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Chapter 85: On the water is the radiance of bliss.
Huo Niansheng sat down by the bed. Chen Wengang was still a bit dazed, looking down at the pajamas he was still wearing. His expression carried a bewildered innocence, as if he still hadn’t figured out how Huo Niansheng managed to carry him onto the boat without him noticing.
He didn’t push him up in a cart, did he?”
Huo Niansheng reached out and rubbed his soft cheek, “I could have sold you, and you wouldn’t have known.”
Chen Wengang leaned back into the bed, his voice hoarse and soft, “Where would you sell me to?”
Huo Niansheng took off his shoes and lay down, “To a place you can’t come back from.”
Chen Wengang asked: “Really?”
Huo Niansheng just smiled in response.
He rested his head on his hand, shamelessly occupying the center of the bed. Chen Wengang placed his arm across his chest, pressing close to him.
The temperature difference between day and night at sea was large, even a bit cold. The two of them cuddled together for warmth, their legs entwined under the blanket.
Amidst the rocking of the boat, Huo Niansheng rolled over, lying on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he sought out his lover’s lips.
Their lips met gently, their teeth softly interlocking.
He put his fingers in his hair, breathy sighs escaping their throats like murmurs.
The night flowed on, the sea waves incessantly undulating, like the rhythmic breathing of the sky and the earth. But today the ocean’s breath was particularly urgent, the wind was fierce, and the boat rocked quite violently. In the pre-dawn darkness, the sky was ominously black, already indicating that the weather wasn’t too good.
Layers of clouds obscured the sky, making the stars and the moon above difficult to see.
With the distant sound of the tide filling his ears, Chen Wengang, held by Huo Niansheng, did not mind the turbulence much. Most of the time, nature wasn’t gentle. To be precise, it wasn’t about being afraid or not of the sea—it was ingrained in him.
People born by the sea live off the sea, just as those born by the mountains live off the mountains. It’s a heritage carved into their genes.
His father had made a leap, becoming a driver on land, but generations before that were fishermen.
They had no choice but to become familiar with the sea and throw themselves into it, knowing that each time they set sail, they might not return. It was the inevitability of survival.
In his past life, Chen Wengang had actually been to the sea many times, but that was years after Huo Niansheng’s death. He recalled those experiences, attributing them to his inability to find an anchor in life. With a hint of world-weariness and a self-destructive tendency, he had embarked on many risky ventures, not valuing his own life too much.
He had even sailed a small sailboat into the open ocean alone, encountering numerous challenges, yet somehow managing to return unscathed.
Perhaps it wasn’t his time to be taken by the heavens yet.
Later, Chen Wengang joined a cargo ship as a seafarer. The captain didn’t dare kick the boss’s son off the ship, so the crew reluctantly accommodated him, sharing meals and quarters. But once they were at sea, people quickly stopped paying attention to him. Most of the time, maritime life was just long stretches of boredom.
But boredom was better than encountering danger.
Chen Wengang still remembered the most dangerous encounter they faced at sea—the “killer wave,” as the sailors called it. With winds exceeding force level 10, it churned up monstrous waves.
The deck was battered relentlessly. Anyone swept overboard would likely never return. From a distance, the black waves looked solid, like impossibly heavy mountains crashing down, terrifyingly compressing everything in their path. The steel behemoth of the ship struggled to survive amidst it all.
Blinding lightning struck from sky to sea, a tremendously thick bolt, as if one could grab hold of it and ascend to the heavens.
But there was no way for anyone to climb up; there was only a thin line between life and death.
The ship surged up and down incessantly, rising and falling like a pirate ship, completely out of control. After a day and night of being tossed around, everyone was clinging to their buckets, vomiting. Even the most seasoned sailors found themselves seasick, and the cabin was a mess, as if it had been through a complete disaster.
The threat of disaster loomed overhead. The captain told Chen Wengang that the overloaded generators were failing one after another.
They were over a hundred nautical miles away from the nearest anchorage, unable to make headway, and instead pushed back tens of miles throughout the night, with hopes of safety growing increasingly distant. The raging storm hadn’t let up for dozens of hours. Through the portholes, they even witnessed a typhoon overturning another ship in the distance, lifting it up like a child’s toy, flipping it, and then slamming it down vertically at a ninety-degree angle.
A young crew member asked if they should go to the rescue, but the first and second mates murmured something, although in reality, they were also in grave danger. The air was thick with a sense of deep despair. Some were praying to Buddha and Bodhisattvas, some were praying to Mazu, and some were invoking the name of Jesus.
At that moment, Chen Wengang entertained a thought: perhaps his fate had reached its end here. If their ship were to unfortunately sink, maybe that would be his most fitting resting place. Throughout history, countless souls had been buried at sea, and he wondered if any of them found a final gathering place in the afterlife.
But it was clear that the crew had different thoughts. Each of them had loved ones waiting for their safe return. Some cursed that they would never set foot on a ship again, but it was mostly just grumbling. Even if fate favored them this time, they would still have to come out to earn a living next time.
Chen Wengang stumbled back to his room—after dozens of hours, almost everyone on the ship moved in a similar fashion. He gripped the bed, his arm veins bulging. After hesitating for a moment, he kneeled down and prayed to a God he wasn’t even sure existed.
Later, it was unclear who had prayed to the gods, but they had finally weathered the typhoon and safely reached shore.
Yu Shanding and Amanda took turns scolding him about the danger he had faced. Gradually, Chen Wengang’s heart grew numb.
The days spent awaiting death became long and dull.
Listening to the sound of the tide, he slowly closed his eyes, curling up in Huo Niansheng’s embrace as they drifted off to sleep again.
When they woke up, it was indeed an overcast day. Though the sun was out, it remained completely hidden behind clouds, casting the entire sky a cold, emotionless metallic white.
The outlines of islands and mountains faintly appeared on the horizon, lending a certain charm to the weather. The misty atmosphere seemed ethereal, almost like an unreachable paradise, with the distant sound of celestial music echoing.
Even though, in reality, stepping foot on the island might reveal nothing but undeveloped rocks and forests.
The wind had calmed significantly. Chen Wengang leaned on the railing, gazing down at the sea.
Huo Niansheng walked over and asked, “What are you thinking?”
With a gentle gaze, he looked at Huo Niansheng and asked, “When are we going back?”
Huo Niansheng leaned against the ship’s railing, smiling, “How about we don’t go back today?”
“Are you serious?” Chen Wengang widened his eyes slightly. He was still thinking about the Zheng family banquet and had planned to return around this evening so they could make it back in time for tomorrow. Besides, it was the Mid-Autumn Festival tomorrow.
“There’s nothing special about going back,” Huo Niansheng said. “Just having a meal at home; the same routine every year.”
Chen Wengang hesitated, and Huo Niansheng teased, “Are you planning to give a speech at home?”
After a moment’s thought, Chen Wengang finally smiled and said, “You’re right, I’m taking myself too seriously. My absence wouldn’t make much of a difference.”
Huo Niansheng shifted his position, “Or is it that you particularly enjoy the feeling of being with a big family?”
Chen Wengang replied, “Not really. Even though they’re relatives, not everyone is familiar. Our roles are pretty much like waiters—welcoming guests, taking gifts, fetching clothes, serving tea, and pouring water. In the end, we’re just like hired hands.”
“You? Who else is there beside you?”
“Who else? Just me,” Chen Wengang said, poking his index finger against Huo Niansheng’s lips. “Don’t be so polite. Let’s just not go back.”
There was no WiFi on the boat, let alone any signal. The only option for communication was a satellite phone. Back in the cabin, Chen Wengang indeed listened as Huo Niansheng called Huo Zhenfei. He acted recklessly, not even informing them in advance, and Huo Zhenfei could only complain helplessly.
Chen Wengang also glanced at his phone, but without internet access, it was just a useless brick.
In the silence, no messages or calls could come through.
The excuse of no signal conveniently resolved everything. There was no need to worry about sending anyone congratulatory messages, nor did they have to explain their whereabouts or justify their absence. Even if someone had something urgent to discuss, they wouldn’t be able to find him.
Chen Wengang stopped thinking. He blindly followed and trusted Huo Niansheng. If he felt it was okay, then it was okay.
Spending time alone with Huo Niansheng was undoubtedly more enjoyable than crowded gatherings and serving a bunch of people.
Out at sea, with no one else around, whatever they did wouldn’t be seen by anyone, and there were no judgmental or expectant gazes.
Even without a signal, the day wasn’t boring.
Huo Niansheng went for a swim, and before he went in, Chen Wengang poured sunscreen into his palm and applied it to him. Huo Niansheng went shirtless, with his broad shoulders and strong back on display, his spine showing a deep groove, and his well-defined muscles exuding powerful strength. Chen Wengang looked up at him, still applying sunscreen, but his hand was led to places it shouldn’t have gone.
He laughed as he pushed Huo Niansheng away, but then was pulled into the water with a strong tug, joining in the fun for a while.
As Huo Niansheng soaked in the sea, he grabbed Chen Wengang’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I thought you didn’t want me to go out to sea because you were worried about the danger.”
Chen Wengang just smiled, splashing water at him. “I’m braver than you think. You can try it.”
After having enough fun, they returned and sat down. Even though the sun wasn’t out, Chen Wengang’s cheeks were flushed from the heat. He went back to get some chilled drinks.
The boat was well stocked with everything they needed—fresh water, food, supplies, towels, and clothes. They could easily spend two days at sea without any issues.
In the fridge, there were partially prepared items that could be cooked quickly. Opening the fridge, Chen Wengang even spotted a birthday cake boxed up inside.
By evening, the sky unexpectedly cleared up, and the sunset ignited the horizon, casting fiery hues across the sea.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a few sparse stars appeared in the night sky, and the full moon shone brightly, casting its radiant glow upon the earth.
The two sat on the sofa on the deck, enjoying a dinner of spaghetti with meat sauce and pan-seared black pepper steak. The spaghetti just needed to be cooked and dressed with sauce, while the steak had been marinated and only needed a brief sear. Huo Niansheng poured a little white wine.
Chen Wengang had a few glasses of wine, and before he knew it, he found himself lying on the deck.
Huo Niansheng leaned down, whispering into his ear.
The sea breeze tousled the clothes on the ground.
When Venus emerged from the sea, she was naked. She was the goddess of love and beauty. Squinting his eyes, Huo Niansheng resembled a boatman who had spent half his life rowing boats, drifting across the vast ocean with nothing but water all around and no land in sight. He looked down, only to see an endless abyss below. The sea surface divided two worlds—the chilling nightmares below and the radiant bliss above.
Lost in this radiance, he forgot which way he was supposed to go.
He focused his gaze, seeing Venus’s star shining on the sea.
…
…
After midnight, Chen Wengang, oblivious to the time, only heard him whisper in his ear, “Happy birthday.”
He leaned on Huo Niansheng’s shoulder, unable to speak.
Huo Niansheng slowed down, leaning down to kiss his eyes. “Though it’s your birthday, the one who received the gift is actually me,” he said in a husky yet gentle voice, tinged with lingering laziness. “Twenty-one years ago, when you were born into this world, you were the best gift I could have asked for.”
As the emotions settled, Chen Wengang held him close, taking a while to gather his thoughts before suddenly saying, “I love you.”
Huo Niansheng held him silently, unmoving, as if he hadn’t heard.
Chen Wengang pressed against his chest, a hint of a smile on his lips. “What, doesn’t that sound good?”
Huo Niansheng tightened his hold on him, as if trying to embed him into his very bones. A heavy veil of mystery obscured everything before him, but then a burst of white light suddenly exploded, as if revealing infinitely profound mysteries. He didn’t see anything clearly, only speaking in a teasing tone, “Say it a few more times.”
He leaned down to capture his lips. “Say it a few more times until it feels good to hear.”
Chen Wengang’s lips curled slightly as he whispered into his ear once more.
Huo Niansheng looked up at him, smiling. “Not easy,” he sighed, “After going through all the trouble of sailing and venturing out to sea, it took all that effort just to hear those words.”
Chen Wengang’s arms were wrapped around him, initially with a smile, but as he held onto Huo Niansheng, his expression gradually softened in a place where the other couldn’t see.
In truth, he wasn’t someone who cared much about love, or at least didn’t believe it could be expressed with just words. Deep down, Chen Wengang was insecure, despite how he may have packaged himself with various accolades. He never truly believed he was worthy of love and thus lacked the courage to accept it openly. As for the ability to actively love someone else, he felt he fell short.
Of course, if the other person was just willing to hear those words, well, there was nothing particularly difficult about that.
It felt more like an unfinished wish, one he finally spoke to Huo Niansheng—though his heart was overgrown with weeds of doubt, he wasn’t sure if this wish belonged to the other person or if it was his own obsession. At most, he could say that having something was better than having nothing.
Huo Niansheng lay down, pulling him close to his chest. “Why do you seem unhappy now?”
Chen Wengang shook his head, looking at his face. “No. I’m actually very happy.”
Huo Niansheng kissed him, realizing that he could see through him more often than he or Chen Wengang imagined.
Like now, he had initially been burning inside, but now he felt tender and compassionate. “That was a joke. I love you too, hmm?”
Chen Wengang looked back at him thoughtfully. Huo Niansheng smiled and suddenly exerted force, attempting to lift him up.
Instinctively, Chen Wengang tried to struggle, but Huo Niansheng said, “Don’t move; if I can’t hold both of us, we’ll fall together.”
Chen Wengang quieted down and wrapped his arms around his neck, aligning their centers of gravity.
He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, while Huo Niansheng was fully dressed. The rough fabric rubbed against their skin, sending waves of embarrassment and intimacy.
Huo Niansheng returned to the cabin and placed the heavy figure in his arms on the bed. Chen Wengang immediately moved to get up and go to the bathroom to freshen up. Suddenly, Huo Niansheng leaned over, grabbing his ankle. “Say it again.”
Chen Wengang was dragged back, hesitated for a moment, then complied.
Huo Niansheng praised him with satisfaction, saying, “Good boy.”
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