The night was dark, like a sleeping sea.
Lin Ziang carried an old canvas bag and clutched the train ticket to Fujian City. He stroked the paper again and again. Although it was the lightest item in his luggage, it felt like a thousand pounds.
The station wind mingled with a salty, damp scent, carried from the mountains to the sea, from home to distant lands. Overhead, the announcement blared intermittently: 'Train K223 to Fujian City is about to depart.'
He glanced back.
At the end of the platform, his mother's figure appeared tiny in the dim light. She said nothing, only nodding gently. In that moment, Zhang almost wanted to rush back and tear up the ticket. But he knew that leaving was the only way.
'Mom, I'm leaving.'
'Okay, go ahead. Remember to eat.'
Her voice, carried away by the wind, lingered in his heart, leaving behind a dampness that wouldn't go away.
The train blew its whistle, its wheels rolling over the rails and making a sound like waves rolling up and crashing onto the shore.
The air in the train carriage was heavy with the smell of luggage, plastic lunch boxes and strangers' sweat. Lin Ziang found his seat, a hard window seat next to a middle-aged couple speaking in the Minnan dialect.
Outside the window, the lights flickered like a river flowing backwards.
He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He had only graduated from college two months ago and, after submitting over twenty résumés, the advertising company in Fujian City was the only one willing to give him a chance. The salary wasn't high, but he'd heard that if he became a regular employee, he could 'endure it'. He had a vague faith in the concept of 'endurance'.
He pulled out his phone and read the messages on his WeChat Moments:
'Brother Zhang, congratulations on getting the job!'
'It's humid in Fujian; be careful not to catch a cold.'
'Come back for drinks when you have time.'
He clicked 'Reply' several times, then deleted the messages.
The train entered a tunnel and the lights dimmed. At that moment, a faint sound seemed to reach his ears.
It sounded like someone was whispering softly:
'Son, the sea is surging outside...'
The voice was low and mingled with the vibration of the rails, carrying with it a damp smell.
Lin Ziang opened his eyes. The other passengers were all asleep. Only the child opposite was sucking on a bottle while his mother dozed against the window.
His heart skipped a beat and he told himself he was hallucinating.
He hadn't slept well for several nights, probably because he was too nervous.
But the voice passed by again, like the wind brushing past his ears:
'Outside... the sea is surging...'
He turned to look out of the window.
A shadow flashed briefly in the darkness.
It seemed as if a statue, its face blurred yet bearing a hint of compassion, had slowly passed by the rails.
'…'
A slight chill ran down his spine. He took a deep breath and averted his gaze.
The train emerged from the tunnel again and the lights came on.
Everything returned to calm.
The next morning, a grey veil of fog hung over Fujian City.
Outside the station, a crowd gathered and taxis honked their horns incessantly. Lin Ziang dragged his suitcase and looked up at the unfamiliar city sky. Off-white buildings, a dense web of electrical wires and air so damp that you could wring water out of it greeted him.
He took a deep breath and told himself,
'A new beginning.'
But just as he left the station, he caught sight of a shabby little statue in the corner out of the corner of his eye.
Its paint was peeling, but a fleeting glint of light shone from its eyes.
He paused, and when he looked again, the light had disappeared.
An inexplicable sense of familiarity welled up inside him. It was like the feeling he had had as a child, just before a typhoon struck, when the air at the seaside suddenly stilled.
The afternoon.
Lin Ziang spent a long time searching a rental website before finally finding the cheapest single room.
The landlord said, 'It's cheap, kid, but it's a bit shabby. It's fine for a young person to stay here for a few months.'
The room was indeed cramped. After putting a single bed and a small table in it, there was barely enough room to turn around.
The window faced a wall, so there was no sunlight.
There were traces of mould in the corners.
He put down his luggage, wiped the sweat off his face and leaned against the edge of the bed.
'This will have to do.'
He opened his laptop and the screen read: 'Advertising Assistant – Three-month probationary period – Daily commuting expenses are your own.'
He smiled, thinking:
'At least it's a start. It's better than being stuck at home.'
Footsteps were heard outside and my roommate, Ah Hui, came in with takeaway food.
'New here? My name is Ah Hui,' he said, smiling brightly. 'This place may be a bit shabby, but it's close to the night market, so there's good food to be had in the evening.'
'Lin Ziang,' he said, extending his hand. 'Oh, Ziang, okay. Let's hang out for a few days and see how it goes.'
The two exchanged a few pleasantries. Ah Hui, who was unpacking his takeaway, said, 'This building is a bit strange. Don't pay any attention to the rumours about people knocking on the walls at night. It's just that couple downstairs arguing.'
Lin Zi'ang smiled. 'I'm not afraid.'
'That's good.'
However, late one night, Lin Zi'ang heard a soft sound coming from the wall.
It wasn't a knocking sound, but rather the sound of someone scratching it with their fingernails on the other side.
Click—click—click.
He woke up and opened his eyes. Outside, it was pitch black.
The phone screen lit up to show 2:47.
'Ah Hui?' he whispered.
The sound of steady breathing came from next door.
He sat up, feeling his heart beat faster. The shadows in the corner seemed darker than before.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew in through the gap under the door.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew in through the gap under the door, stirring up the dust.
Leaning over to take a look, he felt a chill creep up his palm just as his fingertips touched the edge of the bed.
It was like water rising again from the ebbing tide.
He held his breath and slowly reached down. At that moment, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.
Under the bed, in the darkness, a piece of paper seemed to glow faintly.
He froze. It was a folded talisman, its edges burnt yellow and its ink in the centre still shimmering with a faint golden thread.
The wind died down.
The only sound in the room was the distant sound of the sea breeze outside the window.
Lin Ziang reached out to take it. The talisman shattered at his touch, turning into fine ash that dispersed into the air.
As the ash fell, he seemed to hear that voice again — that faint whisper coming from the direction of the sea:
'Son, the sea is rising outside...'
He stood there, stunned, his pulse pounding in his chest.
For some reason, he suddenly thought of his mother's gaze on the platform.
It wasn't a farewell; it was more like a warning.
She was telling him:
'The sea outside isn't just the sea.'
The next morning, the sky outside the window appeared pale.
Lin Ziang got up, washed and got ready to go to the office.
Looking in the mirror, he saw that his face looked slightly pale and that he had dark marks under his eyes from not sleeping well.
Before leaving, he inadvertently lowered his head.
In the cracks in the floorboards beneath the edge of the bed, he saw a faint trace of a talisman, as if it had been burned but was not yet completely faded.
He crouched down and gently rubbed it with his fingers.
At that moment, the air vibrated slightly.
The damp marks on the wall seemed to move with him.
He paused for a few seconds, then turned and walked out of the door.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the narrow corridor like a gentle wave.
Behind the door, the talisman's trace slowly glowed for a moment, then quickly faded.
Meanwhile, the wind in Fujian City began to change direction.