While teaching net weaving at Granny Lin’s house, Shen Zhiyi threaded the shuttle through the wrong loop three times. When she was sorting a fishing line, she nearly tangled the entire bundle.
Peering over the top of her reading glasses, Granny Lin asked, “Little Shen, where’s your mind today?”
“N… nowhere.” Shen Zhiyi quickly shook her head.
Granny Lin snorted.
“Thinking about Comrade Zhou, aren’t you? You made that new crutch of his, didn’t you?”
Shen Zhiyi’s cheeks immediately flushed.
“Granny, how did you know?”
“The whole village knows.” Granny Lin set down the shuttle. “The Wang family’s widow came by this morning to deliver some pickled vegetables. She saw Comrade Zhou standing by the cliff with his new crutch, and as soon as she got back, she started telling everyone. Now the entire island is talking about it. They’re all saying Comrade Zhou’s wife is incredibly skillful, even making crutches with her own hands.”
Shen Zhiyi lowered her head, the tips of her ears turning so red they looked ready to drip blood.
“But speaking of it,” Granny Lin sighed, “that iron crutch of Comrade Zhou’s really did need replacing. I’ve seen him use it before. It wasn’t just heavy, it was slippery too. One winter, he fell at the pier and couldn’t get back up for a long time. Old Zheng happened to pass by and helped him to his feet.”
Shen Zhiyi tightened her grip on the shuttle.
That evening, she left Granny Lin’s house early and stopped by the supply and marketing cooperative to buy half a jin of brown sugar. When she returned, she found Zhou Xubai sitting on a reef outside the house, holding the new crutch up toward the setting sun.
Golden sunlight filtered through the grain of the yellow rosewood, turning the entire crutch the color of amber. The shimmering golden streaks seemed almost alive beneath the light.
Walking over, Shen Zhiyi handed him the brown sugar.
“This is for you.”
Zhou Xubai looked up, first at the brown sugar, then at her.
“What for?”
“Consider it… a return gift,” Shen Zhiyi replied.
April on the fishing island in the South China Sea was warm enough during the day to wear only a single layer of clothing. But once the sun dipped below the horizon, the sea breeze became cold and biting again.
Carrying an old bamboo basket, Shen Zhiyi walked barefoot across the southern reef flats. A layer of seaweed lined the bottom of the basket, where seven or eight plump moon snails rested alongside several tiny crabs no bigger than fingernails. She bent over and picked up another snail, its shell covered with slippery green algae that felt cool against her palm.
It was her first time foraging along the shore alone since arriving on the island.
Granny Lin had taught her just a few days earlier.
“Moon snails stay close to the tide line and hide in the cracks between rocks when the tide goes out. If you’ve got sharp eyes, you’ll spot them every time.”
She had remembered every word and deliberately chosen the afternoon low tide for today’s outing. The island women all said the snails on this stretch of reef were the fattest, but the path was also the most dangerous. The reefs were tall and slippery, so very few people came here.
Shen Zhiyi didn’t find it dangerous at all.
She hopped lightly from one rock to another like a nimble little bird. The bamboo basket swung from her arm, and the snail shells clinked together with clear, musical chimes.
By the time the sun began sinking toward the horizon, the basket was already half full.
Straightening up, Shen Zhiyi wiped the sweat from her forehead. The sea breeze brushed against her face, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and the coolness unique to evening. Looking out over the sea, she watched orange red clouds blaze across the horizon while the water below was bathed in warm golden light, each wave gently washing over the reefs.
It was beautiful.
She remembered what Zhou Xubai had told her while teaching her to recognize clouds.
“Morning glow, don’t leave home. Evening glow, clear skies will follow.”
An evening sky filled with rosy clouds meant the next few days would bring good weather.
Smiling faintly, she hooked the basket over her arm and prepared to head back.
Just then, she caught sight of a dark red flash inside a crack between the rocks.
Blood clams.
Granny Lin had told her they were difficult to find, but their meat was exceptionally delicious. A quick dip in boiling water was enough to prepare them, making them a perfect dish to accompany drinks.
Shen Zhiyi remembered how little Zhou Xubai ate. Half a bowl of porridge, a few bites of fish, then he would put down his chopsticks.
If she could gather some blood clams, maybe he would eat a little more.
She set down the basket and carefully climbed onto the reef.
The crevice was deep and narrow, barely wide enough for one hand to fit inside. Lying flat on her stomach, she gripped the edge of the rock with her left hand while slowly reaching in with her right. Her fingertips brushed over slick mud before touching something hard.
A clam shell.
It was cold, rough, and edged with sharp ridges.
Joy filled her heart as she carefully pried it free. The dark red shell gleamed beneath the evening sun like solidified blood.
She tucked it into her pocket before reaching in for a second.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Shen Zhiyi completely lost track of time, forgot about the tide, and even forgot Granny Lin’s repeated warning.
“When you’re gathering seafood, keep an eye on the sun. The tide comes in fast, and people drown because of it.”
Her entire attention was fixed on those dark red treasures.
The sharp shells sliced several cuts across her fingers. Blood seeped out and mixed with the mud between them, but she didn’t even notice.
Not until seawater crept over her ankles.
The icy water jolted her back to reality.
Looking down, she saw that the reef flats, which had been fully exposed only moments ago, were already half submerged. The tide had risen silently, creeping forward like a cunning beast.
Startled, Shen Zhiyi hurried to stand, but her foot slipped.
Splash!
She fell backward into seawater that reached her waist.
Freezing seawater instantly rushed into her nose and mouth, so salty that she couldn’t even open her eyes. Struggling to her feet, she coughed violently and spat out mouthfuls of water.
The reef where she had left her basket was now almost completely submerged, with only its pointed tip still visible.
The basket was gone.
The moon snails, the seaweed, everything she had spent the entire afternoon collecting had already been swept away by the tide.
Only the blood clams remained, weighing heavily inside her pocket against her skin.
She had no time to mourn the loss.
Quickly, she turned toward shore.
After only a few steps, she stopped.
The route she had taken here had disappeared beneath the sea.
The tide had risen far faster than she had imagined.
The chain of reefs that had connected the shore moments ago had almost completely vanished. Only the tallest rocks still broke through the water, standing like lonely gravestones in the middle of the sea.
Even worse, the reef she stood on was still at least a dozen zhang from shore, and the water between them had already risen to thigh level.
Shen Zhiyi’s heart sank.
She knew that the incoming tide was dangerous.
But she had never witnessed how quickly it could rise, nor had she ever found herself stranded alone on a reef.
“Is anyone there?!” she shouted.
Her voice was torn apart by the sea wind and scattered into the gathering dusk.
The only answer was the relentless pounding of the waves against the rocks, one crash after another, cold and indifferent.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Shen Zhiyi shivered.
The seawater continued to rise until it reached the tops of her thighs. It was so cold that her teeth began chattering uncontrollably.
Don’t panic.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
Zhou Xubai had once told her that whenever trouble came, she needed to remain steady.
A steady heart.
A steady mind.
A steady will.
She looked around, searching for a possible route.
The water on the left was deeper, and the waves were stronger.
The reefs on the right were denser, but the water looked shallower. Maybe she could make it across there.
She cautiously shifted one step to the right.
Soft mud lay beneath her feet. Each step sank halfway into it.
The seawater resisted every movement, forcing her to use all her strength just to move forward.
Gritting her teeth, she advanced one step at a time, her eyes fixed on the faint light on the shore.
The direction of the tin shack.
Fifty more steps.
Forty! Thirty…
“Shen Zhiyi!”
A hoarse, anxious voice rang out from the shore.
She looked up abruptly.
Through the fading dusk, a figure was stumbling toward the sea, leaning heavily on a crutch.
It was Zhou Xubai.
He was running as fast as he could, disheveled and unsteady, nearly falling several times.
“Don’t move!” he shouted.
Half his voice was swallowed by the roaring wind and waves.
“Wait for me!”
Shen Zhiyi froze.
She watched Zhou Xubai reach the water’s edge. Without the slightest hesitation, he planted his crutch into the sea and stepped straight into the rising tide.
The first step brought the water over his ankles.
The second reached his calves. The third climbed to his thighs.
He moved painfully slowly. Much slower than usual.
With every step, his body swayed violently. His left leg bore the weight of his entire body, the muscles stretched as hard as stone. His crutch sank deep into the soft seabed, and each time he pulled it free, it took tremendous effort.
The resistance of the water was immense.
His empty right trouser leg clung tightly against his thigh under the force of the current, revealing the outline of the dark prosthetic limb beneath.
Shen Zhiyi could see his face.
Although dusk had darkened the world, she could still make out his tightly pressed lips, deeply furrowed brows, and the veins bulging along his forehead.
His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on her.
Like two flames burning in the night.
“Go back!” Shen Zhiyi shouted. “The water’s too deep! You…”