Surrounded by the women, Shen Zhiyi felt her face grow warm. She was not used to so much attention, yet she felt a quiet happiness inside. It was different from the satisfaction of learning to weave nets. That had been the relief of completing a task, but this was the warmth of being recognized.
When she returned home in the evening, several women walked her all the way to the village entrance.
“Little Shen, come again tomorrow! There are still a few things I do not understand.”
“Oh right, I pickled some salted fish. I will bring you a couple tomorrow!”
“Comrade Zhou is truly fortunate to have married someone so capable…”
Shen Zhiyi responded to each of them as she walked briskly toward the tin shack. The setting sun stretched her shadow long across the dirt road, bouncing lightly with her steps.
When she reached the house, she saw Zhou Xubai standing by the cliff, his back to her, looking out at the sea. Hearing her footsteps, he turned around.
“You are back?” he asked, his gaze falling on her face before shifting to her hands. The blisters had scabbed over and were nearly healed.
“Yes.” Shen Zhiyi walked over and stood beside him, looking out at the sea. “Today… I taught a few aunties how to weave nets.”
“I heard. Secretary Chen came by this afternoon and said the Women’s Director wants to invite you to be a consultant for the net weaving group,” Zhou Xubai said.
Shen Zhiyi was startled. “A consultant?”
“Yes! You would guide the women of the entire island in weaving nets, and your work points would be counted as a technician’s. Do you want to do it?”
She did not answer immediately. She looked at the distant sea where the setting sun was sinking below the horizon, dyeing the water gold and red. Waves rolled in layers, crashing against the rocks and scattering white foam.
She thought of what her sister in law Wang Xiulan had once said, “A fishing island in the South China Sea, there will be fish at every meal.”
She thought of her brother crouching at the doorway.
She thought of how she had arrived, drenched, clutching her soaked wooden plane, standing in knee deep seawater.
Now she stood here, solid rock beneath her feet, a man beside her who had once said he could not let her freeze to death, a skill in her hands that could support her, and people asking her to be a consultant.
“I am willing,” she said firmly.
Zhou Xubai nodded and said nothing, but the faint curve at the corner of his lips deepened slightly.
That night, Shen Zhiyi wove nets under the kerosene lamp. This was the practice Granny Lin had assigned her, to weave a small net. The shuttle moved through her fingers, the thread tightening and loosening, each mesh forming one after another, as if printed.
Zhou Xubai sat across from her, organizing weather records. The pencil scratched softly, occasionally pausing as he looked up at her.
“You do not need to push yourself this hard,” he said again, though his tone was different from before. The last time it had been a warning, this time… it sounded like concern.
Shen Zhiyi did not stop. “I want to weave a good net and give it to you.”
Zhou Xubai paused. “Give it to me?”
“Yes.” Shen Zhiyi lowered her head, the lamplight casting fine shadows over her lashes. “Did not Secretary Chen say that you need fishing gear before you can be assigned nets? I will weave one first. When you can go out to sea, you will have a net ready.”
She spoke as if it were only natural, as if one day Zhou Xubai would go out to sea like the other fishermen, steering a small boat and casting his net.
Zhou Xubai was silent for a long time. So long that Shen Zhiyi thought he would not respond before he finally asked softly, “Do you think… I can go out to sea?”
“Why not?” Shen Zhiyi looked up at him. “Your leg may be inconvenient, but your hands are good, and your mind is good. The sea is so vast, there will always be something you can do.”
Her eyes were bright as she spoke. Looking at them, Zhou Xubai suddenly remembered something from many years ago, in a field hospital, when an old military doctor had said to him, “Xubai, you have lost your leg, but you are still alive. As long as you are alive, you can live on.”
At the time, he had not believed it.
Now, perhaps… he did.
“Alright,” he said.
Shen Zhiyi smiled and lowered her head to continue weaving. The shuttle danced through her fingers so quickly it was dazzling to watch. Zhou Xubai looked at those hands, hands that had once been blistered and bloodied, now as nimble as two white birds, weaving and dancing through the threads.
He suddenly remembered what she had once said, “If I eat someone else’s food and live under their roof, I do not want to take it for free.”
Now she owed no one anything. With her own skill, she had found her footing on this island.
The night deepened, the sound of waves coming in waves. Shen Zhiyi finished the last mesh, bit off the thread, and lifted the net. A perfect diamond patterned net shimmered softly under the lamplight.
“For you,” she said, handing it over.
Zhou Xubai took the net, his fingers brushing over the fine mesh. The threads were tight and even, clearly made with care. He lifted his eyes to look at Shen Zhiyi.
She was rubbing her sore wrist, her face showing fatigue, yet her eyes shone brightly, as though she had accomplished something remarkable.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but earnest.
Shen Zhiyi shook her head. “I should be the one thanking you. If you had not brought me back, I would not know where I would be now.”
They looked at each other. The kerosene lamp flickered between them, casting overlapping shadows on the wall. Outside, the waves sounded endlessly, while inside there was only silence, broken occasionally by the soft crackle of the wick.
After a long while, Shen Zhiyi spoke softly. “Go to sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Mm.”
She blew out the lamp and lay down. Zhou Xubai sat by the table for a while longer before taking his crutch and walking out the door.
In late March, the weather on the South China Sea fishing island suddenly changed.
The gentle southeast wind of the past few days shifted direction overnight.
When Shen Zhiyi woke, the sky was not yet fully bright.
Out of habit, she looked toward the door.
The canvas hammock swayed empty in the wind, the hemp rope tied to the rocks stretched tight, making faint friction sounds.
Zhou Xubai was not there again.
This was already the fifth day.
Every day he left before dawn and did not return until evening. When he came back, the hems of his trousers were always stained with mud, and he carried his weather record notebook, his brows tightly furrowed. When she asked where he had gone, he would only say he had gone for a walk. If she asked further, he fell silent.
She had been on the island for nearly a month, yet Zhou Xubai had only taught her to read the clouds once. That had been ten days ago, on an evening when the sky was ablaze with sunset colors. He had pointed and said, “Red clouds at dawn mean no travel, red clouds at dusk mean a thousand mile journey,” and never mentioned it again.
After that day, he began leaving earlier and returning later.
Shen Zhiyi got dressed and pushed the door open. The sea breeze hit her face, making her shiver.
She walked to the cliff and looked toward the direction Zhou Xubai usually left.
It was toward the western end of the island.
What was there?
She recalled the bits of gossip she had heard from the women.
Some said there was an abandoned weather station built in the early sixties. Others said the place was haunted, that strange mechanical noises could be heard at night. Some even claimed an old madman lived there, once a technician from the station.
What was Zhou Xubai doing there every day?
A thought suddenly surfaced, startling even herself.
Could it be… he had someone?