From his hiding place in the forest, Chen Mo froze when he heard the little girl's pitiful cry. For a moment, he thought he'd been discovered — but when he saw the two girls crouch back down to keep looking for crabs, he quietly exhaled.
For days now, he had been thinking about how to get food to them without arousing suspicion. The island was less than a square kilometer in size, and with a dozen people all living close together, every move he made had to be careful and precise.
Now, finally, everyone else had gone back to camp — only those two little girls remained on the beach.
Watching them crouch on the sand, completely focused on catching crabs, Chen Mo couldn't help but smile faintly.
After a while, the sky began to darken. The two girls sighed helplessly, gathered their small catch, and started walking back along the beach.
They had only gone a few dozen meters when both suddenly stopped in their tracks.
Lying there, half-buried in the sand, was a single packet of compressed biscuits.
Startled, Xu Qing loosened her grip on the crab she was holding — the angry creature seized the chance to pinch her finger hard before scuttling away sideways into the waves.
Neither girl cared. Their eyes met, wide with astonishment and joy — not only because of the precious food, but because it confirmed what they had both secretly believed.
There really was a Black Man watching over them.
When they returned to camp, everyone was stunned to see the biscuits in their hands.
The girls didn't reveal their secret, simply claiming they had found them washed up on the beach.
The others, though envious of their luck, didn't think too much of it — after all, the girls were the weakest and always found the least food. It was good fortune, nothing more.
But the two didn't eat it all themselves. There were two pieces inside the pack; they shared one and felt full enough, then gave the other to Su Wan and the two flight attendants who often looked after them.
The three women initially refused, telling them to keep it for tomorrow, but the girls insisted confidently, saying they'd "find more food soon."
Seeing their determination, the women reluctantly accepted — though none of them could bear to eat it. They carefully wrapped it up, planning to return it once the girls ran out of food.
But that day never came.
Over the next several days, the two girls would, every so often, "find" more food — compressed biscuits, canned goods, things that had supposedly "washed ashore."
The packaging bore no brand, no airline markings — clearly not from the plane's supplies. People guessed they might've been carried in someone's luggage and scattered into the sea after the crash.
Whatever the explanation, no one questioned it further.
The girls didn't rely solely on luck either; they still searched the shore each day, and every time they received one of Chen Mo's "airdrops," they only kept enough for themselves and shared the rest with the flight attendants.
With their contributions and the bodyguard's improving fishing skill, the survivors finally achieved basic stability.
They weren't eating well, but they weren't starving anymore.
The others didn't resent the girls' "good fortune." They were young, helpless, and always generous with what they found. Everyone felt, in a way, that they were blessed on behalf of the group.
After all, even if they'd kept everything for themselves, no one could've complained — the fish caught by the three foreign men had never been shared either.
This was survival. On a deserted island, strangers fighting to live, everyone's priority was simply staying alive.
And so, the days passed.
The plane crash survivors struggled on, unaware that Chen Mo, their silent "God," was hidden in the shadows — secretly dropping "gifts from heaven" to keep them alive.
Once food security was no longer an issue, the survivors began to focus on shelter.
Though the bonfire kept them warm, the nights were windy and cold, and if rain came, it would extinguish the flames — and without lighters or matches (forbidden on planes), they'd have no way to relight it.
Everyone worked together, pooling their strength, and by nightfall they had managed to build several simple shelters out of branches and palm leaves.
Of course, the three foreigners didn't join them.
With plenty of fish to eat, they had already claimed a separate clearing near the water source, set up their own fire, and built shelters away from the group — barely speaking to anyone else.
In their eyes, the others were weak and burdensome. It was better to go it alone; with their survival experience, they could surely last until rescue arrived.
And indeed, without Chen Mo's divine intervention, the others likely wouldn't have made it.
But thanks to his quiet "airdrops," the "weak ones" were actually living more comfortably than the so-called experts — maybe not full, but never hungry.
The foreigners, on the other hand, were not so lucky.
Even with their skill, the sea didn't always provide. Some days, they came back empty-handed.
That day was one of those unlucky days.
After an exhausting day of fishing, they had caught only a few small fish — barely enough for one person, let alone three.
Just as the sun was setting and they trudged back toward shore, frustrated and hungry, they saw the two girls up ahead…
Each holding a can of food.
The three men stared, then glanced at their pitiful handful of tiny fish — and their faces darkened.
A surge of envy twisted in their eyes.
While they struggled all day in the cold sea to catch scraps, these two little girls had casually "found" two full cans.
They looked at each other — and the same thought flashed in all three minds.
Meanwhile, the two girls, completely unaware of the danger, laughed happily, their arms full of crabs and their faces glowing with relief.
Finally, a full meal for everyone tonight.
They turned to head back toward camp—
And suddenly, the three foreigners stepped out, blocking their path.
At the same time, far away in China, the nation was still gripped by the tragedy of the missing flight.
A full week had passed since the plane vanished.
Massive rescue efforts — ships, aircraft, satellites — had scoured the ocean, yet not a single trace of the plane had been found.
And in another corner of the country, the investigation into Zhou Tianhao's murder remained at a frustrating standstill…