At exactly six in the morning.
Nan Junyi tore himself free from a nightmare, his pajamas soaked through with cold sweat while the horrific afterimages of the dream still lingered. He sat motionless in darkness so dense it seemed impossible to dissolve, uncertain whether he had truly returned to reality.
“Lights on.”
The room lit up at once, driving the darkness into the corners. Only after every phantom before his eyes had faded did Nan Junyi rise and stagger into the bathroom.
Hot water brought warmth back to him, finally waking his body in earnest.
Steam filled the bathroom. A hand swept across the cold mirror, clearing the blurred reflection to reveal a tired, world-weary face: long, narrow eyes half-lidded, bluish shadows beneath them like an ominous haze. His lips, warmed by the shower, had already regained their usual color from the pallor of waking and were unconsciously pressed into a tight line.
Nan Junyi silently rinsed his hands and returned to the bedroom. He had only just opened the wardrobe when an irresistible pull abruptly seized his nerves, forcing every movement to a stop.
He turned his head.
An exquisite invitation lay quietly on the bedside table that should have been empty.
Nan Junyi regarded the invitation for a moment, rubbed between his brows, then turned back and selected a comfortable set of casual clothes from the wardrobe.
After tossing his bathrobe into the laundry basket, Nan Junyi picked up the invitation and, on the way, opened the curtains and balcony door.
The sun had not yet fully leapt from the water. At the seam where sea met sky, it resembled the half-open eye of a dying colossal beast, continuously bleeding gold into the dark waves.
No matter how much time passed, a magnificent sight like this always made Nan Junyi newly aware of his circumstances.
He was trapped in an extraordinarily luxurious prison at sea.
The salty, briny sea breeze rushed eagerly into the room the moment the balcony door opened even a crack. Nan Junyi did not dislike the smell. When people could tangibly feel their own existence, they often found happiness simply in being alive, especially when yet another death mission had arrived.
The information on the invitation was simple. Only one line was printed on it: Prism Sanatorium. Beneath it, a countdown kept ticking.
Judging from the time, he needed to disembark at exactly nine the day after tomorrow.
There was no urgency, so Nan Junyi had no intention of panicking. He took out his phone, sent a message, and decided to have breakfast first.
Mornings were always exceptionally quiet, and the corridor was deserted. Just as Nan Junyi reached for the buffet restaurant door, a hand suddenly stretched past his waist from behind and firmly grasped the handle, pushing it open. A playful female voice invited him in with near-mocking courtesy. “This way, melancholy sir.”
Nan Junyi walked inside without changing expression. “Gu Shiyan, that joke is boring.”
“How could it be?” Gu Shiyan followed him with a smile. “I thought this was what a lady was supposed to do for a gentleman.”
Nan Junyi headed toward the tableware station. “If I’d known, I would’ve gone to the main restaurant on the seventh floor instead of coming here for convenience. At least you hardly ever go there.”
“You’re not even in formalwear. The ship wouldn’t let you in.” Gu Shiyan drew out the words as she picked up an empty plate and surveyed the spread. “By the way, coming to movie night at seven thirty? They’re showing Night of the Zombies.”
Nan Junyi said, “I’m disembarking in two days.”
Gu Shiyan’s hand paused with a strand of noodles between her chopsticks, then she carried on as if nothing had happened. “That’s a much better excuse than the ones you’ve used before. Looks like someone has no choice but to accept it.”
The buffet offered an astonishing variety of food, apparently with no regard for the human convention that breakfast ought to be light. There was everything from plain congee and side dishes to lavish seafood, all manner of desserts, and every sort of drink.
Neither of them chose anything too strongly flavored. For drinks, Nan Junyi poured himself a glass of soy milk while Gu Shiyan poured herself red wine.
Just before they sat down, Nan Junyi looked at Gu Shiyan’s hands, both occupied with food, and could not resist teasing her. “I thought you were going to pull out my chair for me?”
“You just have to win, don’t you?” Gu Shiyan burst out laughing. She hooked a chair out with her foot, tipped her chin toward it, and winked. “Please.”
“Doesn’t look very sincere.”
Nan Junyi raised one eyebrow as Gu Shiyan set down her plate, straightened the chair by hand, and even dusted off the cushion before extending the invitation again with impeccable gallantry. “Please, have a seat.”
Nan Junyi sat down with pleasure. “And I’m the only competitive one?”
Gu Shiyan smugly swirled the wine in her stemmed glass. “Going to the ballroom later? I remember the promotional display is there.”
Whenever the cruise ship issued a new mission, the poster displays that normally showed island scenery switched to images of the mission location. The largest promotional display was in the ballroom, and it usually provided the most complete information.
Nan Junyi nodded and glanced at his gently vibrating phone. He unlocked the screen to find dozens of new messages already piled up in the group chat.
Everyone aboard the cruise ship had a messaging app bearing a ship’s-wheel icon installed on their phones. It was normally used for mission coordination or casual conversation, and among those dozens of messages only one contained the key information Nan Junyi needed.
He put his phone back on silent.
Gu Shiyan took out her own phone as well. “What a coincidence. Lin Xue is your partner again this time.” She set her wineglass aside and began concentrating on her food. “Any thoughts?”
Lin Xue and Nan Junyi had once been newcomers who survived the same mission. More precisely, the two of them had been the only survivors. Because of the psychological trauma from that first mission, Lin Xue had always consciously or unconsciously avoided Nan Junyi, the other survivor. It was no secret aboard the cruise ship.
“Who she was before doesn’t define who she is now, much less who she’ll be in the future.” Nan Junyi wiped his mouth. “I don’t have any thoughts.”
His voice was low and calm, smooth as silk, betraying not the slightest emotion regardless of when or where he spoke.
Gu Shiyan studied him thoughtfully for a long moment before suddenly asking, “What do young people call your type again? An iceberg beauty, right?”
Nan Junyi silently set down his soy milk and replied with perfect equanimity, “You should be grateful I hadn’t taken a sip yet.”
“Hey, you can’t be so rude to people. No matter how charming you are, that’ll cost you points,” Gu Shiyan said with great solemnity.
Nan Junyi remained unruffled. “Really? I thought cruelty was a beauty’s nature.”
Elio’s Notes: Nan Junyi’s line about cruelty being a beauty’s nature echoes a line from Rumi’s lyric poetry, which the author cites in the original note.
Gu Shiyan sighed. “I truly love talking to you.”
Neither of them spoke for the rest of breakfast. Only when Gu Shiyan had finished the last of her wine did she say, “Come on. This might be the last time we see each other, for all we know. I’ll go to the ballroom with you.”
The death missions aboard this cruise ship made no distinction between veterans and newcomers. As a veteran passenger, Gu Shiyan had seen plenty of experienced people die while newcomers survived. Complete team wipes were hardly unusual either.
Nan Junyi had already been through four missions. That did not mean he could survive every time. It only meant he had survived until now.
Humans were social creatures. No matter the circumstances, they needed one another’s support. Friendships born in such desperate conditions were often purer for it, and the trials they faced all the crueler.
After placing their dishes in the clearing area, the two headed for the sixth floor.
They had barely entered the ballroom when Nan Junyi felt a faint sway beneath his feet.
Gu Shiyan, who was climbing the stairs to the second level, lost her balance and immediately grabbed the handrail. Fortunately, the motion lasted only a few seconds, so brief it was almost an illusion.
This was a gigantic cruise ship, nearly the size of a small island. Under normal circumstances, traveling aboard it felt little different from standing on solid ground.
On an ordinary cruise ship, there were simple explanations for such movement: rougher seas, or an increase in speed. But aboard this cruise ship, there was only one reason for it to sway: they were docking.
“If your mission is still two days away, that means some newcomers have arrived.” Gu Shiyan exchanged a glance with Nan Junyi and immediately looked toward the exit. “How many do you think will make it out alive this time?”
“Ten minutes at most.” Nan Junyi passed her and continued up the stairs. “Then you’ll have your answer.”