Calamity 7
There are lights in the distance, again. Even with the seas roiling and the clouds churning and everything else that screams ‘Go Away!’… they’re still coming.
I don’t want anyone else to die.
But they keep coming.
—
“Come on, come on, think of your poor ge. Turning twenty-seven, and stuck in the middle of the ocean without a single girl in sight. Ah, except for your sister.” Well, there’s the magic words. Zhou Xiwei accepts the costume with spasming fingers, from his very least favorite of Song Bai’s associates. Who claps him on the shoulder, hard enough to make him wince, and shoves the costume into his hands.
“Good boy. See, I told them that you at least wouldn’t let him down! Go on, change, it’s not like there’s any enemies here to hold it against you.”
Then what am I surrounded by? Friends?
The way that they jeer and push him into the side suite doesn’t feel like friendship. It feels like taking advantage, it feels like playing a joke, but like always, Zhou Xiwei still allows himself to go. Ding Dongqi is right in that at least— anything to do with his ‘ge’, Song Bai? Zhou Xiwei really can’t say no.
When it comes to Song Bai, Zhou Xiwei’s bottom line is the floor. He’ll even build a basement, if he ever finds that he needs to sink even lower to please a man that he knows very well will never actually see him as more.
Pathetic. Predictable. That’s him in a nutshell.
He silently chastises himself, but he still complies with them.
Zhou Xiwei strips out of the swim trunks that he hasn’t actually swum in, and the shirt that he’d been too shy to take off in front of such better-developed men, and lets out a soft, self-recriminating sigh at the stupid fucking frilly dress that is laying on the bed. It’s something cheap and tacky– even the prettiest girl couldn’t save it.
Past his discomfort and shame, he forces himself into the fetish maid’s uniform, stomach roiling like a bobber in the churning ocean on the other side of the painted fiberglass hull.
It fits neatly over his thin hips and zips snug against the curve of his spine, and the glossy black fabric makes his already too-pale skin look positively morbid. Which is evidently in fashion– for women, but not for men.
Fuck, even his nervous biting of his lips is working against him– way too red! He tugs at his hair and congratulates himself on at least taking the plunge and cutting it last week– But the fresh undercut is just about the only masculinity he can salvage from his image.
Zhou Xiwei wilts and hopes that the three clowns outside will at least keep their promise not to take pictures of him like this. Mostly because, even if they do, he knows he won’t complain. Not out loud. He wouldn’t dare.
After all, he’s the sinner here.
He’s lucky that his hazing is this, and not out-and-out violence or banishment.
—
In loving Song Bai, Zhou Xiwei had abandoned himself. Bit by bit, he twisted himself into knots, trying to find a shape that was worthy of continued affection, and sacrificing his affection for himself in the process.
It wasn’t all at once.
It was a thousand little compromises borne out of his own inferiority, that settled like flecks of rust across the crown of what had once been his shining love. He hid it, he watered it in tears—
He was the last person that dared act surprised that all the damp and dark had tarnished it.
Even still, he could not let his love go. He held it all the more tightly, for its ugliness. He hid it more deeply and loathsomely, lest the outside world get a peek at his insufficiencies.
The rust spread, the tetanus settled in, and lockjaw kept his mouth firmly shut, when he should have opened it to save himself. This was his first love, his only love, and the blush of youth had long since left it.
Only the embarrassment remained.
This love— this thing that cannot, will not be, is all he has. His sister, his dead parents, the hopes for a future that he knows he’s unsuited to, the business that waits for him to inherit, even though he’s not tyrannical enough by half? Everything else is the hopes of others.
Only this one, sad love is his choice alone.
And at twenty-four years old, this sickness is all he dares hope for.
So he puts on the costume and he accepts the laughter and jeers when he steps out.
—
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
He feeds his sickness on the scraps of affection that he believes himself worthy of, like all this teasing that doesn’t feel like real camaraderie at all. By daring to love his Song Bai, Zhou Xiwei is already transgressing. All the blame is his. He’s the one that took a pure friendship and imagined it as something it wasn’t.
So when his ge looks up, eyes sparkling, and tells him that he makes a very pretty girl, Zhou Xiwei comforts himself that it’s almost the same as being called handsome. For someone like him.
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Still, he perches on the arm of Song Bai’s chair and tries not to ruin the mood.
“Happy birthday, Song-ge. Sorry there aren’t any real girls.”
Song Bai is so handsome when he laughs. So easy to love.
“Why do I need a girl? Time with the boys is the rarest thing on Earth as a man grows up, ask anyone that’s unlucky enough to have been shackled!” The others give a drunken cheer, and the shift of the boat sees Zhou Xiwei end up nearly in Song Bai’s lap. He can’t even enjoy it, he’s too busy processing Song Bai’s easy words and easy intimacy, tying himself up in knots.
Then why am I wearing a dress? Why did you pat my thigh, why is your hand still there, why are you so oblivious?
—
There’s another shift, stronger this time, and the party is interrupted by the sound of a half-dozen glass bottles clinking angrily against the bar, and the loud shattering of a very drunk Qian Li dropping his glass of Fireball. This afternoon, the sea was like something out of a painting, but now, the running lights and the occasional flash of heat-lightning illuminates an angry landscape of watery mountains and valleys.
Something to dwarf the luxury yacht they’re currently bobbing around on.
Zhou Xiwei can’t help but lurch towards the glass doors, trying to understand what kind of calamity is surrounding them. He’s always wanted to see, even in situations where he knows he’ll be scared or uncomfortable. Sure enough, his stomach flips at the flashes of lightning that illuminate waves that look like distant mountains, and valleys that look like dark maws.
Bent down and picking through shattered crystal, the second stew serving them assures everyone that it’s alright:
“These sorts of squalls can seem very dramatic, but they’re just a fact of life on the sea. I’ll be back in a moment with some fresh drinks and information from the captain– same cocktails as before?”
The rest of them cheer.
Zhou Xiwei presses his lips more tightly together as Second Stew Wang disappears with the wastebin of sticky glass. Drinkless, Qian Li sinks further into the seats like a drunk jellyfish, while Ding Dongqi and Zhang Zhiping try to rouse him to party further.
Zhou Xiwei doesn’t join in. Instead, he looks out into the darkness beyond, and can’t help the way he tugs at Song Bai’s sleeve.
“Are you sure this is okay? It looks– no, it feels like a bad storm.”
“XiXi, did you become a sailor when I wasn’t looking?” Song Bai’s voice is light and teasing and sweet. He’s right, it’s not like Zhou Xiwei has ever had much maritime knowledge, and yet he still feels this great sense of danger that he can’t let go of, this sense that-
Behind them, Ding Dongqi snickers and says something about ‘sea men’ that Zhou Xiwei doesn’t quite catch. Song Bai must though, because the look on his face turns ugly, and Ding Dongqi throws up his hands and apologizes. To Song Bai. Not Zhou Xiwei.
Which is… typical, really.
He still feels warm, at the way Song-ge defends him, and the way his body blocks his just a bit. Protective.
If only that protectiveness was borne of romantic love, instead of their actual relationship, how nice would that be? As the boat rocks and his anxiety skyrockets, Zhou Xiwei self-soothes by imagining a world where Song Bai loves him back, where he moves from being a foster-brother to a lover–
Someone accepted and proudly held out to the world. Someone that can make him happy and harvest his attention without having to debase themselves.
That– it’s as impossible as this storm should be, yet as he looks out over the perfect day that’s turned into a wretched night, he can’t help but hope that other impossible things are just over the horizon. Like being loved back.
As if.
—
Despite his easy smiles to those drunken guests of theirs, as soon as Wang Xi heads down to the crew area, his frown deepens and his knees buckle. It’s clear that nothing’s normal about this squall. If it’s not the missing deck crew, it’s the way the chef is desperately trying to lock down the topsy-turvy kitchen implements and the crackling orders coming down through the radio, with plenty of cursing in between.
“That bad?” He deposits the broken crystal in the bin and turns to Wang Bohai, who looks like the world’s worst juggler, as his galley becomes a greater and greater mess.
“Bad? Darling, have you looked outside by chance? It’s fucking bizarre, is what it is.” Bohai saves a bottle of chili oil from throwing itself off a shelf and attacking them all. “I mean, I get sailing into a squall line, but normally, you get a little advance notice, you know? I wonder if the captain has been-” he makes a drinking motion with his free hand.
Wang Xi rolls his eyes and makes the messiest, sloshiest cocktails of his life.
Would the guests be offended if he served them in sippy cups? It would make his life a sight easier. Especially since that super-drunk one is definitely going to spill on the sofa. And then maybe vomit, so that he has even more to clean up. yayyyy.
Ah, the glamorous life of the low man on the yachting totem pole.
Still thinking about all the cleaning he’ll have waiting for him, he reminds Chef, “Captain doesn’t drink.”
“Which itself is suspicious! Come on, how many teetotallers do you know who didn’t have a drinking problem before? I’m just saying, if this is a fall off the wagon, it’s a fucking monumental one.”
Wang Xi clicks his tongue and tries to pretty up his sad little tray of cocktails. It’s a lost cause, but he still tries. Same as how he tries to inject a little optimism into the handsome man with the hard mouth.
“You need to have more faith in people.”
“And you need to have far, far less, sweetness.”
For the next five minutes, they stand in the galley, waiting for the seas to calm at least long enough for the stew to risk the stairs up to the guests again. As they wait, the room just gets worse– they’re turned around, the navigational aids are failing, and no one is responding to the calls on the radio.
But what can a chef and a glorified babysitter do? Nothing except try to lighten one another’s moods, try to tie things down, try to keep the drunk idiots upstairs sloshed enough that they won’t make things worse by panicking and interfering with their attempts to navigate out of this disaster. Maybe steal a kiss or two when they’re tossed into one another’s arms.
Unfortunately, in this case, panic is appropriate. And Zhou Xiwei hasn’t been drinking.
He’s unlucky enough to be sober from start to end.
—
“Can we– should we wake up your parents and my jie?”
Somehow, despite the chaos, the other three members of their party are still in their staterooms. Presumably asleep, though that seems ludicrous in such a commotion.
As the storm shows no signs of lessening, Zhou Xiwei turns from part- to full-time worrying. Song Bai tousles his hair and tries his best to comfort him, going so far as to pull him off the couch and down to the floor, though it doesn’t make much difference. Seeing the pitch-black windows or not, the lurching of the yacht is not something that a small change in position can overcome.
But it’s Song Bai’s idea, and Song Bai’s ideas are always the best, so Zhou Xiwei allows himself to be re-settled on the plush rug on the polished wooden floor. Still, when the boat shifts enough to send him tumbling into Song Bai’s arms, he tries again:
“They might be-”
“They’re fine. Everyone can take care of themselves. Probably, they just know it’s better to be in a soft bed than anywhere else.” Song Bai’s eyes turn from soft to mischievous, as he runs his finger over the strap of Zhou Xiwei’s outfit. “Anyway, do you really want them to get up and see you dolled up like this?”
Zhou Xiwei presses his palms flat against his thighs, trying to pull the hem down farther. Song Bai goes soft and apologetic, when he sees the discomfort.
“Oh, come on. It’s very cute. And it made me happy.”
“…Now that you’re happy, can I take it off?”
Song Bai clicks his tongue.
“Of course you can. Ai, you’re too silly. What did I say about standing up for yourself? If you’re this embarrassed, you can just say no next time, you know?” An old argument. Zhou Xiwei rolls his neck and keeps his tone light, like this really doesn’t bother him.
“Or you could stop having such weird tastes.”
“What’s weird about loving cute things? Especially cute girls?” Song Bai tugs gently at Zhou Xiwei’s reddening ear.
Cute girls. Always girls. Always cute. What am I even doing here?
Zhou Xiwei’s knuckles go whiter, as he manages the world’s most choked chuckle.
But Song Bai always knows when the teasing has gone too far, shaking his head and adding, “Okay, I’m sorry. Thank you for the surprise. Now let’s get you changed.”
He makes up for Zhou Xiwei’s shame by standing up (almost like the ship isn’t a goddamn cork in a washing machine) and reaching down to help him up and escort him to the stateroom.
Like a gentleman, like Zhou Xiwei is worthy of keeping safe.
Ding Dongqi takes a break from drawing dicks on Qian Li’s slack face to shout out, “Ai, the young master is disappearing into a bedroom with the maid, how scandalous~” Song Bai uses his long legs to take one great sidestep and box Ding Dongqi’s ear.
“How about you shut the fuck up?”
“Ow! Fuck! So violent, really makes me think– okay, okay, birthday boy can do whatever he wants, just stop practicing violence on guests! Inhospitable!”
“Just guests that don’t know human speech. Qian Li and Zhiping are fine, aren’t they?”
Well, Qian Li is practically comatose, and Zhang Zhiping has always been more socially intelligent than Ding Dongqi, but sure.
Zhou Xiwei hurries off, and Song Bai follows after with one last warning look at his friends. They creep down the stairs and brace themselves against the veneered walls in a silence somewhere between companionable and stressed.
The lull doesn’t last past the doors to the suite that Song Bai and Zhou Xiwei, as ‘brothers’ are sharing. There’s only time for Zhou Xiwei to step in, and freeze when he feels Song Bai stepping in behind him. Normally, he could just go change in the bathroom, but with how complicated the stupid outfit is, and how erratic the boat is moving…
He’s likely to shatter his elbow, or a mirror, or both…
But opening his mouth and asking Song Bai to leave goes against all of Zhou Xiwei’s instincts– the instinct to stay close to his protector, the instinct to never refuse or reject him, the instinct to not be alone when he’s as worried as he is right now. So he can only go still, and trust Song Bai to pick up on his moods like always.
In this at least, he doesn’t disappoint.
“Alright, I’ll just help with the zipper and then I’ll wait with my back to you. You’re lucky that timidness is cute too, you know.”
But I don’t need help with the zipper–
Zhou Xiwei will never know if he’s the kind of person that would say that, or accept the lie of the implied intimacy. Accept Song Bai’s fingers running down his spine, like a lover’s touch might, if he wasn’t untouched and unwanted.
Because while he’s still hearing such words, the shifts–
The great tilting that has almost started to feel normal–
Turns to crashing blackness, cold drafts, and screams.
In a storm that won’t appear on any meteorological report, far from the path that they’d logged with the coast guard, the yacht Ru Yi breaks apart like a toy in a tantruming child’s hand, and is sent into the depths of the ink-black sea. And yet, remarkably, as the ocean drinks it down, every last person aboard finds their way to the churning surface.
More’s the pity.
Author’s Corner:
Hah, hello, welcome to my sophomore effort.
I hope that there’s something here for everyone to enjoy! I adore reading horror novels and as a break between more complex works, I thought it would be nice to write a gothic love story– a way of dipping into mystery and exploring regret in a tighter self-contained setting.
So please consider becoming trapped on a certain ghostly island, alongside our cast! There will be mistakes, karma, death, and grievous bodily injury– but also a lot of fluffy moments, because the leads do not understand what it means to act appropriate to the situation!
Don’t board the wrong ship, Song Bai is not the ML~
lock me up on this island with them cause i want to stay until the end
also zhou xiwei needs a hug 🥹
💖💖💖
Luckily, there’s lots of hugs in store for him!
(Thanks for giving this one a chance!)
Don’t worry I wasn’t touching that ship even with a ten foot pole xD too much angst already aaaah thank you for the chapter
Haha, obviously I’m still learning since this is only my second original, but ‘present and then reject a ship that could be the main ship in a angst/crematorium novel’ does seem to be a trend. Thanks for reading, if if I’m a month late in saying so!
Unfortunately it seems Zhou Xiwei is very bad at choosing which ships to board, all of them are headed for an absolute wreckage (both emotional and literal…)
But once the ship breaks you can hop on a better one hehe :3
Once upon a time, there was a lady named Violet Jessup, who was famous for surviving shipwrecks. She was on the Titanic as well as 2-3 others? Anyway, I feel like Zhou Xiwei is a bit like her, hah. If you see him trying to board a ship with you, you should definitely run in the other direction.
At least until he boards the right ship!
👀
Thanks for the info, I’ll keep an eye out in case I time travel to the early 20th century for a boat trip 👀
Oh yay!!! I’m so happy this story is “launched” 🤩
Happy to see you here! Hope you like it!
I LOVE freak storms in my stories! And the thought that if a bad impossible thing can happen, then maybe a good impossible thing can, too. Ah, I was listening to Sick, Sick, Sick by Bayside when your MC was acknowledging his sickness while wearing a dress. Not a perfect match, just a funny bunch of lyrics at the right time. Happy to see you posting again . I waited for 10 chapters so I can binge read on laundry night ☺️.
Zhou Xiwei is SO cute!! Now let’s see how I fare with horror stories o.o
It seems very interesting! ♡
Omg this sounds so interesting 😋
I’m just a liiiitttle bit thalassophobic and also addicted to your writing, so here’s me saying hi, thank you for this project and I can’t wait to finally dive in! 🙂