Chapter Text

Day 1

A-Yuan hadn’t meant to open the door. He'd thought it would lead to another closet, or a second bathroom, or perhaps a little bedroom for him, just like the one he had back home.

Instead, he’s found — this. A hotel room that looks rather like the one he is sharing with Ba. Unlike their room, though, everything is backwards. The bed is on the right, and the television and closet are on the left.

The man on the bed is snoring lightly. Curiously, A-Yuan tiptoes up for a closer look.

The man has long hair, longer than Ba’s. His skin is dark, sun-touched in an even, healthy way, and there’s a light scattering of freckles across his nose. He's wearing a pair of red beach shorts, and nothing else. His upper body is covered in vibrant tattoos. A-Yuan can just about make out the stylised outline of a monkey on the left side of his chest.

“Yuanyuan!”

A-Yuan jumps, guiltily. He turns, just in time to see Ba standing at the doorway of the connecting room. Ba’s face is pink and sweaty from unpacking, and the sleeves of his blue button-up shirt are rolled to his elbows. He beckons A-Yuan over, looking worried.

“Don’t go in there,” Ba chides softly, so as not to wake the sleeping man. “That's not our room, see? That belongs to someone else. Let’s not disturb him. The hotel must have left it unlocked by mistake.”

“Sorry, Ba,” A-Yuan whispers. He feels a little bad now, but as to why, he cannot say.

“Who's there?”

“Oh,” Ba says. He nudges A-Yuan gently. “Go back — go back —”

Through Ba's legs, A-Yuan sees the man sitting up in bed and stretching. His long hair cascades down his back and over his bare chest, dark and smooth as ink.

“Uh, hello,” the man says. His accent sounds similar to Ba’s, mellow and homely.

“I am so, so sorry,” Ba says in a low voice. “My child — the connecting door —”

The man swings himself off the bed. He's shorter than Ba, but leaner, and broader in the shoulders. His smile is like rainwater on a scorching day.

“Don’t apologise! Hah. My fault for forgetting to lock it. I've already been here for a week, but no one was staying in that room. It’s low season, see.”

A-Yuan can’t help himself. “Why were you asleep at four in the afternoon?”

“A-Yuan,” Ba scolds. He’s not using his angry voice, but a different one. A-Yuan blinks up at him, surprised. Ba’s ears and neck are bright red.

“I’m sorry, Ba. And shushu, I’m sorry too. It was very rude of me.”

The man waves him off with a wry chuckle. “Don’t be sorry, xiaopengyou. I was out on a dive yesterday. I got back to the hotel late, and I was tired.”

“Ba,” A-Yuan says. “What’s ‘dive’?”

“There are a few nice dive spots around this island,” the man explains, his eyes brightening. “I take a boat out to them, and then I go into the ocean with an oxygen tank, a wetsuit, and a camera. I look at fish and swim around. Sometimes I photograph them. It's fun.”

A-Yuan thinks about this for a while. Swimming in the ocean sounds wonderful, and the very idea of it makes his heart race in an unexplainable way. “I want to dive.”

“Ai, xiaopengyou,” the man sighs. “Diving is usually for older people. Maybe your Ba could take you in a few years.”

A-Yuan nods, sadly. “I want to swim with fish.”

For the first time, Ba speaks up. “Yuanyuan. Shall we continue unpacking?”

A-Yuan knows better than to argue. “Okay.”

“Say goodbye to shushu.”

“Goodbye, shushu,” A-Yuan says.

“‘Shushu’,” the man sighs, wrinkling his nose. “I'm only twenty-seven! What about ‘gege’?”

“Shushu,” Ba says firmly.

To A-Yuan’s astonishment, the man blushes.

“Shushu it is, then. So mean, gege! We’ve only known each other for a few minutes, and here you are, already bossing me around.”

“You’re an elder,” Ba says stiffly. Oh, his ears are burning. “It's only right for my son to address you as such, as a mark of respect.”

“I understand.” The man grins at them. “But I’m sure you have a lot of unpacking to do, and I don’t want to hold you back. See you around the resort!”

Ba merely grunts and turns back to their room, but A-Yuan waves once more to the friendly shushu before closing the connecting door shut behind him.

“He’s nice,” A-Yuan says.

Ba is elbow-deep in a suitcase. “Next time, don’t wander off.” His tone is mild.

“I promise.”

Ba nods. He lifts their clothes out of the suitcase. Everything is neatly arranged, immaculately vacuum-packed to remove all air and wrinkles.

“Ba,” A-Yuan says, thoughtfully. “You like him.”

Ba coughs so hard his face goes red again. “I don't know him.”

“I don't know him either,” A-Yuan says. “But I like him too.”

“Yuanyuan,” Ba sighs. “You carry your heart on your face.”

Just like the man, A-Yuan thinks, remembering how he had smiled.

That night, they order in room service, and Ba allows A-Yuan to watch television for a full hour, a rare treat. There's a documentary playing, and A-Yuan sees a pristine expanse of blue ocean on the screen, and a man in a black wetsuit swimming around in it. There are fish, hundreds of them, silvery and teeming.

Tired from the flight, A-Yuan quickly falls asleep. He dreams of the sound of the ocean, of fish swimming around him, of a large hand wrapped gently and securely around his own. And most of all, he dreams of warm waves lapping overhead, tinted in the halcyon glow of sunlight and memory.

Day 2

The next day is a beach day, warm and balmy. After a leisurely breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant, A-Yuan and Ba head to the waterfront, hand in hand. A-Yuan decides he likes the beach. Everything about it excites him: the hot flowing sand beneath his feet, the seashells buried like little treasures, the clawing, salty smell of the ocean.

“Ba,” A-Yuan says, as they lay their towels out on a couple of plastic deck chairs. “If I stand in the sea like the other children over there, will I see any fish?”

Ba hums thoughtfully. “I don't think so. Fish usually swim farther out, where the water is much colder and deeper.”

“Can I go see?”

“Be patient, baobao,” Ba says, smiling. He uncaps a bottle of sunblock. “We have to put this on you first.”

As A-Yuan extends a hand to receive a dollop of sunblock, a shadow falls over them.

“Hello again, gege, xiaopengyou!”

“Shushu!” A-Yuan exclaims.

The man from yesterday is standing before them, grinning and waving. He's wearing a pair of electric yellow board shorts today, and carrying a rolled-up towel under his arm. A-Yuan briefly considers asking the man if he owns any shirts. After all, this is the second time he’s seen him without a shirt. But then he thinks of what Ba would say — that’s not polite, Yuanyuan — and decides, at the very last moment, not to.

“Hello,” Ba says.

A-Yuan whips around, confused. Ba’s voice sounds strange: high-pitched, shaky, slightly strangled.

Ba’s face is so red, A-Yuan thinks, a little worriedly. Could he be burnt? But we haven’t really been out in the sun all that long.

“I'll just be over there,” the man says, pointing to a jetski balanced on the water. “And then I'm going parasailing. Enjoy your day!”

He turns to leave.

“Shushu,” A-Yuan calls, before he can stop himself. “Shushu, shushu.”

The man turns, the corners of his laughing eyes crinkling into a smile. “What’s up, xiaopengyou?”

A-Yuan bites his lip. He has a strong feeling that Ba would like to spend more time with the man.

Would you like to sit with us? A-Yuan wants to say, but he doesn’t. After all, the man is sort of a stranger, and Ba has taught him about strangers before.

“Have you put on your sunblock?” he ends up asking.

Ba shifts beside him. “Yuanyuan.”

“I haven't,” the man laughs. “I, uh. I really ought to be less careless about such things.”

A-Yuan turns to Ba. “Ba, could you help him? Please? He can’t reach his back.”

“Oh, I couldn't! Such an imposition!” The man throws his hands up in embarrassment.

“I'm so sorry,” Ba hastens to say. And then, to A-Yuan, “Baobao, you and I can apply each other’s sunblock, because we’re family. But shushu here may not think of us as family, and he may not necessarily want our help.”

The man grins. “Well, xiaopengyou, you’re already calling me ‘shushu’, so we’re pretty much family at this point. And I certainly would never be able to deny someone like your Ba anything. But that’s entirely his choice.”

A-Yuan sneaks a peek at Ba, who is looking at the man with a frown.

“Sit down,” Ba snaps through gritted teeth. “You’re twenty-seven, a grown man! And still you don’t wear any sunblock or take proper care of yourself. Even my son knows better than you.”

A-Yuan preens a little.

Groaning, the man takes a seat on the edge of Ba’s chair. “Ai, gege, so mean! I do take good care of myself. I eat my vegetables and protein every day, and I go to the gym five times a week. What, did you think I got a body like this from lazing around?” He flexes a muscle on the left side of his chest for emphasis, making the monkey there jump up and down, and A-Yuan breaks into a fit of giggling. It looks so funny.

“It's a very nice body,” Ba concedes grudgingly. He's flushed to his hairline, and he lowers his eyes, concentrating on squeezing out the sunblock and spreading it evenly over the man’s tanned back. “But you need to start acting like an adult.”

It’s so nice to hear Ba lecturing someone else for once, A-Yuan thinks.

“Shushu,” he says. “When you go out on the jetski, will you see any fish?”

The man hums speculatively. His eyes are catlike, half-open and dreamy from Ba’s ministrations. “Hmm, I don’t think so. I'd be above the waterline, after all. But I'm going on another dive tomorrow around the Racha Islands, and I'll get some more pictures of fish then. If you like, I'll send them to your Ba, and he can show them to you.”

“Then you should get Ba’s number,” A-Yuan points out.

“Yuanyuan…”

“Gladly,” the man says, turning to smile at Ba. “If you don’t mind, I'll come back for that after my parasailing session. Thank you for the sunblock, gege. I appreciate it.”

After the man leaves, A-Yuan finds Ba shaking his head at him.

“Baobao,” Ba sighs. “Be careful. We barely know him.”

A-Yuan nods solemnly. He knows that what Ba is saying is true, but he can’t shake the feeling that Ba feels happy around the man, too.

“Ba,” A-Yuan begins. Soft and quiet. “It's okay. I don't need to see his pictures of the fish.”

Ba doesn’t reply to that at once. He's silent, thinking, gazing out over the vast expanse of sand and ocean. And then, very gently, he puts his hand on A-Yuan’s arm.

“It's all right, Yuanyuan. I don't mind. I want to see the fish as well.”

A-Yuan perks up at once. “You do? Ba, I’m so excited. I know the fish will be pretty. And then, when I'm older, I could go into the ocean to see them too, just like him.”

“You could.”

The midmorning sun crawls across the sky, its slow rays painting the surface of the beach a rich golden brown. A-Yuan splashes in the shallows and makes large holes in the sand with Ba.

“Bury me,” he begs, and Ba obliges.

“Like a carrot,” Ba says, smiling a little. “Xiaoluobo. Little carrot.”

Buried to the waist, A-Yuan tips his head backwards to look at the clouds. He sees a colourful parachute, and a little boat towing it along. He points. “Look, Ba, it’s shushu.”

“Hm,” Ba says. A-Yuan doesn’t miss how his eyes light up at the mention of the man.

It's late morning when the man returns. A-Yuan and Ba are rolling up their towels and folding their deck chairs when he reappears.

“I’m back,” the man says, grinning. His hair is windblown, and there are traces of sand on his bare torso.

“We saw you,” A-Yuan says. “In the sky.”

The man smiles. “It was so beautiful up there, and so quiet. I saw you both, too.”

Ba clears his throat. “So… you wanted my number.”

“The fish were admittedly a good pretext,” the man says. He takes Ba’s phone and types something into it. “Still, I'm going to take as many photos of fish as I can! The reef I'll be visiting is teeming with life. I want both of you to see it.”

“Ba, shushu, what does ‘pretext’ mean?”

“Tell you later, baobao,” Ba whispers.

“Done,” the man says. He hands the phone back with a short bow. “I'm Wei Ying. Xiaopengyou, you can call me Wei-shushu. As for your Ba, he can call me whenever he likes.”

Ba squirms, neck and chest beet red. “Not now,” he mumbles. He looks like he’s trying not to smile.

Wei-shushu chuckles. “Lan Zhan,” he says, peering down at his own phone, where a text has come in. “Lan Zhan and Lan Yuan.”

A-Yuan decides he rather likes the way Wei-shushu says his name. “My birth mother named me Yuan at the hospital, just before she gave me up for adoption.”

Wei-shushu’s mouth falls open, and colour rushes to his face. “Oh! You’re adopted? Yuan. That’s your name? Wait. Oh my god — I'm sorry. I’m so sorry for asking. It’s just… wow. I didn’t think — that was unforgivably rude of me.”

“A-Yuan knows he was adopted,” Ba says softly. “He’s been with me since he was a newborn. I’ve never hidden any of it from him.”

Wei-shushu squats down to face A-Yuan. His eyes are unspeakably warm and kind; brimming with understanding and indescribable emotion. “Your Ba did a wonderful, loving thing, Lan Yuan. You’re both so incredibly lucky to have found each other.”

Ba clears his throat, delicately. “There's no other parent. It's just me. In case you were wondering.”

“I was,” Wei-shushu says, smirking a little. “That was going to be my next question, gege. It’s good news.”

“You’re very good with children,” Ba remarks. “Do you have any of your own?”

To A-Yuan’s surprise, the smile slides off Wei-shushu’s face.

“Not at this point in time.” There’s a wistful edge to his voice, and he fiddles with the strap of his dry bag as he talks, not quite meeting their eyes. “But maybe someday… ai. One can hope. Who can say? I probably ought to find someone to settle down with, first.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Well,” Wei-shushu says, suddenly. “As the old saying goes, there are plenty of fish out there, and all I need is one. And speaking of fish…”

“Please send the pictures, shushu, please.”

Wei-shushu places a hand over his heart. “I absolutely will, xiaopengyou! I'll text your Ba, for sure. Have a lovely rest of the day, both of you!”

A-Yuan waves as he watches the man disappear into the entrance of the hotel. After a beat, Ba takes his hand.

“Come, Yuanyuan,” he says. “It’s time for lunch.”

It's not until hours later, when he’s safely tucked in for the night, that A-Yuan remembers he’d forgotten to ask Ba what the word ‘pretext’ meant.

I'll ask him tomorrow, A-Yuan thinks. He rolls to his side, yawning widely. The gentle lamplight illuminates Ba, who is sitting at the edge of his own bed. He's on his phone, seemingly texting someone. How odd, A-Yuan thinks sleepily. Ba seldom spends so much time on his phone. Maybe he’s texting Dabo or Shugong to tell them about the beach and the fish and the nice shushu.

Ba is even smiling a little, soft and private. A-Yuan can’t stop staring. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen Ba this happy.

He must have made a sound, because Ba immediately puts his phone down. “Can’t sleep?”

A-Yuan shakes his head. “Good night, Ba.”

“Good night, baobao.”

A word, A-Yuan thinks again, drowsily. There’s a word he needs to ask Ba the meaning of, in the morning. He will remember. He will ask…

Sleep descends, and in its velvet darkness, the word slips irrevocably away from him.

Day 3

The day starts off with grey clouds and the threat of rain.

“The beach isn’t such a good idea today, Yuanyuan,” Ba says. “Let's go to the town instead. We can do some shopping and sightseeing.”

A-Yuan nods.

“No buses from here,” the hotel concierge tells them apologetically. “We could hire a limousine for you, or call you a Grab. Alternatively, if you fancy a cheaper ride with the locals, you could take the songthaew into town. It's only half an hour’s ride.”

“Where do we catch it?” Ba asks.

“Behind the hotel.” The concierge points. “It looks like a small lorry with seats for people in the back. Just wave to get it to stop.”

The prospect of riding at the back of a lorry is so thrilling that A-Yuan actually forgets about fish for a whole minute.

The songthaew, when it arrives, is larger than A-Yuan had expected. Most of the passengers are locals on their way to work. A-Yuan eagerly takes a seat beside an old woman with two beautiful white chickens in a wire cage.

“Look, Ba!”

Ba nods.

“I want to tell Wei-shushu about the chickens. Do you think he likes chickens?”

“I don't know,” Ba says. He takes A-Yuan’s hand as the songthaew begins to move.

“We should buy him some, Ba. You could give them to him.”

Ba shakes his head. “I couldn't.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Ba says patiently. “He needs to take a plane ride home, just like us. They won’t allow the chickens on board.”

A-Yuan chews on his lip. He hadn’t considered that.

They arrive at the town fairly quickly. It's a pleasant place, clean and quiet. There's a main circle dotted with cafes and shops. They stop at a small local restaurant for lunch.

When Ba’s phone pings, A-Yuan glances quickly at it. “Is it Wei-shushu? Are there pictures of fish?”

Ba checks it. “No, it’s your Dabo.”

It's a video call. A-Yuan excitedly tells Dabo about the chickens and the songthaew and the beach.

“Sounds like you’re having fun,” Dabo says cheerfully. “Anything interesting happening over there?”

“No,” Ba says, just as A-Yuan interjects, “Wei-shushu is going on a dive today. He promised to send us some photos of fish.”

At this, Dabo grins, eyebrows rising. “Oh? Who’s this Wei-shushu?”

Ba grunts. “Ge, it’s just someone we met on the beach.”

“He's nice and funny,” A-Yuan tells his uncle eagerly. “He was asleep when we went into his room. Then he went on a jetski and a parasail. He let Ba rub sunblock on his back. He took Ba’s phone number. He swims in the ocean with fish. He has a monkey tattoo, and he goes to the gym and has a nice body. He makes Ba happy. Ba likes him.”

“Baobao…”

“Sunblock? Phone number? Nice body?” Dabo is chortling. “Wait a minute — you have to tell me —”

“The reception here is terrible, ge,” Ba cuts in. “We can barely see or hear you. I'll call you again tomorrow.”

“Wait! Wait —”

“Bye, ge. Say goodbye to Dabo, Yuanyuan.”

“Goodbye, Dabo.”

Ba hangs up without waiting for Dabo to respond. “Come, Yuanyuan. Let’s go shopping.”

Ba is behaving strangely. A-Yuan turns this over in his mind as they walk to the souvenir market outside the restaurant. Maybe Ba hadn’t liked Dabo laughing at him.

At the market, there's a vendor making little clay figurines of animals, each no larger than a coin. A-Yuan skips closer for a look. He sees sheep, giraffes, elephants, cats, mice. “Look, Ba, look!”

Ba pauses. His gaze falls on a pair of white clay chickens.

“Maybe,” A-Yuan begins, and Ba smiles at him, and he knows that they’re thinking the same thing.

They leave the stall with lightened purses, the clay chickens nestled in Ba’s pocket. Tonight, or perhaps tomorrow, Ba will give them to Wei-shushu.

The songthaew ride back to the hotel is much quieter. There are no chickens this time. A-Yuan snoozes against Ba’s shoulder as the songthaew climbs the winding mountain paths, and he dreams, in fits and starts. He sees a coral reef, and sunlight breaking over the waves, illuminating a school of brightly hued fish.

“Baobao,” Ba whispers suddenly. “We’re back.”

A-Yuan sits up, rubbing his eyes. Ba lifts him into his arms and steps out of the songthaew. It’s late afternoon, and the beach is washed in rose and amber. On the street outside their hotel, there’s a man selling fresh crepes and deep-fried bananas from a battered old cart.

“I'm hungry.”

Ba nods. “Let's get a snack.”

A Nutella custard crepe for him, and a fried banana for Ba. A-Yuan tucks into the crepe greedily, savoring the rich explosion of flavour in his mouth.

Ba’s phone chimes just as they’re done eating. A-Yuan glances over just in time to see Ba’s ears turning red.

“It's Wei-shushu, isn’t it?”

Ba sighs. “It is.”

“Let me see, let me see…”

To A-Yuan’s surprise, Ba abruptly angles the phone away. A-Yuan stops, shocked, hurt rising in his chest in a sharp, unexpected wave. Ba has never done that before. They've never kept secrets from each other, never had to.

Ba seems to realise what he’s done. He leans down to stroke A-Yuan’s hair. “I'm sorry, baobao. Wei-shushu sent me a — well. Just a moment… I need to find the fish photos for you.”

“I thought I saw a photo,” A-Yuan whispers, biting his lip. It hadn’t looked like a fish. But he couldn’t be sure. It had happened so quickly.

“That was — something else,” Ba stammers, flushing. A-Yuan waits, but Ba doesn’t elaborate. And then at last, Ba holds up the phone for him to see. “Here, baobao. I've saved them to my camera roll.”

A-Yuan looks.

He sees fish. Schools and shoals: plain ones, colourful ones, big ones, long ones, flat ones, boxy ones, small ones. Bait balls, fish darting through rainbowy coral cities and swimming in and out of rocky caves and crevices. Sharks, and slugs, and sea stars, and rays.

The final photo in the roll is a selfie of Wei-shushu, underwater, with a mask on his face. He’s pointing to a large flippered turtle behind him. And though his mouth is mostly obscured, A-Yuan can almost see that brilliant smile of his.

“It's so nice, Ba. He’s having so much fun.”

Ba hums in agreement. He shuts the phone off and gently wipes the chocolate off A-Yuan’s mouth and hands with a wet tissue.

“Yuanyuan, Wei-shushu also asked if we would like to go snorkelling with him tomorrow. We'd be taking a boat ride out to a neighbouring island, where there’s a shallow area for families with children to snorkel. If you’d like to, I'll tell him yes.”

Snorkelling? A boat ride? With Ba and Wei-shushu? A-Yuan lets go of Ba’s hand to jump up and down. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“All right,” Ba says, smiling. “I'll tell him. I have never snorkelled myself, either. I'm excited too.”

A-Yuan wants to cheer and scream some more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his arms around Ba’s thigh and hugs him there, tightly.

Day 4

A-Yuan wakes early, even earlier than Ba, for once. He sits upright in bed, heart hammering with excitement. Today, he thinks. Today, I will go into the sea, and see the fish for myself.

Would the water be cold? Would the ocean be deep? Would it feel like floating, or flying, or falling?

And would Ba be there throughout, to hold his hand?

A-Yuan glances at Ba, who is sound asleep on the other bed.

I hope you enjoy it, Ba, A-Yuan thinks. I'll hold your hand, too.

Wei-shushu, as it turns out, isn’t really a morning person.

“Sorry, xiaopengyou, but I’m going to have to take a nap on the bus,” he says, almost apologetically. Then he flashes his best grin at Ba. “Wake me up when we get to the boat, gege.”

“Ba,” A-Yuan whispers, as the bus begins to move, and he is absolutely sure Wei-shushu has fallen asleep. “Why does he call you ‘gege’?”

It’s something he’d been meaning to ask for a while.

Unexpectedly, Ba goes red again. “He’s… just being polite, baobao. I am a few years older than him, after all.”

“So he thinks of you as an older brother, just like you and Dabo!”

“I…” It’s the first time A-Yuan has seen Ba so at a loss for words. “I suppose he sees us as being very familiar with each other.”

A-Yuan frowns. Ba hadn’t really answered the question. He thinks for a moment, then opens his mouth to ask it again in a different way.

“Would you like a snack, baobao?”

“Ooh, yes,” A-Yuan says, question forgotten. He reaches eagerly into Ba’s backpack for his Miffy lunchbox. There are some Julie’s biscuits and Bin Bin rice crackers inside.

The bus ride is fairly long. There are frequent stops at other hotels to pick up more tourists. At one stop, a tall girl boards the bus with her mother and father. She has on a pink wetsuit with a picture of a cartoon sheep on the front.

“Hello,” she says to A-Yuan. Several of her front teeth are already missing. A-Yuan knows it will probably happen to him soon, too.

“Hello. I like your sheep.”

“Xiao-Mianmian,” the girl’s mother whispers. “Say thank you to didi.”

“Thank you,” the girl says.

“I'm here with Ba and Wei-shushu,” A-Yuan tells xiao-Mianmian and her parents. “We’re going snorkelling.”

“That’s nice,” xiao-Mianmian’s mother says. “Your dads must love the outdoors.”

Ba starts, clearing his throat. “It's just me. He’s not my —”

“Oh,” the mother says, her hand flying to her mouth. “I'm so sorry. I assumed he was your husband.”

“He’s my… friend.”

“Ba likes him,” A-Yuan tells the woman. “They’re like brothers. They text each other all the time. Yesterday, Wei-shushu sent Ba a photo, but Ba didn’t want to show it to me, because it was a secret.”

“Baobao, please.”

“I can tell,” the mother says, smiling.

At the jetty, they say goodbye to xiao-Mianmian and her family.

“Ba, why aren’t they coming on the boat with us?” A-Yuan asks.

“They’re going on a different tour,” Ba explains, a little distractedly. He’s staring out at the sea, frowning. “Oh, no…”

“What’s wrong, Ba?”

“The boat,” Ba says.

A-Yuan looks, but he doesn’t see anything particularly wrong with it. It's just a small white boat, slightly weather-beaten, with orange life floats attached to the sides. There’s a locker area on board, and a canopy and benches at the stern for the snorkelers to relax.

“It’s small,” Wei-shushu remarks. “If the winds pick up, we might get tossed around a bit. Do you get seasick easily, gege?”

“I don't know,” Ba murmurs. His hand is slightly sweaty in A-Yuan’s. “I haven't been out on a boat in a long time.”

Wei-shushu rummages around in his dry bag. “I usually keep these wristbands for emergencies. There was an Australian couple on my dive yesterday who couldn’t handle the boat ride, and they had to share, ha! But since it’s just you, gege, you get both.”

Gently, he takes Ba’s hands and slides them on.

“Just take deep breaths, gege. The beads on the bands are supposed to press against your acupoints. I'll look after you. Trust me.”

“I'll look after you too, Ba,” A-Yuan promises.

“Thank you both.”

They’re still holding hands, A-Yuan notes with interest.

To A-Yuan’s relief, the boat ride is smoother than expected. He climbs on a bench to look out at the horizon. The wind stings his face, but it’s a good feeling. The sea smells amazing: wild, salty, brimming with life and vigour and promise.

“Careful,” Ba calls.

He's sitting on a bench behind A-Yuan, talking to Wei-shushu. A-Yuan can hear snippets of their conversation, even as he curls himself against a railing to peer down at the churning, foamy water below.

“Marine biology,” Wei-shushu is saying. “I'm in my PhD programme right now. I've been diving since I was a teenager. In fact, I got my Rescue Diver certification from PADI just earlier this year. I love it down there. I love everything to do with the ocean. And you?”

“Classical music teacher. I teach at my uncle’s school.”

“I thought so,” Wei-shushu says. “Let me guess… strings. You don’t look like a percussion guy.”

“You’re right.”

“Very nice. I do enjoy a man with nimble fingers. Though I'd have made an entirely different remark if you’d said woodwinds or brass.”

“Wei Ying,” Ba murmurs. “Not so loud, please.”

A-Yuan understands, then, that it’s for his benefit. He ponders this for a moment. He knows it’s none of his business, and that he’s generally not supposed to interrupt private adult conversations unless it’s an emergency or genuine need. But Ba had never said he couldn’t listen in.

“So, you’re alone on this trip?”

Wei-shushu sighs glumly. “I was originally supposed to come with my brother and sister, but my sister’s mother-in-law is going through a hard divorce, so she pulled out to support her through it. Her father-in-law is a cheater, and he’s stinking rich on top of it, so he’s making his ex-wife’s life hell. As for my brother, he and I had an argument, and he pulled out of the trip because he was annoyed with me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wei-shushu says. “He was right. You see, I — ah. I made a huge mistake when I was much younger, and it’s still eating away at me, even today. My brother suggested this trip to help me relax, but I very unfairly lashed out at him. And then he rightly decided he wasn’t going. So here I am, alone.”

“I see.”

There's a brief pause.

“Thanks for listening, Lan Zhan. I'm sorry to have dumped that on you. So what brings you and your son here?”

“You don’t need to apologise to me,” Ba murmurs. “But to answer your question, it’s A-Yuan’s last holiday before he enters primary school next year.”

“He's a good kid.” A-Yuan can hear the smile in Wei-shushu’s voice. “He's incredibly lucky to have a dad like you.”

“Thank you.” And then, after a moment, “You would make a good father yourself someday.”

There’s no answer. Slowly, A-Yuan turns to look behind him. He sees Wei-shushu peering out over the horizon with a wistful face.

“I wish, you know. I really do.”

The snorkelling spot is in a natural sunlit cove beside a plump strip of rocky beach. A-Yuan watches with a great deal of interest as the captain cuts the engine and directs the tourists towards the life vests and equipment. The instructor, a young blonde woman with blue eyes and a heavily freckled face, hands A-Yuan a child-sized life vest, mask, and flippers.

“Do you know how to swim?”

A-Yuan nods, shyly.

“Okay, good. Put your face directly into the water. The mask will plug your nose, so breathe slowly through your mouth. Don’t let water get in your mask, don’t touch any of the wildlife or the corals, stay within the barrier, and don’t swim under the boat or anywhere near the engines.”

A-Yuan feels his heart speeding up. “I…”

“It's all right, xiaopengyou,” Wei-shushu says reassuringly. He’s down to his board shorts, and he’s strapping a life jacket over his own bare chest. “You can hold my hands in the water and kick your feet. You don’t have to worry — I won't let anything happen to you.”

A-Yuan nods, immeasurably relieved.

“Big life vest for you,” Wei-shushu says, tossing one to Ba. “And a set of flippers — oh. Ah, haha, that’s what you’re wearing?”

A-Yuan turns, startled by the abrupt shift in Wei-shushu’s tone. Ba has stripped down as well, to a pair of triangular white swim briefs. Ba’s body is paler than Wei-shushu’s.

Still, A-Yuan can’t quite grasp Wei-shushu’s shock. Ba always wears those swim briefs when they visit the community pool back home. Why is that so surprising?

Ba glances down at his swim briefs, ears glowing. “What's wrong with it?”

Wei-shushu blinks a few times and licks his lips. “The, uh. Well. I just. Huh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong. You look good. Like, really good. If you know what I mean. Sorry. Brain’s not working right.”

“Thank you,” Ba says gravely. He turns to grab his life jacket and promptly trips over his own feet. A-Yuan looks on with avid fascination as Wei-shushu reaches out to steady Ba.

“I just think,” Wei-shushu says, smiling a little. “That it’s a very small piece of fabric.”

“Wei Ying, please.”

“Are you ready, xiaopengyou?” Wei-shushu rubs his hands together, smiling. When A-Yuan nods, he takes A-Yuan’s hands and leaps lightly over the side of the boat.

Sun and warmth in one minute, and cold and darkness in the next. And a pair of strong hands gripping his, securely and firmly.

“Breathe,” Wei-shushu murmurs in his ear. “Remember, your mouth, not your nose.”

A-Yuan sucks in a careful breath. It hisses and rattles through the tube. Suddenly buoyant, he kicks his flippered feet, and feels a powerful, exhilarating surge carrying him forward.

Open your eyes, open your eyes.

He does.

He sees the black straps of Wei-shushu’s life vest first, and next their joined hands, bobbing on the clear, bottle-green surface of the water. And then his eyes adjust, and he sees them.

Fish.

Below him, around him, everywhere; explosions of colour against the brilliant, insistent blue of the ocean. Rushing against his legs, the rocks, the hull of the boat.

It's beautifully quiet. The ocean makes its own pulse against his eardrums, like a song from another realm. Bubbles rise in the water like mist, and a distant wave rocks him. There’s movement beside him, languid and subtle. It’s Ba, now in the water beside them.

Wordlessly, Wei-shushu lets go of one of his hands, reaching for Ba. Ba paddles forward, grasping, and the three of them float lazily in a circle, holding hands as they gaze downward at the reef.

A-Yuan’s heart is full. He looks at the fish, and he looks at Ba and Wei-shushu, and they look mostly at each other, but often at him.

Every time there are new fish, Wei-shushu slowly tows them over to look. He’s the strongest swimmer of the three of them, and A-Yuan finds himself marvelling at the sinewy grace in his muscles, his natural affinity with the water. Maybe he should ask Ba to take him to the community pool more often, so he might someday become a good swimmer like Wei-shushu.

The returning boat ride is mostly silent, as is the long bus journey back to their hotel. A-Yuan dozes against Ba’s chest, thinking longingly of the beauty and privacy of that underwater world, the softest of secrets.

Ba and Wei-shushu talk in low voices. A-Yuan strains a little to hear them, but he’s too warm and comfortable, and the steady roar of Ba’s heartbeat drowns out their conversation entirely.

Later, they have dinner together in the hotel’s restaurant, and after that, Ba asks if Wei-shushu would like to visit their room for a cup of tea.

Wei-shushu smiles his sunshine smile. “But wouldn’t that be too late for Lan Yuan?”

“Just for a while,” A-Yuan begs. “Please, Wei-shushu, please.”

“All right, xiaopengyou! But I won't stay too long — I'm sure you and your Ba are tired from the long day.”

Ba beams at him. It’s worth it, A-Yuan thinks. Ba looks so happy.

In the end, Wei-shushu stays in their room way past A-Yuan’s bedtime. “This is my sister and my nephew,” he says, holding up his phone to show A-Yuan some photographs. “He's a bit younger than you. Not as well-behaved, though. My brother-in-law tends to spoil him. And this is my brother. We’re very close, even though he doesn’t like to admit it. Don’t let that big scowl mislead you, though —”

A-Yuan stifles a yawn.

“Go to sleep, baobao,” Ba says. He tucks A-Yuan below the covers.

“But I want to hear all about Wei-shushu’s family…”

“Aiya,” Wei-shushu says. “I can tell you about them tomorrow! You should rest up, xiaopengyou.”

“Okay. Good night, Ba. Good night, Wei-shushu.”

“Good night, Yuanyuan,” Ba whispers. He bends to stroke A-Yuan’s cheek.

Sleep comes, almost instantly. A-Yuan finds himself drawn in like a magnet towards its dark depths, a shooting star falling into the ocean.