As I stood up from the edge of the pool, that staff member came again.
This time he had another person with him—someone wearing a gold badge on his uniform, probably a supervisor. The two stood side by side in front of us, blocking the wind that blew from the pool.
"You two young ladies," the supervisor gave a slight bow, his voice very low, as if telling a secret, "the VIP area is already prepared for you. Chilled juice, fruit platter, and a dedicated attendant."
He paused and glanced at the wet non‑slip mat beneath our feet.
"There are quite a few people here, and the environment is not ideal…"
"No need," I said.
He did not move. The smile on his face remained, but its curve had lessened.
"The queue here is quite long, and the water quality…"
"We think it is fine here."
I tied the ties of my cover‑up. The transparent fabric was lifted by the wind and stuck to my legs. The small gear on my chest swayed, darkened by the water from silver‑grey to iron‑grey.
Dianzi stood beside me, shaking the water off her feet. She looked up at the supervisor, then looked back down and continued shaking.
The supervisor's gaze moved between us.
"Then… if you change your mind, please come over anytime."
He left. The staff member followed, glancing back several times as he walked.
I opened the floating interface. The lens first swept across the regular area. The queue was longer than before. Someone was looking around at the entrance. Someone was checking their watch. A man in a floral shirt crouched by the edge of the pool, spreading a towel on the floor; when he sat down, his knee cracked. Beside him stood a young woman looking at job postings on her phone. The text on the screen was very small, and she squinted.
The lens turned to the VIP area. The empty loungers were still those same empty loungers. The numbered tags on the armrests swayed in the breeze. That seagull was still there, having moved to a different lounger, perched on the top of the backrest, tilting its head to look at the regular area.
No one chased it away.
I held the lens there for four seconds.
The chat began to scroll.
[chat ] Why do they not go to the VIP area
[chat ] Tickets must be too expensive
[chat ] That is not the problem
[chat ] They do not sell tickets to those people
I did not explain. I just withdrew the lens from the VIP area and aimed it back at the water.
The water was rippling. Someone jumped off the diving platform, making a large splash. Ripples spread out in circles, hit the edge of the pool and bounced back, breaking into smaller circles. Those circles overlapped and cut into each other, and soon nothing could be seen clearly.
Dianzi walked to my side and leaned toward the interface.
"My treasures, guess what happened to that seagull."
The chat began to guess.
[chat ] It flew away
[chat ] Still on the lounger
[chat ] It went to find friends
"None of those." Dianzi shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "It moved to a different lounger."
She turned her head to look at me.
"Sister, why do they not go over there?"
Her voice was not loud, but it was just loud enough to be picked up by the microphone.
I looked at the water. Someone climbed out of the pool, hair plastered to their face, water dripping from their chin onto the non‑slip mat. They walked to the side, pulled a towel out of their bag, dried their face, then started drying their phone. There was water on the screen too. They dried it for a long time, until the screen lit up. They glanced at it, then turned it off again.
"Because they do not sell tickets to those people," I said.
—If I told them, they still would not leave.
Dianzi did not speak. She looked down at her toes. Her toes curled slightly under the water.
The chat was quiet for a few seconds.
[chat ] Oh, I see
[chat ] Sigh
[chat ] Too real
I turned off the interface.
"Let us go."
As we walked, we passed through the regular area. The queue was still there. The people were still there. That young mother was queuing in the middle. The child in her arms had woken up and was rubbing his eyes. She leaned down to soothe him, the plastic bag swinging on her wrist, the last nappy rattling inside the bag.
She looked up and glanced at me.
Not the quick, sweeping glance from before. A real look. Her gaze stopped on my face for a second, then moved to Dianzi's face, then came back.
She did not smile, nor did she have any other expression. She just looked.
I did not smile either. I just walked past.
When I reached the exit of the pool area, I turned my head to look back. She was still standing there, holding the child in her arms, the plastic bag swinging on her wrist. She looked down at the child's face and brushed his cheek with the back of her hand—very gently, as if afraid of hurting him.
The child squirmed in her arms and buried his face in her shoulder. She patted his back, then raised her head and glanced at the VIP area.
Only one glance.
Then she lowered her head and continued queuing.
I turned around and walked out of the pool area.
Back in the cabin, Dianzi went to take a shower. I sat by the window, opened the floating interface, and turned to the memo.
The cursor blinked a few times.
I typed a line: *Zhou Min. Around thirty years old. Child about one year old. Laid off, switched to sales. Base salary 1500.*
After typing this line, I did not close the interface. I stared at that line for a while, then scrolled down to Lin Yuan's file. Between the two blank files there was a blank page of memo.
I closed the interface.
The Lingguang Xihuan flashed again. This time it was not a message alert, nor that almost‑imperceptible signal. It was another very short flash, but with a different frequency from before.
I looked down.
It flashed twice, then dimmed.
I remembered.
Dianzi came out of the bathroom, her hair wet, wrapped in a towel.
"Sister, what is the plan for tomorrow?"
"I do not know."
"Then we will decide tomorrow."
She climbed into bed, picked up the squirrel from the bedside table, and hugged it.
"Lychee, good night."
I turned off the light.
Outside the window, the sea was dark and heavy. Only the distant navigation light blinked on and off. I closed my eyes. In my mind was that young mother's face. The glance she had given the VIP area was very brief, but I remembered it.
That look was not envy, nor anger. It was just confirmation that there was indeed a place over there where she could not enter.
After confirming it, she lowered her head and continued queuing.
I turned over and pulled the duvet up.
The Lingguang Xihuan flashed again in the darkness. This time I did not look down.
I knew it was there.