Consciousness surfaced from a long, deep vibration.
The tremor came from beneath my body—the residual hum of vast machinery, transmitted through the mattress to my skin.
I did not open my eyes immediately.
It was very quiet.
Only the faint whir of the air‑circulation system, and beyond the deck, the low growl of the sea being split by the bow.
Beside me, even breathing.
I opened my eyes.
The room was dark.
Blackout curtains blocked all outside light except a thin silver line at the bottom edge.
I stared at that gap for a few seconds, then reached out and touched the smooth, cool surface of the bedside table.
The curtains slid slowly open.
Light poured in as the gap widened.
First diluted grey, then a pale gold softened by sea mist, and finally the full view beyond the floor‑to‑ceiling window unfolded before me.
The sea.
Lead‑grey, boundless, merging in the distance with a sky of the same lead‑grey.
The hull cut steadily through this grey‑blue expanse, leaving a long white wake.
This ship was called the Bainuoke, and it was carrying a full load of passengers towards a horizon I could not see.
Behind me, a muffled murmur.
I did not turn.
"Awake?"
"Not awake." The voice was muffled in the pillow, soft as honey just pulled from the comb. "This young lady is still sleeping."
The mattress shifted.
Dianzi turned over, burying her face deeper into the pillow, wrapping herself into a cocoon with only a few strands of purple‑pink hair showing.
I withdrew my gaze and sat up.
"Didn't you say you wanted to see the morning sea?"
"That was sister who said it. This young lady only said she could cooperate."
I looked at her, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly.
"You've known since you were little how to leave yourself an out. 'Could cooperate' just means you don't want to get up."
A muffled laugh came from under the duvet.
"Sister knows that well."
I said nothing more.
I raised my hand and touched the Lingguang Xihuan on my left wrist.
A faint cold light flashed, and two neatly folded sets of clothing appeared in my palm.
I unfolded them and laid them on the bed.
The first set was black gothic Lolita.
The skirt flared into an elegant bell shape, its surface covered with dark embroidered patterns—vines traced in extremely fine silver thread that only shimmered when the light hit them.
The top was a fitted corset design, crossed at the front with wine‑red ribbons tied into delicate bows at the chest.
The collar was a vintage stand‑up style, edged with fine lace.
Black over‑the‑knee stockings, the cuffs stopping six centimetres above the knee, edged with a ring of extremely fine silver thread.
The other set lay beside it.
The same Lolita construction, but the main colour was misty pink, like the first drop of dew on a morning rose.
The ribbons at the front were bright purple, tied into a cuter bow.
The embroidery on the skirt was colourful flowers—lively, bright.
White over‑the‑knee stockings, the cuffs at the same height, edged with a ring of mother‑of‑pearl lace.
The two sets lay side by side, like two rhymes of the same poem.
The cocoon on the bed stirred.
A strand of purple‑pink hair emerged from under the duvet, then half a face, one sleepy eye.
"Sister, you've got them ready?"
"Got them ready." I hung the two outfits side by side on the hooks inside the wardrobe door. "If you don't get up soon, this light will solidify. You'll have to scoop it up with a spoon and eat it."
"That would be perfect." The eye blinked and closed again. "This young lady can skip breakfast and just drink light. Zero calories, and no dishes to wash."
A pause of two seconds.
The mattress shook more vigorously.
Dianzi finally sat up, her hair a mess, half the sash of her pyjama robe undone.
"But this young lady's morning can't be skipped." She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she walked towards me. "If the light really turns into pudding, I'll cut it in half—one for you, one for me, and pour some sea‑salt caramel sauce on top."
I moved aside.
Her rubbing hand stopped.
"Today's outfit... Lolita?"
"Yes. It suits you."
"After I put it on, people will probably say, 'Wife, why are you so princessy today?'"
I looked into her eyes, my fingertips brushing the stray hairs from her forehead.
"Princess it is. Anyway, today you smell like strawberry."
She paused, then smiled.
A soft laugh, closed inside the bathroom door.
By the time Dianzi finished washing and changed into the misty pink Lolita, I had also changed into my black version.
We stood side by side before the full‑length mirror.
In the mirror stood two figures wrapped in delicate fabric.
Black and misty pink. Vintage stand‑up collars and lace trims.
The same bell‑shaped skirts, the same ribbon bows.
But every detail spoke of difference: hers lively and bright, mine still and sharp.
The silver embroidery on the black dress faintly glowed in the morning light.
Around my neck was a black satin choker, set at the centre with a dark blue crystal, its edges rimmed with fine white gold, like a relic of some ancient rite.
Above my left collarbone hung a silver teardrop pendant, its surface carved with extremely fine lines.
On my left wrist, the Lingguang Xihuan gave off a faint cold gleam.
From my earlobes dangled slender silver ear threads, ending in rice‑grain‑sized black obsidian that flashed a dark spark when the light turned.
Wine‑red ribbons wove through my ash‑gold gradient long curls, intertwining from root to tip.
At the end of the ribbons was pinned a silver gear hairpin the size of a fingernail, its teeth rounded, appearing and disappearing among the strands.
On her side, the colourful embroidery on the misty pink skirt looked as if it had been picked from a garden.
Her purple‑pink gradient long hair was pinned up at the back into a fluffy bun, with two wisps of bangs falling on either side.
Mother‑of‑pearl hair clips shone with iridescence in her hair.
Around her neck, two fine chains were layered, one silver and one rose gold, their pendants two tiny clear crystals—one teardrop‑shaped, one round—that clicked softly together when she spoke.
On her left wrist, two fine chains were also layered, matching the necklaces.
Around her left ankle, barely visible, an extremely thin anklet strung with rice‑grain‑sized pink crystals flashed a glint of light as she gently rose on her toes.
I picked up the crossbody bag from the bedside table.
An Avenor limited edition.
Deep wine‑red velvet with a dark embossed pattern, the gold clasp catching the morning light for an instant.
We stood together, like different variations of the same melody.
"Let's go," I said.
My fingertip rose and brushed the satin choker at my neck.
The dark blue crystal's brightness increased slightly, and a semi‑transparent floating interface projected from above the choker.
Not only this satin choker—the fine chains around her neck and my teardrop pendant all contained the same livestream module.
The crystal was the main camera, the pendants hid tiny microphones, even the hair clips and earrings held pinhole lenses.
We stood side by side at the window, looking out at the boundless sea that was slowly being lit by the rising sun.
"Sister," Dianzi suddenly spoke, "the chat seems to have woken up even earlier than us."
"They only need to move their fingers. We have to get up and get dressed."
She nodded.
Below the interface, the text began to scroll.
[chat] Morning, wife is here 😊
[chat] That black one is incredible, dark princess herself
[chat] The misty pink one is so fairy, like strawberry cream come to life
[chat] Another day woken up by beauty
I watched the scrolling text, the corner of my mouth lifting.
"Good morning, my treasures," I finally spoke, my voice rising from deep in my throat, softer than usual but every word carrying tiny, sharp hooks. "Can you see clearly? This young lady and Dianzi got up earlier than the seagulls."
I turned slightly, letting the morning light outline the shape of the skirt.
"I heard this cruise ship has thirty‑six kinds of bread for breakfast," Dianzi leaned closer to the interface, her soft, sticky voice carrying the lazy warmth of just having woken up. "This young lady has decided to taste them all, from the first to the thirty‑sixth."
[chat] Princess levels off the charts
[chat] Mum loves it ❤️
[chat] Sisters, go for it
[chat] Wife is so beautiful
"Being a girl, if you eat too much, you'll need to walk it off," I added. "Otherwise, you might need to be carried back to the room."
"Sister, if you say things like that, how can this young lady keep up her image?" Dianzi shot me a glare, but the corner of her mouth was already curving up.
"You can keep up your image slowly. Carbs must be eaten while they're hot."
"All right." Dianzi clapped her hands lightly.
The skirt swayed with the movement, the anklet flashing again.
"Next, we're going to breakfast, then to the glass corridor on the ship. I heard the light there is especially good."
"Right," I added, turning to let the interface capture the corridor behind me. "The corridor might be a bit shaky on the way, my treasures, please bear with it."
I waved at the interface, my fingertip brushing the choker.
The faint blue glow dimmed, and the floating interface disappeared without a sound.
The room suddenly fell quiet.
Outside the window, the line between sea and sky had fully brightened, replaced by a layer of pale gold morning light.
I was about to say "let's go" when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I took it out.
On the screen was a new text message.
The sender was a number I had not saved, the digits arranged without any pattern.
I opened it.
There will be waves on the sea today. Be careful.
The line of text lay quietly in the white message bubble.
——It had arrived. Sooner than expected.
I stared at that line for two seconds, then turned the phone over, screen down, and placed it on the bedside table.
"Let's go," Dianzi said.
"Yes."
I took one last look at the window.
The curtains were already open, light flooding in, illuminating the whole room.
Seagulls flew over the sea, their wingtips almost brushing the waves.
The door closed behind us.
The fluorescent lights in the corridor hummed.
The carpet absorbed every footstep.