Chapter 291: Something’s Burning

The container rolled onto its side before Hanchuan could get a proper look at it, showing a pale blue bottom streaked with dirt.

A strip of fabric trailed from beneath the lid, disappearing whenever a wave pushed the box under.

Shichen followed it with his eyes while Zhiyi kept hold of his arm, leaning just far enough to see around Hanchuan.

It was larger than he had expected. Someone had tied cord around it in both directions, and the handles were still attached, but there was no way to know what it held without bringing it closer.

"Bring us alongside the wood, Zeyu," Hanchuan said, pointing toward the clearer water beside the drifting branches. "Keep the rubbish away from the stern. I don’t want anything winding around the propeller."

Zeyu glanced at the pump parts spread beside him before returning to the wheel.

He had spent most of the morning trying to get the thing working, with damp sleeves pushed above his elbows and a screw held between his lips whenever he needed both hands.

Now he put the loose pieces into the open tool case and started the engine.

Shichen felt Zhiyi’s fingers tighten as the boat began to move. He covered her hand without looking away from the container.

After waiting so long for a fish, it was difficult not to imagine food inside every box that floated past them.

The engine carried them forward in a slow turn. Jingwei gathered the fishing line while Qinghe moved the two fish away from their feet, folding the cushion cover over them before taking up the bucket again.

The water beneath the deck had crept higher while they were fishing.

Shichen crouched beside Hanchuan and reached for the rope.

"If I can get a loop over one of the handles, we can pull it in without anyone hanging over the side," he said, working the wet cord through his fingers. "It’ll take me a moment to make it wide enough."

Hanchuan shifted to give him room, keeping one hand against the back of Shichen’s life jacket as the boat rolled.

The first throw fell short and Shichen pulled it back while the box drifted past a broken chair, annoyed by how clumsy his hands had become.

He had prided himself on his steady hands, but a night of cold and bailing had left him struggling to loosen a knot.

Zhiyi moved closer behind him. Rather than reaching around his shoulders, she settled beside his knee and caught the returning rope before it could slide beneath a seat.

"The handle comes up when that corner lifts," she said, watching the box instead of him. "Wait for it to turn again. You’re trying to catch the side that keeps going under."

He waited, following the pale corner through the water, and threw when it rose. The loop dropped across the lid and slipped down around the handle.

Beside him, Zhiyi caught his sleeve with a pleased little sound that made him smile before he began pulling.

The weight surprised him. Water streamed from beneath the lid, but the box barely lifted when it reached the hull.

"Leave it there for a moment," Hanchuan said, taking some of the strain. "Jingwei, get the other handle. We’ll bring it up together."

Shichen moved back as the two men hauled it over the side.

It landed heavily between the seats, spilling dirty water across their shoes. Qinghe lifted the fish clear while Zhiyi tucked her bare foot onto Shichen’s jacket.

The cord had swollen against the lid. Jingwei slid his knife beneath it, then paused when Shichen reached for his wrist.

"Let me undo it. We might need the length."

Jingwei handed him the knife handle first and held the box steady while Shichen worked the point beneath the knot.

He could feel everyone waiting, even Zeyu, who had shut off the engine and turned in his seat. By the time the cord came free, Shichen’s empty stomach had begun to ache.

A wet towel lay beneath the lid.

He lifted it carefully, letting the water drain back into the box. Beneath it were two shirts, a small blanket and a saucepan packed with underwear.

Someone had tucked a toothbrush into one of the shirt pockets. There was no food beneath the clothes, although Shichen checked twice before putting the last shirt down.

Qinghe reached for the saucepan and emptied it into his lap. Its handle was loose, but the metal hadn’t cracked.

"At least we’ve got something to cook in now," he said, turning it over to inspect the bottom. His eyes moved toward the covered fish before he added, "Once we find a way to heat it."

Shichen sat back against the seat.

He had known better than to expect sealed food, yet disappointment made it difficult to appreciate the pot.

Whoever had packed this had probably expected to return home after a few days. They had brought clean underwear and a toothbrush, wrapped a pan in clothes, and tied everything shut.

There was nothing inside to tell him where they had gone.

Hanchuan took the blanket from his hands and spread it across his knees.

"We’ll keep all of it. Pass me that shirt, sweetheart. I want to see how badly it’s torn."

Zhiyi handed it over, then leaned closer to examine the seam beneath one sleeve. Shichen watched her fingers move along the fabric.

She had spent years choosing clothes from full cupboards while someone else made sure there was clean water and a warm room waiting for her.

Now she was checking whether a stranger’s soaked shirt could be saved, with his jacket under her foot because she had nothing else to wear on it.

He reached for the second shirt before that thought could carry him any further.

By the time they finished sorting, they had a saucepan, several lengths of cord, enough cloth to cover Zhiyi’s foot and a blanket that would need washing before anyone wanted it near their face. Zeyu found a crack along the bottom of the box when he tipped it to drain.

"We can still use it to hold things," he said, rubbing his thumb over the split. "Just don’t trust it with whatever water we manage to collect."

Shichen wrung out the blanket with Jingwei, twisting until his forearms shook.

They draped it across the seats and tied the corners down so the wind couldn’t take it. Zhiyi watched him straighten, then moved his jacket aside to make room for him.

He sat with a tired breath, and she took his hand into her lap. Her thumb pressed gently across the sore muscles beneath his fingers.

He hadn’t asked her to do it, and for a while he let himself watch her instead of looking for their next problem.

"You’ll make me reluctant to get up again," he told her, smiling when she looked at him.

"Qinghe has the bucket," she replied, keeping his hand where it was. "You can sit with me until he needs you."

Shichen settled closer, careful of her foot. Across from them, Hanchuan was wrapping it in a folded strip of cloth, his head bent while she rested her other hand on his shoulder.

Zeyu called Jingwei toward the windshield before Hanchuan had finished tying it.

At first, Shichen saw nothing beyond the low waves. Then a dark smear appeared above the water, thinning as the wind carried it sideways. It vanished when the boat dipped and returned when they rose again.

Zeyu stood with one hand braced against the frame.

"That’s smoke," he said, turning toward Hanchuan. "There’s something burning out there."

Zhiyi’s fingers stopped against Shichen’s palm.

Beside the fish, the empty saucepan shifted with the roll of the boat, and all six of them watched for the smoke to appear again.