SES Chapter 51 V2

Mu Dai was happy with the decision. As soon as they docked, she retrieved her luggage.

Luo Ren built a bonfire on the beach. Yan Hongsha ignored everyone and wheeled herself to the shoreline, staring out at the dark sea in a daze. Yi Wansan wandered off with a flashlight, saying he wanted to walk through the village.

Even if it was abandoned, it was still the village where he was born.

Mu Dai sat with Luo Ren by the fire, nibbling on a compressed biscuit.

Luo Ren looked out at the sea, frustrated. “There’s nothing here. Otherwise, we could’ve grilled fish, crab, scallops…”

Mu Dai picked up a stick and wrote in the sand: Did the clam eat them all?

Luo Ren snorted. “You think little fish are as dumb as you? Just waiting around to be eaten? They know how to run.”

Mu Dai responded with a single word.

Hmph.

Luo Ren chuckled at her, then said, “Do you know how we used to grill fish?”

Mu Dai wanted to write another “hmph,” but his expression said, You’ll never guess, and she couldn’t help being curious.

Her eyes sparkled.

“In the Philippines,” Luo Ren began, “on Lao Island, there was a beach we used to visit. It had these flat rocks—don’t ask me what kind, just smooth, flat slabs. We’d hollow them out underneath so it looked like a ring.”

He gestured with his hands. “We’d light a fire under the ring, heat the stone until it was searing hot.”

His lips curved into a smile.

“We were all close brothers, life-and-death kind of close. Some would fish, and I—I did the grilling, because I had the best knife skills.”

He pulled a straight-edged knife from his belt, removed the sheath. The blade gleamed in the firelight. Luo Ren flicked the edge with his finger.

It rang out with a long, pure tone, like a bell of forged steel.

“When the fish came in, I’d scale and clean them, slice them into paper-thin fillets. Lay them flat on the hot stone, sprinkle with salt, then cumin and chili powder—or some local spice. Flip them fast.”

He closed his eyes, as if savoring the aroma.

“Maybe it was the firelight, but the fish turned golden. The flesh was firm and separated into perfect layers. The seasonings looked like little creatures, reaching out to grab your tongue. One bite, and it was like an explosion of flavor.”

“Then came a big swig of cold German beer. The kind that makes you want to get up and sing. Or dance.”

Mu Dai stared at him, entranced. The fire lit his face red, his features sharp and soft all at once—like a sculpture, but warmer, more human.

“There was a guy, Aoki, from Japan. Played the ukulele. He’d sing songs from home. I never learned the tune, but he translated the lyrics for me.”

Luo Ren’s voice dropped low. “It was about a young fisherman, setting out to sea the next morning. No idea when he’d be back. That night, the girl he loved snuck out to meet him. She had to return before dawn.”

“The song said: Tonight, I lay my head on a silk pillow. Tomorrow, I’ll rest it on the waves. I asked the pillow if I had fallen asleep, and the pillow answered: Yes, you have. But don’t say anything, pillow—don’t tell anyone about the lovely person who was here with me.”

He tossed a branch into the fire.

“Back then, that girl in Aoki’s song… she was all of our dreams.”

Mu Dai blinked. Really?

Luo Ren wasn’t surprised by her reaction. “I know what people think. Just some girl sneaking off to meet her lover—it’s not ‘respectable.’ Moralists love to judge. But we didn’t see it that way.”

No, they didn’t.

Their lives were filled with blood and death. Money stuffed into cabinets that they might never reopen. One stray bullet in their sleep, and that could be it.

They slept on mountains, in swamps, under clouds of mosquitoes. Logs for pillows. Water trickling from leaves into their collars. They’d wake in the middle of the night and see a foreign moon—same moon as anywhere, maybe, but here it looked colder.

At times like that, all you wished for… was to open your eyes and see the girl you loved.

Sneaking in, barefoot, shoes in hand so she wouldn’t make a sound. Slipping through the cold riverbank, through the dark forest, just for you. Eyes full of you. Her gaze was as soft as moonlight.

You’d rise to meet her. Kiss her. Stroke her hair. Even if you lived in hell, her lips were heaven.

Luo Ren looked at Mu Dai. Through the firelight, her hair gleamed like gold.

The girl in the dream.

Mu Dai scratched a line in the sand: What about your friends?

Luo Ren stared at the words.

His vision blurred.

Suddenly, he was back in that misty morning, in the jungle.

He had packed his gear and opened the door, only to freeze.

They were all there. They’d woken even earlier than him. Like last night’s drinking never happened.

They slung weapons over their shoulders, grinned at him, and said—

“Luo, count me in.”

“Yeah, me too.”