Chapter 85: On the water is the radiance of bliss.
Huo Niansheng sat on the edge of the bed. Chen Wengang was still a bit dazed, looking down at the pajamas he was still wearing. His expression carried the bewildered innocence of someone who hadn’t fully woken up, as if he still couldn’t figure out how Huo Niansheng had managed to carry him all the way onto the boat without him noticing a thing.
He didn’t use a luggage cart to wheel him on, did he?
Huo Niansheng reached out and rubbed his soft cheek. “You wouldn’t even know if someone sold you.”
Chen Wengang leaned back into the bed, his voice hoarse and soft. “Where are you selling me to?”
Huo Niansheng took off his shoes and lay down beside him. “Selling you to a place you can’t come back from.”
Chen Wengang asked, “Really?”
Huo Niansheng simply smiled it off.
Resting his head on his arms, he sprawled out, occupying the center of the bed. Chen Wengang draped an arm across his chest and clung to him.
The temperature difference between day and night at sea was significant; it was actually a bit cold. The two nestled together for warmth, their legs intertwined beneath the blanket.
As the boat rocked, Huo Niansheng rolled over, lying on his side. Propping an arm on the pillow, he sought out his lover’s lips.
Their lips and teeth met tenderly.
Fingers tangled in hair, and dreamlike sighs tumbled from their throats.
The night flowed on, and the ocean waves undulated endlessly, like the rhythmic breathing of heaven and earth. But the ocean’s breathing was exceptionally rapid tonight. The wind was fierce, and the boat pitched heavily. Looking up at the pitch-black sky of the early morning hours, it was clear the weather wasn’t great.
Heavy clouds obscured everything; neither stars nor moon could be seen overhead.
Chen Wengang’s ears were filled with the sound of the distant tide. Held in Huo Niansheng’s arms, this bit of turbulence was nothing to him. Most of the time, the face of nature isn’t kind anyway. More accurately, it wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid of going out to sea—it wasn’t a matter of fear.
For people born by the sea, “living off the mountain if you live near the mountain, and living off the sea if you live near the sea” was a heritage etched into their DNA.
His father had jumped ship, becoming a driver on land, but tracing back further, generations of their ancestors had been fishermen.
They had no choice but to familiarize themselves with the sea and throw themselves into it. Every voyage carried the risk of no return; it was a necessity for survival.
In his past life, Chen Wengang had actually gone out to sea many times, years after Huo Niansheng had passed away. Recalling those experiences, he attributed them to an inability to find an anchor in life. Harbering a slightly misanthropic self-destructive tendency, he had engaged in many risky activities that showed little regard for his own life.
He had even sailed a small sailboat across the open ocean by himself, encountering countless perilous situations, yet miraculously returning in one piece.
Perhaps it was because it simply wasn’t his time to be taken yet.
Later, Chen Wengang had followed maritime cargo ships. The captains didn’t dare kick the boss off, so the crew could only bewilderedly accommodate him, eating and living together on board. Once out at sea, people quickly stopped paying attention to him. Most of the time, a seafaring life consisted only of endless boredom.
But boredom was better than encountering dangerous situations.
Chen Wengang still remembered the most perilous incident. They encountered a “killer wave” at sea—that’s what the crew called it. Winds exceeding force ten whipped up earth-shattering, devastating giant waves. The deck was constantly battered by seawater; if anyone was swept overboard, there was truly no coming back. From afar, the black waves looked solidified, like incredibly heavy mountain ranges terrifyingly crushing down. The giant steel vessel merely gasped for breath amidst it all.
Blinding lightning struck straight from the sky to the sea, a band of light so thick it seemed as though one could climb it straight to the heavens.
But humans couldn’t climb it; there was only a thin line between life and death.
The ship pitched up and down incessantly, thrown high and then slammed back down, like riding a pirate ship ride that had completely lost control. After tossing and turning for a day and a night, everyone was hugging the toilets and throwing up, even the most veteran crew members. The cabins were a chaotic mess, looking as if they had survived a complete catastrophe.
With the threat of disaster looming overhead, the captain told Chen Wengang that the overloaded generators were failing one after another.
They were over a hundred nautical miles from the nearest anchorage, but their ship couldn’t advance. Instead, it had been pushed back dozens of nautical miles overnight, growing further and further away from any hope of safety. The howling winds and torrential rain didn’t cease for tens of hours. Through the portholes, they even saw the typhoon flip another ship in the distance with their own eyes—lifting one end up like a child’s toy, flipping it over, and plunging it vertically down at a ninety-degree angle.
A young crew member asked if they should mount a rescue. The first and second mates replied in low voices, but in reality, their own situation was precarious. The surroundings were filled with a low, despairing mood. Some were praying to the Buddha and Bodhisattvas, some were pleading with Mazu, and others were chanting Jesus’ name.
At that moment, a thought arose in Chen Wengang’s mind: perhaps this was where his destiny ended.
If their ship unfortunately sank as well, perhaps this would be his most fitting resting place.
Countless souls had been buried at sea throughout history; he wondered if they had a destination, if they would eventually gather together in the underworld.
But the crew clearly didn’t share his thoughts. Every single one of them had family waiting for their safe return. Some cursed that they wouldn’t go out to sea again no matter how much money they were offered, though in reality, it was just grumbling. Even if fate spared them this time, they would still have to go out and make a living next time.
Chen Wengang stumbled back to his room—for tens of hours, nearly everyone on board walked like that. Gripping the bed that was bolted to the floor, the veins on his arms bulging, he hesitated for a moment before kneeling down and praying to a God he didn’t even know where to find.
Later, they didn’t know whose prayers to which gods had been answered, but they finally made it through the typhoon, and their ship docked safely after a harrowing ordeal.
Yu Shanding and Amanda took turns scolding him, complaining it was too dangerous. After that, Chen Wengang’s heart gradually grew indifferent.
The days spent waiting for death to arrive were nothing but tedious and numb.
Listening to the sound of the tide, he slowly closed his eyes, shrinking into Huo Niansheng’s embrace, and the two nestled together for a little more sleep.
When they woke up, it was indeed a cloudy day.
The sun had risen, but it was completely hidden behind the clouds, unseen. The entire sky presented a cold, metallic, emotionless white.
On the horizon, the outlines of small islands and mountains faintly emerged. In this kind of weather, they actually possessed a unique charm—misty and ethereal, like an unreachable, blessed paradise, almost making one feel as if they could hear the faint, distant music of immortals.
Though if one actually set foot on the island, all they might see would be undeveloped rocks and woods.
The wind had died down considerably. Chen Wengang leaned against the railing, looking down at the seawater.
Huo Niansheng walked over and asked, “What are you thinking about?”
He looked at Huo Niansheng with a soft gaze. “When are we going back?”
Huo Niansheng leaned against the ship’s rail and smiled. “How about we don’t go back today?”
“Are you serious?” Chen Wengang’s eyes widened slightly. He was still keeping the Zheng family banquet in mind, originally thinking they’d have to head back around evening so they could make it in time tomorrow. Not to mention, the Huo family should be having a full family reunion as well. He reminded him, “Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival.”
“There’s nothing good about going back anyway,” Huo Niansheng said. “It’s just eating a meal at home. The routine is the same every year.”
Chen Wengang was still hesitating. Huo Niansheng laughed. “What, are you planning to give a speech at home?”
He thought about it a bit more and finally smiled. “You’re right. I take myself too seriously. It really doesn’t matter if I’m there or not.”
Huo Niansheng shifted his posture. “Or is it that you particularly like the feeling of a huge family gathered together?”
Chen Wengang replied, “It’s not that either. Actually, even though they’re all relatives, I’m not familiar with every single one of them. Our role is pretty much the same as a server’s: greeting people at the front, taking gifts, holding coats, serving tea, and pouring water. Ultimately, it’s like being a menial laborer.”
“Our? Who else besides you?”
“Alright, just me.” Chen Wengang pressed his index finger to his lips. “Don’t be so blunt. We just won’t go back then.”
There was no Wi-Fi installed on the boat, let alone cellular signal; the only thing they could use to make calls was a satellite phone. Returning to the cabin, Chen Wengang indeed listened to Huo Niansheng call Huo Zhenfei. Given his willful and reckless behavior, leaving without a word in advance, Huo Zhenfei helplessly complained a few times.
Chen Wengang also looked down at his phone, but without internet, it was essentially a brick.
It was perfectly quiet; not a single message or call could come through.
The excuse of having no signal actually solved everything. He didn’t have to consider who to send holiday greetings to, nor did he have to explain his whereabouts to anyone or carefully word excuses for his absence. Even if others needed something, they wouldn’t be able to find him.
Chen Wengang gave up thinking. He followed Huo Niansheng with blind faith; if the other man thought it was fine, then it was fine.
Going back to squeeze in with a crowd and serve a bunch of people was naturally not as good as the two of them spending a leisurely time alone together.
This was out at sea, with no one else around. No matter what they did, no one would see them, and there would be no reproachful or expectant gazes.
Even without a signal, the day was anything but boring.
Huo Niansheng went into the water for a couple of laps. Before he went down, Chen Wengang poured lotion into his palm and applied sunscreen for him. Huo Niansheng was shirtless, his shoulders broad and his back wide. A deep groove ran down his spine, flanked by robust, solid back muscles that tapered inward at his waistline. His frequently exercised physique exuded powerful strength.
Chen Wengang looked up at him. As he applied the lotion, his hand was guided to places it shouldn’t go.
Laughing, he tried to push Huo Niansheng away, but eventually ended up being pulled into the water himself, swimming along for a while.
Floating in the sea, Huo Niansheng grabbed his hand and pressed it to his lips. “I thought you wouldn’t let me go out to sea because you were afraid it was dangerous.”
Chen Wengang merely smiled and splashed water in his face. “I’m braver than you think. You can test that.”
After they had played enough and returned to sit down, the sun proved its power even while hidden. Chen Wengang’s cheeks were flushed hot, so he went back to grab some chilled drinks.
The boat was fully stocked with everything they needed: fresh water, food, daily necessities, towels, and clothes. Staying at sea for two days was no problem.
There were semi-prepared foods in the fridge that just needed a little cooking to be eaten. Opening the fridge door, he also saw a birthday cake in a box.
By evening, the sky actually cleared up. The sunset glow ignited half the canopy of heaven, like a raging fire spreading into the sea.
As the sun set, a sparse scattering of stars appeared against the night sky. The nearly full moon was bright and dazzling, spilling its pure radiance over the mortal world.
The two sat on the sofa on the deck. Dinner was spaghetti bolognese and pan-seared black pepper steak. The pasta only needed to be boiled and tossed in the sauce, and the steak was pre-marinated, only requiring careful temperature control while searing. Huo Niansheng poured a little white wine.
Chen Wengang was coaxed into drinking a few glasses, and before he knew it, he was pressed against the deck.
Huo Niansheng leaned over, whispering intimately and rubbing against his temple.
The sea breeze ruffled the clothes discarded on the floor.
When Venus was born from the sea, she was completely bare; she is the Goddess of Love and Beauty. Huo Niansheng narrowed his eyes. He felt like a ferryman who had spent half his life poling a boat, now drifting across a vast ocean in a solitary skiff. Water surrounded him on all sides, and looking out, he could see no shore. He looked down, and below lay only an endless abyss. The sea surface divided two worlds: beneath the water lay a freezing nightmare, and above the water shone the radiance of ultimate bliss.
He lost his bearings within this radiance, forgetting where he was supposed to go.
He only focused his gaze intently, seeing his own Venus shining upon the sea.
…
…
By the time midnight passed, Chen Wengang had no time to check the clock. He only heard him say by his ear, “Happy birthday.”
He lay slumped over Huo Niansheng’s shoulder, gritting his teeth, unable to speak.
Huo Niansheng slowed his pace, lowering his head to kiss his eyes. “Even though it’s your birthday, I’m actually the one receiving a gift.” His voice was hoarse and gentle, carrying a languid reluctance to stop. “Your birth into this world twenty-one years ago is the best gift I could ever have.”
As their passion subsided, Chen Wengang held onto him. It took a long time for his senses to return before he suddenly said, “I love you.“
Huo Niansheng held him in silence, motionless, as if he hadn’t heard.
Chen Wengang pressed against his chest, a hint of a smile touching the corners of his lips. “What, doesn’t that sound nice?”
Huo Niansheng pressed him down tightly, as if wanting to knead him into his very bones and blood. Heavy mists of enigma obscured his vision, but a blinding white light suddenly exploded, seemingly bringing forth infinite, profound mysteries. He saw nothing clearly, merely speaking in a teasing tone: “Say it a few more times.”
He lowered his head to claim his lips. “I need to hear it a few more times to tell if it sounds nice or not.”
The corners of Chen Wengang’s lips curved upward. Leaning close to his ear, he said it once more.
Huo Niansheng looked up at him and smiled. “Not easy.” He sighed at himself. “Putting on such a grand, ostentatious display of affection, sailing a boat out to sea, going through all sorts of hardships without turning back, just to earn this one sentence.”
Chen Wengang wrapped his arms around him, initially smiling. But as he hugged Huo Niansheng, in a place the other man couldn’t see, his expression gradually faded.
In truth, he wasn’t someone who cared much about whether he was loved or not—at least, he didn’t believe it was something that could just be proven with words from a mouth. Deep down, Chen Wengang actually felt inferior, no matter how many halos he wrapped himself in. He was never quite sure if he was someone worthy of being loved, and so he lacked the courage to openly accept love from others. As for the ability to actively love someone else, he failed completely.
Of course, if the other person just wanted to hear this phrase, look, it wasn’t that hard to say.
It was more like an unfulfilled wish that he had finally spoken to Huo Niansheng—yet his heart was a chaotic tangle of weeds, and he was no longer sure if this wish belonged to the other man or was an obsession of his own. The most he could say was that having it was better than not.
Huo Niansheng lay down, holding him against his chest. “Why the sudden frown?”
Chen Wengang shook his head, looking at his face. “No. I’m actually very happy.”
Huo Niansheng kissed him, realizing that a lot of times, he could see through him better than he himself thought, and better than Chen Wengang thought.
Like right now, his heart had been burning hot, but now he felt a sense of softness and pity. “I was just joking. I love you too, hmm?”
Chen Wengang looked back at him thoughtfully. Huo Niansheng smiled, suddenly exerted force, and scooped him up in his arms.
He instinctively tried to struggle. Huo Niansheng said, “Don’t thrash around. If I can’t hold on, we’ll both fall.”
Chen Wengang looped his arms around his neck and quieted down, aligning his center of gravity with his.
He still hadn’t put his clothes on, while Huo Niansheng was fully dressed. The rough fabric rubbed against his skin, and a wave of embarrassment washed over him.
Huo Niansheng returned to the cabin and set the heavy weight in his arms down on the bed. Chen Wengang immediately crawled toward the edge, intending to get out of bed and go to the bathroom to wash up and clean himself. Huo Niansheng suddenly leaned over him, grabbing his ankle. “Say it again.”
Dragged back by him, Chen Wengang hesitated for a moment, then complied.
Huo Niansheng offered satisfied praise: “Good boy.”
Ugh the feelings oh God oh God
GOOD BOY!!!!