The glass corridor was on the seventh deck of the ship, an arc of curved glass panels bulging outward above the sea.
The panels were seamless, welded together so perfectly that it felt like standing inside a giant bubble.
When we arrived, sunlight was just leaking through the gaps in the clouds, cutting a golden gash across the water.
The light shifted by the second, moving across the surface like a living thing.
People were already in the corridor.
An elderly man leaning on the railing looking at the sea.
A couple taking selfies with their phones.
A few children lying on the glass floor, chasing the waves below.
Their laughter echoed off the curved walls.
Dianzi pulled me to the outermost viewing spot.
The misty pink Lolita skirt swept across the floor, the sunlight dyeing the fabric an almost translucent peach colour.
The hem whispered against the glass as she walked.
Wisps of bangs hung on either side of her fluffy bun, mother‑of‑pearl hair clips shimmering with iridescence in her hair.
The clips caught the light and scattered it into tiny rainbows.
The tiny mother‑of‑pearl flowers on her earlobes swayed gently as she moved.
They clicked together softly, a sound only I could hear.
I stood beside her.
The silver embroidery on the black skirt faintly glowed in the strong light.
The threads seemed alive, pulsing with each shift of the sun.
The wine‑red ribbons woven through my ash‑gold long curls ended at the silver gear hairpin pinned behind my ear, occasionally reflecting a cold glint.
The gear was cool against my scalp, a small weight that reminded me it was there.
The cuffs of my black over‑the‑knee stockings disappeared in the shadow of the skirt hem, while the white cuffs of her stockings showed a ring of mother‑of‑pearl lace.
The lace was delicate, almost transparent, like frost on a winter window.
"Look, my treasures," Dianzi leaned toward the floating interface projected from the fine chains at her neck, aiming the lens at the window. "The colour of this sea—doesn't it look like someone smashed a whole chunk of sapphire and scattered the pieces on the water?"
The interface floated just above her collarbone, its glow casting a soft blue light on her skin.
I stood half a step behind her, letting the lens frame both her and the sea.
My shadow fell across her shoulder, merging with hers on the glass floor.
[chat] So beautiful 😍
[chat] Today's dress and the sea are such a perfect match
[chat] Mum wants to see the sea too 🌊
[chat] The light here is incredible
A seagull flew past the lens, its wingtip almost touching the glass.
The bird's shadow slid across the floor like a dark fish swimming through light.
"A seagull," Dianzi said softly, her finger pressing against the glass as she followed the bird's flight. "They fly so low."
"They're waiting for someone on the ship to throw bread," I said.
"Then we'll throw some later too."
"Being a girl, you need to mind your manners. You can't just feed seagulls anything. You might get fined."
She turned her head and glared at me, but her mouth was curved.
Her eyes sparkled with the kind of annoyance that was not really annoyance at all.
I was about to reply when my peripheral vision caught a small figure standing alone at the far end of the corridor.
A little girl. Maybe five or six years old.
She wore a yellow dress, her hair tied in two little buns.
The buns were uneven, one higher than the other, as if done in a hurry.
She was leaning over the glass railing, her head almost poking out, staring at the sea below.
No adult beside her.
I adjusted the lens angle, making the frame wider.
Not deliberately—it was just that the girl happened to enter the edge of the viewfinder.
The viewfinder caught her reflection in the glass, a ghost image layered over the waves.
Dianzi saw her too.
She said nothing, just continued introducing the wake on the water and the distant islands, but her gaze kept drifting in that direction.
Her voice did not waver, but her eyes told a different story.
The girl stayed like that for a long time.
Her small hands gripped the railing. Her knuckles were white.
Then she suddenly straightened up, turned her head, and called out.
"Mummy."
Her voice was small, half swallowed by the wind in the corridor, but I saw her lips move.
The word hung in the air for a moment before the wind took it away.
After she called, she did not turn back immediately.
She waited.
Waited for an answer.
A seagull cried outside the window.
Someone laughed behind them.
Footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.
But that voice did not come.
The smile on the girl's face slowly withdrew.
First from her mouth, then from her eyes, and finally that little light that had come from anticipation went out.
Her small shoulders tightened, as if someone had given her a gentle push from behind.
The yellow dress seemed less bright now, the colour draining away.
[chat] ??? 😥
[chat] That little girl looks like she's alone
[chat] Where's her mummy?
[chat] So heartbreaking. Go find your mummy.
"Little girl." Dianzi had already walked over, crouching down to make herself the same height, her skirt spreading on the glass floor. "What are you looking at?"
The misty pink fabric pooled around her knees like a flower opening.
The girl turned her head.
Her eyes were big, her lashes still holding a wetness that might have been tears or just light.
A single tear clung to her lower lashes, not falling.
"Flying fish," she said, her voice thin. "I saw them. They can fly."
Her finger pointed to a spot on the water where nothing moved.
"Really? This young lady has never seen flying fish before."
"Really!" The girl spread her hands wide. "They jump out of the water like this, and their wings are all shiny, and then they disappear."
Her hands traced an arc in the air, a flight path for an invisible fish.
"Then shall this young lady wait with you? Until they fly out again?"
The girl nodded. Hard.
Her buns bobbed up and down.
Dianzi crouched beside her, her purple‑pink hair falling down, overlapping with the girl's yellow skirt hem.
The two colours blended where they touched, pink and yellow becoming something new.
I stood a few steps away, the lens aimed at the sea, not at them.
The sea stretched endlessly, grey-blue and patient.
[chat] Daughter is so warm 💕
[chat] This young lady is so gentle
[chat] Mum is crying
[chat] The crouching shot is so beautiful
Waves surged on the sea, breaking into white foam at the ship's side.
No flying fish.
The girl waited for a while, then turned her head again and called out.
"Mummy."
This time her voice was louder.
Several people in the corridor looked back.
A woman in sunglasses stopped, glanced, and walked on.
A man with a camera passed by, lowered his lens, took a photo, and kept walking.
No one stopped.
The girl's small shoulders tightened again.
This time she did not withdraw her gaze—she kept her head turned, looking at the empty corridor behind her.
Her neck strained with the effort of holding the position.
I saw her lower lip begin to tremble.
The trembling started small, then spread to her chin.
Dianzi reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Her fingers rested lightly, not gripping, just there.
"Maybe Mummy went to get some yummy food for you?" She tilted her head, her voice soft as cotton candy. "Shall this young lady wait with you here?"
The girl said nothing.
She turned her face back to the sea and continued staring.
The trembling stopped.
She did not call out again.
About two minutes passed. Maybe longer.
The light in the corridor changed very slowly, only the shadows of seagulls sliding repeatedly across the glass.
The shadows were dark and fast, here one second and gone the next.
Then footsteps came from the corridor entrance—urgent, rapid.
The sound echoed off the glass walls, growing louder.
A young woman ran over, a plastic bag clutched in her hand.
There were dark water stains on her skirt.
Coffee. Freshly spilled, the edges not yet dry.
The stain was still spreading, a dark bloom on pale fabric.
"Xiao Yu!" She was panting, her voice carrying barely suppressed panic. "Mummy just went to buy some water, and you were gone in a second."
She crouched down and pulled the girl into her arms.
The plastic bag swung on her arm—inside were two bottles of water and a small box of biscuits.
The biscuits were the cheap kind, the ones that came in a red box.
The girl did not cry.
She just buried her face in her mother's shoulder and said softly, "I saw flying fish."
Her voice was muffled by the fabric, but I heard every word.
"Really? What did the flying fish look like?"
"Their wings were shiny."
"Then Mummy will watch with you next time too."
The woman stood up, took the girl's hand, and nodded at Dianzi.
"Thank you," she said, still catching her breath. "She runs so fast. I turned my head for a second and she was gone."
Her hand was shaking as she held the plastic bag.
"It's fine." Dianzi also stood up, brushing a little dust from her skirt. "She was very good. She waited right here. This young lady waited with her for quite a while."
Dianzi's skirt had a small crease from kneeling, but she did not notice.
The woman said thank you again and looked down at the girl.
The girl's hand was held by her mother, so she had to twist her body to look back.
She looked at Dianzi, then at me standing a few steps away.
Then she raised her free hand and gave a little wave.
Her fingers opened and closed like a small starfish.
I waved back.
Dianzi crouched down again, eye‑level with her, and waved back again.
"Next time you watch flying fish, remember to hold your mummy's hand. Be good, little girl."
The girl nodded.
Mother and daughter disappeared around the bend in the corridor.
The yellow dress was the last thing to go, a flash of colour before it turned the corner.
I closed the floating interface and took the lens back from the sea.
The interface dissolved into tiny particles of light, absorbed back into the chains.
[chat] Daughter is so gentle
[chat] Mum works so hard
[chat] That little girl is so sweet
[chat] I hope she's always happy
Dianzi walked back and stood beside me.
The sea breeze blew her hair against my shoulder.
The strands were soft, tickling my neck.
"I hope she always has someone with her when she watches the sea," she said.
——The coffee stain on her skirt was not from today. I had seen her in the corridor on the first day.
She had been standing in the same spot, looking out at the same water, holding the same child.
I did not answer.
I just opened the interface again and aimed the lens at the boundless sea in the distance, now fully lit by the sun.
The light had shifted from pale gold to bright white, the morning advancing.
The corridor returned to how it had been.
The elderly man looking at the sea, the couple taking selfies, the children lying on the glass floor chasing the waves.
As if nothing had happened.
As if the girl and her mother had never been there.
The seagull flew over again.
This time I did not look at it.
I watched the water instead, waiting for flying fish that would never come.