Somewhere near the equator in Southeast Asia in the Real World, it was January in the Northern Hemisphere, yet the sun never set and summer endured.
Coconut palms stood tall on the beach. The air was sweltering, and everyone passing by wore short sleeves and shorts. A sizable crowd had gathered at the harbor, squinting toward the direction the ships came and went. Some looked sorrowful, some remained silent, and others spoke in hushed voices.
Lü Yating wore an inconspicuous red dress and a sun hat. Carrying a suitcase in one hand and a bag in the other, she passed behind the crowd and glanced toward the same stretch of sea.
Injuries to muscles and bones took a hundred days to heal. Lü Yating had not fully recovered and still needed rest, but she no longer intended to recuperate at Cross Hospital. She had to go home.
As she turned onto another small path, cries of surprise rose from the crowd behind her.
A warship returning from battle sailed past the people, proud and imposing, trailing a long wake behind it.
People tossed their hats and waved, shouting and calling out in a local Southeast Asian language. They seemed to be welcoming it excitedly as they watched it sail away.
Lü Yating glanced back. Without a word, she quickened her steps. She remembered that the warship had just suffered a defeat in the war it had joined. Almost all the soldiers who had fought were dead. That ship had fled back.
Sunlight filtered through the broad leaves of the tropical rainforest vegetation and spilled onto the gravel path. Palms planted on either side flaunted themselves beneath the blazing sun.
A baby girl who could not yet walk suddenly began wailing in her Filipina nanny's arms, her little hands struggling desperately