The regular area was still crowded, but the queue had shortened. The young mother was near the front now, her child awake on her shoulder. The plastic bag hung from her wrist, the last nappy visible through the thin plastic.
I touched my choker. The blue glow flickered, and my interface appeared. The lens – embedded in the crystal – shifted with my movement.
"My treasures, we're going to take a short break."
[chat] Okay wife
[chat] Rest well
[chat] That mother is still there
I turned off the microphone. The blue light stayed on, but the sound was cut.
Dianzi looked at me. I nodded towards the young mother.
"Let's go see if she needs help," I said.
We walked over.
The woman looked up as we approached. Her eyes were tired, the skin underneath dark, almost bruised. She forced a smile.
"Hi," Dianzi said softly. "Would you like me to hold the baby for a while? Your arms must be exhausted."
The woman hesitated. Her grip on the child tightened, then relaxed.
"I... you don't have to..."
"It's fine," I said. "You've been standing here for over an hour. Let us help, just for a few minutes."
She looked at the child. The child was staring at Dianzi's hair – the purple‑pink strands glowing in the sun.
"Just for a minute," she said.
She handed the child over. Dianzi took the baby carefully, supporting its head. The child didn't cry. It just kept staring at her hair, one small hand reaching up to touch a strand.
The woman rubbed her arms. Her fingers left red marks on her skin.
"Thank you," she said. "I didn't realise how heavy she's gotten."
"You're welcome," I said. "Are you travelling alone?"
She nodded. "Just me and her. Her father... he's not in the picture."
"That must be hard."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she shook her head. "You get used to it."
——Left. Not died. Those two words are heavier than death.
"I used to work in marketing," she said. "Got laid off last year. The company knew I had just come back from maternity leave. They said the department was being restructured."
Her voice was flat. But her fingers curled into a fist for a second, then relaxed.
"Severance paid for two months' rent. That's it."
She looked at the child in Dianzi's arms.
"This might be our last trip. I wanted her to see the sea before... before things get tighter."
I looked at the child's collar. The fabric was faded, the edges soft. Washed too many times. The child's fingernails were clean but short.
"You've written good copy," I said. "I can tell from the way you talk. You choose your words carefully."
She blinked. "How do you know?"
"I pay attention. And good writers notice things. You noticed us, didn't you? Before we came over."
She looked down at her hands. Her fingers were thin, the nails short.
"What does it matter," she said. "Good doesn't mean anything if no one's hiring."
The child stirred in Dianzi's arms. Its small hand reached out and grabbed my finger. The grip was tight – stronger than I expected.
I didn't pull away. "She has a strong grip. That's a good sign – she's not letting go easily."
The child held on for a few seconds. Then its face crumpled. It let go and started to cry.
Dianzi bounced it gently. "Shh, shh, it's okay. You're safe."
The woman took the child back. She held it close, her cheek against its head.
"I should go," she said. "She needs to eat."
"Of course," I said. "But before you go – what's your name?"
She hesitated. "Zhou Min."
"Zhou Min," I repeated. "I'm Hanzi. This is Dianzi. If you need someone to talk to, we're in cabin 702. Or you'll find us by the pool."
She nodded, then turned and walked towards the exit. The plastic bag swung from her wrist.
I touched my choker. The microphone came back on.
[chat] What happened?
[chat] Why was the sound off?
[chat] That mother's story broke my heart
"We just had a quiet conversation," I said to the lens. "Sometimes people need that."
Dianzi stood beside me, watching the woman's back until she disappeared through the door.
"Sister."
"I saw it too. Her collar was washed white. And her fingers were thin."
"She's been stretching every penny," I said. "And her company let her go right after maternity leave – they used restructuring as an excuse."
Dianzi was quiet for a moment.
"She said he left."
"Yes. Not died. Left."
I put my hand on her shoulder. "That's harder in some ways – because he chose to go. But she's still standing. And now she knows our names."
We walked towards the exit. The sun was lower now, the light turning gold.
[chat] I wish I could help her
[chat] Single mum life is hard
[chat] Hope she finds something
I touched my choker. The blue light dimmed.
We walked into the corridor. The carpet absorbed our footsteps.
Behind us, the pool was still crowded. But the young mother was gone – for now.