Chapter 298: Bring The Other One

Jingwei moved toward the bow as the whale disappeared beneath the rope.

He could still see part of its back through the water, broad enough that he couldn’t judge how far below them it was. The boat lifted, and he caught the rail while Shichen reached for the line.

"Leave it unless it catches," Jingwei said, crouching beside him. "We won’t pull it in fast enough to get it out of the way."

Shichen kept his hand near the knot. Jingwei drew his knife and waited, watching the rope where it entered the water.

He had no intention of letting a blanket drag the bow under, but the line continued its familiar rise and fall without pulling sideways.

The whale passed beneath it and for several moments, Jingwei saw nothing beyond the moving water.

Then a dark back surfaced farther ahead, followed by a breath loud enough to carry over the waves. A second whale appeared beyond it, traveling in the same direction.

Behind him, Zhiyi shifted in Hanchuan’s arms.

"They’re leaving," she said, although she continued watching the place where the nearest one had disappeared.

Jingwei stayed by the rope until both surfaced again well away from them.

He had seen whales on screens before, with music playing beneath footage taken from a safe distance.

None of those images had prepared him for sitting so low in the water while something that large passed beside his wife.

He put the knife away and returned to her.

Hanchuan made room on the seat without letting go of Zhiyi.

Jingwei sat close enough that her knee rested against his thigh, and she reached for his hand before he could offer it. Her fingers were cold, but her grip was firm.

"I don’t think they noticed us," Zhiyi said, looking toward the distant disturbance in the water. "They didn’t change direction."

"I’m happy to remain uninteresting to them," Jingwei replied.

He rubbed her knuckles between his palms, drawing her attention back when she began following another dark patch. "Come here a little. You’re sitting in the wind again."

She settled between them, her head against Hanchuan’s shoulder and her hand still in Jingwei’s.

He stayed there until Qinghe needed someone to take the bucket, then kissed her fingers before getting up.

By evening, they could no longer see the whales. The waves had shortened, and Shichen brought the blanket aboard to examine its torn corner.

He spread it over the seats after wringing it out, leaving the rope attached in case they needed it again.

They spent that night taking turns at the hatch. Jingwei slept sitting beside Zhiyi while Hanchuan watched, then woke to relieve him with his neck stiff and one hand trapped beneath her cheek.

She stirred when he eased it free, but Hanchuan gathered her closer before she could sit up.

It didn’t rain the next day, and the sun shone through the clouds.

Their clothes dried slowly where the sun reached them, leaving stiff patches that rubbed against Jingwei’s skin.

Qinghe checked everyone’s hands and feet, then cut more strips from the salvaged shirts to cover the worst places.

Zeyu confirmed that there wasn’t enough fuel reaching the engine to run it, and nobody asked him to try again.

Zhiyi returned to the fishing line as soon as her fingers warmed.

Jingwei sat with her while she worked, keeping the cushion cover ready. She lost the first bite and waited through a long stretch with nothing touching the bait.

When the line finally pulled against her hand, she leaned forward so quickly that he put an arm around her waist.

"I felt it," Zhiyi said, glancing at him with a small, impatient frown.

"I know you did. I’m holding you, sweetheart, not the line," Jingwei replied.

Her expression softened before she looked back at the water. She kept working while he stayed close, and when the fish came within reach, he lifted the cover beneath it.

This one was smaller than either they had caught before. Zhiyi watched it struggle, then asked him to keep the skin when they cleaned it.

They had no fire left to cook it.

That afternoon, Hanchuan and Zeyu pulled a broken packing crate from the water.

Shichen used the tools to free its longer boards, and they spent hours turning two into paddles. Jingwei helped bind the split end of one, testing it against his knee before handing it over.

The boards gave them more reach than the lids, but they had nowhere to aim. Every direction looked much like the others.

Hanchuan had them practice turning the boat anyway, with two working while the others rested or bailed.

By the next morning, Jingwei could recognize which of his friends held the bucket by the rhythm of the water going over the side.

He was drying the fishing hook against his shirt when Zhiyi leaned into him.

She had been watching Shichen fit a loose board across part of the open hatch, making a place where they could rest their feet without putting weight on the patch beneath it.

"Will you keep that for me?" she asked, indicating the hook. "I’m going to close my eyes for a little while."

Jingwei wound the line around the brush handle and tucked the hook safely into the coil. He put it beneath the seat before drawing her closer.

"You can sleep. I’ll wake you if we catch anything without you," he whispered softly to her.

Zhiyi’s mouth curved against his shoulder. She tucked her hand between his arm and his body, and he rested his cheek briefly against her hair.

Across from them, Hanchuan watched her settle before turning back to the water.

For a while, the only sounds were the bucket, the creak of the boat and Zeyu working at a stubborn fitting near the stern.

Then Hanchuan stood.

Jingwei followed his gaze without moving Zhiyi. At first, he saw only a darker stretch beneath the clouds.

He waited as the boat rose, and a straight edge appeared above the water, too long and too level to belong to a wave.

"Zeyu, come and look at this," Hanchuan said, keeping one hand against the windshield frame. "Over there, beyond that strip of floating wood."

Zeyu joined him, wiping his hands on his trousers. Shichen put down the board, and Qinghe remained crouched beside the hatch with the bucket resting against his knee.

As they drifted higher on the next swell, Jingwei saw the shape more clearly. A long hull stretched across the distance, carrying rows of containers and tall cranes. Near one end stood a pale block of windows and balconies, several levels high.

Zhiyi lifted her head at the change in their voices. Jingwei steadied her as she sat upright, still blinking away sleep.

Hanchuan hadn’t looked away from the ship. He studied it through another rise of the boat, then reached down for one of the paddles.

"Bring the other one forward," Hanchuan told Zeyu. "I want to find out whether we can reach her."