“Matchmaker Li…” Shen Zhiyi’s lips trembled. “She said your surname was Zhao… Zhao what…”
“Zhao Shuisheng is my uncle.” Zhou Xubai’s voice was calm, so calm it made people uneasy. “His son injured his leg and couldn’t find a wife, so he planned to exchange his daughter for you. But his daughter refused to marry your brother and ran away. Matchmaker Li lied to both sides. She didn’t tell you I’m not the Zhao family’s son, and she didn’t tell me you were coming.”
He paused, looking at Shen Zhiyi’s pale, bloodless face. “So I said, you came to the wrong place.”
A wave of dizziness washed over Shen Zhiyi.
She thought of Wang Xiulan’s smug expression, of her brother crouching at the doorway, not daring to look at her, of Matchmaker Li chattering on the ferry about how she would live a good life.
So it had all been a lie.
A lie layered upon another. The Zhao family deceived the Shen family, Matchmaker Li deceived both sides, her sister in law deceived her, and her brother… perhaps he had been deceived too, or perhaps not. It no longer mattered.
What mattered was that she stood here now, drenched to the bone, clutching a wet wooden plane, facing a stranger, a man who was not her husband yet would, in name, become her husband.
“I…” She opened her mouth, but found no words.
Zhou Xubai looked away, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. The sky had fully brightened, the clouds parting slightly to let through streaks of golden light that fell upon the restless sea.
“Did your brother take the money?” he asked.
“…Three hundred.”
“How much did Matchmaker Li take?”
“I… I don’t know…”
Zhou Xubai nodded, as if confirming something. He fell silent again, then turned and began to walk away, leaning on his crutch.
“Wait!” Shen Zhiyi called out.
He stopped but did not turn back.
“Where… where can I go?” Only after asking did she realize her voice carried a sob. She bit down hard on her lip, forcing the tears back.
Zhou Xubai tilted his head slightly. The morning light outlined the hard line of his jaw, and a thin scar at his temple that stretched toward his cheek.
“The last return boat to town leaves at noon,” he said. “If you leave now, you can still make it.”
Shen Zhiyi did not move.
Where could she go? Back to the Shen family? How would Wang Xiulan mock her? How would her brother face her? And the three hundred yuan? It was probably already spent, perhaps already sent as a betrothal gift to the Zhao family. But Zhao Chunmei had run away. The marriage could not happen, and the money would never be returned.
She remembered the day she left. Her brother had chased after her to the village entrance, pressing the stiff, worn handkerchief bundle into her hands, thirty yuan, telling her not to mistreat herself.
And she had said, “Brother, live well.”
What would it mean to go back now?
The seawater rose higher, soaking her calves. It was icy, but she felt nothing. She simply stood there, holding the plane, watching Zhou Xubai’s retreating figure.
After waiting a moment and hearing no movement behind him, he finally turned back. When he saw Shen Zhiyi still standing there, the water already up to her knees, his brows furrowed.
“You…”
“That’s right.” Shen Zhiyi interrupted him, her voice suddenly steady. “Shen Zhiyi, here to marry Zhou Xubai.”
“Matchmaker Li lied, the Zhao family lied, my sister in law lied. But the marriage document is real. I pressed my thumbprint, and you must have as well, otherwise they wouldn’t have let me come to the island.”
Zhou Xubai’s gaze deepened. He neither admitted nor denied it.
Shen Zhiyi walked toward him. The resistance of the seawater made her steps unsteady, but she did not stop. When she reached him, she lifted her head and met his deep, well-like eyes.
“My brother spent three hundred yuan to sell me. If you send me back now, the money won’t be returned, my brother won’t be able to marry, and my sister in law will tear the house apart.” The corner of her lips lifted into a smile uglier than crying. “Comrade Zhou, tell me, where else can I go?”
The sea wind howled between them.
Zhou Xubai looked at her, at the nineteen year old girl soaked to the bone, her face pale, her fingers still bleeding. He looked at the wooden plane she held so tightly, and at the desperate resolve in her eyes, the last gamble of someone with nowhere left to turn.
A long time passed, so long that Shen Zhiyi thought he would leave, so long that she began to wonder what she should do next, whether to freeze to death on this reef, or throw herself into the sea and end it all.
At last, Zhou Xubai spoke.
“…Then come.”
He turned and walked deeper into the reef, leaning on his crutch. After a few steps, he paused without turning back and added,
“Can’t you freeze to death.”
Shen Zhiyi stood there for a moment, then followed.
They walked one after the other across the reef. Zhou Xubai leaned on his crutch, yet his pace was not slow. Shen Zhiyi followed with uneven steps, clutching her bundle and the plane, her soaked clothes chilled by the sea wind until her teeth chattered.
After about a quarter of an hour, the reef came to an end. Ahead of them was a gentle slope, and atop it stood a solitary iron shack.
When she followed him inside, she froze again.
The house was a single rectangular room, crudely divided into two sections by a hanging cloth curtain.
On this side was the living area: a wooden plank bed covered with a faded army green sheet, an old desk neatly arranged with an enamel mug, a kerosene lamp, and a few books with curled edges, and an iron stove with embers still glowing inside.
On the wall hung not fishing nets or dried fish, but a hand drawn navigation chart. Around it were yellowed pages of Russian text and densely written weather records.
On the other side of the curtain, piles of miscellaneous items could be seen.
Shen Zhiyi noticed a dark green military duffel bag shoved beneath the bed, its straps worn pale, with a faded unit marking printed on it.
“You live here?” she asked.
“Yes.” Zhou Xubai leaned his crutch against the wall and crouched by the stove, stirring the embers. “Tin houses are hot in summer and cold in winter, but they’re sturdy. Typhoons won’t blow them away.”
He did not look at her as he spoke, his attention fixed on the fire. The flickering light illuminated his profile, the scar running from his temple to his jaw appearing and disappearing in the shifting glow.
Shen Zhiyi set her bundle on the table and gently placed the wooden plane beside it.
Her coat had half dried, but the clothes underneath were still wet, clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She tugged at the hem of her coat, feeling awkward.
“Do you… have anything to change into?” she asked cautiously.
Zhou Xubai paused, then stood and walked behind the curtain to the pile of items.
After searching for a while, he took out a neatly folded old military jacket. It was faded and patched at the elbows, but clean.
“This,” he said, handing it to her. “Altered. You can wear it as an outer layer.”
Shen Zhiyi took the jacket. The fabric was thick, carrying a faint scent of soap and an even lighter trace of tobacco, the same scent as Zhou Xubai.
She unfolded it. It was indeed smaller than a standard uniform, the waist and hem taken in, the sleeves narrowed. Even so, it was still too large for her.
Zhou Xubai seemed to notice her discomfort. He turned and walked toward the door.
“You change. I’ll wait outside.”
“Wait—” Shen Zhiyi called after him. “Where… where are you going?”
Zhou Xubai stopped at the doorway, his back to her.
“To the reef,” he said. “Until you’ve made up your mind.”
Made up her mind about what?
Whether to stay, or to leave.