moment, she looked even more bewildered than Zhou Qin.
She rubbed the back of her aching head, fear evident in her gaze as she surveyed her surroundings. Beside her were several transparent, tightly locked windows, all outfitted with burglar-proof grids typically reserved for prisoners. Under her hands, she felt the icy ceramic walls. The cold, merciless night, combined with the filthy trash strewn around, wrapped her in a nightmare-like embrace.
The scene, accompanied by the inherent melancholy of the night, was complete. If Zhou Qin wanted to set the mood, all he needed was some Erquan Yingyue in the background, and the picture would be perfect.
Even without speaking, the girl's eyes betrayed a sense of being trapped in a prison. Though she had never been to one, having read The Count of Monte Cristo, she at least knew enough to recognize misfortune—even if she hadn't eaten pork, she had seen pigs run.
Here she was, in a dark single cell, surrounded by strange implements she had never seen before (the household trash), with sorrowful moonlight hanging low over her poor little heart.
Could it be that I've been wrongly imprisoned too? Will I have to swim through a sack to escape in a few years?
Heavens, after that shipwreck, what else could have possibly happened?! The girl flailed her legs, forcing herself out of the trash heap. She felt no comfort in this strange environment. And the man in front of her, holding what looked like a harmless but odd weapon and dressed in bizarre clothes—he was far from reassuring.
This is just too weird! She couldn't help but speak, her clear, delicate voice ringing out, "Hello… may I ask where I am?"*
Zhou Qin stared blankly at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty, his gaze moving from her exquisite gown to the lively fish wriggling on the floor.
After a brief moment of contemplation, he decisively closed the balcony door.
Well, damn… there really is a thief! And one with looks like that!
Bang! Fueled by anger, emerging from the trash heap suddenly became an effortless task.
The balcony door was forcefully pushed open by the furious beauty. The once-refined classical gown was now a mess; its delicate decorations and design ruined by the surrounding trash, irreparable.
Even as she walked, small objects fell from her dress like loot in a video game. Zhou Qin silently prayed that his broom, wielded like a deadly blade, might at least intimidate the gorgeous girl.
If he survived tonight, he would definitely put a lock on the balcony door! Stainless steel!
"Don't move!"
What language was he even speaking? The classical-wasteland girl frowned, realizing the man in front of her spoke a language she didn't understand. Neither the decor nor the man's skin color was familiar. This was certainly not England; English was useless here.
Yet, this "prison" was incredibly strange.
In her mind, prisons were made of stone walls and iron bars, dark, damp, infested with rats, where prisoners' wails mingled with the stench of corpses. Such harshness was normal.
But this place… looked fairly tidy.
A soft, albeit shabby, woolen sofa sat in the center of the modestly decorated room. The gaslight above was bright but bore only a simple lampshade, hardly elegant.
Along one wall, a slightly aged wooden bookshelf held many books. From their covers, the languages were diverse, though a few English titles were recognizable:
Goodbye, My Love, A Room of One's Own, The Handmaid's Tale, and even Jane Eyre!
This little jailer seemed sentimental, though rude enough to slam the door without a word.
Curiosity piqued, the girl lifted her gown and began examining the bookshelf, paying Zhou Qin no mind.
She leafed through the books, quietly pondering her situation.
No matter how she thought about it, this did not resemble a prison. Worse, was this stranger unlawfully detaining her?
Her gaze shifted to Zhou Qin, standing ready. He seemed timid, even more frightened than she felt. A man in neat clothing, yet showing no nobility—surely just a servant, she guessed.
Perhaps… she should test him?
"Sorry, if I frightened you. I apologize. My name is Salena. I believe there must be some misunderstanding between us. I have committed no crime and was likely wrongly brought here. Do you know Dundan? It's a city, the capital of England, and my home. May I speak with your master? I think we should clarify things."*
As she spoke, Salena worried Zhou Qin wouldn't understand, so she supplemented her words with sign language, one of the world's famous systems.
Her animated gestures only added confusion to Zhou Qin's already muddled mind.
This girl… is she Italian? Why are her gestures so expressive?
Finally calming down, Zhou Qin tilted his head and asked in English, "The window was locked. How did you get in?"*
Salena covered her mouth in shock: "Heavens! You can actually speak!"*
Zhou Qin couldn't help retorting, "English isn't the only human language! And! Don't touch my bookshelf—I'm the owner here."*
Even though she looked like a stranded princess, Salena remained composed.
Her sharp eyes scanned the room, secretly observing potential escape routes. Spotting a door to Zhou Qin's rear right, she guessed it led outside. Pretending impatience, she tried to distract him, looking for a chance to flee.
Though the decor was modest, it was far above what someone dressed like him could afford. Salena signaled him to pause: "Very well, let's bypass that topic. May I ask… what is this place?"*
Zhou Qin, irritated by her self-assured attitude, jabbed the broom toward her feet. "This is my home. I won't say it again! This is where I live!"*
Salena recoiled slightly, uneasy at the rude action, silently calculating her next move.
Peering at Zhou Qin, she realized he was indeed an Oriental man.
Was I swept east by the waves? Strange! Even if I fell into the sea during the shipwreck, there's no way I could drift this far from Dundan.
Maintaining the last shred of composure, she tried to gather more information while planning her exit: "Excuse me. I'm unfamiliar with Eastern residences. Your design is beautiful; I admire it. Who designed this building? Or is it a cultural style? May I… view the scenery outside? I'm very curious."*
Zhou Qin recalled his aunt's tormenting antics from childhood, forming a new hypothesis about her origin. Switching to his native tongue, he muttered, "Nonsense. Another prank? She can't really be a time traveler… damn aunt, always messing with me."
Salena's sweet smile remained, like a painted doll's expression.
"What did you say?"*
Zhou Qin, unwilling to linger with her, pointed the broom at her and slowly moved behind her. "Nothing. If you just wandered in, could you please leave?"*
Salena gladly accepted, as this was precisely what she wanted.
Though he could communicate, the barbarian had effectively imprisoned her after the shipwreck in his self-proclaimed home.
Too evil!
Thankfully, he hadn't done anything indecent.
Even a second sooner, she wanted out of this dangerous place. Lowering her head and lifting her heavy skirt, she hurried toward the nearest door, thinking it the exit.
Alas… wrong door.
"That's the bathroom!"*
Zhou Qin's exasperated shout revealed the true destination.
Salena couldn't comprehend the white ceramic fixture. For a moment, she almost mistook it for a priceless work of art.
Wait! What did that barbarian just say? Such crude words!
"Excuse me, I disturbed your… restroom,"* Salena asked, cheeks flushed, "Is the exit this way?"*
Zhou Qin gestured toward the door with his broom, more dramatic than a Formula 86 car navigating a drain.
He just wanted this eccentric beauty out, so she wouldn't disrupt his peaceful solo life.
Fearing she might linger, he quickly unlocked the door. Salena wasted no time, running straight out.
Outside, the city blazed with lights, loud and dazzling.
Neon disturbed her thoughts, steel skyscrapers surrounded by intense colors, each flickering similarly. No familiar constellations appeared in the dull sky; silent stars drowned amidst the city lights, watching lonely lives rush by.
The unfamiliar city was a deep-sea leviathan, swallowing the last trace of celestial calm.
Vehicles, unpulled by horses, raced along distant roads, their lights like ripe fruit hanging low on iron trees, guiding traffic obediently. Steel beasts forged by modern tech traversed the web of streets, headlights streaming toward the horizon.
This was no island left by a shipwreck or the scenery outside a prison.
"Where… is this?"*
Zhou Qin secured the door, peeking at Salena. Phone in hand, ready to call for help.
"Haikai City."*
She had heard the name but none of the details her father shared matched reality. "Haikai City? Isn't that an Eastern trade city? My father's caravan passed through; I can ask them to take me back."*
It should have been a port concession; the docks would be the busiest spot. The locals shouldn't have developed such a bustling, almost surreal cityscape, let alone a home like Zhou Qin's.
Salena scrutinized the corridor outside, overwhelmed by the steel metropolis.
"But my father never told me the East was so prosperous… taller than Dundan… God! How could you build such high towers?!"*
Her carefully crafted mask finally fell away, revealing inner turmoil. Towering skyscrapers, forged of steel and iron, could not be denied.
She wished it was a nightmare, that she could wake on the ship again.
But it wasn't. Her previous strength drained, she let out a long breath.
The radiant city became the backdrop of her portrait, a tragic beauty.
"This… really is Haikai City in the East. The port city, right?"*
Zhou Qin could hear the fractured emotions in her voice. This was no joke.
Unless his aunt had sent some foreign student from a film school, with Oscar-worthy potential.
Or maybe… she was a character out of a fantasy work, a genuine time-traveler.
Out of sympathy, concern, or mere curiosity, Zhou Qin opened the door and approached her. "Yes. This is indeed Haikai City, in Zhongguo."*
High-rise buildings in the distance displayed overpriced advertisements, their banal slogans marking prices, flaunting naked commercial temptation. Car horns blared as soon as they left no-horn zones, venting life's stress. A plane passed silently, like a white bird admiring the city.
Construction sites, though off-hours, had old cranes standing tall. Light flickered above Salena as they walked side by side along a renovated corridor, enveloped in worldly dust.
"No city could be this industrially amazing… unless I'm in another world. In any case, this isn't the world I know, and this isn't a prison."*
"May I find a ship home? I apologize for my earlier behavior; I know nothing of the events after the shipwreck."*
Still traveling by sea… she might truly be from another time. Zhou Qin, slightly horrified, confirmed the possibility. He probed gently: "What was the last date you remember?"*
"September 1, '80."*
"1980?"*
Salena trembled, realizing something. "No… 1880."*
Tears, clearer than crystal, ran down her delicate face. Zhou Qin saw her clutching the corridor railing, knuckles red, and gave a bitter smile. "I'm sorry… you probably can't go back. This… is a hundred years later."*