The crowd by the pool was thinning. The light shifted from gold to copper. The water no longer dazzled – the ripples had softened.
I stood in the open space in the regular area. On my back, M‑shaped straps held a small silver bell. The bell was very light; when I moved sharply, it made a faint tinkling sound, like someone shaking a tiny silver bell far away. My white bikini was covered by a sheer unbuttoned cover‑up. My ash‑gold high ponytail lifted in the evening breeze. Today the little gear had been replaced by the bell, still hanging at the intersection of my spine.
Dianzi stood to the side, her phone aimed at me. She touched her choker, and the floating interface lit up – the livestream lens automatically turned on.
"My treasures, today I'll teach you a few basic belly dance hand gestures." I raised my hands to chest level, palms down, and gently turned my wrists. "First, this – when you turn your wrists, don't let your fingers get stiff. Move them like you're stroking water."
[chat] Here we are
[chat] Finally the tutorial
[chat] Wife's hands are so beautiful ✨
I slowed down. My right wrist drew a circle outward, my fingertip flicking lightly at the end. My left hand did the same in the opposite direction. When both wrists turned together, the bell rang once.
"Then, finger flicks – like this." I flicked my fingers one by one, from index to pinky, then back. The movement was very light, as if touching something soft.
[chat] So elegant
[chat] Can't learn but love watching
[chat] Wife is a great teacher
"Combine with hip sway. Simple – left, right, left, right – yes." I stood in place, pushing my hips left and right. The movement was small, but each push landed on a breath. My skirt swayed gently.
[chat] Wife's hips
[chat] Help
[chat] One more time
Dianzi zoomed in on my hands. I repeated the sequence twice, even slower, so the audience could see the angle of the wrist turns and the direction of the finger flicks.
"Got it? Turn your wrists, flick your fingers, let your hips follow your hands."
[chat] Got it (not really)
[chat] Brain says yes, hands say no
[chat] Next time
A figure appeared in my peripheral vision. The young mother stood up from her spot against the wall, child in her arms, plastic bag hanging from her wrist. She took a few steps towards us but didn't come too close – she stopped about three or four steps away.
The coffee stain on her skirt was darker than yesterday, the edges already dry, leaving a light brown mark. The child's face rested on her shoulder, eyes closed, breathing light.
"Leaving?" I asked.
She nodded. "Yes, she's tired."
She looked down at the child in her arms, then up at me. Her lips moved, as if hesitating.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "For making me feel like someone still wants to listen to me."
She smiled. A short smile, the corners of her mouth lifting, the lines at her eyes creasing, then quickly pulling back.
"Take care," I said.
She turned and walked away. After two steps, she looked back, glanced at me, then continued walking. The plastic bag swung on her wrist. Only two nappies left, the wrapper reflecting white light.
——She smiled. Only for a second, but that was enough.
I reached into my bag. Not on purpose. My fingers touched something soft and furry, and I pulled it out without thinking. A rubber rat fell from my bag onto the tiles, rolled twice, and stopped right where she had been standing. Grey rubber body, pink ears, black eyes, a small wheel under its belly. It sat there, motionless.
"Oh dear, my little pet escaped."
I crouched down to pick it up, and as my finger touched it, I pressed the button on its back. The rat squeaked. A high, short squeak – like an electronic notification. The sound bounced off the tiled walls and echoed back.
She hadn't gone far. She heard the sound and turned her head. I stood up, holding the rat, and gave it a little shake.
"It doesn't bite. It only squeaks. Listen – doesn't it sound like the notification from your phone? The one for an interview invitation?"
She blinked. I pressed the button again. The rat squeaked once more, the sound drawn out a little, trembling in the air.
The corner of her mouth moved – not a smile, but not not a smile. "It really does."
"Next time you hear that sound, don't be nervous. Just think of my little pet saying hello."
She looked at the rat for two seconds, then turned and walked away. This time she didn't look back.
I put the rat back in my bag, stood up, and patted my hands together.
Dianzi turned the lens away from the direction she had left and back to me. "Sister, when did you buy that?"
"The gift shop on the ship. Yesterday."
"I didn't see it."
"You didn't ask."
The chat was still scrolling. I looked away from the phone screen and towards the pool exit. Her figure had disappeared around the corridor corner, only the corner of the plastic bag flashing once before it was gone.
I touched my choker, and the blue light dimmed. The livestream ended.
When I got back to the cabin, the sky was completely dark. There was no moon outside the porthole – the sea was a bottomless black, only the lights of a distant ship like a low‑hanging star.
Dianzi was in the bathroom, the sound of water muffled by the door. I sat on the edge of the bed and took off my choker, placing it on the bedside table. The crystal flashed once – a very short flash – then went dark.
At least she knew that one sound wasn't bad news.
The water stopped. Dianzi came out of the bathroom, her hair wet, wrapped in a white towel, her toes leaving pale water marks on the carpet.
"Sister, will that mother come back tomorrow?"
"I'm not sure. But she said she would, and I believe her."
"Do you think she'll pass the interview?"
I thought for a moment. "I don't know. But at least today she smiled. Even if it was short. One smile can lead to another."
Dianzi walked to the bed and sat down, drying her hair with the towel. The edge of the towel slipped from her shoulder; she reached up and pulled it back.
"I hope she does."
"So do I. We'll go to the pool again tomorrow. If she comes, we'll stay and talk with her a bit longer."
She finished drying her hair, hung the towel over the back of the chair, and got under the duvet. "Sister, are we going to the pool tomorrow?"
"Yes. She said she would come, so we'll be there."
"Then I'll come too."
She turned over, her back to me, pulling the duvet up to her chin. I lay down and pulled the duvet over my head. In the darkness, the rat's squeak echoed in my mind once, then faded. The crystal on my choker flashed again – like a silent sigh.