“Be quiet,” Zhou Xubai interrupted in a low voice that carried unquestionable authority. “Stand still. Don’t move.”
Step by step, he made his way toward her.
The seawater had already reached his waist. The crutch was no longer of much use, so he turned it sideways and gripped it with both hands, using it as a balancing pole. His left leg rose and fell with tremendous difficulty through the water, each movement sending up great splashes. His body was trembling. Shen Zhiyi could tell it wasn’t from the cold, but from exhaustion and pain.
At last, he reached her.
Only three steps of seawater separated them.
Zhou Xubai breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling violently. Sweat streamed down from his temples, mingling with the seawater. His eyes swept over Shen Zhiyi from head to toe, making sure she wasn’t injured before he held out his hand.
“Come here.”
Shen Zhiyi didn’t move.
She looked at his clothes, soaked through by the sea, at his trembling left leg, and at the hand gripping the crutch so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
“Your leg…” Her voice trembled.
“It’s fine.”
Zhou Xubai took another step forward. The water rose to his chest.
Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist.
“Let’s go.”
His hand was icy cold, yet strong.
Pulled along by him, Shen Zhiyi stumbled forward. The resistance of the water made every step difficult, and she nearly fell several times, only to be steadied by Zhou Xubai’s firm grip.
“Slowly,” he said. “Match my pace.”
He walked ahead, using his body to break through the current for her.
Following behind him, Shen Zhiyi watched his broad back. His drenched military uniform clung tightly to his body, outlining his broad shoulders and sturdy frame.
The seawater grew deeper and deeper.
By the time they were halfway across, the water had reached Zhou Xubai’s chest.
For Shen Zhiyi, it had already risen to her neck.
A wave crashed over them, drenching her from head to toe with salty seawater. She choked and coughed violently.
“Hold this.”
Zhou Xubai handed her the crutch before turning around and presenting his back to her.
“Get on.”
Shen Zhiyi froze. “What?”
“I’ll carry you.” His voice was nearly drowned out by the crashing waves. “The water’s too deep. You won’t make it across.”
“No! Your leg…”
“Get on.”
His tone left no room for argument.
Biting her lip, Shen Zhiyi stared at his bent back and the tense profile of his face in the fading light.
Then, slowly, she climbed onto his back.
Zhou Xubai straightened up.
Shen Zhiyi felt herself lifted effortlessly as he carried her. His back was broad and solid, his shoulder blades pressing against her chest. Their soaked clothes clung together, icy against her skin. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she could feel the rapid, powerful pulse beating beneath the side of his neck.
Zhou Xubai continued forward.
Every single step felt like walking on the edge of a blade.
The water’s resistance was tremendous, and now he was carrying another person’s weight as well. His left leg bore twice the burden. The muscles had tightened to their absolute limit, and every time he lifted it, it seemed as though he were wrestling against the entire sea.
Shen Zhiyi heard his heavy breathing.
She felt his body trembling.
She watched beads of sweat fall from his forehead one after another, disappearing into the seawater.
The water rose to his chin.
Another wave crashed over him, sending salty seawater flooding into his nose and mouth. He choked violently, coughing hard, but his feet never stopped moving.
“Put me down…” Shen Zhiyi’s voice broke. “I can walk by myself…”
“Don’t move,” Zhou Xubai replied hoarsely. “We’re almost there.”
He was right. The shore was only a dozen steps away.
Yet those few steps felt as though they were separated by mountains and rivers.
Without warning, tears welled up in Shen Zhiyi’s eyes.
It was a kind of heartache she had never experienced before.
It felt as though an invisible hand had seized her heart, tightening its grip little by little until the pain left her unable to breathe.
Finally, his feet touched solid ground.
Staggering onto the beach, Zhou Xubai could no longer hold himself up.
He dropped to one knee.
Shen Zhiyi slid down from his back. The moment her feet touched the sand, her legs gave way, and she collapsed beside him.
Both of them were soaked through like drowned cats, gasping for breath in the gathering darkness.
Shen Zhiyi looked at Zhou Xubai.
Still kneeling on the sand, he kept his head lowered, both hands braced against the ground while his back heaved violently. His wet hair clung to his forehead, droplets running from the ends and gathering beneath his jaw before falling in steady streams.
His left leg was still shaking uncontrollably.
“Your leg…”
Crawling over, Shen Zhiyi reached out, wanting to touch it but not daring to.
Zhou Xubai slowly lifted his head.
His face was frighteningly pale in the fading light, while his lips had turned a bluish purple.
Looking at Shen Zhiyi, his gaze was unfathomably deep.
Then he curved his lips into the faintest, most exhausted smile.
“This leg,” he said softly, “was ruined while saving someone.”
He paused to catch his breath before continuing.
“If it had to be ruined again to save you…”
“It would still be worth it.”
Shen Zhiyi’s tears burst free.
Unable to hold back any longer, she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly as she buried her face against his soaked shoulder and cried her heart out.
It was as though she wanted to cry away every grievance, every fear, every moment of loneliness she had endured these past days, along with the overwhelming ache filling her heart at that very moment.
Zhou Xubai froze.
Still kneeling on the beach, he held his hands awkwardly in midair, unsure where to put them.
Shen Zhiyi’s sobs were like blades, cutting into his heart again and again.
He had never known that someone could cry with such unbearable sorrow, such utter despair, and yet with such burning warmth.
After a long while, he slowly raised one hand and gently patted her back.
The movement was clumsy and stiff, yet incredibly gentle, like someone soothing a frightened little animal.
“Don’t cry anymore,” he said hoarsely. “It’s over now.”
Shen Zhiyi cried even harder.
“I’m sorry…” she sobbed between gasps. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have gone looking for blood clams… I shouldn’t have forgotten to watch the tide… I…”
“Shen Zhiyi.”
Zhou Xubai interrupted her. She raised her tear blurred eyes to look at him.
“Where are the blood clams?” he asked.
She blinked in surprise and instinctively reached into her pocket.
They were still there, hard against her skin.
Taking them out, she cradled them in both hands.
Seven or eight dark red clam shells rested in her palms. The darkness made them difficult to see clearly, but she could still feel their weight.
Zhou Xubai looked at the blood clams for a long time.
Finally, he reached out and picked one up.
The shell was cold, rough, and edged with sharp ridges, much like the calluses covering his own palm.
“You risked all that…”
“For these?” he asked quietly.
Shen Zhiyi nodded, then shook her head.
She wanted to tell him, I wanted you to eat a little more.
She wanted to say, I thought you’d like them.
But her throat was so tight that not a single word would come out.
After another moment of silence, Zhou Xubai placed the blood clam back into her hands before bracing himself against the sand and standing up.
His left leg was still trembling violently.
He swayed, and Shen Zhiyi hurriedly stepped forward to support him.
“Can you walk?” she asked, her voice still thick with tears.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go home.”
The walk back to the tin shack wasn’t long, but they moved painfully slowly.
Every step sent a stabbing pain through Zhou Xubai’s left leg. The end of his residual limb had been soaked in seawater for far too long. The skin had turned pale, and the prosthetic rubbed painfully against the tender flesh, burning with every movement.
He clenched his teeth without making a sound.
Only the increasing beads of sweat on his forehead betrayed the agony he was enduring.
Supporting him with all her strength, Shen Zhiyi could feel more and more of his weight leaning against her.
Gritting her teeth, she held him up, walking beside him one step at a time.
By the time they reached the tin shack, night had completely fallen.
Shen Zhiyi hurried inside to light the fire and boil water.
Zhou Xubai sat down in the rattan chair and rolled up his right trouser leg, exposing the end of his residual limb.
After soaking in seawater for so long, the skin had turned pale and wrinkled. The scars stood out in ugly ridges, their edges reddened as though they were becoming inflamed.
Shen Zhiyi brought over a basin of hot water.
She soaked a towel, wrung it out, and gently laid it over the injured limb.
Zhou Xubai’s body stiffened slightly, but he didn’t pull away.
“It might hurt a little,” Shen Zhiyi whispered.
“Mmm.”
The moment the hot towel touched his skin, Zhou Xubai sucked in a sharp breath.
The end of the residual limb was already extremely sensitive. The heat felt like countless needles stabbing into it all at once.
Even so, he merely gripped the armrests of the chair until his knuckles turned white, without making a sound.
Watching his tightly pressed lips, the ache in Shen Zhiyi’s heart surged once more.
She became even gentler.
Bit by bit, she continued the warm compress, waiting until his skin adjusted to the temperature before carefully beginning the massage.
Her technique had already become skillful.
Following the direction of the muscles, she massaged steadily with just the right amount of pressure.
Gradually, Zhou Xubai relaxed.
The tension slowly drained from his body.
Leaning back against the chair, he closed his eyes.
The room was quiet. Only the soft crackling of the fire and the distant rumble of the waves filled the silence.
After a long time, Zhou Xubai finally spoke.
“It was 1969, at the Vietnamese border.”
His voice was very soft, almost like someone talking in his sleep.
“Our company was carrying out a penetration mission. We were marching through the night and had to cross a minefield.”