When light entered the room again, Dianzi was still asleep. The squirrel was hugged in her arms, its fluffy tail poking out from under the duvet, the acorn rolled to the pillow.
I sat by the window looking at the sea.
The sea was very flat, no waves, like a polished mirror. The horizon merged with the sea, impossible to tell where the sea ended and the sky began.
The Lingguang Xihuan on my wrist flashed.
Not a signal. An alarm. I had set it.
Time to go to the pool.
I changed my clothes. White bikini, Y‑shaped ties on the back, transparent cover‑up. Same as before. Dianzi was still asleep. I did not wake her.
I went to the pool alone.
There were fewer people in the regular area than before, but the queue was still there. That young mother stood in the same spot as yesterday, holding her child, the plastic bag hanging from her wrist. Only one nappy was left. The packaging was completely flat, stuck to the inner wall of the bag like a crumpled piece of paper.
I walked to the edge of the pool and opened the floating interface.
"My treasures, belly dance continues today."
The chat began to scroll.
[chat ] Morning 🌞
[chat ] Still the white bikini today
[chat ] The small gear is still there
I danced half a song. The movements were slower than before. When my arms rose, sunlight slipped through the gaps between my fingers, casting long thin shadows on the insides of my arms. The twisting of my waist was smaller, but with each hip thrust, the fabric over my chest was still stretched tight, the cleavage squeezing and releasing with the rhythm, the marks where the bikini edges dug into my skin clearly visible in the sunlight.
That young mother was queuing.
The queue moved forward one step. She followed. The child squirmed in her arms, and she leaned down to soothe him, gently patting his back. After a few pats, the child quietened, lying on her shoulder with eyes half open.
She looked up and glanced at the pool.
This time her gaze stopped on me.
Not the quick, sweeping glance from before. She was really watching. Watching me dance, watching the ripples, watching the sunlight shatter into countless tiny suns on the water.
Her expression was very flat. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.
I finished dancing. Walked to the edge of the pool, sat down, and dipped my feet into the water.
She was still watching.
I turned my head and met her gaze.
She did not look away. She just looked at me, then looked down at the child in her arms. The child had fallen asleep again, a little drool at the corner of his mouth, leaving a small dark stain on her shoulder.
She used the back of her hand to wipe the corner of the child's mouth, then raised her head and gave me a small smile.
A very faint smile. The corner of her mouth moved, but her eyes did not curve.
Then she turned back and continued queuing.
I stood up, put on my cover‑up, and walked to the regular area.
"Would you like some help holding him?" I said.
She paused. Looked up at me. Her gaze stopped on my face for two seconds.
"No need…"
"It is all right. It will free up your hands so you can sort out your things."
She hesitated, then looked down at the child. The child was sleeping deeply, his mouth slightly open, his breath very light.
"Then… I will trouble you."
She handed the child to me. I took him. Very light. Lighter than I had imagined. The child's head rested on my shoulder, his breath warm, carrying a milky smell.
She took the last nappy out of the plastic bag, looked at it, then put it back. Then she took a bottle of water out of her bag, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.
"Thank you," she said.
"It is nothing."
She stood beside me, looking at the pool. The child moved in my arms. I gently patted his back. He made a small sound and went back to sleep.
She said she used to work as a middle manager at a company, laid off last year. Got some severance pay, thought since there was nothing to do anyway, she would take him out for a trip. She said all this in a very flat tone, as if telling someone else's story.
"This might be the last trip."
She said this in the same flat tone. But I noticed that when she said "last", her fingers clenched the handle of the plastic bag, her knuckles turning white.
She said the child's father had left. She did not say died. She said left. That word hung in the air for a long time.
—Left. Not died. That word was heavier than died.
After saying this, she looked down at the child's face. The child was sleeping deeply, his mouth slightly open, his breath very light. She touched the child's cheek with her fingertip, very gently, as if afraid of waking him.
The chat stopped scrolling. After I turned off the interface, the chat was still there, but I could not see it. But I could imagine the words—some sighing, some typing "stay strong", some silent.
She stood beside me, looking at the pool. Sunlight fell on her face, outlining her features clearly. She was not conventionally pretty, but her features were clean. Her eyes were not large, but they were very bright.
She said she had worked in marketing for seven or eight years, about the same every day. After having the child, there was even less time to think. Every day was just feeding, changing nappies, putting to sleep. Wake up, feed again, change again, soothe again. One day passed.
She smiled and said she used to think work was tiring, but now raising a child was also tiring. But at least when raising a child… the child was yours.
She did not continue. Just looked at the pool, at the people splashing in the water.
I asked her what she planned to do.
She was silent for a long time.
"I do not know. Let me get through this month first."
She glanced at the nappy in the plastic bag—the last one, the packaging completely flat.
"After this month, we will see."
The child moved in my arms, opened his eyes, looked at me blurrily, then closed them again and went back to sleep. His eyelashes were very long, his nose very small, his lips pink and slightly pouting.
I said he was very good.
She smiled. This time it was a real smile, her eyes curving. She said he was naughty, but when he was good, he was really good.
She took a bottle from her bag, shook it—there was still half a bottle of milk inside.
"Time to feed him," she said.
I handed the child back. She took him, very skilfully adjusted him to a comfortable position, and put the nipple into his mouth. He sucked a few times with his eyes closed, then fell asleep again, the nipple still in his mouth, the milk in the bottle slowly going down.
She looked down at his face.
I asked her what he was called. She said Zhouzhou, the formal name not chosen yet. Later, perhaps… she trailed off.
She smiled again. This smile was different from before. There was something else in it. I could not say what it was.
She suddenly asked what we did for a living. Said she had seen us livestreaming.
I said bloggers, filming outfits, dancing.
"Oh," she nodded. "That is good. Freedom."
She said the word "freedom" very lightly. Like talking about something that had nothing to do with her.
She stood beside me, looking at the pool. Sunlight fell on her face, outlining her features clearly. Her eyes were very bright, but that brightness was not the light of youth—it was something deeper, heavier.
It was the brightness of someone who had nothing left to lose.
She stood for a while, then looked down at the child. The child was sleeping soundly in her arms, the bottle already empty, the nipple still in his mouth. She gently pulled the nipple out. The child's mouth moved once, then stopped.
"I should go," she said. "He will wake up soon. When he wakes up, he gets fussy."
"All right."
She turned with the child in her arms, took a few steps, then turned back.
"Thank you. For making me feel that someone is still willing to listen."
She smiled, then quickly put the smile away. Then she turned and walked into the crowd.
Her back was soon swallowed by the crowd. The child lay on her shoulder, his face turned backwards, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.
I opened the interface and aimed the lens at the water.
Not at her.
The chat was still scrolling.
[chat ] Stay strong, mum
[chat ] Life will get better
[chat ] The part with holding the child made me cry
I turned off the interface.
When I returned to the cabin, Dianzi had just woken up. She was sitting on the bed, hair a mess, the squirrel hugged in her arms.
"Sister, where did you go?"
"The pool."
"Dancing again?"
"Yes."
"That mum?"
"Still there."
She did not ask again. Just placed the squirrel on the bedside table and patted its head.
"Lychee, is the sea beautiful today?"
The squirrel hugged its acorn, its expression dazed and earnest.
"It says it is beautiful," Dianzi said.
I did not answer. Walked to the window and pulled the curtain open. The sea was very flat. Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, cutting a golden gash across the water.
"Sister."
"Yes."
"That mum… what is her name?"
I paused.
"Zhou Min."
Dianzi nodded.
"Next time we see her, this young lady wants to talk to her."
"All right."
She turned over and closed her eyes.
I sat by the window, opened the floating interface, and turned to the memo.
The cursor blinked.
I added a line after Zhou Min:
*Variable A: duration of unemployment—11 months (counted from layoff)*
*Variable B: self‑perception—dropped from middle manager to "can do anything", then to "just having work is fine"*
*Variable C: emotional stability—outwardly calm, smiles retract suddenly, knuckles white when gripping plastic bag*
*Variable D: plasticity—still willing to ask for help, still willing to speak*
After typing this line, I did not close the interface. I stared at it for a while, then scrolled down to the earlier records.
Lin Yuan. Took photos. Stayed for a long time.
The two records were far apart. But I knew that the distance between those two people was much closer than these two lines of text.
I closed the interface.
The Lingguang Xihuan flashed again. Not a message alert. Another signal. This time it flashed three times, then dimmed.
I placed my phone on the bedside table, screen down.
Outside the window, the sea was still bright. The wake line in the distance disappeared into the mist.