She really reached for the door, but Wen Zenian grabbed her slender wrist. “Meng Ning.”
Meng Ning turned back, gaze falling on Wen Zenian’s lips, slightly swollen from their prolonged kisses. Wen Zenian said, “She’s only seventeen.”
In the dream, everything came true. Wen Zenian was explaining herself to her, letting her take what she wanted, soothing her jealousy.
Meng Ning reached out to caress Wen Zenian’s cheek. “Such a good girl.”
She praised Wen Zenian in the same way Wen Zenian had praised her.
Wen Zenian’s makeup was exquisitely refined, her luxurious satin evening gown flowing like the deepest night. Yet Wen Zenian closed her eyes slightly and rubbed gently against her palm.
She withdrew her hand. “Tonight, dream of me.”
Wen Zenian shifted her leg a little. “I think I will.”
After leaving the hotel’s main building, Meng Ning didn’t head back to the dorm. Instead, she walked straight toward the coastline.
Sometimes she would perch on the rocky outcrops, but tonight she chose a stretch of sand, drawing her knees up to her chest as she sat down.
When the tide wasn’t rising, this was her preferred position. It made her feel level with the sea’s surface, as if half her soul were hidden beneath it—out of sight from everyone, including herself.
She thought of what Wen Zenian had said earlier: “She’s only seventeen.”
Dreams were wonderful. In dreams, everything felt safe. In dreams, Wen Zenian would make her a promise, and no one could possibly threaten it.
She let the sea breeze tousle her hair.
Spring had arrived, and in this subtropical monsoon zone, the only way to feel a chill was to sit alone on the beach in the dead of night like she was doing. She pulled out her phone and gripped it in her hand; her fingers, chilled by the damp air and cool wind, had gone faintly numb.
Even her typing felt clumsy.
The C Hotel’s WiFi blanketed the entire property, including the dorms. But this beach was trickier—whipped by wind and waves, the signal flickered in and out. She simply switched off the wireless and used her own 4G instead.
She searched for the Paris C Hotel.
It had a style utterly different from C Sea Island’s. Amid ornate architecture, it emphasized sleek simplicity, with towering marble columns evoking the solemnity of an ancient Greek temple.
That was Paris, after all. Paris had everything.
Delicious croissants and baguettes. Chic beauties in striped sailor shirts murmuring “Bonjour” in that effortlessly sultry accent. Cast-iron benches along the streets, where people sat reciting lines like “Paris is a city on earth, Earth a star in the heavens.”
And then, later on.
Later, the seventeen-year-old girl would grow up. She would follow Wen Zenian to Venice, to Prague, to Amsterdam. Wen Zenian had endured some unknown heartbreak in her first two relationships, leaving her weary of love. So she might wait for the girl to mature—or she might not. Her life was like a dream in itself, where someone perfect would always appear in one of the world’s most beautiful cities, offering a bouquet of Louis XIV roses.
By then, where would Meng Ning be?
Meng Ning smiled faintly and slipped her phone back into her pocket.
The next morning, when she opened her dorm door, an envelope waited outside, along with a slender glass bottle filled with a pale yet gorgeously pink liquid.
Meng Ning opened the envelope. Inside was the page from last night’s sci-fi story, plus a small card. Unfolding it revealed Wen Zenian’s elegant handwriting: “The roses are blooming early—it’s rose dew season. And yes, I dreamed of you last night. —G”
Meng Ning tucked the card away. Qi Xiao asked, “What’s that?”
“Rose dew.”
“Oh, right! Time for the hotel’s rose dew brewing.”
The C Hotel had its own rose greenhouse. It wasn’t for show; it took advantage of C Sea Island’s unique climate to cultivate roses that bloomed earlier than anywhere else. Besides its famous chocolates, the hotel was renowned for this first batch of rose dew each year.
The founder had been a romantic, and many of the hotel’s traditions stemmed from his whims. For instance, when the first roses in the greenhouse burst into bloom—no matter the hour—they had to be harvested at peak freshness to brew the clear, sweet rose dew.
Over time, this became a lucky omen, signaling another year of flourishing prosperity for the hotel. So the management always attended the first brewing, toasting one another.
Meng Ning didn’t know what variety of roses the C Hotel grew, but she recalled stories from past years: they didn’t follow normal blooming patterns. Sometimes they flowered in the dead of night, like a diva dressed for the ball, impatient for the first ray of dawn to invite her out.
Wen Zenian must have been roused in the middle of the night for that inaugural batch.
Whether she caught any sleep afterward was anyone’s guess. But no matter where she went next, she had detoured to Meng Ning’s dorm to leave that bottle of rose dew while the night was still thick—though the corridor’s dim nightlight, refracted through the glass, might have spilled across her high-heeled feet like morning glow.
Qi Xiao smacked her lips. “Does it have to be this romantic? How are actual couples supposed to survive?”
“Is that what you should be worrying about right now?” Meng Ning turned back to her room. “I’ll drop this off and come right out. Let’s warm up at the beach first—after all, it’s physical test day. If you don’t pass, you can’t stay on.”
Qi Xiao let out a wail. “I’m so nervous!”
Meng Ning stowed the envelope in her drawer and set the rose dew bottle on the table. She started to leave, then glanced back, twisted off the cap, and took a delicate sip.
Only then did she reseal it and hurry out.
Plenty of people had arrived early at the beach today.
After all, this was the prestigious C Hotel. Even if lifeguard pay wasn’t great, the experience looked good on a resume. So the annual major physical test set a high bar.
Not everyone felt confident.
Meng Ning changed into her long-sleeved swimsuit and led Qi Xiao through warm-ups. With the rescue sprint simulation coming up, everyone was in swimwear.
“Ning,” Qi Xiao said, shivering as she stretched her legs. “If I bite the dust out here today…”
Meng Ning reassured her. “It’s just a job.”
“It’s not a job! It’s a dream! My dream!” Qi Xiao declared firmly. “I don’t want to leave the C Hotel!”
She had half-expected Wen Zenian to show up and watch, which would only make her more jittery.
But Wen Zenian didn’t appear. Instead, the deputy general manager arrived with the team captain to recite the rules and standards everyone already knew by heart.
Then the lifeguards lined up at the starting line. Meng Ning stood next to Qi Xiao and murmured, “Don’t zone out—the start’s crucial.”
“Mm-hmm.” Qi Xiao bent her left leg slightly, right leg extended back for leverage, eyes locked on the beach ahead.
The whistle blew.
“Hey!” Meng Ning shot forward like an arrow, pulling Qi Xiao along in her wake.
Whenever Qi Xiao watched Meng Ning run or swim, the same sensation washed over her. Meng Ning was like an arrow cleaving the air or slicing through waves—but not to advance. More like she wanted to dissolve.
Dissolve into the wind, or into the sea.
Qi Xiao knew better than to lose sight of a goal. Amid the pack of lifeguards, she fixed her gaze on Meng Ning. As long as she didn’t fall too far behind, she’d make the cut.
The training sessions with Meng Ning had paid off. Qi Xiao was exhausted, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated, her vision blurring. In the end, all she heard was her own ragged breathing, all she saw was the black mandala tattoo on the back of Meng Ning’s neck, half-obscured by her swimsuit.
Meng Ning had no idea when Wen Zenian arrived at the beach.
She loved running or swimming because the total physical exertion brought a state akin to self-forgetfulness. No self, no awareness, no joys or sorrows—just the pounding heart struggling on alone. How long could it hold out?
The finish line was at the beach’s edge, the marker flag’s pole lapped by shallow waves. The final freestyle sprint simulated a real rescue and drained the most energy. Meng Ning emerged from the surf first, stretching to touch the flag. The captain timed her with a stopwatch and had someone record it.
Differences in stamina or skill among the lifeguards weren’t huge, but no one pushed like Meng Ning.
So Wen Zenian stood atop a nearby outcrop, weathered jagged by endless waves, and saw how the others still trailed Meng Ning by a good distance in the water. What should have been a fierce competition suddenly felt solitary in that moment: only Meng Ning stood on the beach, gazing out to sea. Her tall, slender frame looked achingly alone.
Like a young female general clutching her longsword, bloodied from the fray, now surveying an empty battlefield. The first ray of morning sun cast an evening-like desolation across her eyelashes, her face, her pressed lips.
If she dropped that sword, would she crave an embrace?
After crossing the line, Meng Ning didn’t head inland. She lingered by the marker flag, scanning the surging teammates for Qi Xiao amid the waves crashing against her calves. Her colleagues panted past as they kicked into their final sprints.
At last, she spotted Qi Xiao. Usually so quiet, Meng Ning now stood in the dawn light and shouted, “Qi Xiao! Keep going—you’re just fifty meters from the end!”
Qi Xiao heard her.
Her arms and legs felt leaden, but she gritted her teeth and swam on. She was among the last to touch the flag. Not wanting to block those behind, she staggered sideways a few steps before collapsing with a splash into the shallows.
Meng Ning reached for her. Qi Xiao flailed back, her body dead weight; Meng Ning lost her balance, barely steadying herself on her knees in the sand.
Qi Xiao burst out laughing. “Did I pass?”
“You did,” Meng Ning said. “Impressive.”
Qi Xiao laughed harder, giggling as she lay in the sunlit shallows. Meng Ning smiled too, then stood, brushed sand from her knees, and hauled Qi Xiao up.
Still spent, Qi Xiao braced her hands on her knees, gasping until she could straighten. She scanned the coastline like a proud sentinel surveying her hard-won territory—then froze, tugging Meng Ning’s arm.
Meng Ning followed her gaze and saw Wen Zenian on the rocks.
In the first light of dawn, she was the earliest rose to bloom.
This year’s test raised the bar, spurring everyone to dig deeper. Qi Xiao finished fourth from last, but every single lifeguard passed.
As the captain called them into formation, Wen Zenian descended the boardwalk to the beach, murmuring a few words to the deputy general manager.
Her poise shone through even here: she always took the boardwalk in high heels. The slender stilettos elongated her calves, her straight posture accentuating her slim waist. She glided in like a reward with the morning light, a prize for this flawless morning.
The breeze stirred her impassive expression as her gaze swept impartially over the lineup.
It didn’t linger an extra second on Meng Ning. Yet she took it all in: Meng Ning’s sodden black swimsuit hugging her pale skin like a sleek dolphin; the absentminded way Meng Ning clasped her hands behind her back; the damp hair knotted at the nape, one stray lock clinging to her slender neck.
And the fine sand still dusted on her knee, like a tiny map.
