Wind direction and tide level
[Resort Supply Room/Temporary Workroom (Night)]
Night fell, and only half a hanging lamp was lit in the supplies room. The sea breeze seeping through the cracks in the unloading door sprinkled the salty scent onto the cement floor, like a thin layer of frost. On the long workbench, sea glass was arranged by color gradation, from nearly transparent to deep green; discarded buoys were dismantled into half-shells, their salt spots resembling a star map; old fishing nets, washed and dried, were piled into a soft, shadowy mass; driftwood was planed smooth, revealing the texture repeatedly rubbed by the tide.
Hu Li tucked the ends of her hair into the nape of her neck, put on thin gloves, and first weighed and recorded the density of the glass in batches to provide a basis for subsequent stress calculations. She picked up the most transparent piece, rotated it slightly in front of the hanging lamp, the light dancing between her fingers, noted the angle, and then attached the glass to the test frame—recycled stainless steel strips bent into slender arcs, like a set of ribs that could read the wind. She tested the wind direction sensing: she tied a piece of old netting to the end of the frame, blew gently, and the glass rippled like water, making a very faint sound.
She turned to today's page in the memo:
A. Entrance installation "The Sea Watcher" - Three sets of comparisons of skeletal angles: 17°, 22°, and 28°;
B. Tide Level Wall at Fishing Port Square – Collecting high tide line height markings from the past ten years and attempting to embed them;
C. Atrium "Back to the Light" - Light guide sheet and low-position lamp ranging, two sets of optical paths for day and night.
She started with A: using a steel ruler to draw a 1:5 scale line for the frame on the workbench, bending it section by section; arranging the thinnest glass into the profile of a "person," without eyes or nose, only an outline to catch the wind. Every time she let go, the glass trembled gently from the airflow—like someone standing by the sea, listening to the wind speak. She looked up at the words "Walkway Entrance" on the drawing and added: the frame is mainly made of recycled steel, and all connection points are replaceable for easy maintenance.
It was B's turn. She cut the driftwood into strips of varying lengths and tried embedding them into a gray-white brick surface, marking the years on the back with paint: 2016, 2017... all the way up to this year. Each strip corresponded to the height of the high tide line of that year, from lowest to highest like an electrocardiogram of memories. She hammered in the test nails, leaving a one-millimeter gap between the wood strip and the brick surface to prevent it from expanding and cracking when damp. She took a step back, watching the wall rise and fall like a gentle breath, and her heart calmed down.
Finally, there's C. She placed the light guide on the ground, concealed the low-level light within the bumper strip, and tried adjusting the distance between the light and the glass. She turned off the overhead light, and the materials room instantly darkened, with only the beam of light from the floor quietly gliding along the edge of the glass, like moonlight being reflected back, slowly pushing the shadows away. She wrote on the drawing: "During the day, rely on the skylight; at night, supplement with floor-mounted light strips; the glass is self-illuminating, not dazzling."
Time was slowly eroded by the sounds of screws and rulers. Occasionally, a faint red streak would appear on her face from the edge of the glass, which she would disinfect with an alcohol swab before continuing. By the latter half of the night, the prototypes of the three devices were in place—a small-scale skeleton, a human-shaped glass plate, a template with tide level markings, and a transparent door that would "illuminate itself."
She tightened the last nut, took off her gloves, and let out a long breath. She wrote "Finish" in her workbook.
— Move it to the cultural center warehouse tomorrow morning for on-site calibration;
— Check the wind and tide data with the port authority;
— Perform a structural calculation re-inspection before submitting it to the construction supervision department.
As she tidied her desk, she looked back at the light that seemed to illuminate itself, and suddenly felt a sense of peace: as if she had moved a small piece of night back into the light.
Construction on the Port City Cultural Center
At 9:00 AM, all the construction barriers around the cultural center were removed. Temporary warning signs were posted at various points along the walkway from the entrance to the fishing port square and then to the atrium. The construction team unloaded three sets of materials in batches, and Hu Li, wearing a work vest and safety shoes, checked the number and location of each piece.
At the entrance to the trail, the sea breeze immediately rushes in. She directs the crane arm to lift the frame and secure it to the pre-embedded parts. To the left of the entrance is a narrow bend, where the corner wall retains nail holes and faded shadows left from the removal of old slogans. Instead of covering them, she deliberately offset the first rib of the frame by five centimeters, allowing the sound of the wind to be refracted at the corner, as if greeting those nail holes. Transparent glass panes are arranged along the frame to form the profile of a person, facing the sea, faceless, yet able to read the wind. She has old fishing nets washed and cut into thin strips, sewn onto the "shoulder blades," so that in the breeze, the nets appear to breathe the sea.
At the fishing port square, the old walls in the preserved area have been reinforced. She and the masonry workers carefully embedded wooden strips marked with the year into the wall, filling the gaps with fine quartz sand after each strip was inlaid. During a typhoon in 2018, the high tide line was half a hand's width higher than usual. As the strips were being inlaid, an elderly fisherman watching sighed softly, "That year was really tough." A brief silence fell over the scene. Suddenly, a wooden strip about to be moved wobbled in the sling, almost hitting the corner of the wall. Hu Li reacted quickly, reaching out to hold the sling, signaling the workers to steady it. Her voice was clear but calm: "Lower it first, fasten it securely, then move it up." The danger was averted, and the onlookers breathed a sigh of relief. Someone whispered a compliment: "That girl has guts."
The wall gradually takes shape—the "Tide Level Wall" is a wall of memories, letting passersby know that the sea is not always the same height, nor is it always benevolent.
The atrium is "Back to the Light." During the day, natural light streaming through the skylight is caught by light guides, flowing down the cut edges of the glass to illuminate the path on the floor. At night, low-level lights gradually dim from the ground, making the glass seem to light up on its own. She had discarded buoys cut into thin slices and polished until slightly translucent, like newly refurbished moons. They are placed behind glass plates, casting faint shadows during the day and shimmering slightly at night.
She stood in the center of the courtyard, letting the light linger in her eyes for a second. This wasn't a replication, but rather bringing the sea into the city, giving the wind and tides a readable language.
Evening at the seawall
Hours of standing and bending over had left her back stiff. After finishing work, she walked slowly along the seawall, her shoes crunching over tiny white specks of wet salt. In the distance, the sea was about to swallow the last glimmer of orange light. The wind was gentler than during the day, like someone pressing their fingertips to their throat, urging the waves to be quieter.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Mu Tianlang: [Be careful during the procedure, don't get injured. Remember to apply adhesive tape to the corners of the glass.]
She stopped, smiled at the twilight, and quickly replied:
[Hu Li]: Received. I only got bitten by the sea today, and I've already disinfected it. How about you?
After a few seconds, he said: "I need to go back to headquarters for two days. We can't go together this time."
She held her phone to her chest, facing the sea breeze, and said, "Oh." She typed:
[Hu Li]: Then you go be the big bad wolf first, I'll stay here and guard the gate. Report back when you get back.
He replied: "Okay, keep a close eye on this place. I want to see you still here when I come back." He added: "Get some rest early tonight."
She: [You too. Don't stay up late.]
She stared at the screen, then suddenly added, "If you get tired, just think of me."
The moment the screen went dark, a gust of wind suddenly swept in from the other side of the sea, as if someone had just passed over her shoulder. She tucked her hair behind her ears, letting her neck catch a little more of the wind, and a small but clear bright spot appeared on her chest—seen, and seen in return.
[Port City Cultural Centre Exhibition Hall Day]
The next morning, she went to the cultural center's materials warehouse to check the arrivals. Passing by the exhibition hall, she couldn't help but stop again. An old photograph was still on the wall of the lobby—the one that had grabbed her attention the first time she saw it. The person in the photo was smiling brightly, and in the corner was a signature: Mu Tinglang.
She stood there for a long time before finally finding Director Luo. She asked softly, "That name... is it Mu from your area...?"
Director Luo glanced at her, nodded, then looked away. "Yes. His brother."
Her heart skipped a beat: "That photo is...?"
"It was an accident many years ago; only a few people were saved," Director Luo said in a low voice. "President Mu was only a few years old then."
Her breath caught in her throat, her foot seemed to slip halfway into empty air, and her chest tightened. After a long while, she nodded, thanked them, and walked out of the exhibition hall. Sunlight cast patches of light on the stone steps, and as she stepped on them, it felt as if someone had gently tugged at her chest, and her breath became short. She suddenly imagined that night, that sea, and that child of that age, carrying a darkness far greater than himself, learning to keep his teeth clenched and his voice swallowed.
She stood at the bottom of the steps, raised her hand to shield her eyes, and said to herself, "It hurts."
[President's Office at Group Headquarters - Overnight Emergency Meeting]
Meanwhile, Mu Tianlang had returned to headquarters. The president's office was temporarily used as a war room, with several financial flow charts projected on the wall, the intersecting lines resembling a net that refused to show its face.
Special Assistant Xiao Zhou pointed to the latest page: "The transfer path has been confirmed to have bypassed two intermediaries. The first transfer went from a personal account within the country to a shell company, then it was split into three smaller accounts, and finally transferred by a third party to the shift leader of Security Team Three. Each step was deliberately separated, and the mastermind is still upstream, without directly showing his face."
The legal representative closed the folder: "The existing evidence can be processed up to the shift leader and outsourced suppliers first; the leading party is currently missing a key link in the chain."
One of the directors on the video wall couldn't help but interject, "With such a convoluted approach, is it really possible to trace it back to the higher-ups?"
Mu Tianlang raised his eyes, his voice cold and resolute: "Yes. If we can't find out, we'll force him to show himself." His tone was like a blade, and the conference room and the other end of the screen fell silent.
He regained his composure: "First, get the work done that can be implemented. Suspend the shift leader from his duties as per the contract and investigate; blacklist the outsourced company; report the shell company and its three alternate accounts to the police and simultaneously contact the finance department to trace the source of funds. In the media, make a list to remind the legal department to keep screenshots."
The PR representative presented the contingency plan: "Two sets of statements. First, an extended version of 'Perspective is not the same as fact,' with some background information; second, if the other party causes further trouble, activate the 'evidence timeline,' making the entire process public."
He nodded: "Go for it. Keep it in reserve." He paused for a moment, then added a long sentence he rarely spoke: "Don't name names until the chain of evidence is solid, but don't lose our rhythm. Every word we say must be more convincing than their evidence."
His gaze returned to the projection, like a wolf eyeing its prey in the snow: "There must be someone upstream. Let's push back the timeline, re-examine the network of relationships before the first payment, and find connections between suppliers, filming equipment rental companies, and the time difference in article releases."
"clear."
[Group Headquarters Board Meeting Day]
The next morning, he held three meetings in a row. The first meeting was to discuss cooperation between the resort and the cultural center to attract visitors.
"Three points form a line: the person watching the sea / the tide wall / returning to the light; guided tours are linked, and the cultural center and resort exchange vouchers and shuttle buses are available. The official website launches 'A Day's Path of the Sea Breeze,' with accommodation and exhibition information linked together." Mu Tianlang spoke quickly, "We advertised on the tourism platform for two weeks, using the keywords 'the person watching the sea' and 'the tide wall'; the public relations team continued with 'perspective is not equal to fact,' and added the slogan 'See the real distance.'"
The second meeting was a public relations preparation meeting: "If there are more smear articles, don't talk about persona, just state the facts. Prepare a set of on-site photos with a ruler in the material library, and release them whenever the media asks questions; cool down the situation on social media first to avoid triggering a backlash."
The third session was the board's weekly report. He turned to the last page: "The room occupancy rate in the seven days after opening has reached the upper limit of the target, but the weekday occupancy rate needs to be increased by another three percentage points. The package conversion rate is good, and customer complaints are mainly concentrated on transportation and signage. We will increase the frequency of shuttle bus routes this week, and replace the signage within two days."
A board member asked, "Won't the collaboration with the cultural center dilute our visitor flow?"
He was very direct: "No. We'll channel individual tourists within the city into a larger funnel, channeling them back to accommodation and catering. As long as the nodes are designed well, it's complementary, not offsetting."
After the meeting, he paused for a second at the conference table, tapping the surface with his fingertips, as if giving himself and the entire team a rhythm: "Everyone, follow the schedule. We'll set the direction this time."
[Afternoon in the President's Office at Group Headquarters]
Back in the office, Assistant Zhou was already waiting at the door: "We just received an overseas cooperation proposal. A five-star hotel chain, with its regional headquarters in Europe, wants to open a 'co-branded themed floor' and 'interchangeable long-stay memberships' with us. If the deal goes through, our hotel business will be upgraded to another level."
Mu Tianlang took the documents, quickly reviewed the key points, and said in a calm tone: "First, sign a confidentiality agreement; then conduct a risk assessment for risk control; the brand adaptation will be divided into two sets: a resort line and a city business line; the finance department will prepare two trial calculations: one for co-branded authorization and one for equity cooperation."
Xiao Zhou added, "The other party wants to conduct an on-site inspection of the resort in the middle of next month."
He nodded: "Okay. Reply that it's feasible first, and reserve a three-day window in the middle of the month. The operations executives and public relations manager will first discuss the route and itinerary, and make a reception plan and experience script. I will make the final decision. The first day is to stay at the resort and watch 'Back to the Light' in the evening; the second day is to patrol the trail entrance and the fishing port square. Send a briefing and risk warning before the meeting, and sign a confidentiality agreement. The public relations department will prepare a low-key route and not disclose it to the public."
He closed the file and tapped the cover lightly with his fingertip: "This case is worthwhile. Don't rush into making a big splash; build a solid foundation first."
[Night at the Resort Staff Dormitory]
At night, the dormitory finally quieted down. She opened the canvas and first drew two lines—one was the silhouette of the "person watching the sea," and the other was the height line of the "tide level wall"; the two lines were close to each other in the center of the canvas, but did not intersect. She used the lightest lead gray to outline a pair of ear tips and a section of shoulder line. Neither the fox nor the wolf was complete, only the outlines were allowed to breathe in the light.
She slowly transferred every sound she heard during the day onto the paper: the wind sweeping past the entrance to the walkway, someone sighing by the old wall, "That year was truly cruel," and the name in the exhibition hall swirling in her heart. She didn't write about sadness, but simply thickened the lines slightly, as if she were shielding someone's shoulders to make them more stable.
She wrote the date in the corner, paused, and added four more words: "Draw you in." The pen moved slowly across the paper, as if speaking to some distant direction: You don't have to live your whole life in one go; do today well first.
She turned her phone over, didn't send a message, but only wrote one line in her notes: —The wind isn't that bad. Waiting for you to come back.
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