The speedboat pulled up alongside the fishing vessel, and a gangway ladder was lowered from above. Wei Lai waited for two pirates to go up first, then positioned himself third, in between, and pulled Cen Jin up after him.

Everyone on the ship swarmed over, as though watching some rare animal.

The young boy pirate also wanted to see the excitement and was pushing hard through the crowd. Someone nearby found him annoying and sent him sprawling with a kick. The boy pirate erupted in fury, flipped back to his feet, and drew a knife with a flash.

He pointed at the man and shouted: “You! Die! Now!”

Pirates might not know English, but repeated acts of hijacking required them to communicate with hostages, so they were fluent in certain high-frequency or threatening words — such as die, eat, sit, go.

The most common combination was you and die, followed by now, today, or tomorrow — meaning: you’re dying now, you’re dying today, you’re definitely dying tomorrow.

Every time these words were spoken, they inflicted tremendous anguish on the hostages.

No sooner had the boy pirate’s ferocious words left his mouth than the pirate leader who had come aboard first sent him flying with a slap: “Get lost!”

A burst of roaring laughter erupted from the crowd. The boy pirate sniffled with ill-concealed resentment, and shot the man a vicious glare.

Eleven or twelve years old, a small face — which made his eyes look especially large. His eyes and his skin were the same pitch black, which made the whites of his eyes startlingly white. That ice-cold glare swept over Wei Lai, and something lurched in his chest.

So young. So hard. Living among these people — in just a few years, he would be another man-eating shark on the Red Sea.

And yet somewhere else, his peers were probably teasing kittens, hugging puppies, or grumbling about too much homework.

A burst of loud laughter exploded from the outer edge of the crowd — a strange sound, hoarse and jarring — followed by: “We meet again! Jin!”

The crowd parted.

Wei Lai finally laid eyes on this creature who struck terror wherever his name was heard — Hu Sha.

A Black man, not tall, in fact somewhat heavyset and bloated. His lower jaw jutted forward, his lips curled outward. His massive head tilted permanently to the left at a fixed angle, fused against his left shoulder; his neck was wrapped in a white drape as a concealment.

There was a gun at his waist — and to Wei Lai’s considerable surprise, it was a beautifully crafted, gold-plated revolver. It had probably been taken from the captain of some cargo ship. The gleaming, gilded barrel made quite a statement of status.

He couldn’t pronounce “Cen” properly, so he called her “Jin.”

Hu Sha came over laughing loudly: “The Saudi man didn’t deceive me — it’s been a long time, Jin! Your hair has gotten shorter — ha, you’re thinner than before! But you seem like you don’t smile much anymore…”

Wei Lai glanced at Cen Jin.

Long hair, back then? A young girl — always wearing a ponytail, perhaps? A little fuller in the face than now… baby fat? What a pity. If he’d known her back then, he could have pinched her cheeks. The texture must have been wonderful…

Cen Jin smiled slightly: “I’m very tired.”

“I know! The Saudi man told me everything. Jin, you are absolutely safe on this ship! If those people dare come, I will blow them up! Look!”

He pointed nearby. A young pirate was cradling a shoulder-launched rocket launcher.

“If they come close, I will blow the whole ship to pieces! Come, come — have you eaten? Come inside.”

If it weren’t for this ship, this sea, and this bizarre crowd of people, Wei Lai would have thought they had walked into the home of a warm and generous host.

The walk to the ship’s cabin was like watching monkeys perform at a circus. Hu Sha burst into sudden fury several times along the way, roaring and charging forward to slap or kick whichever pirate happened to be in his path, then turning to explain to Cen Jin:

— I told him to clean this place up! This pig won’t move unless you hit him!

— I said important guests were coming, told everyone to put clothes on!

— I said this fresh water is not to be touched! It’s for guests!

…

Wei Lai was both amused and helpless. He seized a free moment to murmur to Cen Jin, “Pirates are not so easy to manage, are they.”

Cen Jin said, “Pirates aren’t soldiers. They have very poor self-discipline; no one respects anyone else. When you’ve seen enough of it, you understand.”

Inside the small dining room in the cabin, a “banquet” had been laid out.

Wei Lai had long since learned not to hold any expectations about pirates’ cuisine or cooking.

The main course was potato stewed with sea fish — the seasoning seemed off, failing to mask the fishy smell. The rest were canned goods and instant foods, clearly all looted, with packaging in multiple languages; there was even some in Chinese.

To drink, there was canned cola and beer.

The door was shut. Four people remained in the dining room: Cen Jin, Wei Lai, Hu Sha, and the English-speaking pirate leader, whom Hu Sha called Sha Di.

Numbers were equal — two sitting, two standing. The meal and the negotiation began at the same time. Wei Lai, not particularly focused, helped himself to a can of baked beans in tomato sauce and ate with a spoon, washing it down with a beer at hand. Sha Di glanced at him — probably a little envious but not daring to be as uninhibited as he was.

Wei Lai was deliberately provoking him: he raised the beer can and made a “cheers” gesture.

Sha Di turned his body to face the other direction, apparently wanting no further interaction with him whatsoever.

Still, entertaining himself aside, he hadn’t missed a single word from the negotiating table.

Hu Sha: “Jin, I don’t know if it suits your taste. We eat casually on the ship — can’t manage a real feast. Once the negotiations are successful, I’ll take you to Bosaso…”

Despicable — when the negotiations are done you’ll each go your separate ways. Who agreed to you taking her to Bosaso?

Cen Jin: “Having food at all is already wonderful.”

Hu Sha: “It must have been a hard journey here. But there was no other way — a ship that size, I had to be careful…”

Cen Jin: “I understand. I should cooperate with you. It’s all right.”

Hu Sha: “The Saudi man told me you’d come as the negotiating representative. I could barely believe it at first — you saved my life once, Jin. I can’t possibly quote you a high price. I’m willing to bring the ransom down to ten million, to show my sincerity…”

Cen Jin smiled: “Let’s talk about the ship later. We haven’t seen each other in so long… after I left Somalia — where did you go? Did you go straight into the maritime business?”

Hu Sha looked faintly startled, and it took him a moment to recover: “Yes… well, no — I went through a period of recovery. You know, I was injured…”

Cen Jin took on a concerned expression: “That’s right — has the wound healed properly? I remember the medical officer saying at the time that a full recovery would be very difficult. Have there been any lasting effects?”

…

Wei Lai almost laughed out loud.

Cen Jin’s ability to “go off-topic” was truly breathtaking. Every time Hu Sha brought up the ship or the ransom, she redirected to something utterly unrelated: the weather on the Red Sea, what fish was most plentiful at this time of year, the new Somali government which seemed to be recognized by absolutely no one…

By the time the meal was over, the conversation had never been steered back on track. The last question Cen Jin asked at the table was: “Where am I sleeping tonight? I really am exhausted. With the sea wind blowing in my face the whole way here, I’d very much like to get a proper sleep.”

It was evident that Hu Sha had put genuine thought into receiving Cen Jin: a small compartment had been specially cleared out in the cabin — just a few square meters, furnished with a single narrow camp bed, a small table, and a curtain rigged in the corner for bathing. A faucet at a higher point on the wall was connected via a rubber hose to the adjacent water tank; a hole at the bottom let the wastewater drain outside.

Nothing had been prepared for Wei Lai — evidently Hu Sha didn’t regard him as worth considering. After Cen Jin closed the door to wash, Sha Di took Wei Lai to familiarize himself with the nearby corridors and the washroom, and on the way back said: “You can sleep on the deck, in the wheelhouse, in the dining room — anywhere there’s room for one person to lie down.”

Wei Lai said, “No need. I’ll sleep in the doorway outside Miss Cen’s room.”

Sha Di said, “Alright.”

He fished a small pinch of tea leaves from his pocket and put them in his mouth to chew slowly. Wei Lai sat down outside Cen Jin’s door, estimated the width of the corridor: “Not enough room for a palm mat. Give me a cushion and I’ll manage — I can sleep sitting up.”

“Just a cushion?”

“Just a cushion.”

Sha Di continued to chew his tea leaves. After chewing for a while, he suddenly flashed his teeth in a grin — the white standing out sharply against the darkness of his skin.

He said, “No need to pretend. You can go inside her room to sleep. I saw it last night.”

He chewed and walked off.

Wei Lai sat there for a while, inwardly cursing: damn it.

It felt like the sensation of a seasoned bird-catcher getting pecked in the eye by the bird.

He gritted his teeth and knocked on the door.

Cen Jin had just finished her bath and had wrapped herself in the shawl when she came to open the door. She didn’t see anyone — looked down and found him sitting in the doorway.

“Why are you sitting there?”

Wei Lai looked up at her: “I’ve been bullied.”

Cen Jin smiled: “So you’ve had a taste of that, have you.”

And with that she flung the door shut and went back inside. Wei Lai laughed loudly, propped a hand against the door, and when the laughter had passed, he stood up and came in.

She sat back down on the bed. A fishing lantern had been set up on the small table for light — not enough wattage, its dull yellowish glow looking as though it might go out at any moment. She sat inside that light, wrapped in the reddish-brown shawl, the dark gold patterns on the fabric giving off a strange shimmer.

Like a painting — alive only by the grace of that faint light, and if the light went out, she too would vanish.

The fishing lantern’s flame wavered again. Wei Lai’s left arm suddenly seized with a strange tremor. He leaned against the doorframe, trying to press down the inexplicable unease that had come over him by holding onto that support.

Cen Jin looked at him strangely: “What’s the matter?”

Wei Lai laughed: “Come here — I’ll tell you a secret. Something I’ve never told anyone.”

Cen Jin was half skeptical. She hesitated for a long while before finally coming over: “What secret?”

Wei Lai extended his right arm and drew her into his embrace, bowed his head and kissed her at the temple, nuzzling there for quite a while.

Then he said: “When I first started making my way through Chinatown, because I was always hungry, I used to steal things. But I had my pride — I never stole in the neighborhood itself. I would specifically go to areas further away, where the white people lived.”

“I never dared take anything big. Enough to eat was enough — bread, milk, crackers.”

Cen Jin smiled, her face pressed against his chest, quietly listening to his heartbeat: “And then?”

“One time I was discovered. I was jumping out a window to escape, and the homeowner — an irritable middle-aged white man — was shouting after me, saying if I dared come back, he’d make me regret it.”

“So I didn’t dare go back. Didn’t dare go anywhere near there for quite a while. But one day I was so hungry I couldn’t stand it anymore and wandered back to that area. I found that only their house, on the table inside, had food.”

“The man was there, too, exercising in front of the TV. Halfway through he turned around — I was so frightened I nearly bolted. But he seemed not to see me and turned back to keep going. After a while he left the living room.”

His tone shifted. Cen Jin tensed: “A trap?”

Wei Lai bent his head and kissed her on the lips: “Clever girl.”

“I watched from outside the door for a while longer. Everything seemed normal, so I snuck over to open the door. I had wire on me — doors I couldn’t turn, I could pry open…”

Cen Jin looked up at him: “Don’t tell me you—”

“The moment I touched it, I was electrocuted. Not enough to knock me out, but enough to send me flying more than a meter. The whole left side of my body went numb. There was a metallic taste in my mouth. I have to admire myself — even when that man appeared, I somehow managed to get up and run. Ran like hell.”

“I ran all the way back to Chinatown before I realized my left arm wouldn’t move. I was very scared — terrified that arm was going to be permanently damaged. But I couldn’t say anything to anyone; it was too shameful. And I had no money for a hospital.”

Cen Jin felt an unpleasant knot form in her chest. She reached around and held him, asking softly: “Would kissing me make you feel a little better?”

Wei Lai smiled: “It would. But let me kiss you in a minute — let me finish first.”

“Fortunately, I was lucky. After a night of worry, the next day I found the arm could move again.”

“But after that, something strange happened.”

He lowered his voice: “Whenever I had a strong feeling — fear, elation, or intense nerves — my left arm would sense it before any of my other senses, the very first to know.”

He held his left arm out for her to see: “Like an electric current running from the wrist to the inside of the elbow… truly strange, isn’t it?”