Chapter One: Milky White Waves

The thin sea mist surged once again, engulfing the ship in its relentless embrace. The crew was exhausted beyond measure, with no clear idea of what might happen next. All around, only the sound of waves crashing against the hull broke the silence. The captain, seasoned by countless storms, felt a cold sweat bead on his forehead once more.

It was the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, a day meant for eating festival porridge. The cook had prepared it in advance, yet everyone remained huddled in their bunks. Even if the terrifying noises returned, even if death arrived, they would rather meet their end in their own beds.

“Captain, you’re here,” Old Ji said, spotting the captain slowly making his way to the dining area, steadying himself against the wall.

“Old Ji, why didn’t you return to your cabin?” the captain asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“You know my nature, Captain. Once the big pot’s boiling, I can’t leave it be. Even if I die—bah, bah, even if we depart these seas, I’d rather go with a full belly.” Old Ji chuckled as he spoke.

“That’s right! Old Ji, you were only twenty-five when you first boarded my ship—still the same as ever, sigh!”

“All old history now,” Old Ji began, but was interrupted by a sudden, tearing sound.

“What was that? What’s happened? Quick, go out and see!” Old Ji tried to rise, but the captain pressed him back with a firm look, making Old Ji understand that certain things required certain people.

The captain staggered out of the cabin, blinking as the darkness was pierced by the milky-white glow of the sea waves. Why would such a sight appear at night, with no light? Tourists might find it wondrous, breathtaking, beautiful beyond words. But now, the captain keenly sensed danger lurking everywhere, though he couldn’t say exactly why.

Everything around was shrouded in milky whiteness, moving like drifting milk. With each wave pounding the hull came a deep, booming sound, as though the ship were striking something, yet not quite. What could it be? Suddenly, something sticky slapped against his face. He wiped it off, feeling a slight sting.

“Jellyfish? Could this be…” the captain muttered. Based on his experience, this was likely a jellyfish aggregation zone. But something was off—jellyfish were usually found in shallow waters, rarely in such dense masses. Was there a hidden reef nearby? That couldn’t be! His nerves tightened.

He rushed to the bridge. Thirteen remained on board, but after ten days adrift, only four could still stand—Old Ji, Danzi, and Longzi among them.

He grabbed the radio and called for an emergency assembly. Perhaps they could survive this ordeal. If there was a reef nearby, dropping anchor might secure them, offering a chance for safety, maybe even a safe return home. Now, whatever they could grasp would be their salvation; if not, all would be lost. He quickly assigned roles: Old Ji to assist Danzi with the anchor, Longzi to handle the engine room, the captain himself to survey the waters. Normally the control panel would display nearby sea conditions, but there was no time to analyze—escape was paramount.

“Old Ji, Danzi, be ready to drop anchor! Reply!” Sweat dripped from his anxious face, each bead as large as a bean.

“Roger, roger, all, huff huff, preparations…”

The wind raged, distorting the radio’s transmission.

“Longzi, start the anchor winch pump.”

“Roger, it’s running!”

“Old Ji, Danzi, I’ll count down three-two-one, drop anchor immediately!” Judging from the frequency of the waves striking the hull, he estimated their proximity to the shore.

“Roger, huff, roger!” To avoid confusion, he simplified his words.

“Three, two…” Just as he was about to say one, a tremendous crash rang out.

The radio hissed, the captain called over and over, but there was no reply. Fate’s rudder turned once more toward the sea.

“Old Ji, Danzi! If you hear me, answer!” Sweat streamed down his cheeks, leaving a clear streak in the lamplight.

“We’re back, Captain!” The two returned, supporting each other as they opened the watertight door.

“Good, you’re back, that’s all that matters!” Relief eased the captain’s heart a little—whatever happened to the ship, he would see his crew home safely.

“Longzi, report the sea conditions!” Though the anchor had been dropped, the ordeal was far from over.

“Current readings show wind force eight, waves at two-point-six meters. Also, Captain—” Longzi paused.

“Captain, the ship is still moving even after anchoring!”

The ship kept moving. The captain pondered. Perhaps the sea was too deep, but the anchor chain was certainly long enough. If the seabed was mud, it shouldn’t be an issue; the waves were so fierce, and the area had many reefs, the bottom should have been scoured clean, the stones rising above the mud.

What was happening? The captain was baffled. Then Longzi spoke again.

“Captain, reefs spotted ahead! Height unknown!”

“What?” The captain exclaimed, though not over the radio.

“Keep a close watch on the reefs!” he ordered.

“Danzi, take the helm! Old Ji, check the surface conditions!”

With that, the captain ran to the bridge deck. The wind battered him, as if intent on swallowing everything at sea. The waves rose and fell, turbulent. In the distance, something flickered, half-lit, about half a nautical mile away by eye. Why hadn’t the reef been noticed before? Was it a blessing or a curse? Only risking everything would reveal the answer.

“Huff, Danzi, left rudder ten degrees, huff!”

“Roger!”

The captain was gambling, aiming to bring the ship near the reef.

“Old Ji, weigh anchor, we’ll drop it again soon!”

“Understood!” Old Ji was seized by urgency. Though accustomed to countless drifts at sea, this time felt different, a strange unease grew in his heart.

They endured another round of wind and waves. The bow drew closer to the reef.

Danzi checked the radar, seeing clearly the captain wanted to drop the port anchor, approach the reef on the starboard side, thus sheltering from wind and waves.

Danzi silently admired the captain, believing that with him aboard, safety was assured.

“Old Ji, huff, be ready to drop anchor, reply! huff!”

“Huff, roger!” Old Ji replied simply.

“Countdown, ten, nine,” Sweat soaked the captain’s back once more.

“Eight, seven, six, five,” There was no time to hesitate; emergency anchoring was needed. The second drop was much harder than the first.

“Four, three, two,” All the ship’s floodlights suddenly blazed to life. No one knew who had switched them on, but there was no turning back.

“One! Drop anchor!”

A muffled splash echoed as the anchor hit the water, and the bow began to swing to starboard, buffeted by the wind and current. The ship rocked hard, feeling as if it might capsize. The captain’s palms were slick with sweat. If they survived this resonance, they could finally sleep in peace.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, crawling by.

“Captain, we’re about to hit the reef!”

Wait a little longer, the captain prayed, soon it would calm.

He grabbed the radio mic, paused, and spoke in a low voice: “Old Ji, Danzi, Longzi, all to the bridge.” “Is it safe now?” Old Ji asked, still tense.

“Mm, yes, safe!” The captain kept his eyes on the sea, glancing at the radar display.

The crew arrived, and when the captain announced their safety, they collapsed onto the deck like deflated balls, yet their hearts felt impossibly light.

They had survived days of life-and-death trials—no, they had won a race against death.

“Don’t relax just yet. Be ever vigilant for new changes. The sea is unpredictable, so from now on, we’ll take turns on watch. If anything happens, wake everyone at once.”

The captain’s words didn’t make them tense, but each knew in their heart: there was no guarantee for tomorrow. Now more than ever, the captain felt like a broad, safe harbor.

It was already two in the morning. The captain decided he and Longzi would stand watch until six; Old Ji and Danzi would take over until nine. At nine, they’d check the reef island and adjust plans after.

Soon, the stars were eclipsed by the haloed light of dawn, ushering in calm seas and a blue sky. It happened as if in a dream, sudden and shocking.

At quarter past nine, Old Ji gently nudged the captain, who was curled up beside the chart table, hands tightly clasped, as if praying.

Old Ji’s touch roused the captain, who blinked open his left eye, tugged at his rumpled jacket, then closed his eyes again, mumbling, “What time is it now?”

“It’s already quarter past nine!” Old Ji hated to wake him, for he was the heart of the ship—their lifeline home.

“What? Nine already?!” The captain sprang up in an instant.