Consciousness surfaced from a long, drawn-out tremor.
The vibration came from beneath—the lingering pulse of massive machinery, transmitted through the mattress to my skin.
I didn't open my eyes right away.
It was quiet. Only the faint hum of the air circulation system, and the low growl of water splitting against the bow, filtering up through the decks.
Beside me, breathing rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
I opened my eyes.
The room was dark. Blackout curtains blocked the morning light completely, leaving only a sliver of silver-white seeping in along the bottom edge.
I stared at that sliver for a few seconds, then reached out. My fingers found the smooth, cool surface of the bedside panel.
A light touch.
The curtains slid open. Light poured in as the gap widened—first diluted grey, then a pale gold softened by sea mist, and finally the full view beyond the floor-to-ceiling window spread out before me.
The sea.
Lead-grey, endless, merging in the distance with a sky the same colour.
The ship cut steadily through this grey-blue expanse, leaving a long white wake behind. This vessel was called the Bai Nuo Ke, and right now it carried a full load of passengers toward a horizon I couldn't see.
Behind me, a muffled mumble.
I didn't turn.
"Awake?"
"Not awake." The voice was muffled by a pillow, soft and honeyed, like something pulled straight from a jar. "This girl is still sleeping."
The mattress shifted. Dianzi turned over, burying her face deeper into the pillow, wrapping herself into a cocoon with only strands of purple-pink hair showing.
I withdrew my gaze and sat up.
"Weren't you the one who wanted to see the morning sea?"
"That was sister's idea. I only said I'd cooperate."
This one had mastered the art of leaving herself an escape route in every sentence from a young age.
I didn't respond. I ran my fingers over the Lingguang Xihuan on my left wrist. A faint cold light flickered, and two neatly folded outfits materialised in my palm.
I laid them out on the bed.
A black Lolita dress. The skirt flared into an elegant bell shape, its surface covered with dark embroidery—fine silver thread tracing vine patterns that only caught the light under certain angles. The bodice was a fitted waistcoat design, with wine-red ribbons crisscrossing at the front, tied into a delicate bow at the chest. The collar was a vintage stand-up style, trimmed with fine lace. Black over-the-knee stockings, the cuffs stopping six centimetres above the knee, edged with a thin band of silver thread.
The other set lay beside it. The same Lolita structure, but the main colour was mist pink, like the first droplet of dew on a morning rose. The ribbons at the front were bright purple, tied into a more playful bow. The embroidery on the skirt was colourful flowers—lively, bright. White over-the-knee stockings, the cuffs at the same height, trimmed with a band of mother-of-pearl lace.
The two sets side by side, like two rhymes in a single poem.
The cocoon on the bed stirred. A strand of purple-pink hair emerged from the blankets, then half a face, one eye still heavy with sleep.
"Sister, you've already got them out?"
"Got them." I hung both outfits on the hooks inside the wardrobe door, side by side. "If you don't get up soon, this light's going to set like cement. You'll have to eat it with a spoon."
"Perfect." The eye blinked, then closed again. "This girl can skip breakfast and just drink light. Zero calories, no dishes."
A two-second pause.
The mattress shifted more dramatically. Dianzi finally sat up, hair a mess, robe half-undone.
"But this girl's morning can't be skipped." She muttered, rubbing her eyes as she came over. "If the light really sets into pudding, I'll cut it in half—one for you, one for me—and pour sea salt caramel sauce on top."
I moved aside. Her hand stopped mid-rub.
"Today's set... Lolita?"
"Mm."
"After we put these on, someone's probably going to say, 'Wife, why are you so princess-like today?'"
I looked at her.
She looked back at me, blinked, and smiled.
"Then I'm going to wash up." She turned toward the bathroom, then looked back at the door. "Sister, have you thought about what you'll say?"
"I have."
"What?"
"Welcome to this morning's princess-concentration-overload experience. Please form an orderly queue for your daily dose of ridiculous."
She paused, then laughed—a soft sound, swallowed by the bathroom door closing.
By the time Dianzi finished washing up and changed into the mist-pink Lolita, I was already in my black version. We stood side by side before the full-length mirror.
In the glass: two figures wrapped in delicate fabric. Black and mist-pink. Vintage stand-up collars and lace trims. The same bell-shaped skirts, the same ribbon bows. But the details were different—her liveliness against my stillness.
The silver embroidery on my black dress caught the morning light, faintly gleaming. A black ribbon choker circled my throat, set with a dark blue crystal at its centre, edged with tiny platinum fragments—like something left over from an ancient ritual. Above my left collarbone hung a silver teardrop pendant, its surface etched with fine lines. The Lingguang Xihuan on my left wrist glowed with a cold, pale light. From my ears hung slender silver ear wires, tipped with grains of black obsidian that flashed darkly as the light shifted. Wine-red ribbons were woven through my grey-gold curls, and at the end of one, a silver gear clip no larger than a fingernail caught the light, its teeth rounded smooth, hidden among the strands.
On her side, the colourful embroidery on the mist-pink skirt looked like something plucked from a garden. Her purple-pink gradient hair was pinned up in a fluffy bun, with a few tendrils falling loose on each side. Mother-of-pearl clips shimmered with iridescence among the strands. Two thin chains layered at her neck—one silver, one rose gold—held small clear crystals, one teardrop and one round, which clinked softly when she spoke. Two thin chains layered at her left wrist, echoing the neck. At her left ankle, a barely visible anklet, with tiny pink crystals that caught the light as she shifted her weight.
Together, we looked like different variations of the same melody.
"Let's go," I said.
I lifted a finger to the ribbon at my throat. The dark blue crystal's light intensified slightly, and a translucent interface projected from the choker. The live-streaming module was embedded not only in this ribbon choker but also in her thin chains and my teardrop pendant—the crystal as the main camera, the pendants housing microphones, even the hair clips and earrings hiding pin-sized lenses.
We stood side by side at the window, looking out at the endless sea, now being lit by the rising sun.
"Sister," Dianzi said suddenly. "Looks like the chat got up earlier than we did."
"All they have to do is move their fingers. We have to get dressed."
She nodded and said nothing more.
At the bottom of the interface, text began to scroll.
[chat] Morning, wife 😊
[chat] Daughter, that black set is incredible—dark princess vibes
[chat] Daughter, the mist-pink set is so ethereal, like strawberry cream come to life
I watched the scrolling text, the corners of my mouth lifting slightly.
"Good morning, darlings," I finally said, the words rising from my throat, softer than usual, but each one carrying a tiny hook. "Can you see clearly? This girl and Dianzi woke up earlier than the seagulls."
I shifted slightly, letting the morning light trace the outline of my skirt.
"I heard this ship's breakfast buffet has thirty-six kinds of bread," Dianzi leaned toward the interface, her soft voice carrying the particular drowsiness of just waking up. "This girl has decided to try them, from the first to the thirty-sixth."
[chat] Daughter's princess concentration is off the charts 🌸
[chat] Mother loves this ❤️
"For a girl, after eating too much, you have to burn it off," I cut in. "Otherwise, you might need someone to carry you back to the room."
"Sister, if you say things like that, how am I supposed to keep up my image?" Dianzi shot me a look, but her mouth was already curving.
"You can keep up your image slowly. Carbs need to be eaten while they're hot."
"Alright," Dianzi clapped her hands, her skirt swaying with the movement, the anklet flashing again. "Next, we'll go eat breakfast, then check out the glass walkway on the ship. I heard the light there is really good."
"That's right," I added, turning so the interface captured the corridor behind us. "It might be a bit shaky on the way, so bear with us, darlings."
I waved at the interface, then touched my choker. The blue light dimmed, and the interface vanished.
The room fell silent. Outside, the line between sea and sky had fully brightened, replaced by a layer of pale gold.
I was about to say let's go when the Lingguang Xihuan on my wrist gave a faint, short vibration.
Three short pulses. One long.
I looked down. There was no message on the interface, only a symbol flashing in the cold light—the activation marker. It vanished after three seconds, as if it had never been there.
Dianzi didn't notice. She was still adjusting her skirt in the mirror.
I withdrew my gaze, turned my palm over, and traced my finger across the Xihuan's surface. A single encrypted line appeared, then self-destructed.
One sentence: Recording begins.
——This was not a suggestion. This was an instruction.
"Let's go," Dianzi said.
The door closed behind us.