So much time passed that Shen Zhiyi thought he was going to refuse. She had already begun regretting her impulsiveness and was about to hide the herbal compress behind her back.
At last, he spoke. “Mm.”
Just that single word, yet it made Shen Zhiyi’s heart skip a beat.
She brought over the old rattan chair for Zhou Xubai to sit on, then crouched in front of him.
She reached out, and the instant her fingertips brushed against his pant leg, both of them stiffened.
Taking a slow, steady breath, Shen Zhiyi carefully rolled up the right leg of his trousers.
Her hands were trembling.
She pressed the warmed herbal compress against his leg and began to massage it.
Her movements were gentle and cautious.
Zhou Xubai’s body tensed immediately. She could feel the muscles in his thigh trembling ever so slightly, and she could hear the restrained rhythm of his breathing. It was quiet, yet heavy enough to suggest he was enduring tremendous pain.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly.
“…It’s alright.”
Shen Zhiyi didn’t press him further. She simply continued massaging him.
Her fingers were slender, but they were also strong from years of hard work. Following the method Granny Lin had taught her, she worked along the grain of his muscles, kneading slowly and steadily as she pressed the warmth of the herbs deeper into his leg.
Moonlight slipped through the crack in the doorway, bathing the two of them in its pale glow.
One sat while the other crouched before him.
One had his eyes closed, his brows tightly knit.
The other lowered her head, completely focused on gently massaging his damaged leg.
Neither of them spoke.
Yet something quietly changed within that silence.
Shen Zhiyi continued until the herbal compress had completely cooled, until the tight lines between Zhou Xubai’s brows gradually relaxed, and until his breathing became slow and even.
Only then did she stop.
She carefully rolled his trouser leg back down before looking up.
Zhou Xubai was watching her.
Their eyes met.
After a long while, he said quietly, “…Thank you.”
Shen Zhiyi shook her head. She wanted to say something, but her throat tightened, and no words would come out.
She stood up, only to realize her legs had gone numb from crouching for so long. She swayed slightly.
Zhou Xubai reached out and caught her.
His hand was large and rough, his palm thick with calluses, but his grip was remarkably steady. As his fingers closed gently around her wrist, the warmth of his hand sent a tremor through her heart.
A moment later, he let go.
“You should get some sleep,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.
Shen Zhiyi nodded and turned toward the house.
Just before stepping behind the cloth curtain, she glanced back.
Zhou Xubai was still sitting in the rattan chair, gazing out at the sea beyond the doorway.
Bathed in the moonlight, he looked like a silver white statue.
Lonely! Yet unwavering.
Lying in bed, Shen Zhiyi couldn’t fall asleep for a long time.
She opened her palm and stared at her wrist.
It still seemed to retain the warmth of his hand, rough and burning hot.
April on the fishing island in the South China Sea was as unpredictable as a child’s mood.
Yesterday had been bright and sunny, but by early morning the sky was already covered with layers of gray clouds.
Zhou Xubai was up as usual, standing at the edge of the cliff and watching the sea.
Only today, he wasn’t standing very steadily.
Shen Zhiyi noticed that the hand gripping his crutch was trembling slightly, the veins along his arm standing out from the strain. Her gaze followed his arm downward until it rested on the crutch itself.
It was a standard military issued crutch made of metal. The rubber tip at the top had been worn smooth with years of use, and several cracks had appeared around its edges. The shaft was made of steel tubing that had originally been painted army green, but most of the paint had peeled away, exposing patches of rust beneath.
“You…”
“I’m fine,” Zhou Xubai interrupted before she could finish.
He turned around and began making his way back toward the house.
One step. Then another.
As he took the third step, the crutch suddenly slipped.
The worn rubber tip could no longer grip the rough rock beneath it.
His body lurched violently to the right.
Without thinking, Shen Zhiyi threw herself toward him.
She wrapped both arms around his waist and used every ounce of strength she had to hold him upright.
Zhou Xubai was much heavier than she was, and the sudden weight nearly pulled her down with him. The two of them staggered several steps before finally regaining their balance.
“Let go.”
His voice came from above her head, low and restrained, carrying a trace of suppressed anger.
Shen Zhiyi didn’t let go.
Instead, she held him even tighter.
She could feel every rigid line of his body, hear his heavy breathing, and catch the familiar scent of sea breeze, soapberry, and faint tobacco that clung to him.
“Your crutch is broken,” she said calmly, though her hands were shaking.
After several silent seconds, Zhou Xubai slowly straightened himself.
Only then did Shen Zhiyi release him and step back, looking up at his face.
His complexion was pale.
Sweat glistened along his temples.
His lips were pressed into a thin, straight line.
“It needs replacing,” he said, bending down to pick up the crutch. After inspecting the split rubber tip, he added, “I’ll go into town tomorrow and buy a new one.”
“Buy one?”
Shen Zhiyi took the crutch from him and examined the damaged tip carefully.
“Will the ones they sell in town even work?”
Zhou Xubai didn’t answer.
He knew exactly what she meant.
The crutches sold in town were designed for elderly people. They were thick, bulky, and completely unsuitable for someone with an amputation as high as his. This military issued crutch had been specially made. It was lightweight and sturdy, but it was a relic from the 1970s, and production had long since stopped.
“It’s still better than having nothing,” he replied before turning and walking back inside.
Shen Zhiyi remained standing in the doorway, staring at the crutch in her hands.
“Dad… I want to make a crutch,” she whispered.
Outside, the sound of the waves echoed endlessly, as though answering her.
The next day, Shen Zhiyi went to Granny Lin’s house as usual to teach everyone how to weave fishing nets.
Today, however, she taught unusually quickly, finishing everything she had planned before noon.
“Do you have somewhere to be today, Little Shen?” Granny Lin asked, peering at her over the top of her reading glasses.
“Yes.” Shen Zhiyi nodded. “I want to… find some wood.”
“Wood?”
Granny Lin set down her shuttle.
“What do you need wood for?”
“To make something.”
Shen Zhiyi didn’t elaborate.
Granny Lin narrowed her eyes and studied her for a moment before suddenly smiling.
“There’s a grove behind the weather station on the west side of the island. They logged it years ago, and there are still a few old stumps left behind. The wood’s good quality. Go take a look.”
“Thank you, Granny.”
Carrying her cloth bag, Shen Zhiyi headed toward the western side of the island.
As she passed the abandoned weather station, she instinctively glanced inside.
The courtyard was empty.
Zhou Xubai wasn’t there today.
She continued onward, pushing through shoulder high shrubs until the view suddenly opened up before her.
It was a forgotten grove.
More than a dozen large trees had been felled, leaving behind waist high stumps whose exposed surfaces had dried and cracked over time. Moss and ferns had taken root across them.
But Shen Zhiyi spotted the one she wanted at first glance.
It was a huanghuali tree.
She crouched down and ran her hand across the cut surface.
The wood was already half dry, neither damp nor cracked.
It was in perfect condition.
“You’ll do nicely,” Shen Zhiyi murmured.
It took her three full days to dig the stump out of the ground.
It was incredibly heavy, far too much for her to drag by herself.
Just as she was worrying over what to do, she heard the familiar tapping of a crutch behind her.
Turning around, she saw Zhou Xubai standing at the edge of the grove.
Leaning on his damaged crutch, he was quietly watching her.
“You…”
She opened her mouth, unsure of what to say.
Walking over, Zhou Xubai glanced at the tree stump on the ground before looking at the blisters and scraped skin on her hands.
“Do you need this?”
“Mm.”
Shen Zhiyi nodded.
“I want to make something.”
He didn’t ask what. Instead, he leaned his crutch against a nearby tree, bent down, and wrapped both arms around one end of the stump.
“Lift.”
Shen Zhiyi blinked in surprise before quickly grabbing the other end.
Together, they heaved the stump off the ground.
Although Zhou Xubai balanced on only one leg, his arms were incredibly strong, bearing most of the weight himself.
As Shen Zhiyi watched his tightly pressed lips, the taut muscles in his arms, and the beads of sweat forming along his temples, she suddenly remembered the way he had stood behind her in the ancestral hall that day, leaning on his crutch like a silent wall.
“Let’s go,” Zhou Xubai said.
Together, they carried the heavy stump one step at a time toward the tin roof house.
The road was rough and uneven. The hand holding Zhou Xubai’s crutch had to support both his own weight and much of the tree stump’s weight, trembling violently with the effort.
Even so, he never stopped.
Nor did he complain that it was heavy.
By the time they reached the tin roof house, they set the stump down in the open space outside the door.
Straightening up, Zhou Xubai caught his breath before glancing at Shen Zhiyi.
“You’re making a crutch?”
Shen Zhiyi’s eyes widened in surprise.
“How did you know?”