The blank space in the tide
[Resort Design Department Day]
Before noon, an email notification light flashed in the corner of the screen. The subject was brief—"Invitation to the Autumn Coastal Cultural Festival of the Port City Cultural Centre." The message stated that, inspired by the resort's "House of Refraction" and the light paths in its courtyard, they wanted to invite Hu Li to co-plan and design the main visual for the "Sea Glass" themed public installation; the proposal was to be submitted this week, with the first phase to be completed within forty-five days.
She read it once, downloaded and compressed the attachment, and forwarded it to Mu Tianlang's work email, copying his special assistant.
Hu Li: I received an invitation from the Port City Cultural Center for a collaboration between public art and public welfare. We will be working with environmental groups to recycle discarded glass and fishing gear from the coast. Natural light will be used during the day, and low-level lights will be used for guidance at night. Since I am currently a contracted designer for Mu's, would you agree to allow me to represent them at the site survey and to present a proposal? If so, I will reply according to their procedures. The opening ceremony is complete; the timing will be coordinated based on our return trip to Beijing.
His reply came back in just three minutes after the email was sent.
Mu Tianlang: Sure. I'll sign the cooperation agreement with the cultural center on behalf of the company. You can attend as a special designer. Initial expenses will be covered under the cultural cooperation category, and public relations will be prepared concurrently. The schedule should avoid the park's key inspections and media days. Send me a draft before submitting the proposal. Safety is the priority.
She stared at the last three words, smiled, and replied "Known". Her fingertips landed on the keyboard, but she didn't type out a single word. She moved the white glass to the side of the drawing board, closed the folder, and prepared her sketchbook and color chart.
[Port City Cultural Centre Exhibition Hall Day]
The first floor of the exhibition hall has a permanent exhibition with old photos and newspaper clippings on the walls titled "Locality and the Sea".
She stopped in front of the news wall, her gaze sweeping over the children's drawings—a rough horizon, crayon grass, two small animals side by side, and a thin moon in the distance.
She suddenly paused—that page looked more like a sketchbook wrinkled by seawater.
Many years ago, when the tide receded, she picked up a soaked sketchbook on the shore, its cover crumpled: a line of wilderness, a slender tree, two wolves side by side, and only half of the moon was drawn; the next wave would sweep the sketchbook away.
She was too young then, and that scene always felt like a dream. She turned around, and the headline on the other side of the news wall came into view—"Two Boys and the Sea."
Her notes stopped on a name: Mu Tinglang. For a moment, her fingertips tightened, as if touching the salt stains left on the paper from that day.
She didn't say much, just raised her camera and took a picture.
She snapped a picture of the name, didn't linger, put the camera back in her bag, and walked at a leisurely pace. A gust of wind swept around the corner, and she pressed the corner of the page down without looking back.
[Port City North Shore Trail Entrance Day]
At two o'clock in the afternoon, the sea breeze thinned the clouds. The cultural center's vehicle took people to the entrance of the North Shore Trail. The metal poles of the streetlights stretched along the coast in a row, their surfaces covered with salt stains. Luo Du, the director of the cultural center, and Xu Jia, the event coordinator, were waiting at the entrance, first handing over a brief route and a map.
Luo Du smiled restrainedly: "We want to move the cultural festival from inside the venue to the shore, borrowing the 'low-profile lighting' and 'boundaries' you did at the resort. During the day, let the sea glass that the children collect shine on its own, and at night, let the path light itself up—it's just as understated and not dazzling."
Xu Jia added, "Another point is that we hope to create interaction with the resort. When the opening crowds come, the coastal walkway will naturally extend. We can guide the flow of people from both sides and add value to each other."
Hu Li turned to a blank page in his sketchbook: "Let's walk around and see."
The three of them walked along the north shore path. The waves outside the seawall were not high, the near shore was white and the distance was leaden blue. She didn't speak immediately, but walked and noted: the width of the gaps between the planks, the height of the railings, the shadows on the leeward side, and the windy corners. Occasionally she would stop, hold a piece of transparent, greenish sea glass in her palm, and hold it up to the sunlight. It seemed as if a little sound of the tide was hidden in the glass.
Xu Jia said, "We plan to install the installation at three points: the entrance to the walkway, the fishing port square, and the atrium of the cultural center. The entrance will be the first thing people see; the square will make people stop for a moment; and the atrium will be the finishing touch, slowly leading people back into the museum."
Hu Li looked up: "Where does the sea glass come from?"
Luo Du: "We contacted several non-profit recycling organizations and have already collected a batch of amber. The colors are mostly green and amber, with blue being rare."
She nodded, her pen swishing across the paper: "If there's not much blue, let it be a finishing touch, not a full-coverage color. Use sunlight during the day and low-level warm lighting at night, starting from the ground, so it doesn't overshadow the sea."
At the end of the trail, there is a narrow bend, with old slogan nail holes still visible at the corner. She squatted down and measured a finger joint's distance: "This corner can be used to make a 'tide level mark,' using recycled glass pieces arranged according to the high tide line over the years. During the day, children can learn about the tidal range, and at night, the water can seep upwards at the lowest possible power, like the tide breathing on its own."
Luo Du listened intently: "You see, the actual site is much more accurate than the blueprints."
Hu Li laughed: "The wind can talk, but the blueprints can't." She stood up, dusted the sand off her palms, and looked into the distance, as if searching for some kind of rhythm.
[Gangcheng Cultural Center Meeting Room]
Back at the cultural center, the meeting room was already prepared with materials. Mu Tianlang arrived first and stood by the window looking at the crowd forecast map; Luo Du and Xu Jia sat opposite him.
Mu Tianlang got straight to the point: "The cooperation will be carried out in a public welfare linkage manner, with the framework of company to organization. Three things need to be finalized first: first, the responsibilities for safety and maintenance; second, the parallel scheduling of time and on-site operations; and third, the external statement—not to talk about individuals, but only about co-creation and education."
Luo Du nodded: "Agreed. We will provide manpower and recycling channels, and maintenance will be contracted out to specific areas; the schedule will be as arranged before you return to Beijing."
He stepped aside to give up the main seat: "The design will be discussed by Hu Li."
Hu Li spread out his sketches along the way, highlighting three key themes: "Public welfare, recycling, and light. Materials are recycled from the coast—sea glass, waste buoys, old fishing nets, and driftwood. The entrance is designed as 'The Sea Watcher,' using transparent glass panes and recycled stainless steel frames to read the wind direction; the plaza is designed as 'Tide Wall,' embedding the high tide lines of different years into the wall; the atrium is 'Returning to the Light,' with skylights during the day and low-level lights and light guides at night to let the glass light up on its own."
She turned to the next page: "Use sunlight during the day, and only turn on the indicator lights at night, without any special effects; run the electrical wires through removable temporary cable trays so that there are no traces left when the site is cleared."
Mu Tianlang added: "The budget is calculated based on the public welfare cooperation price, and you will share the costs of materials and transportation with your partners; the design fee will be signed by Mu's and the cultural center, and the name will be under the company's name. Procurement will be carried out according to compliant procedures, and security will include patrols and night guards."
Xu Jia: "A public relations explanation?"
Mu Tianlang: "Unification. Only talk about waste recycling and coastal ecological education."
Luo Du smiled: "Understood. Time and delivery?"
Hu Li: "I'll produce a concept draft in the next couple of days; the first version of the plan will be provided this week; material cleaning will proceed simultaneously; and installation will begin in the third week."
Mu Tianlang glanced at her, his tone short and steady: "Just go with this version. I'll oversee safety."
She said "okay." The meeting concluded, he filed the documents, and gave both parties a brief handshake: "Pleasant cooperation."
[Evening at the Seawall]
As the evening tide rises, the waves crash against the breakwater blocks like broken pencils.
Luo Du and Xu Jia escorted the person to the North Shore seawall, where their assistant, Xiao Zhou, waited by the car. A gust of wind blew from the side as she crouched down to sketch, her pen moving swiftly; the folder next to her was ripped open by the wind, the metal clip snapping shut.
She first showed Mu Tianlang the three sketches: "Let me show you first."
He quickly replied, "I saw it. I changed the angle of the second entrance device by ten degrees to avoid glare from the backlight. The rest are yours."
Another gust of wind lifted the folder, revealing a sketch in the corner—two boys standing by the sea, bathed in bright white light. It was a sketch she had copied after viewing the exhibition wall.
Someone stopped beside her, pressed their fingertip against the corner, and tucked the paper back in, saying only, "Don't let the paper fly away."
She looked up and saw Mu Tianlang.
She glanced at him for a second and whispered, "Your hand trembled just now."
He looked at the sea and nodded: "The sound of the sea will remind me of some things." He tapped his knuckles on the edge of the folder and said nothing more.
She paused for a moment, then turned to a new page of the sketch: "Then let's make it into quiet light."
He stepped half a step to her left and forward, leaning his body slightly to shield her from the wind.
She stood up, moved a little closer to him, leaving half a finger's width of space between them: "Your answer today is biased towards me."
He glanced at her sideways: "Which sentence?"
She raised an eyebrow with a smile: "When the wind picks up, which side do you stand on?"
His tone was extremely brief: "Over there."
She moved an inch closer, her voice even lower: "What if it's me who stirs up trouble? Not today, but in the future—I don't do things exactly as you think."
His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, but his gaze remained steady: "Go on, I'm listening."
She closed the sketchbook, pressed down the corner of the page, and added in a low voice, "Remember, some people will mistake kindness for weakness."
He glanced at her, didn't take it, and his gaze swept over the back of her hand to make sure there were no new scratches. He simply said, "Get in the car, let's go together."
She nodded, and before getting up, she pressed the "Two Boys" photo back to the bottom of the folder.
The assistant opened the car door for the two of them. He let her get in first, then sat in the back seat himself. The car was quiet; the driver started the engine, and the sound of the wind was blocked out by the windows.
She turned her head, her voice soft: "If one day you discover that my approach is not just because of you, but because there are other forces behind me, what would you do?"
He looked ahead and said very briefly, "Listen first."
She smiled and said, "Then you'll have to listen for a long time."
His Adam's apple bobbed slightly: "I have patience."
She hugged the sketchbook to her chest and whispered, "Then don't push me away."
He turned slightly to the side, his gaze remaining calm: "No push."
He lowered his voice and said to the person in the front seat, "Slow down." The driver responded.
The car exited the seawall, its taillights flashed, and it drove back towards the park.
[Nighttime access to the resort's inner seaside promenade]
Back in the park, night had fallen. Low-level lights sliced the inner ring walkway into islands of light. She was preparing to compile today's sketches into a digital copy when, passing by the inner ring, she heard a high-frequency buzzing sound. She looked up—a small drone hovered low in the air, its lens pointed towards the dormitory.
She instinctively took a half step back, and immediately a figure behind her blocked the wind. A coat was lightly draped over her arm.
Mu Tianlang's voice was very low: "The inside."
She clutched her coat, asking no further questions. Two seconds later, a security guard rushed from the other end of the trail, his countermeasure gun whistling as the drone lost its balance and crashed sideways onto the grass. Someone in the shadows reached for it, but the security guard stepped on them first.
He didn't approach to handle it, but stood an arm's length away, blocking her from the commotion. His command was short and cold: "Seal it off. Legal personnel will remove it when they arrive."
Security guards swept past him, and his gaze swept along the eaves as if to confirm whether there were any other eyes watching.
She gazed at the meadow, then shifted her look from the commotion back to his profile. The evening breeze clung his shirt to his shoulder blades, accentuating its shape. She lowered her voice: "You had a feeling?"
He simply said, "The wind is not right."
She hummed in agreement and didn't ask any more questions. The two stood in silence for a while. Suddenly, she pulled her coat up a little, as if suppressing a thought that had crossed a line.
"Go back," he said. "Leave the rest to me."
She nodded: "Then don't stay out too late."
He acted as if he hadn't heard, and only said, "Lock the door."
[Night in the Resort CEO's Office]
The desk lamp was only on its third setting, the light illuminating the center of the table. He laid out a photo of the drone's casing, the SIM card slot number, and the flight control trajectory side by side. At one point, he stopped zooming in: there was a very shallow scratch on the lens hood, at an odd angle, as if someone had grabbed it in a panic.
He noted down the time, then pulled up the footage from the security camera on the lawn, focusing it on the spot where the shadow had flashed by. He tapped his knuckles twice on the table, finally placing them on a tiny reflective spot in the lower right corner of the monitor—an eye looking at the lens.
He closed the file, opened the email, moved the "Cultural Center Cooperation" folder to the top of the project list, and labeled it "Public Welfare Coastal Area." The cursor paused for a second in the remarks column, and he typed a line: "Don't talk about individuals, talk about co-creation; her name should be below 'Public Welfare.'" The cursor paused on this line twice, deleted and rewrote it, and finally kept it.
The water in the dark glass was still warm. He didn't drink it, but simply tightened the lid and moved it half an inch away, as if making room for someone. His phone lit up; it showed her sketches: an entrance device, a tidal wall, and a central atrium with guiding lights. The three drawings were simple and clean. At the bottom, she wrote: "Let the sea speak during the day, and let the road speak at night."
He stared at it for a long time before replying with two words: "Very good." But his fingertips never left the screen.
[Night at the Resort Staff Dormitory]
Back in her dorm, she first drew the curtains halfway, letting the night slip through a crack. She moved the easel to the window, and spread a light layer of damp dust on the new canvas. On the left, she sketched a wolf with charcoal, standing in the light, its ears pointing towards the wind; on the right, she used a palette knife to create a mist, hiding a fox inside, only revealing the tip of its tail and half of its ear.
She washed the sea glass she had collected that day, separated them by color, and used tape to try piecing them together in a corner—green as the base, amber as the path, and leaving only three pieces of blue to reflect the light when the tide came in. She noted down a sentence: "During the day, when sunlight comes in, the colors will glow on their own; at night, a thin line of light will seep from the ground to guide people."
My phone vibrated, and a message popped up: Progress too slow. He's close to you; he's useful to us. Don't delay any longer.
She muted the message and replied, "I know what I'm doing. Don't drag innocent people into this."
A few seconds later, the other party replied with another line: "Innocent? His surname is Mu, and his mother is Fang Jing."
She stared at the name, her fingers tightening silently. After a long while, she moved the conversation to "save," neither deleting nor replying. She knew she was walking a very thin line. One more step would hurt someone; one step back would hurt herself.
She raised her hand and opened the chat window with Mu Tianlang.
Hu Li: I'm at the dorm. Hai is doing well today.
Mu Tianlang: I saw your picture. Very good.
Hu Li: I want to build a "tide level wall" so that children know the sea breathes. Would you support me?
Mu Tianlang: Yes. I will oversee the safety and structural aspects.
Hu Li: Then I'll go ahead and do it.
Mu Tianlang: Go ahead and do it. I'm here.
She stared at the last two words, a sense of relief washing over her, as if a tiny knot had been untied. She thought for a moment, then posted a close-up of the canvas—a glimmer of light remained in the wolf's eyes, and the fox's tail tip shone through the mist.
Hu Li: If one day the fog clears, you will see more than just me.
The conversation paused for two seconds.
Mu Tianlang: I have my own judgment.
Hu Li: Before you make your judgment, I will first show you the way.
Mu Tianlang: Okay.
She placed her phone beside the easel, returned to the painting, and brightened the wolf's pupils by a fraction, while concealing the fox's tail to prevent it from being too conspicuous. With a stroke of her brush, she wrote a tiny line of words on the edge of the canvas: "The sea will recede, the road will be illuminated."
The night deepened, and the rhythmic, steady footsteps of security guards changing shifts echoed in the distance. She leaned back in her chair by the window, imagining the wind in the port city, imagining children at the entrance to the walkway standing before the sea-view glass, looking at their own reflections; she also imagined an unseen gaze trying to slip between her and him. She told herself: Don't think about it. Then she drew the curtains one inch closer, leaving only a tiny sliver of night.
She went to the washbasin, washed her paintbrushes, rinsed the white glass, and placed it upside down on a soft cloth. The low-level lights in the inner courtyard outside the window were still on; a breeze rustled the reeds against the railing, as if they were whispering secrets. In the distance, a window was still open; she didn't try to guess if it was his. She silently thought to herself: Don't stay out too late.
She thought that maybe she would go to the North Shore Trail first tomorrow morning and then come back to finish the map; she would stay within this line until he said "it's okay to cross". Sweetness and pain rose together in her chest, like two streams of water rising and falling together.
My phone vibrated briefly.
Mu Tianlang: I'm here.
She looked at the two words, smiled, and replied: I know.
She turned off the light, leaving only a dim glow from the window. The wind was still blowing, and the sound of the tide came from afar, slowly lapping back.
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