Sure enough, the minute dinner had finished, Qian Li and Zhang Zhiping (who definitely don’t know shit about dishwashing) had yelped… almost like someone kicked them in the shins… and had confusedly volunteered for kitchen duty.
Before he could protest, Zhou Xiwei had been led away by Song Bai, all the way to Song Bai’s conveniently empty shared bedroom.
It’s not nearly as fun as being dragged to Yu’er’s room.
Shin-kicker Song Bai is now looking over at him, with that friendly, knowing look that used to make Zhou Xiwei melt, but now just makes him aware that he’s about to experience well-meaning but unwanted meddling. His favorite. Sure enough-
“XiXi, it’s important to not look at the first painting you see and call it a masterpiece.”
Song Bai is his friend, so ‘XiXi’ chooses to play dumb.
Out of want of other things to do, he starts tidying the room, folding pants and shirts to make life easier for whoever’s on laundry duty later. Washing after every use is silly, in a place like this, but he knows this group of young masters well enough to know that they won’t re-wear anything wrinkled. Heh. Actually, in some ways, he’s far more put together than the rest of them.
Song Bai clicks his tongue, and Zhou Xiwei feels the soft weight of his large palm upon his shoulder.
“XiXi, come on. I know I was the one who told you to go for it, but it seems like isolation might have made him a bit abnormal. You don’t want to have to wade through that kind of trauma. Not for a quick fuck.”
Zhou Xiwei crumples up the shirt in his hands. He looks down and reminds himself to breathe.
He reminds himself of how much he loves his Song-ge, and that Song Bai has always wanted the best for him. His advice- he’s not being a presumptuous and condescending jerk on purpose. He’s just trying to help, but he doesn’t have all the information. Only-
Does he have the right to it?
For the first time, Zhou Xiwei experiences what it’s like to hold someone else’s secret. He could easily explain, call it trauma instead of the supernatural restrictions that he knows Song Bai won’t hold with, but part of him-
A small, childish part-
Wants for Shan Haoyu’s secrets to be his alone.
He doesn’t want to have to explain his relationship, or his choices, or his partner’s trauma. He wants one of the people he trusts most in the world to trust his judgment, even if doesn’t explain anything but the depths of his own feelings.
Is that really too much to ask? After all he’s trusted Song Bai with? It isn’t, is it?!
And calling him a quick fuck? What the hell? How can-
He didn’t think Song Bai was that kind of person. He’s disappointed. And furious.
“He’s not a quick fuck! And he’s not abnormal. Just because someone speaks differently than you, acts differently than you, it doesn’t make them wrong. I… I know him better than you.” In the end, Zhou Xiwei still softens his tone– the longer that he speaks with his back to Song Bai, the more uncertain he is in his rebellion.
It feels… feels like he’s ungrateful, to respond to honest worry with defensiveness. And a lack of gratitude is one of the greatest sins, in his foster child world. But he’s grateful to Shan Haoyu too. Head hung, he drops his voice to a whisper.
“…Can’t you just trust me?”
He feels Song Bai getting closer, massaging the back of his neck like he’s a damn kitten.
He used to like that.
He used to cling to the stolen intimacy, locking it deep in his heart and imagining what might one day blossom from it. Now he just feels… infantilized? And defeated? And like it would make Shan Haoyu sad, to see it? He steps forward, out of the grip, in the name of collecting more clothes for folding. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to be steered into this position, or this conversation. He knows better.
Especially when Song Bai hits him with the the oldest, most patronizing line in the book:
“Of course I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust.”
Ugh.
Isn’t that the same thing, with an added sprinkle of calling you helpless and weak?
Suddenly, Zhou Xiwei feels like he understands a little bit about why his sister has always been sure to come across as an emotionally unavailable, physically fit lady. Having someone treat you as a victim of your own relationships is pretty offputting.
Even- especially- if it’s your best friend doing it.
Zhou Xiwei speaks in anger once more:
“That’s semantics. Bullshit! Trying to keep people from setting out in a half-baked antique ship is fucking normal. Don’t pathologize our whole relationship, or him, over him not expressing it eloquently enough for your tastes. You don’t always know best! Sometimes, you don’t know shit!”
Song Bai freezes, and Zhou Xiwei leaves. The crumpled shirt is left to fall between them.
Zhou Xiwei’s never cursed at him before.
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.
—
Snfc klat j rwjiifg jevlfcmf, fnfc klat jc jevlfcmf bqfc ab reqfgralalbc, Vtjc Ljbse mjc’a mbcnlcmf atf sjmta mgfk. Lf rtbkr atfw atf vjwjuf jcv atf gfwcjcar atja atfs jigfjvs cbalmfv. Lf wfcalbcr tlr bkc jaafwqar ab ifjnf atf lrijcv, jcv tbk tf jcv atf ybja kfgf jikjsr qertfv yjmx ys olfgmf alvfr jcv kjafgr atja mjc’a yf cjnlujafv. Dea atf mgfk-
They look at him, not with fear, but with pity. Like there’s an obvious difference between them and him; like there’s a clear reason why he can’t leave. A reason that doesn’t apply to them. It makes his head hurt, pulsing like an oncoming migraine.
Communication breaks down, but at least Captain Li fully replaces his hostility with compassion.
That’s something.
Not enough to save their lives, probably, but something. Something that might help, when the island gets ahold of them and has to decide if they die or are just harmlessly washed back to shore.
In Shan Haoyu’s experience, it’s best to fill yourself with as much goodwill as possible, if you’re going to try to escape this place. An improvement in psychology is best, if they’re truly committed to this plan.
—
Shan Haoyu collapses on Zhou Xiwei’s bed, secretly a fan of the narrow mattress and how it gives them an excuse to press together, even when it’s not time to sleep yet. He confesses his failure with exhaustion, but no real surprise.
“I didn’t change anything.”
“You tried.”
Zhou Xiwei pulls Shan Haoyu’s ankle forward, kissing and nipping along his calf. Praising him with his mouth and the words coming out of it. “Trying matters. After my parents died, I was- upset for a long time. Understatement. Anyway, Auntie Song was going through this phase, where she dragged to all these temples and spiritual retreats. It actually worked, even if she didn’t stick with it.”
He gets distracted by the way Shan Haoyu’s foot flexes against his chest, like he’s the one in danger of being teased. It takes an embarrassing amount of time to pick back up his train of thought and get to the point.
The point other than the ones developing across his chest and in his pants.
“Anyway, they all brought up this inevitability– that you can’t always change the world, but you can always change how you respond to it. With compassion, with pain, with anger– Maybe you didn’t convince them yet, but maybe you will- we will- before they leave? But even if you don’t, you tried. You tried your best and took a risk for others. It matters that you’re a good person, even if you’re surrounded by bad situations.”
Shan Haoyu wiggles, and his foot brushes a certain place on accident. He arches an eyebrow as Zhou Xiwei returns the intimacy, not-so-accidentally, and finds a similar state of arousal that’s inappropriate to conversations about ghosts and monks and the impending danger that their acquaintances are sailing straight towards.
They can’t help themselves. This day has been exhausting, and they are one another’s favorite reprieve.
“I feel very enlightened.”
Zhou Xiwei bites against his arch. “I don’t think enlightened is the word you’re looking for. Maybe I can help you find the right ones?”
Shan Haoyu nods, bashful but eager.
It’s a good match for Zhou Xiwei’s energy, and a good escape from the futility of their attempts to play hero. Sometimes, it’s very nice to stop thinking.
As night falls once more, they don’t look out at the boat waiting on the dock, or run out to convince anyone at the last minute. After a day of failing, misunderstandings, and tensions? After a day like that, sometimes all you want is to fall asleep wrapped around the person you care about–
The person who believes in you. Neither of them has ever had that before. Neither is willing to let go.
—
Captain Li’s contingent can only be delayed three days– one for food, one to try to convince the others to come along with them, and one to ransack the library, looking for maps that don’t exist for paths and shipping lanes that no one seems to be aware of.
In the end, Director Xi is once more pulled away from his darling vegetables. He’s their only source of information for where exactly the next biggest island is, or what kind of heading they should follow to increase their chances of hitting their target. Or intercepting another vessel.
Shan Haoyu and Shan Yutian were too young when they arrived, and only took the voyage once.
Even just a week ago, the yachties would second-guess Director Xi’s information.
But ever since Shan Haoyu tried to warn them and exposed his own entrapment, ever since Shan Yutian started to carefully go through the pantry, trying to find nutritional and well-preserved food for them to take and water for them to drink, ever since Director Xi tried to warn them away from the boat but still gave them the parts they needed–
Well, ever since, the three islanders have been silently moved from ‘conspirators’ to ‘victims’ in the minds of the crew. There’s even renewed talk of trying to help them, though there’s still not a chance in hell that they’ll be on Xiao Jing’s maiden voyage. But they’ll send others to save them afterwards. Priests, monks…
Exorcists.
Though first they have to get themselves away. Put on their own life vests before helping others. Survive long enough to help the poor souls stuck on this black bit of the underworld that’s managed to break the sea’s surface.
So they (kindly) pump Director Xi for information.
They ask about direction, and distance, and what kind of harbor the main island has. They also ask him to recall all sorts of things that only make sense to people as attenuated to the sea as them. What birds do you remember seeing, and where were they flying? Did you ever see trash in the sea, or froth or oil slicks? How did the light refract, and did you ever have to zig-zag reefs, or sandbars?
Engineer Di writes down everything, carefully chronicling not only what Director Xi tells them, but anytime he pauses or seems uncertain. He’s ranking his memories in order of confidence. Silently ordering them from certain to useless, so that if they’re ever in conflict, they can make the best possible decision.
It’s all very professional. And yet, they don’t manage to convince anyone to come along for the ride.
The charter guests aren’t invited– after all, none of them know anything about boating.
All they’ll do is eat and drink and get in the way in the boat’s cramped ‘bunks,’ which are really just glorified shelves that are roughly people-shaped.
Luckily, they don’t take offense.
As much as they all (well, most) want to hurry up and return to their lives on the mainland, no one is eager to risk themselves riding in something so precarious, and with only a vague hand-drawn map to navigate with. Sure, Qian Li helps draft it up so it’s nice and neat and to scale, but it’s still-
Homespun. And homespun is not something that yacht guests hold with.
Anyway, as long as the yacht crew reaches something like civilization, they’ll definitely send a proper rescue over. By staying on the island, the Song family and their guests can get all of the benefits, with none of the risk.
You don’t have to be a businessman to see what a good deal that is.
But Father Song still is one. Even though he knows the crew will return as soon as possible, he’s sure to incentivize them with all sorts of promises of payouts and easy (lucrative) employment on the mainland. He really doesn’t have to worry though-
Even if the yacht crew wanted to engage in some sort of proletariat dream of leaving their masters to starve, they have friends to come back for:
Wang Xi, Wang Bohai, and Xu Wang have refused to come along.
Wang Xi would go, but Wang Bohai is purely in the ‘not endangering oneself unnecessarily’ camp, and his refusal highlights all the reasons that rushing off on a refurbished vessel with no amenities and questionable fuel isn’t great.
He does help them get the sail hoisted, and carries their provisions aboard, and even cuts mattresses and sews improvised sheets to make them fit as bunk pallets. He re-waxes tarps to help with rainwater collection, just in case they end up on the ocean longer than they mean to. He also has the idea of making them bows so they can hunt seabirds, but that- does not go well- so he quietly tosses his attempts into the woodpile and pretends he never tried at all.
As for Xu Wang?
He says he won’t abandon his cousin. Or his patient.
He’s immovable, and when they talk about forcing him– his eyes go so wild and wide that they give up on it in an instant. Even if they carry him away, unconscious, they’re worried that he’ll throw himself from the rail and try to swim back, jellyfish and all.
Not good for anyone, much less a friend.
So they have to come back. As long as they leave, they have to succeed, and they have to return, because there are people waiting for them. People that have earned their goodwill, and their care. People who won’t be okay, if they’re forced to forever linger here.
On the morning of the fourth day, the captain, the engineer, and a resolute Fang Daiyu wake early, ready to set off.
—
Zhou Xiwei wakes up even earlier than they do.
Rather, he never falls asleep. He stays up, first talking, then kissing, then silently contemplating Shan Haoyu’s sleeping form. From Shan Haoyu’s bedroom, which he’s practically moved into, he watches the moonlight against the lapping ocean.
It’s strange. There’s been mist- endless mist- yet every night, when he looks out, he sees the island at its tranquil best. He doesn’t understand rushing to leave it.
To be honest, he’d considered burning the boat.
He believes in Shan Haoyu, and he believes in the karma that he’s seen at play. He’s very worried about all the people that they can’t convince, so he’s considered drastic action.
But burning the boat will just inflame everyone, and risk turning them into a backbiting mess. Based on what he’s heard about prior visitors to the island, Zhou Xiwei’s sure he doesn’t want that.
It’s strange to say with one dead and one unconscious– But things could be so much worse. He’s not interested in seeing any more bodies. Not ever again, and certainly not any more loved ones.
Yes, there’s no way to burn it without making things worse. But to let them go away, just because he can’t think of a way to stop them? That doesn’t seem right either. If they knew, if he could really make them believe, they wouldn’t go.
And Yu’er– Yu’er is handsome and sweet and wonderful, but he’s admittedly terrible at explaining things to people. Especially people that aren’t Zhou Xiwei. Other than when he speaks to him, he talks like he’s being paid by the word.
This problem kept him awake all night. He still doesn’t have a solution.
But when he sees Captain Li exit the dorms, he still gets up. He has to try. One last time.
He won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t.
—
It’s surprisingly hard to slip out of a lover’s arms without waking them.
Zhou Xiwei’s never had to try before, and he’s extra careful to let Shan Haoyu catch up on the sleep that he’s obviously been missing. By the faintest hint of sunlight, he carefully tucks Shan Haoyu’s arms around a pillow and quietly fishes back up his pants and shirt.
He manages to make it out of the peacefully shrouded schoolhouse a mere ten minutes after Captain Li first arrives at the docks. Once free of worries about waking others, he picks up his pace and approaches the well-provisioned, still a bad idea boat.
Captain Li smiles when he sees him.
“Morning, Young Master Zhou.”
“Good morning, Captain! Did you sleep well?” Zhou Xiwei can’t help it. Even when he’s here to bring grim portents of doom, he can’t bypass the niceties.
At this point, his manners are Pavlovian.
Luckily, impending escape has made the captain damn near jovial. Even Engineer Di, who has been increasingly neurotic, waves a notebook in his direction.
“Slept well, but I’ll sleep better once we’re underway.”
“Really? You’re not scared? Open sea, borrowed boat…” Zhou Xiwei frowns and picks at the fraying edge of the long-sleeved shirt that he’d borrowed from Shan Haoyu’s collection. Captain Li clicks his tongue and looks out onto the rapidly-fogging water.
“You had a bad first experience, but the strangeness of the ocean- Well, let’s just say that we’re a far sight more used to it than staying on an island like this.”
Zhou Xiwei will never understand that mentality. Not to sour the mood, but-
“Captain, I really don’t think you should go. Yu- um- Shan Haoyu, you know, they’ve seen this place do weird things. Before. And I know-” Despite coming out here with the express purpose of speaking more eloquently than his darling, Zhou Xiwei finds himself tripping over his words like a drunk child. “-Well, it’s just, sometimes. What I mean is-” fuck fuck fuck, this is going so super well, ha, “-it’s just- just a bad idea.”
He finishes lamely, digging the toe of his sandals and half-burying his feet in the chilly black sand.
Instead of being convincing, he can only beg. And not even particularly well, weakly trailing off, like even he doesn’t believe his arguments. He’ll never disdain Shan Haoyu’s manner of speech, ever again.
But Captain Li doesn’t send out a volley of the dismissive platitudes. Instead he gets a half-step closer, and drops his voice as he asks, “Did you discover something? That boy of yours remember something else?”
Kind of? Not really?
He just foolishly thought he could explain, averting catastrophe better than someone that’s seen more than his fair share. He now knows he’s overestimated himself. A good deal. The Song parents would be proud to finally see some arrogance, but time and place!
Zhou Xiwei addresses himself to his buried toes.
“The island- I don’t know how it’s possible, and I don’t know why, but it knows. It watches us, feels us, judges us. I’m honestly so sorry, for everything that happened. But to try to leave-” At least the words are coming out again, in a proper order this time. “-to try to leave, every time it’s happened, it hasn’t worked out. Shan Haoyu himself, the island likes him, must, he’s still here, and even he can’t get out.”
“We’re not in the same situation as he is. You do know that, don’t you?”
Well, Shan Haoyu is at least a little bit psychic. Given they got swept up in a storm, he’s guessing the crew isn’t. He waves his hand.
“Sure, he’s been here longer so he’s a little more attuned. But that’s all the more reason that you should listen, when he warns you.”
Captain Li pats his shoulder, just like Father Song likes to do. Maybe it’s generational?
“Attuned? He seems- well, he’s not my favorite, I won’t lie. But sure, he seems to want to help. But spending so much time together- do you really not see it? Or are you trying not to look?”
“Huh?” Zhou Xiwei can’t see what he’s getting at. Captain Li helpfully guides him:
“At best, that kid is cursed. Bone-deep cursed. At worst, he’s a ghost that doesn’t know it yet.” Ghost? He’s- ha, he’s not a ghost, ghost’s don’t feel like that, ghosts don’t like eating roasted yam and reading science fiction and- “But you should know. Make your own decisions about how close you want to get.”
Captain Li’s voice is soothing, like he’s genuinely trying to counsel Zhou Xiwei. But he’s trying to counsel him about something insane and impossible, so it just makes Zhou Xiwei feel scammed.
Now that he knows the captain is foggy, he’s even less inclined to let him sail away.
“No, he’s- a curse is just a curse, and if the island really didn’t like him, he wouldn’t still- that’s not the point! The point is, this ocean sank us! All those advanced systems, a full crew, and we still ended up saved by a rowboat. To go back out into that, on a-” -his vocabulary fails him- “-On whatever kind of boat that is, is suicidally reckless. Um. Sir.”
He doesn’t want to be disrespectful. And Captain Li doesn’t hold it against him, his palm staying reassuring against his shoulder.
“We all appreciate your concern. Please appreciate our skill in return.” As Captain Li rebuffs him, Zhou Xiwei buries his toes deeper, like digging in his own heels will someone stop three unrelated adults from doing what they want.
Maybe he looks as pathetic as he feels, because the old man tacks on some more comfort. “Shan Haoyu gets feelings, right? That’s what he said, about our Xiao Xu.”
Zhou Xiwei nods and Captain Li is heartened.
“Well, I get feelings too. And my feeling is that it’s a good thing for us to try to make our own way. And if I’m wrong, well then, it’s not on anyone’s head but my own. You and your young man, we all appreciate it, but we’re still going to go ahead and sail, alright? Who knows, maybe you’ll see us again before you know it.”
Captain Li speaks with the confident finality of a patriarch, and Zhou Xiwei really can’t come up with a better way to make him stay. He racks his brain, and tries to think of details of excuses or pretexts to hold them back, but he fails. He fails, and he can only watch the sun rise on the three of them, still bustling towards doom.
In the end, he trudges back to the school building, accompanying them to their last breakfast on the island– perhaps their last breakfast ever– without any recourse. He’s so wrapped up in his own helplessness that he almost doesn’t notice the panic in Shan Haoyu’s eyes.
Or the way it calms when he returns.
Author’s Corner:
Zhou Xiwei: Luckily, I went to the best schools and learned all about how to speak, nevermind the training Uncle Song forced on me so that I can one day be an overbearing president.
Captain Li: […]
Zhou Xiwei: Ah, I was wrong, nevermind, Yu’er spoke very well.
Meanwhile, Song Bai is just staring at a crumpled shirt and wondering why it hurts.
Aw~ you tried. And, yes, don’t disdain Yu-er’s lack of speaking skills once compared to your own. Haha
And now everyone’s sad ಥ‿ಥ
at least you tried 😤
Thanks for the chapter! ^^
You know what they say–
Everyone can have a crazy ex, but if all your exes are crazy…
And yeah, I feel like Zhou Xiwei’s the type to lay awake at night worrying that he didn’t say the right words in the right order to unlock the ‘right’ path for convincing Captain Li. If he was calm enough to think about the parallels, he’d probably be even more stressed about it. Poor kid.