The moment the thought appeared, it spread like a vine, growing wildly.
It wasn’t as though there were no widows on the island, nor were there no young women. Although Zhou Xubai was disabled, he was handsome and dignified, a decorated war hero. It wasn’t strange that someone might take a liking to him.
But weren’t they… only married in name?
Shen Zhiyi shook her head hard, trying to drive the thought away. She turned and went back inside to light the stove and prepare breakfast. The flames flickered in the firebox, casting a warm glow over her absentminded face.
By the time the rice porridge was ready, daylight had fully broken. Shen Zhiyi ladled a bowl into a ceramic dish, covered it with another bowl to keep it warm, quickly ate a few bites herself, then picked up the cloth bag containing her netting shuttle and the half-finished fishing net before heading to Granny Lin’s house.
The whole way there, her mind wandered.
As she passed the old banyan tree at the village entrance, several women mending fishing nets called out to her.
“Little Shen! Come over and take a look. Why are the holes in my net always uneven?”
Shen Zhiyi walked over, took the shuttle, and examined it.
“Auntie, you need to keep your hand steady while winding the thread. Don’t let it shake. Like this.”
She demonstrated once, the shuttle weaving back and forth as evenly spaced mesh quickly took shape.
“Oh my, your hands really are skilled!” the round-faced woman praised with obvious admiration.
“Oh, by the way, where’s your Comrade Zhou? We haven’t seen him around these past few days.”
Shen Zhiyi’s fingers paused.
“He… went out.”
“Went out? I saw him heading toward the western side yesterday. What’s he doing over at that old weather station?” another tall, thin woman leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“The weather station?” Shen Zhiyi looked up.
“That’s right! That place has been abandoned for seven or eight years. The doors and windows are all gone, and the inside’s covered in cobwebs. Comrade Zhou goes there every single day. It’s rather creepy. Do you think… he could be meeting someone?”
“Meeting someone?” Shen Zhiyi heard her own voice come out dry.
“Oh, I was just saying it casually! If you keep going past the western end, there are still a few families living farther in. Widow Wang lives over there. Her husband died last year, and she’s raising two children by herself…”
The tall, thin woman waved her hand dismissively, but the gossip gleaming in her eyes was impossible to hide.
Shen Zhiyi barely heard the rest.
Her ears buzzed as though countless bees were swarming inside them.
Widow Wang! Two children.
Every day, Zhou Xubai left before dawn and didn’t return until evening. His trouser legs were always splattered with mud, his brows tightly furrowed, and no matter how many times she asked where he’d gone, he never answered.
So that was it.
Shen Zhiyi had no idea how she managed to leave the banyan tree. Carrying her cloth bag, she stumbled toward Granny Lin’s house, her mind completely blank.
Halfway there, she suddenly stopped.
No! Zhou Xubai wasn’t that kind of man.
He rarely spoke and was undeniably strange, but he had saved her. When she had been at her most miserable, he had said, “I can’t very well let you freeze to death.” When the women by the well mocked her, he had quietly handed over his own ration coupons. When blisters formed on her hands from grinding grain, he silently boiled ginger soup for her.
How could someone like him…
Shen Zhiyi turned to look toward the western side of the island.
She had to see for herself.
Granny Lin’s house was especially lively today.
Seven or eight women sat in the courtyard, all learning the improved net weaving technique Shen Zhiyi had introduced. The moment they saw her, they greeted her warmly.
“Little Shen’s here!”
“Come see if I’m doing this correctly!”
Forcing a smile, Shen Zhiyi walked over to Granny Lin.
“Granny, I… have something to take care of today. Could I have half the day off?”
Granny Lin peered at her over the rim of her reading glasses, narrowing her eyes.
“You don’t look well. Are you sick?”
“No.” Shen Zhiyi shook her head. “I just… have something I need to do.”
Granny Lin studied her for several seconds before nodding.
“Go on then. Just remember to come back this afternoon. Secretary Chen said there’s going to be a meeting to discuss the fishing net weaving group.”
“Thank you, Granny.”
Shen Zhiyi set down her cloth bag and hurried away.
As she stepped through the courtyard gate, she heard voices behind her.
“What’s wrong with Little Shen today? She seems completely distracted.”
“Do you think she and Comrade Zhou had a fight?”
“Oh, newlyweds argue all the time. That’s perfectly normal…”
Shen Zhiyi quickened her pace.
The path on the western side of the island was much rougher than the one in the east.
The farther she went, the fewer people she saw.
After walking for nearly half an hour, she finally spotted a grayish white building.
It was a two story structure with most of its plaster peeled away, exposing the red bricks beneath. Several windowpanes had shattered, while those that remained were coated in dust and thick cobwebs. A small courtyard stood in front of the building, its wall collapsed along one side, and waist high weeds had nearly swallowed the entire yard.
This was the abandoned weather station.
Shen Zhiyi crouched behind the overgrown bushes outside the broken courtyard wall, holding her breath.
She saw Zhou Xubai.
He sat on a stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Spread out before him were the weather record book and several yellowed diagrams. With his head lowered, he wrote rapidly with a pencil, occasionally stopping to glance at the sky before continuing to jot down notes.
The wind lifted the empty right leg of his trousers, revealing the dark wooden prosthetic beneath. Today he wasn’t wearing his military uniform, only a faded cloth shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his strong forearms.
He was completely alone.
There was no Widow Wang.
No two children. Only him, surrounded by overgrown weeds and the crumbling old building.
Shen Zhiyi let out a quiet sigh of relief.
But almost immediately, confusion replaced it.
What exactly was he doing here every day?
She cautiously crept a few steps closer, trying to get a better look.
Suddenly, Zhou Xubai stopped writing.
He raised his head toward the sea, his brows drawing tightly together. Then he stood up, leaning on his crutch as he walked to one corner of the courtyard. There stood a rust covered iron pole topped with a damaged instrument that looked like a weather vane.
He reached out and touched the pole before looking back up at the sky.
The heavens were gloomy, thick layers of cloud hanging so low they seemed ready to collapse.
Shen Zhiyi saw his lips move as if he were saying something, but from so far away she couldn’t make out the words.
After hesitating for a moment, she stepped out from behind the bushes.
“Zhou Xubai.”
Zhou Xubai spun around. Surprise flashed across his face when he saw her, but it quickly faded into his usual solemn expression.
“Why are you here?”
“I… What are you doing?” Shen Zhiyi walked over and glanced at the record book in his hands.
Without answering, Zhou Xubai simply closed it.
“Let’s go back.”
With that, he started toward the courtyard gate.
“Wait.” Shen Zhiyi stopped him. “You’ve been coming here every day. What exactly are you doing? Everyone on the island says… says you’re meeting someone.”
Zhou Xubai halted and looked at her.
“You believed them?”
Shen Zhiyi bit her lip.
“I didn’t. That’s why I came to see for myself.”
They looked at one another as the wind swept between them, rustling the overgrown weeds throughout the courtyard.
After a long silence, Zhou Xubai sighed softly.
He returned to the stone bench, sat down, and patted the empty space beside him.
“Sit.”
Shen Zhiyi walked over and took a seat.
Opening the record book, Zhou Xubai pointed to the figures inside.
“These are the tidal records. This is the wind speed. This is the atmospheric pressure.”
He looked up at Shen Zhiyi.
“I’m calculating the weather three days from now.”
“Three days from now?”
“Mhm.” Zhou Xubai pointed toward the distant horizon. “See those clouds? They’re called cirrus clouds. There’s an old saying: ‘Hook shaped clouds in the sky mean rain on the ground.’ But watching the clouds alone isn’t enough. You also have to factor in atmospheric pressure, wind speed, and the tides.”
He turned to another page filled with dense calculations.
“The weather station may have been abandoned, but these basic instruments still work. I’ve been recording data here every day and comparing it with historical records. I’ve discovered a pattern.”
He paused, his voice growing heavy.
“Three days from now, on the twenty-fifth, a storm will hit. Not an ordinary storm, but a powerful typhoon.”
Shen Zhiyi felt her heart jolt.
“A typhoon? At this time of year?”
“The islands in the South China Sea can experience typhoons between late March and early April. They’re uncommon, so most people don’t remember.” Zhou Xubai pointed to a line in the record book.
“March 28, 1958. A powerful typhoon passed through, destroying seventeen fishing boats and killing eleven people. April 2, 1965. Another typhoon destroyed nine boats and claimed five lives.”
He raised his eyes, his gaze deep and unwavering.
“This year, it will arrive in three days.”
Staring at those cold, unforgiving numbers, Shen Zhiyi felt a chill run down her spine.
“Then… have you told the villagers?”
Zhou Xubai fell silent.
“Why haven’t you told them? People’s lives are at stake!” Shen Zhiyi exclaimed anxiously.