The train disappears along with the noise of the station.
Underfoot there is now warm earth. Overhead is an unfamiliar evening sky. The long-haired man is still holding your wrist, and the edge of the suitcase lies nearby in the dust.
He lets go first.
"Hell."
Thirty seconds ago he appeared on the platform. He saw you, the paired mark flaring, and the closing carriage door. The call that had pulled him here ended — and in its place came a new fear: being late right after he had found you.
Xun Bai grabbed you and opened the return passage before asking a single thing.
His fright travels openly along the bond. He notices, makes a movement toward the mark above his ankle — and stops.
"I can take you back. Right now."
An elderly woman with a bucket comes out from behind the roadside house. She recognizes Bai, looks at the suitcase, at you.
"You've brought someone again without warning?"
He briefly closes his eyes.
"This time it's worse."
Bai steps back, no longer blocking the path. Behind his shoulder a thin boundary of the way back flares. He does not touch you.
"The train's probably gone. That's mine to sort. But first — put your hand on the seam and tell me where you want to wake up."