In the end, the yacht crew are still choose caution when they next approach the boathouse. They also stop acting like cat burglars– based on Shan Haoyu’s little hints and their earlier questioning of Director Xi, it’s obvious that the secret is spilled. Even if it isn’t, they’ll need to rummage around for parts, so…
They call it a ‘passion project’ and walk towards it righteously.
It’s not theft, it’s ‘just something to keep us from being bored.’
It’s not an attempted escape, it’s just guys that would normally be working on motorcycles and old lemons, and ‘it’s this or the tower, and Xu Wang already said he’d break our legs himself if we climbed anything higher than two stories.’
They aren’t trying to exclude others, ‘it’s a teambuilding exercise so that we don’t lose our sealegs.’
And so on and so forth.
Mother Song expresses that she’s sorry to lose her card partners, Chef Bohai declares that this ‘isn’t in his contract, and he’s not fucking doing it.’ Director Xi just smiles and tells them to be careful, like they’re the boys in his home and not refugees attempting to flee his hospitality. Song Bai offers to help, and Zhou Xiwei–
Unexpectedly doesn’t.
He can’t explain it, but he just feels that the boat isn’t something that they should touch.
The idea of walking onto it fills him with the same sense of grim dread that most people would experience upon being told to sleep in a coffin. Even looking at the aluminum-sided old lean-to that houses it makes his skin crawl, giving him the same feel as that crab… person… on the beach had.
Luckily, the crew doesn’t seem to want anyone else’s help, insisting that it’s a Ru Yi project, and that they’re sure the guests can find something else to do. Maybe make a windmill, or babysit the still that they’re still waiting to get drunk off of.
Or making sure the coma victim doesn’t turn into a corpse. That’s also high on the priority list.
When Ding Dongqi was conscious, Zhou Xiwei did his best to avoid being alone with him. Now that he’s remained unconscious long enough to cause real concern… Well, Zhou Xiwei decides to volunteer a shift of caretaking every single day, out of guilt and a lack of other things to help on.
As soon as they finish Shan Haoyu’s renovation project, he’ll start his vigil.
Hey, being a ‘good person’ doesn’t mean he’s a saint.
Between sitting quietly in a sickroom with someone that he has a difficult relationship with and helping someone that he’s a little (a lot) infatuated with put together a bedroom? …A bedroom that doesn’t have any siblings attached to it? No competition.
Having a place to be alone with Shan Haoyu, and having a way to make him happy…
That’s something that he’s deeply interested in. And scared as fuck of. It’s a weird brand of horniness, but according to Song Bai, who is still distressingly on-board with his first dive into intimacy– according to that idiot, it’s completely normal.
He’ll definitely do what he can for Dongqi, but first, he’s going to be just selfish enough to help Yu’er.
—
While the crew goes and does something nefarious and everyone else is roped into being part of Mother Song’s mahjong party, Zhou Xiwei claps his hands and smiles at Shan Haoyu, who keeps looking gloomily towards the horn of the island.
“Don’t worry, they said they’d be careful. And anyway, now that it’s light enough and bright enough, we have a room to create!” He twines their hands together and kisses Shan Haoyu’s angular cheek, infecting him with his sense of excitement.
Shan Haoyu is really cute, when he gets that softly evasive look in his eyes. It adds a gentle air to his looks that makes him handsome enough to be a star. Makes Zhou Xiwei want to just eat him up, but he restrains himself to a few extra pecks, leading him away from the veranda and up the stairs to the ‘bedroom’ that will earn the name after today, if Zhou Xiwei has anything to say about it.
In the light of day-
Ai, it’s still just as depressing. More light just means more dust on display and fewer shadowy corners to pretend might have a sense of place or hominess to them. Zhou Xiwei clicks his tongue and kisses the back of Shan Haoyu’s hand.
“Okay, we’ll move all the furniture out first and then do a deep clean!”
Like this, Zhou Xiwei takes the lead.
It’s a shame he doesn’t do it more often, because he’s rather dashing as a leader. Almost like this is who he was always meant to be, before time and low self esteem convinced him to bend himself into a shape that he thought was easier to love in its docility.
—
Shan Haoyu nods along, still hyperfixated on their linked hands, and where he can still see the slightest glisten against the back of his palm. That’s where Zhou-ge kissed him, that’s the moisture from Zhou-ge’s lips…
Luckily, moving desks and chairs and filing cabinets doesn’t take a great deal of brainpower. It’s enough for him to lift when Zhou Xiwei lifts and to move when Zhou Xiwei moves. They strip the room, they pull the water, and they clean everything for the first time since-
Well, for the first time in longer than Shan Haoyu can remember.
And for all its fragmentation, Shan Haoyu’s memory is distressingly long. Long enough that if he really thinks about it, he starts to feel his psyche crack-
So he doesn’t.
He just enjoys the easy companionship of washing floors and walls with Zhou Xiwei. He’s thrilled when Zhou Xiwei looks up at the tragic state of the belted ceiling fan, and drops into a squat so that he can hop onto his shoulders and do his best to dust it. Even when they have to rush towards the wall to stabilize themselves because he nearly tilts over, it’s wonderful!
One of the many simple pleasures he’s forgotten– to have someone lift him on their shoulders.
He’s not sure if he’s ever felt that? His parents never did. Maybe Director Xi did it once, when he was a small child? Those memories are murky, but the present is vibrant. He runs his fingers through Zhou Xiwei’s hair, enjoying the soft burr of the undercut that’s growing out and the silkiness of the longer mop up top.
Based on the appreciative sound coming from the back of his throat, Zhou Xiwei likes being petted almost as much as he likes petting him? But-
“Be good and tackle the dust first.”
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.
“…Mlgra? Vb P mjc ajmxif sbe ijafg?”
“Gfqfcvr bc lo kf ufa fcbeut vbcf ab ufa sbe j qgbqfg yfv ab ajmxif wf bc.”
Oh.
Yxjs atfc!
Shan Haoyu wholeheartedly devotes himself to cleaning the fan, and the belt that powers it. As he does so, he shares the cleverness of them with Zhou Xiwei– how a water wheel and channeled bit of the ocean produces just enough torque to turn all the fans in this building, which are connected by belts and pulleys and generally, the kind of marvel of engineering that those with access to easy electricity are unaware of.
Pa’r j mbwqifz qlfmf bo lcveraglji jga, ibra ab atf wjgmt bo qgbugfrr. Itbe Wlkfl rffwr ufcelcfis ojrmlcjafv.
“Ktfc kts lrc’a la bc? Glv la ygfjx?”
Er… Good question? Shan Haoyu’s pretty sure that something happened– something with hanging bodies? But he can’t remember, and such memories (especially ones that might not even be true) don’t need to be shared with Zhou Xiwei.
So he’s honest, without speaking about unnecessary things.
“There was an issue and the belt between the wheel and the building was removed. Might have been cannibalized for some other project? But we should be able to fabricate another. If you want.”
“First, we’d need to dust all of them. Otherwise, you’ll drown in nasty gray snow.”
“No rush.”
Zhou Xiwei reaches up and squeezes his thigh in mock rebuke for his ‘laziness.’
It’s nice.
It makes Shan Haoyu want to be grabbed even higher. So he’s got to clean quickly, so that Zhou Xiwei will follow through on his promises related to his new bed. Speedy, speedy, they can worry about the other fans some other day. If he’s lucky enough, maybe in the future he can spend a whole morning with his legs wrapped around Zhou Xiwei’s neck.
Huh.
Why does that sound so strange? And- sure, heat rises, but why does his whole body feel like it’s burning?
—
For the curious, it’s a unique sensation, to feel someone getting hard against the back of your neck.
Especially when you’re talking about something as innocuous as dusting and air quality concerns, and are in no way expecting it. Shan Haoyu is just full of surprises!
In between wondering about the wide world of fetishes, Zhou Xiwei feels a little complimented. And a lot like they should hurry on to the furniture portion of the day so that if things continue along this path, he doesn’t become the kind of beast that does harmonious things on the floor, yeah?
Luckily, many hands make short work, and the simple mix of warm water and soap continues to be oddly excellent. He’s not a scientist, but it must have something to do with minerality or something, right? Polarity or alkalinity or any host of other things he didn’t pay attention to in his high school and college chemistry classes. There has to be some reason that the most basic cleaning agent makes the floors sparkle and the walls glisten and even the fucking windows shine with streakless perfection.
If there was a way to bottle it and sell it on the mainland, they’d definitely make millions!
Just in case, Zhou Xiwei still happily takes the wood oil that Shan Haoyu has grabbed from some forgotten closet or other and shows him how to wipe down the baseboards and the floors and the sills to ensure that the ancient wood trim will hold up to future changes in humidity and temperature.
Zhou Xiwei surveys their work with pleasure.
“Smells so clean!”
It really does. Next up is thoughtfully picking pieces to add back in.
“One desk is fine, and a chair or two, but you don’t need the rest of it– especially since we need room for a bed.” He tries to say ‘bed’ normally, but somehow, it still sounds a little flirty? Ah, now he’s the one blushing! He scratches the back of his head.“Ha, so~ Is there a storage room nearby with extra beds, or should we grab one from the dorms?”
“Dorms, I think.”
Oh, Shan Haoyu’s pupils are so dark. Dark and easy to get lost in.
Better get to the dorms and back quickly, ao. Zhou Xiwei wants to explore a good deal more of that look. Slowly, without an audience, and without worrying about splinters going anywhere that they shouldn’t.
—
Once upon a time, there was a storeroom of teacher’s beds and other such things, but it burned down.
For reasons.
Shan Haoyu thinks he might have been the one to burn it down? Or maybe one of their earlier guests did. Either way, for some reason, the island didn’t bring it back. Those beds, that room, it’s all gone forever.
Anyway, Shan Haoyu’s confident that even a plain student’s bed will be better than sleeping on a mat on a desktop. But at the dorms, Zhou Xiwei doesn’t let him get away with that.
They don’t just grab a frame and an anemic little mattress pad. No, as soon as Zhou-ge discovers that the bed frames use slots instead of bolts or screws, he has them disassemble two of the unused ones and they carry them home like little pack mules. “Easy to take apart, easy to put together. What good news!”
They deposit the frames upstairs, return to the dorms, and plunder six mattresses.
Yes. Six.
At this point, with everyone doubling- or tripling-up their mattresses in the same fashion as Zhou Xiwei and Zhou Xiting had first done, Shan Haoyu’s rummaging pretty much clears out the stores. Additional guests need not apply. It’s good that they’re both healthy young men, or they’d have to make a dozen trips to carry it all.
“Isn’t this excessive?” Shan Haoyu asks, but he still happily carries away his oversized bundle. He’d happily do a lot of things, as long as it was Zhou Xiwei directing him. But he’s a little curious about just what makes Zhou-ge think they need twice as many mattresses as anyone else. There’s got to be a point of diminishing returns, right?
But according to Zhou Xiwei, there isn’t.
“Not at all. See-?” Over the next twenty-seven minutes, under Zhou Xiwei’s direction (and with no small amount of creativity), two twin bed frames, a foam mat, some wooden dowels and six twin bedrolls are transformed into a luxurious and slightly lumpy queen. As far as sheets–
Zhou Xiwei sends Shan Haoyu out to try to find a rug or doormat, while he looks through the linens for an improbably-sized set. But as soon as Shan Haoyu leaves, he gives up his fake search. Instead, he hesitantly pulls out a needle and thread borrowed from Shan Yutian’s stash and starts converting three twins to one fitted one. He’s fast, but not fast enough-
Shan Haoyu comes back with a trove of options before he can finish and hide it. He pricks himself in the attempt.
“Don’t-” Zhou Xiwei gulps, voice small and face ashen. “Please don’t make fun of me.”
Shan Haoyu drops the rugs and comes over, his face filled with questions. Questions he soon voices, because he’s that refreshing type of person. “Why would I laugh at you? I can’t do anything like that.”
“Exactly. Guys aren’t-” Zhou Xiwei bites his cheek and relaxes a little (a lot) at how genuinely non-judgemental Shan Haoyu seems to be. It makes him hesitant to pollute him, if he’s really free of that kind of prejudice, so he doesn’t explain his past experiences. “Well, I’ve never met anyone who thinks it’s cool.”
Shan Haoyu cautiously bounces against the bed and has to admit– it feels like the fancy beds that he used to sleep in, when he and A-Tian were still nominally the children of a wealthy family instead of discarded bastards on a cursed island.
“It’s great. And you’re really good at this.” He looks like he actually means it.
Zhou Xiwei beams, but is still self-effacing as he tries to paper over his past hurts.
“Ha, I guess. When I was little, my parents would take us around to learn the hotel business. My sister was always with her nose in the books and trying to work out the logs, but I just… liked hiding in the housekeeping trolleys and going to watch the maintenance uncles fix things in the basement. Fun, but not great for an heir, I guess…”
Shan Haoyu disagrees. “What you learned seems more useful.”
“Here, maybe. But not out there.” Zhou Xiwei’s smile dims a little. Shan Haoyu regrets it. Hurries him past whatever sadness he’s accidentally evoked. He wracks his brain for things that will make Zhou Xiwei happy and confident again.
Luckily, any bullshit he spouts, the island is likely to assist with. Within reason.
“There could be some good stuff in the laundry. A-Tian has been in a washing frenzy, and who knows what he’s dug out and cleaned up.” Actually, as far as Shan Haoyu knows, there’s nothing exciting down there. But that’s when he looks. There’s no telling what the island will put on offer, while trying to woo and please Zhou Ziwei.
Even if there’s an entire imperial bed somehow squirreled away, Shan Haoyu won’t be surprised. Though it will make it difficult for him to come up with a decent enough cover story. Eccentric auntie who wanted to donate to charity but got her wires crossed?
…Go with that one, probably.
Lying is bad. Punishable, even.
But scaring Zhou-ge would be worse, and even though Zhou-ge is incredible, he’s still human.
He’s definitely not ready to hear that he’s in the middle of a horror story, and the chief monster has developed a deep admiration for him. So little half-truths and distractions are best.
Best for Zhou-ge, who doesn’t have to worry, and best for Shan Haoyu, who gets to squeeze out a little more time in this dreamworld, where he’s liked, rather than disdained or despised as some sort of ghoulish collaborator.
—
While Zhou Xiwei and Shan Haoyu play out a homemaking fantasy (and do, indeed, find all sorts of improbably cool things in the laundry), the yacht crew engages in the much more frustrating cleaning of a boat that’s basically just a hull with some aspirational wiring stuck in it.
Nevermind bottling it for the mainland– if they could get some of Zhou Xiwei’s ‘soap and water’ mixture here, they’d definitely die happy. Despite having the same materials and a dozen extra hands, they don’t get to experience the miracle of easy cleaning.
At all.
Quite frankly, it’s shit.
Sometimes, it’s like the mildew is re-growing in the time it takes them to scrape one section and return to the next. It’s brutal, and grimy, and halfway through the morning, everyone’s hands and knees are raw from the mixture of soap and cold that the repetitive friction of scrubbing.
This is how you get weird blood infections.
Polishing chrome and wiping baseboards doesn’t have anything on rehabbing this shitty, gritty poured-form fiberglass bullshit. Carrying luggage and dropping fenders couldn’t hold a candle to the horror of having to reach into all sorts of nooks and crannies that were filled with (hopefully) empty spider egg cases and congealed, fishy sludge in the moldy corners of very, very off-season fish bins.
Just like Dad used to have, and a big part of why none of them were fishermen.
“I forgot how much I fucking hate trawlers.”
“Hey, your hands aren’t even bleeding yet. The hatred hasn’t begun– at least we don’t have to hand-knot broken old nets that should have been retired years ago.”
Ha. True enough.
Despite the abject exhaustion that such a cleaning project entails, everyone really does perk up with Di Qing’s reminder that they don’t have to mend any nets, just the boat itself. That already makes this better than most of their school vacations and weekends before the various seasons would start.
‘All hands on deck, everyone helps the family business.’
‘Sir, I’m four.’
The reminder that things could be worse carries them all the way through the lunch that Shan Yutian had thoughtfully packed for them. A lunch that had been inspected rather closely, only for the lot of them (minus Xu Mei) to feel like assholes when the food seemed perfectly fine and even lovingly prepared by the poor boy. They shouldn’t judge a pure child with their jaded hearts!
“Stop looking guilty. For all you know, he’s the sugar trap.”
“He’s a kid!”
“Well, he looks like one. But what kind of teen boy do you know that acts like that? And don’t forget, he was the one that got Young Master Ding in trouble. Fox spirit twerp.”
Smug look firmly painted across her otherwise nice face, Xu Mei eats two servings of the ‘fox spirit’s’ provisions. Xu Wang is uncomfortable with her attitude, but in the end, he doesn’t say anything. She’s his cousin, and–
And it’s just not worth it.
Just like it wasn’t worth it, when he warned her time and time again against having designs on the kind of people that they work for.
People that have been hurt by the world will always look for that same hurt from others. As if learning the hard way will be worth it, their pain redeemed, if they can just make it useful. Not be fooled again, by never trusting anything. He feels bad for her, and it keeps him from correction. He keeps his mouth shut and comforts himself that her harsh words won’t hurt the boy who can’t hear them.
It’s a completely reasonable course of (in)action. Especially in a situation where group cohesion is vital.
It’s just a shame that in holding back, he loses his chance at arresting the creeping degeneracy that’s spreading through her like the blight across the hull of the trawler.
—
“You really think he’s like that?”
“Who? Little Mister Housewife? Yeah, if I had to guess.”
“He could just be timid and doing the best he can.”
“He could. But if I’m wrong, where’s the harm? I hurt his feelings by being on-guard? I’ll be sure to mail over an apology and a therapy journal. But if you’re wrong, we’ll all die without an intact corpse. Maybe my dumbass cousin and all those other idiots end up his weird little sex husks. Only an idiot would take that gamble.”
As the only two ladies on the crew, Xu Mei and Fang Daiyu have always been roommates, and had developed that neither close nor distant relationship that’s best for colleagues that live together in a glorified floating shoebox. For three seasons, that not-camaraderie had carried them through beautifully.
But ever since getting washed out into this cursed place, their relationship has grown closer and more honest, and now they can have such conversations while stripping down and waiting for a well-deserved shower.
What’s the alternative? Genuinely start enjoying their teas with Madame Song and Young Lady Zhou? Start to think that such a friendship of convenience could be real? A sucker’s born every minute, but it’s not the two of them, okay?!
They’ve seen firsthand what happens when someone mistakes upper class charity with genuine connection.
Being presumptuous is a bigger career killer than being a lazy pig, and they’ve both been yachting for long enough to have learned: If they seek out those fine people, instead of just letting themselves get roped in when required, they’ll be taking it a step too far. Being uppity is the greatest sin in service.
You can be invited, but you should never invite yourself.
What happens when they get rescued and they go back to working while those two swan off to comfort themselves with steakhouse dinners and retail therapy and fucking spa getaways?
Yeah, no thank you.
Much better to focus on one another. Much better to bitch quietly and keep their quills turned outwards. If the odd innocent person gets pricked, sorry, but politeness never survives survival.
Unless you’re that weird little softie Young Master Zhou. He’s the exception that proves the rule– someone that is unflinchingly kind and trusting, but only because he’s so fucking well-insulated that he can afford to be.
Whether it’s his family’s money or his sister’s protectiveness or the way Song Bai had pulled them aside at the start of the charter, and let them know that if anyone ever tried to force him to drink, they should only bring him mocktails and virgin shots–
Only someone with that kind of backing can afford such obliviousness.
People like them, people that have to work for a living– can’t afford it, can’t afford it even a little bit! They can’t trust in the good of people, because they don’t have the same kind of safety net for if their dropped by them.
Xu Mei steps under the shower head, closes her eyes, and thinks through all the ways that she might be pitted by this place and by the irresolute teammates that she’s found herself saddled with. Scrubbing a boat is fine, but between her cousin pleading for the child-incubus and her fucking engineer talking about taking suspicious strangers out to sea with them– well, she’s pretty worried that she’ll need to draw a line in the sand, or kindness is going to become an albatross around their collective necks.
They’re not Young Master Zhou. They can’t afford such risky altruism, or such easily given faith.
Head tilted towards the fucking freezing water, Xu Mei misses the way the water circles around her in strange, pulsing patterns– like she’s the drain.
Like the water that she’s been avoiding and the sea she barely escaped wish to claim her as kin.
Author’s Corner:
Many, many years from now…
Zhou Xiwei approaches while holding a feather duster: Husband, are you ready?~
Shan Haoyu, gulping: Yes. Ready. Super ready.
Zhou Xiwei, the good sport: Then let’s get dusting, isn’t it… erotic?
Shan Haoyu, the other good sport: Yes. Dusting. Dusting is sexy. You are the sexiest at dusting.
And that’s the story of how two people that are happy to make the other happy manage to spend decades believing that the other is oddly but harmlessly turned on by dusting– not the feather duster, not the maid’s outfit, but the actual cleanup process. There are worse things?
In unrelated news, Xu Wang, please hurry and talk to your cousin, I’m begging you…
Thanks for the chapter!
Haha I had so many reactions along the way.Long enough memory that his psyche cracks? ∑(°口°๑)Something to do with hanging bodies?
(๑°ㅁ°๑)‼✧
Dusting erotica? (*//艸//)♡
And I guess there’s just no saving some bitter and paranoid people. Tsk tsk.
It’s a rollercoaster, but one of those old wooden ones that is hard to have faith in. And at the end of the rollercoaster is a kissing booth. Lots happening, haha.
I love rollercoasters, so I’m good staying on this old, suspicious wooden coaster hahaha
this girl is annoying my god 🙄
Sometimes, it’s important for characters to ask themselves, “am I being a detective, or an ass?”
Unfortunately, in this story, asking the right questions has been a challenge.
Being hurt is no reason to hurt others. She’s so condescending while blaming the condescending upper class ! Rooting for Uto for this one eheh
…both of your main couples have something with cleaning kinks. Do you have something to say Author ? ಡ ͜ ʖ ಡ
Ah, I’ve been found out!
I very much like having a clean and tidy space, but I don’t like to clean at all. I’ll do it, but I don’t enjoy it, and it’s hard to get to my standard while relying on my talents. I’m lucky enough to have a good cleaning lady, but when I think about dream lovers… someone that is passionate about cleaning is too appealing for me to not slip in, haha.
😂
Thanks for the chapter ! ^^
Thank you for reading!
Aha! Will this be the one that cues the others to watch themselves? I guess they might interpret it as specific to Shan Yutian instead of being generally kind to others. Looking forward to finding out!
I’ve been your fan since Guide to Falling and here I am, falling hopelessly in love with your writing all over again …. the best ever! I’m making hot chocolate and binge reading until I’m dizzy! 💖