Whoosh—whoosh—
The river water lapped steadily against the ship’s hull, and a cool breeze drifted over the open deck. Gu Mengran stood alone, gazing through the hazy yellow mist at the vast, winding river teeming with boats coming and going.
The Huang River—China’s largest river—originated in Yinan, cutting through numerous provinces before finally merging into the East Sea at Songkou. Spanning roughly 6,000 kilometers from west to east, it was a lifeline that stretched across the land.
Yuntian was located in the lower reaches of the Huang River, still 5,600 kilometers away from its final destination. And those 5,600 kilometers would be the Windwing’s final route.
By plane, the journey would take just three to four hours. But by boat, drifting forward little by little, it would take at least twenty days.
Time was running out. The volcanic eruption that would change the course of human history was less than five days away.
They had to set sail. Immediately.
“—Shhh—shhh—Gu Mengran, Gu Mengran, you there?”
A burst of static crackled from the walkie-talkie clipped to his waist, Grandpa’s voice threading through the noise.
Gu Mengran stretched lazily, bracing himself against the railing, then picked up the radio at an unhurried pace, pressing the PTT button. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Out on the deck.”
“Hurry up and get inside. The contract’s signed. Come help Xiao Liang settle in.”
“Copy that. Be there in a sec.”
The ship’s stern and bow were quite a distance apart. By the time Gu Mengran made his way back to the bridge, Liang Zhao was already standing by the door, suitcase in hand.
Seeing each other again was a bit awkward.
Gu Mengran forced himself to push aside the mess from that morning, plastering on a bright smile as if nothing had happened. “So, Liang Zhao, how’s the treatment so far? Satisfied?”
Liang Zhao responded with a quiet “Mm.” “Very satisfied.”
“Heh, good, good. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”
To get him on board, Gu Mengran and his grandfather had sweetened the deal when drafting the contract—adding an extra pay grade above the standard crew salary. Liang Zhao was getting paid at a senior crew member’s rate.
Satisfied? Sure. But actually paying him that money? Not likely.
From the bridge, they passed by the storage area before reaching the crew quarters. Leading the way, Gu Mengran stopped at a door next to the master bedroom.
“Here we are—this one’s yours.”
He twisted the handle and swung the door open, then stepped aside with a welcoming gesture. Tilting his chin toward Liang Zhao, he grinned. ““Welcome to your new quarters. Go ahead, check it out. See if you like it.”
“There are six crew cabins in total. The captain and first mate get slightly bigger rooms, and the other four are pretty similar—just in different locations. I picked this one for you. My room’s right next door—I’ve got the first mate’s cabin. Across the hall is my grandpa’s room, the captain’s cabin.”
Gu Mengran was practically buzzing with excitement as he explained. Meanwhile, Liang Zhao remained silent, simply wheeling his suitcase inside at a steady, unhurried pace.
The crew cabins were about twenty square meters—spacious, even bigger than an average bedroom in a regular home. The room had a clean, modern aesthetic, with a white and gray color scheme that made it both simple and sophisticated.
To the left of the entrance was an en-suite bathroom, designed with practicality in mind. A steel-plated floor and frosted glass divider separated the shower from the rest of the space. The bathroom was stocked with everything necessary—a rainfall showerhead, toilet, and washbasin—all neatly arranged.
Further in, a built-in wardrobe and a 1.5-meter-wide double bed came into view. But the real charm lay in the little touches— a projector screen, a writing desk with a chair, a cozy beanbag sofa, a dehumidifier… a collection of furnishings that filled the once-sterile space with warmth and life.
On either side of the bed, bedside tables held matching lamps and a couple of small, tasteful decorations. The gray bedding set tied everything together, making the room exude an unexpected sense of home.
Space was always at a premium on ships. On larger vessels, it was common for several crew members to be crammed into a single room. Remembering the dim, cramped cabins he had endured in the past, Liang Zhao furrowed his brow slightly.
It was barely a flicker of an expression—but Gu Mengran caught it instantly and misinterpreted it just as quickly.
Feeling a little uneasy, Gu Mengran hesitated, then leaned in and asked softly, “You don’t like it? Want to check out a different room—?”
“I like it.”
Liang Zhao turned abruptly, his gaze meeting Gu Mengran’s. His expression relaxed, his slender neck tilting slightly as a glimmer surfaced in his usually distant eyes.
“I really like it.”
“Are you sure?” Gu Mengran still sounded a little unconvinced. “You’ll be staying here long-term. If you ever feel uncomfortable, just say the word, and we’ll move you to another room. It’s just a matter of shifting your stuff over.”
Liang Zhao replied matter-of-factly, “A room this nice—why wouldn’t I like it?”
Gu Mengran let out a relieved laugh. “Haha, well, that’s good to hear!”
Their eyes met for a brief second before Gu Mengran quickly looked away. Then, as if remembering something, he suddenly perked up and strode toward the window, beckoning Liang Zhao over. “Come here, I wanna show you something good!”
Liang Zhao set down his luggage and walked over. Gu Mengran yanked the curtains open, revealing a floor-to-ceiling panoramic window. Then, with a quick slide of the glass door, a bright and spacious semi-outdoor balcony was unveiled.
The balcony was wide and extended across the entire second floor, providing access to every second-floor cabin.
The dark green deck clashed slightly with the interior’s modern decor, but the view made up for it. Standing outside, the vantage point offered an unobstructed view of the vast river. A cool breeze carried the scent of water and the freshness of the open air, making one feel at ease.
“I love this balcony,” Gu Mengran said, leaning over the railing. “Once this yellow haze clears, we should set up a table out here—have some tea, enjoy the river view… Doesn’t that sound perfect?” He turned his head to look at Liang Zhao, his eyes brimming with excitement.
“It’s… really nice,” Liang Zhao admitted, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips. His fingers, resting at his sides, trembled ever so slightly.
“Oh, by the way—”
“The other rooms—”
They had both been silent, and now they spoke at the same time. Startled, they glanced at each other and chuckled.
“You first,” Liang Zhao said, tilting his chin toward Gu Mengran.
Gu Mengran shook his head almost instantly. “Nope, you go first.”
Liang Zhao hesitated for a moment before asking, “I was just wondering… are the other rooms the same? Same renovations, same… amenities?”
He had taken the long way around, but what he truly wanted to ask was—was this treatment standard for everyone, or was it just for him?
Gu Mengran, completely missing the implication, blinked in surprise. “Of course not! No one else is staying in those rooms, so why would we waste money fixing them up?”
“No one else? What about the rest of the crew?”
Gu Mengran shrugged. “There is no rest of the crew. It’s just the three of us.”
It wasn’t uncommon for cargo ships to skimp on staffing, but Liang Zhao had never imagined that a ship this big only had three people running it.
His lips parted as if to say something—perhaps to point out how unsafe it was to be so short-staffed—but then he caught sight of Gu Mengran’s clear, unguarded eyes. The words twisted into something else. “That’s… actually kind of nice.”
“And you?” he asked instead. “What were you about to say?”
“I…”
The moment the attention shifted to him, Gu Mengran completely lost his momentum. His eyelids drooped, and he fidgeted awkwardly before mumbling, “There are still a few things we need to buy for the ship, but… we went over budget on the ship and cargo. Our available funds are, uh… kinda tight, and I…”
He simply could not get the words out. His embarrassment was practically palpable—his head nearly sinking to the deck as he struggled to say, “Can you lend me some money?”
Just then, Liang Zhao leaned in slightly, his voice low and cool as it brushed against Gu Mengran’s ear.
“Loan approvals take too long. I still have some spare funds on hand—why don’t you use them for now?”
Gu Mengran hesitated, fidgeting slightly. “I—I can’t just take your money like that…”
“Money left sitting there isn’t going to grow. If it makes you feel better, I’ll charge you a little interest. Think of it as a deposit.” Liang Zhao’s voice was casual, yet there was a hint of amusement in it.
He wasn’t just lending money—he was giving Gu Mengran an easy way out of his embarrassment. Past or present, Liang Zhao had always been the same—seemingly cold and distant, yet, in reality, unfathomably gentle.
Gu Mengran looked up at him, mumbling, “Why are you so damn nice?”
Liang Zhao met his gaze with a lazy smile. “We’re good friends, aren’t we? We’ve even been through life-and-death together.”
Gu Mengran: …Forget it. At this point, being broke might be less humiliating.
Of course, borrowing felt awkward—but spending it? That was easy.
As soon as the transfer hit his WeChat, Gu Mengran immediately dashed off the ship to start shopping—he bought a diesel skiff, waterproof tarps, a pressure-reducing wheel, a few extra inflatable rafts, spare anchors, as well as various repair tools and diving equipment.
Since Liang Zhao stayed behind on the ship, there was no way Gu Mengran could return empty-handed. He discreetly stashed away the smaller, non-essential items in his space, had the larger purchases delivered to the dock, and rented a local skiff to transport everything to the anchorage.
After making four or five trips, all the cargo was finally loaded. By then, the sky was completely dark.
It was the peak of summer, and Windwing was like a floating iron furnace, radiating heat even after sunset.
As soon as Gu Mengran stepped inside, the faint scent of food greeted him.
Exhausted beyond belief, Gu Mengran dragged his aching body into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. He didn’t have the energy to even lift a finger, let alone check the kitchen. The only thing he could do was—
“Grandpa, I’m back!” he hollered at the top of his lungs.
Hearing the noise, Meng Gaoyang peeked out from the kitchen, still holding a spatula. Seeing Gu Mengran sprawled out like a dead fish, he couldn’t resist taking a jab. “Seriously? You look like you just ran a marathon. You really need to exercise more—your stamina is pathetic. A little manual labor and you’re already falling apart!”
Gu Mengran puffed up his cheeks in frustration. “I’m starving!”
“It’s cooking. Just wait a bit,” Meng Gaoyang dismissed him casually, about to turn back into the kitchen when he suddenly remembered something important. He quickly added, “Oh, and after you rest a bit, go downstairs and bring up some food—grab some seasonings too.”
At the mention of this, the old man got even more irritated. “I stepped into the kitchen just now, and guess what? The fridge is empty, the cabinets are empty—there’s literally nothing! No rice, no oil, no salt—what the hell were you planning to eat? Air?!”
Gu Mengran grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, I got it…”
For now, the supermarket’s stock downstairs had to remain untouched. Since they were operating as a “floating supermarket,” they had to keep everything in plain sight for the maritime inspections when leaving the port and passing through the locks.
The long-shelf-life foods weren’t an issue, but the fresh produce and seafood—stuff his grandpa had only bought for show—needed to be dealt with soon.
In other words… they had some serious eating to do.
The new place had everything—furniture, appliances, all fully equipped. But having just moved in, it still felt empty—cold, quiet, and lacking the warmth of a real home.
After resting for about ten minutes, Gu Mengran finally felt a bit more energized. He glanced around the living room and suddenly realized—
What was missing wasn’t something.
It was a someone.
“Grandpa, Grandpa! Where’s Liang Zhao?”
Gu Mengran rushed to the kitchen door.
The old man was busy cooking and didn’t even bother turning around. “He’s downstairs, organizing the shelves and tidying up the stock.”
“Seriously? It’s his first day, and you already put him to work?”
“If neither of you do it, who will? Me?” Meng Gaoyang scoffed. “Now get lost, you’re in the way!”
Kicked out of the kitchen, Gu Mengran shrugged helplessly and decided to head downstairs to find Liang Zhao.
But just as he took two steps, his grandfather’s voice came from behind him again.
“Gu Mengran, we’re setting sail tomorrow. Are you really not going to say anything to Gu Decheng? He is your father, after all. Even if you don’t plan on bringing him along, shouldn’t you at least give him a heads-up?”
Gu Mengran paused mid-step. His lips, which had been pressed into a thin line, slowly curled up.
“Tell him?” His voice was light but firm. “Of course, I will.”
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