Day Forty-Five: Another Exploration of the Cabin (Part Two) — An Extra Chapter for "One Thirty"

“Huff, huff…” I dragged back a heap of supplies, panting like an exhausted beast. I had neglected to even visit the stern behind the deck, so I was surprised to discover many ropes, fishing nets, and the like. There was also a winch wound with thick steel cable, as well as iron frames. Yet, all I could do was gaze helplessly at them—their bulk made them impossible for me to carry, and they were of little use to me at present.

It was already afternoon, and I had lost count of how many times I had made this trip. The fire axe had been an invaluable ally, prying open cabin doors, lifting floorboards, and breaking apart the cabinet into manageable pieces. Clutching these blocks of material, I felt exhilarated. This was the last trip; I had brought down the nets, ropes, and plenty of wood from the deck. These supplies would suffice for now.

I was not a greedy person, nor did I wish to exhaust myself. My still-healing left hand had suffered from the heavy labor, the pain worsening with each haul. My desires were simple: I only wanted to survive, to make my life as comfortable as possible. Yet reality forced me again and again to struggle. My time here had not been long, but the trials of life and death I had endured were far more than I could have ever imagined.

When fatigue sets in, sleep comes easily, and so it was for me. Lying in the treehouse, lost in thought, I gradually drifted off…

When I awoke, the moon was already high in the branches. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up. Little Black was fast asleep, a few gnawed fruit pits scattered beside its nest. I was grateful for such clever companionship; after I fell asleep, it hadn’t disturbed me, instead eating a few fruits it usually didn’t care for before curling up for the night. At the sound of my footsteps, the ever-vigilant Little Black raised its head in alarm, but upon seeing it was me, it wagged its tail a few times and settled back onto the bedding, ready to sleep again.

Tonight, the moon was large, round, and bright. Stepping outside, the world was bathed in moonlight as if it were midday. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, insects sang, and in this atmosphere, my emotions spiraled out of control. The homesickness I had suppressed erupted completely.

Had I truly never thought of home? Never thought of leaving this place? Never yearned for my family?

No! That’s not true!

I do! I think of them constantly! Yet reason forced me to tamp down my longing, to suppress these impractical thoughts. If I let myself dwell in this state for too long, it would be dangerous—I might lose my reason, even my ability to think. I miss home, I miss my family, my parents! If I could, I would return to them this very moment!

But could I? No, I could not. Could I go to them? No, I could not. What could I do? Yes—stay alive!

Unaware, tears streamed down my face. I hated my own inability to escape this place. I hated that no one was searching for me, hated that no one would take me away from here. I hated…

“Ah… ah!” I shouted to the sky, venting my discontent with fate’s cruel design. The howl brought release, yet what could I do now? I truly did not know. All that remained was survival.

I had considered countless ways to escape, but each time I dismissed them myself. I had thought of crafting a boat with my own hands, imitating the dugout canoes I’d seen on television. But even if I managed it, what then? Would I dare to venture into the sea on a canoe? How much food and fresh water could it carry? Would it sustain me until rescue? Could I row fast enough to overcome the waves? Perhaps even reaching the open sea would be impossible!

These questions haunted me. I have said many times—I fear death! My thoughts are simple: as long as I live, there is hope; if I die, I’m just another name on the list of those lost at sea. For me, such meaningless risk is utterly irrational, so I have never tried.

The moonlight stirred my longing, memories flashing relentlessly through my mind.

“Jun, is sales tiring? Take care when you’re out there alone, rest well, call your mother if you have any trouble! When will you bring a girlfriend home for me to meet?” That was my mother’s advice the night before the New Year, before I left home.

“Jun, these are local specialties I prepared for you, this is from your aunt, this from your grandaunt—take them, you can’t buy these over there. Take care of yourself, call us often, don’t worry about us!” That was her parting message as I left.

“Here’s the money we saved for your house; the down payment should be enough. If you need a loan, we’ll help you pay it back. Take care of yourself, don’t overwork.” That’s what my mother said when I went home to discuss buying a house.

My father spoke little, but every time I left, he would see me off, following me until he had to stop, watching me go until I disappeared from his view. So many times, when I looked back, I saw him waving.

“I don’t think we have a future together. Don’t say I’m shallow—it’s you who lacks ability. I told you years ago, all I want is to own a home in the city. You said you’d work hard, but now? Now you tell me you only have enough for a down payment in the suburbs? And I’d have to commute from that remote place, squeezing onto buses every day, scrimping and saving to help you pay off the loan? I tell you, that’s impossible!” That was what my ex-girlfriend said when she left me. After that, she vanished completely from my life. I could not refute her at the time; her words stabbed at my heart like knives.

Though these memories flashed through my mind, they engulfed me utterly.

“Brother, go have fun, don’t worry about work. You always work too hard and never enjoy yourself. The company rarely offers benefits like this. Go on, or I’ll take your place!” That was what my colleague said to me the day before I left, the one who helped manage my clients.

If I could go back, I would definitely choose to decline. But now, there’s no way back.

“Help me,” “Save me.” Those were the last cries from two female colleagues. Their desperate voices and hopeless expressions chilled me to the bone. At the time, I had no power to save others—I thought I would die as well. The plank that changed my fate was all that kept me alive.

These flashing memories tormented me deeply. All of them mattered immensely to me…