The Moon's Refuge: Ling Shuo is the "refuge," and Jiang Jinyue is the "moon." In the end, he found refuge in her world.
At twenty, Jiang Jinyue exiled herself to Palau.
She opened a guesthouse by the sea, painted, watched the ocean, ate alone, and went to sleep alone. Three years passed, and she thought she'd learned to stop waiting for anyone.
Until the black-haired, blue-eyed man appeared.
His name was Ling Shuo. He was mixed-race, a mercenary, and when he looked at someone, he watched them like a wolf eyeing its prey. He said he was there on vacation, but he was always gazing at the stars from the rooftop. He said there was no rush, yet every day he waited for her with a beer in hand.
Two prickly souls slowly drew closer beneath the equatorial moonlight.
He had his battlefield, a world of gunfire and life-or-death struggles. She had her past: a letter she hadn't dared open in three years, and a home she could never return to.
He said, "Hatred is easier than forgiveness."
She said, "I'm afraid that if I go with you, I won't ever be able to come back."
From Palau to Beijiang, from tentative testing to giving themselves over to each other, it took them a very, very long time. Long enough for him to look at the moon in an African desert and miss her, and for her to count the days as she waited for him on a seaside terrace.
But he had said it himself:
No rush.
Take it slow.
The tide will rise again, and the moon will climb into the sky.
