Ding Dongqi isn’t quite dumb enough to try to fight their benefactors.
He restrains himself to lifting his chin and rolling up the sleeves of his borrowed clothes to show off his expensive, albeit waterlogged timepiece. Unfortunately for him, Shan Haoyu has returned to looking at his favorite person, and it’s not Ding Dongqi.
He’s a peacock spreading his tail feathers, but his audience is abstinent peahens.
The only ones who notice the flash of gold and platinum are those that have already seen it, and aren’t impressed by such things. They all have similar watches back home. Even Zhou Xiwei, who isn’t flashy at all, was presented with a rose gold and navy Cartier for his graduation from university.
No one cares about his flaunting. Which… just makes Ding Donqgi’s face turn more ugly.
Against his will, Zhou Xiwei leans a little farther away from that side of the table. Nothing will happen with the Song family around, but Zhou Xiwei has the muscle memory of a thousand targeted remarks and ‘accidental’ shoves to prime his fight or flight instincts.
Unlike the watch, this is noticed.
Shan Haoyu’s voice rings out, colored by the thinnest sliver of anger, like the red hidden in an opal.
“Since you’re guests, it’s only fair to warn you: Here, karma is a living, breathing thing. Bad people experience bad things.”
“Is that-?” Ding Dongqi bursts into laughter. “Is that your weird version of a threat? Fuck, I know you were raised without parents, but that’s really-”
“Ding! Dong! Qi!” Song Bai chastises his friend, after the bad has already been said.
For the first time, Zhou Xiwei notices that. He’s not sure why. He shakes his head and reminds himself to be more grateful, more kind– not because of Shan Haoyu’s warning, but because of his own discomfort with having an unkind thought towards Song Bai.
He knows he’s doing his best.
Shan Haoyu looks profoundly unimpressed. He doesn’t seem offended. Just… indifferent? And his two compatriots, the director and the brother? Well, their look of surprise flashes into existence when he warns, not when Ding Dongqi retorts.
Odd.
“Not a threat. Warning. There’s a reason there aren’t many people here. The island has its own ideas about who can linger, and who must leave.” Shan Yutian and Director Xi nod along, fully endorsing Shan Haoyu’s anthropomorphizing. Odd indeed.
Then again, small communities have their own traditions, and ‘be nice because the island is watching’ isn’t that strange. At least the moral underpinning is solid! They shouldn’t judge the beliefs of others.
Ding Dongqi doesn’t seem to share Zhou Xiwei’s accepting attitude.
“Well, we all want to leave, so that’s just peachy. Thanks for breakfast, cutie.” Ding Dongqi excuses himself from the table, the first part directed scathingly at Shan Haoyu, and the second part, disturbingly, at Shan Yutian.
Who, again, is very, very young looking. Cannot stress that enough. Not the kind of person someone already out of university should be calling a cutie. Nor winking at.
Zhou Xiwei winces, and Ding Dongqi takes notice. Even opens his mouth, no doubt to rake him over the coals, audience be damned– but right when he’s ready to spit vitriol, a fly flits right into his open mouth. He ends up doubling over and choking instead.
Karma is real, indeed.
—
Zhou Xiwei hangs back to help with the dishes. And the apologizing. He ends up by himself– Zhou Xiting is whisked away by Mother Song, who is dying for lack of female company, and Song Bai offers to stay, but Zhou Xiwei waves him away.
“You can’t trick me, Song-ge. Now that you know we’re here for awhile, you want to run off and explore the whole place. You’re just too nice to leave without offering. Go on. Explore. Tell me about it later. Don’t let me or the dishes stand in your way.”
Obligations solved by Zhou Xiwei’s kindness, Song Bai squeezes his bicep, makes him promise not to work too hard, and indeed takes off in a random direction, exploration mode activated.
Zhou Xiwei laughs all the way to the interior kitchen.
He finds a stack of dishes, and Shan Haoyu cleaning them. It’s better than Shan Yutian doing it, but it’s still better if–
“How can I help? I’m very good at washing, and my drying skills are rumored to be top-notch.”
Shan Haoyu lifts an eyebrow, but makes room at the ancient, industrial-sized porcelain trough.
“Dishes are a precious commodity here. I’m afraid I have to supervise.” His tone is soft and easy. Another new facet, and one that Zhou Xiwei feels a little special at unlocking.
It’s rare for anyone to like him, just him, without preferring someone else.
He straightens his spine a little and tests out some light banter, as he babies a set of plastic pint glasses.
“To ensure I don’t abuse them?”
Shan Haoyu nods.
“If you chip this salad bowl, A-Tian will cry. It’s his absolute favorite.”
Shan Haoyu hands over the tan and white mixing (salad?) bowl and seriously sets himself to supervising. With a friendly light in his eyes, the kind that makes Zhou Xiwei feel like they’re already friends, and this is just an inside joke between the two of them. It feels a bit like washing up with his sister. Safe and easy.
But… warmer? It makes him want to dive in and become closer. Unlocks his normally shy tongue.
“Makes sense. Once in university, a roommate broke a little soup bowl that I’d brought from my parents’ house, and I cried over it. Which is not the sort of thing you should do in a male dorm, in case you were interested.”
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.
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“Why was he touching your things?”
“It’s communal living.”
“That’s what makes it important to respect boundaries.”
Ha, sounds like this orphanage had a neater philosophy than his expensive university did.
“Maybe. Or maybe the lesson is just to not live in a dorm, no matter how much you’re told it’s a key experience.” Zhou Xiwei very carefully pats dry Shan Yutian’s favorite salad bowl and fidgets with it three times on the drying rack, just to make sure it won’t roll away and encounter a counter free fall. Very diligent.
Shan Haoyu’s eyes soften once more. Zhou Xiwei moves on to his next supervised washing. And the end of his story. “Anyway, as soon as Song-ge came back, he made them stop laughing. Even kneel and apologize– which was a little much, ha. Later, he looked up the set and managed to find me a replacement.”
“Did that make it better?”
“Not completely. I cared about it because it came from my parents. No other reason. But it’s nice to be comforted. And I appreciated the sentiment.”
“It would be better to keep it from breaking at all.”
“Sure. But the world doesn’t work like that.”
“It-”
Shan Haoyu’s dazed look is hidden from Zhou Xiwei’s eyes.
Zhou Xiwei doesn’t see the way his whole body freezes temporarily, as if paused, or the small black cracks that spiderweb across his right cheek. A moment later, they disappear, his body speeds up, and he finishes, dreamily, “I guess it doesn’t. Huh.”
There’s something on the tip of his tongue, on the edge of his memory– but then it’s gone. Swept out to sea.
In companionable silence, he and this new person finish washing and drying. It’s nice to be near someone that radiates such goodness. It makes Shan Haoyu feel like the sun is finally shining, like he’s been unearthed after a cave-in, let out after confinement in the woodshed, dragged back to shore from the bed of the sea.
He doesn’t know why. But here, it’s better not to question feelings. It’s better to follow the good and hide from the bad and to not think too deeply.
Otherwise, you can be caught by terrible things.
—
By the time most of their party reconvenes for an early dinner, the island has been more or less mapped by them. Qian Li even recovers from his hangover enough to put his architectural degree to use, acting as their draftsman and creating a proper map on the back of an old piece of corkboard that they’d found in a trash heap at the back of one of the buildings.
He’s really rather talented, when he’s not comatose.
It might not be to scale, but the map that he sketches out feels real, and gives Zhou Xiwei the sense of place that he’s been missing, caught up in dishes and showering and enticing new friends and not exploring at all.
What starts to take shape is a crescent that looks almost intentional, but maybe that’s just Qian Li’s passion for symmetry and approximation smoothing out the rough and natural edges that must exist here– that exist on all islands.
According to Xi Kuang, the locals called it Uto. So that’s the name they add to the top of their ‘artisanal’ map.
Zhou Xiwei leans forward and the others make space.
As the only one to not explore the island (excepting the Song parents and his captured sister) he’s more interested than most in the findings. Look, Qian Li’s even mapped out the thin bands of forest and the little scrubby bushes and weeds that cling to the pockmarks of the volcanic cliffs.
“Wow. You guys got a lot done.”
Looks like they won’t need to worry about getting lost, even if the map disappears one day.
The island is… compact? Anemic, even?
It’s narrow, and mostly cleared, with a scrubby forest on the highest ridges, but not deep enough to get lost in. Uto is only a few kilometers across, and three times as long if you walk end to end. Once the morning fog burns up, you can see nearly from one end to the other, if you stand on a roof or at certain parts of the ridge.
Against the cork, it has the look of a burnt, curled shrimp, or a half-eroded volcano– a black crescent in the middle of the sea, a small outcropping of land that dares to house people daring enough to stay in such a place.
There’s also familiar little houses inked in.
Most of the buildings are in the widest part in the middle, huddled together like shorebirds on a cold morning. There’s the squat one-storey dormitory building where they’re bedding down, the two-storey school building next to it, where the few islanders that they’ve met seemed to have moved into and converted into a tube-shaped apartment.
Like ducklings around these two large structures are a smattering of small cottages and outbuildings in varying states of decay, from the stone-walled and hearty groundskeeper’s cottage that the chef has taken over to the half-rotted boathouse that contains a tragic lack of boats, but plenty of mildewed netting and forgotten wooden crab traps.
“We also found the radio tower.”
At the highest point of an otherwise forested peak, Qian Li drags his pencil up, creating an almost perfect line before coming back down and adding kinks and rusted-out trestles like some sort of Parisian artist. Really talented, ah. Even the small generator bunker next to it looks appropriate.
It’s just a sketch, yet Zhou Xiwei feels like he can taste the oxidation and hear the creaks.
His imagination has never been anything remarkable, but the longer he looks at the lines, the more he feels like his body isn’t his own, like he’s not sitting here at all, but is up at the top of a hill he’s never climbed before, looking up at a tower he’s never scaled, feeling the weight of it bearing down on him–
It’s almost vertigo inducing, and he actually sways a little bit. Not noticeably, he doesn’t think–
But then he feels Shan Haoyu’s hand against his lower back, and looks over to see his normally impassive face looking– concerned? Maybe trying for reassurance? Zhou Xiwei manages an embarrassed nod, and once he stabilizes, the hand is discreetly pulled away, at just the right time, so that he feels cared about without feeling weak, awkward, or foolish.
It’s odd, but not unwelcome.
Just like everything that’s happened since they were first pulled from the ocean and brought to this island. Just like everything having to do with the not-such-a-stranger that always seems to be paying attention to him. Who seems to care, despite having no reason to. Despite not knowing anything about him, despite Zhou Xiwei knowing himself to be rather uninteresting.
Still paying attention…
Still caring.
Huh. It makes Zhou Xiwei feel a little warm.
—
Father Song turns towards crewmember Di Qing, who is still wan after having his head bashed against the hull of their sinking yacht the night before. “Young man– you’re the engineer, correct? In charge of the ship’s engines and all that while we were underway?”
He nods.
Mother Song says something under her breath that sounds like, “On a sunk ship. Not one for the resume, I imagine.” Luckily, it doesn’t seem like the crew on the other end of the table heard. But some of the islanders no doubt do, and Zhou Xiwei can’t help but want to hold her jaw closed. He knows she’s just stressed. He knows that deep down, she’s a good person.
Just a little blind to her own privilege, like all wealthy people are after decades of insulation. But their benefactors don’t know that. They can only judge them based on what they see and hear, and Zhou Xiwei–
Wants better. For everyone.
But it would just draw attention to say anything in the moment, so he tosses out another apologetic smile and listens to Father Song’s (rather decent) plan for improving their chances of making it home before rent is late, classes resume, or pets are overstaying at their boarding facilities.
Very thoughtful of him.
“If we simply must persist, it’s doable. Unpleasant, but doable. And-” He smiles and addresses himself to the locals, “-Not to invite ourselves or impose. Of course, as soon as we can make contact to somewhere with a bank or at least a wire service, it’s nothing at all to pay back your hospitality. Maybe even chip in for some improvements to the place, as part of our appreciation. I imagine that young man there would like to have the internet to play around on!”
Shan Yutian waves his hands to refuse; Father Song turns to the group at large and barrels on. “But I’m sure everyone would prefer to be home sooner rather than later. If nothing else, to ease the worries of friends and loved ones.”
Zhou Xiwei feels his hands tighten a bit, but it’s true enough for the others.
Everyone he cares about is already here, but that’s a personality deficiency of his. Not the norm for other people, he’s well aware. Hell, even Ding Dongqi, who is universally insufferable, has a half-dozen bar workers relying on his handsy bottle service to pay their rent and tuition fees.
“I know you’re not in our employ anymore, but I would take it as a personal favor, if you would take a walk to that old tower with me. Not today, not with the light falling and your head still hurt– but later in the week, perhaps? Who knows, maybe you’ll be our heroic savior. And I learned a little about radios back in the army, so maybe I can act as your assistant!”
Engineer Di manages to smile at that, and Captain Li loosens up at the respect being shown to his crewmember. A company president offering to be the assistant of a junior in his employ really says a lot, and soothes a lot of ruffled feathers.
Even Shan Haoyu is frowning less.
Father Song doesn’t speak often, but when he does, he’s always had that locker room coach kind of air about him. That way of getting you to try hard, try it his way, and be excited about it. He can always make you think that you really do have it in you to be better, that you’re the only one standing in your way.
He’d make a hell of a cult leader, but luckily, he’s confined himself to real estate.
Heh. Those pep talks of his are half the reason that Zhou Xiwei ended up with an economics degree, even though he’s never been the best with numbers and wasn’t that into college to begin with– Father Song had given him a few doses of that charismatic guidance, and he’d managed to get through his undergraduate studies with honors and only a moderate level of depression.
Really, the man has a gift.
—
By the end of the meal, everyone has a sense of control that’s as comforting as it is delusional–
They don’t actually know how to get to the mainland, or why they crashed, or even what’s going on… But by getting a map, and a plan, and an idea that thirty-year-old military experience and yacht engineering is all it takes to repair a radio relay–
Somehow, that’s enough to fill everyone with good vibes and a sense of purpose.
Even Shan Haoyu scoots a little closer, like he’s basking in the feeling of unity, instead of recoiling from the attitude. Even the chef cracks a smile (after rolling his eyes). Shan Yutian responds by trying to keep the ‘party’ going, running off and making some sort of fruit float out of berry punch and ice cream.
He’s remarkably quick about it. Quick enough that no one even considers where exactly ice cream comes from, on an island with once a month grocery delivery, and no power.
Huh.
Most of the group ends up getting their dessert drinks to go– with no electricity and no chance of getting rescued and sent to an all-inclusive resort before nightfall, everyone is ready to tidy up their rooms and make them a little cleaner and comfier, now that they’re not the exhausted Catch of the Day.
Once more, Zhou Xiwei stays back and tries to help clear dishes. But this time, Shan Yutian whispers something to Shan Haoyu, and Zhou Xiwei is waved off.
“Really, it’s no trouble–”
“They’re right. It’s good to use the light to get things set how you want them. If you need anything– more blankets, or a rug, or drapes–” Shan Yutian steps on Shan Haoyu’s foot. “–Just come get me and I’ll help you look.”
Zhou Xiwei still can’t help but look at the dishes, and for the first time since they’ve met, Shan Haoyu smiles fully.
Actually smiles, and… Holy shit. Hot. Hotter than he has any right to be, given that Zhou Xiwei’s been single-mindedly in (hopeless) love with the same guy since he was fifteen. He’s– he’d swear that the sun gets a little brighter, the island a little warmer, in the moment that Shan Haoyu flashes his teeth. Which doesn’t make sense. It’s sunset. It’s definitely getting darker, not lighter, and yet–
Zhou Xiwei is blushing. He knows he’s blushing.
He’s going to embarrass himself in front of these nice new people–
So instead, he flees.
A soft, rich laugh seems to follow him home to the dormitory.
—
Zhou Xiwei shuts the door behind himself and holds it, chest rising and falling as his cheeks continue to burn. He’s so eager to run away from his unexpected reaction that he doesn’t even consider that he’s jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. His sister stops sorting clothing and looks over.
“You look like you just saw a sexy ghost.”
“Shut up.”
Oh, that gets her attention.
“Oh my god. Am I right?! I’m right, aren’t I?” He is pounced on. “Oh god, tell me it’s something new and not you accidentally walking in on Song Bai changing again.”
“…We promised never to speak of that.” One time! It was once, and he felt like a total creep, and really, he closed his eyes immediately and apologized for weeks and– it doesn’t matter, because it wasn’t a flash of Song Bai’s skin that got his heart racing. Not this time. It was a smile. Just a smile.
Like a schoolyard crush, totally illogical and-
“And you’re still blushing.” Xiting pokes his cheeks and laughs merrily and in general does not conduct herself at all like a 26 year old woman with an MBA and an entire pilates class that quakes in fear at her single-minded devotion to ‘efficient exercising’.
(Rumor has it, she once completed an entire session while reorganizing their housekeeping org chart on her Blackberry).
Zhou Xiwei blushes even harder and bats her hand away.
“It’s nothing. Just from running.”
“Oh, next, tell me it’s a sunburn!”
“You are the worst sister I’ve ever had.”
She clicks her tongue and looks slyly over at him.
“So, let me guess– it’s either the chef or the new guy– the one that’s always staring at you.”
“His name is Shan Haoyu. And he’s not always-”
“Ha! You admitted it!”
“…He has a nice smile. But that’s all it is. Don’t always think messy things.”
And for the record, the chef is the one she’s attracted to. Evidently, the fact that he was ‘very obviously playing grab-ass with the stew’ makes it hotter, since she doesn’t have to worry about having to follow through on any of the flirting or fantasy.
Zhou Xiwei doesn’t understand her brain circuits at all, and he doesn’t particularly want her to understand his.
So instead he shoots up off the bed and grabs the bucket of water and rags that she must have gathered for him earlier, and earnestly applies himself to window-cleaning, furniture-wiping, and floor scrubbing.
Zhou Xiting knows not to push her shy sibling too much (especially since she, more than anyone, wants him to get over his doomed feelings for Song Bai already)– so she takes mercy and lets him clean in peace.
It’s surprisingly easy to get into it– despite being simple vinegar and lemon-scented water, the stuff picks up grime like it’s high-class polish, and in barely two hours time (and a lot of future shoulder and arm soreness) their entire room has been transformed into a clean-smelling, tidy looking place.
It’s unscientific.
It’s wonderful. It’s extra wonderful, when Zhou Xiting goes across the hall and finds a third mattress for both of them, managing to create a triple-decker of bedding that feels almost like a luxury bed, when she tries it out for them. Again, unscientific. Especially how they’re able to find deep-pocket sheets to fit over them.
Makes no sense. Why are there deep pockets with no deep mattresses? Who would have bought them, and why? Especially for twin beds in a mass-housing situation.
But illogical or no, it’s very, very welcome.
As the last of the sun’s rays disappear beneath the horizon, the two siblings send themselves to the bathroom– they also pick up Mother Song along the way, so that she and Xiting can shower in peace while Zhou Xiwei stands guard outside and protects their privacy.
The night is bizarre as shit, but oddly homey. Especially when Zhou Xiting shouts something about the odds of a random, rundown boy’s home having her favorite brand of body wash, though Mother Song isn’t as lucky.
Whatever the odds, Zhou Xiwei is just grateful for how well everything is going.
Author’s Corner:
Utopia– As wikipedia notes, Utopia is derived from the Greek prefix “ou-” (οὔ), meaning “not”, and topos (τόπος), “place”, with the suffix -iā (-ίᾱ) that is typical of toponyms; the name literally means “nowhere”, emphasizing its fictionality.
By definition, utopia can’t exist. But is Uto doomed to be a dystopia? Find out next time on Buzzfeed Unsolved: Oh No, Boy Hot Edition.
…Anyway, happy holidays, sorry this is slightly late due to being at my in-laws.
Oh I’m loving how the island is pampering Xixi and his sister 😂
I am blushing too now ( ꈍᴗꈍ) thank you for the chapter and happy holidays to you !
Happy holidays! Thanks for the chapter!
Aaaw… (,,> <,,)♡ a little sweetness for the two. Jury is still out for Song ge considering his distasteful friends. Maybe they’re just early vetting by a business elite’s son? Or he’s only truly nice when it comes to the adoptive siblings?
happy holidays!!
So excited for this new novel (plus i love horror/romance) thank you for sharing and happy holidays
As someone who sees and hears what they’re reading, your gift for writing imagery is always a welcome escape. I was worried before that Song Bai’s friends were drowned and I wouldn’t get to keep hearing “Ding-donkey” in my head any more. I better enjoy it while I can huh? Because I think he’s probably doomed 😅.
The island likes these two siblings! And Xiwei likes Haoyu already ohohoh
Thank you for this story, really ♡
Hehe utopia you mean….
Sounds interesting (^^)