Offshore
Episode 6: Blue Dreamers
Content warning: This chapter depicts alcohol consumption and people acting under the influence of alcohol.
Jinai’s neighbours weren’t immersed in the world of sailing, but the sport was big enough in Wulien that even they were aware that they were living in the same block as some sort of niche celebrity.
Or at least, that was how it felt on some days. As she pedalled her bicycle out from under the stairs and into the morning, a crocheted shopping bag slung over a shoulder, she passed Zilu from the unit downstairs watering her garlic and rosemary trough. At the sound of the bicycle clattering past she lifted her head with a holler of, “Saw you in the news—you’re doing a smashing job out there!”
“Thank you, Madam Zilu!” she shouted back, pedalling faster. Getting congratulated on the way to groceries, totally normal people things! She flew down the streets with the wind in her hair—it wasn’t the same as sailing, but it brought a similar joy.
She swerved off the side street where the corner store was nestled. As she zipped past, she noticed Sumare—the Niro-in youth who had only just left their parents’ fold—hastily handing change to a customer. They glanced up as she screeched to a halt, hailing her with a huge grin.
“Sumare!” Jinai called back, using some of her braking momentum to leap off the seat, then kicking the stand into place behind her.
It was over small talk with Sumare—as small as the talk could be when shouted across the shelves while picking out ingredients—that Jinai learned that the interviews had gone into the papers this morning. Wulien Morning Herald, Wulien Sun, Helfi Daily, all of them had either placed reporters in the room or bought the reports from other outlets.
She looked over her shoulder at the racks of papers by the entrance, among the bouquets, sprigs of bluebells and roses draped over them. She shuddered.
“It sounds like you’re all fired up and ready for those finals,” the cashier said.
Jinai fished around in the crate of carrots. “They must have made me sound surer than I actually am,” she answered. “But two weeks isn’t a whole lot, considering the length of the race. The finals are on a whole different scale from the quals, and there’s no way to practice the entire course.”
“Ooh, how long’s the thing again?” Sumare had started sorting the keyrings that hung from a grid frame on the counter. The softglass animals and metal chains jangled.
Jinai had gathered some carrots and potatoes in her shopping bag. Now to pick out a pack of raw chicken from the cooler shelves. “Nine hundred and seventy miles in ideal conditions,” she replied. “The first two legs are three hundred and eighty, the third is half that.”
“What!” they slapped a hand on the countertop. “That’s wild…and you do that in what, five days? I don’t think I even bike that far in a month!”
“Three days, ideally,” she answered. “You’d be surprised at how fast the wind carries you out at sea. And when we get to that last leg, with Threads…” She sighed as, for moments, all she saw was the rush of clouds over the sail, the hydrofoil skimming the blue water below. Then she reached the counter and laid her groceries down. “Just these, please.”
Sumare sifted through the items in the bag and punched figures into their calculator. “Thirty-two kwai,” they replied, and Jinai palmed out the exact change, slapping it onto the counter. “Thanks, and best of luck to you!”
“You too,” she replied. She had a feeling she would need that luck sooner rather than later.
Now Jinai sat in the velvet backseat of a taxi carriage, the diesel engine chugging tirelessly while wheels clattered underfoot. The first thing she’d done after boarding had been to wind the windows down so the breeze swirled in. Outside in the night, streetlights and dim storefronts flashed by, occasionally marred by a pedestrian’s silhouette or a strain of nightlife music.
Just before she had left, her filograph had lit up with Anqien’s scrawl, telling her they’d wait for her at the doors. With those words she had felt her heart leap into her throat at the thought of being seen in this dress.
She had dived into the depths of her bedroom closet in search of a rare outfit she still liked—one still unstained by the memory of her disastrous relationship. Snatching the silk corner of a hem, she had dragged a dress from deep inside, like a sheaf out of a book, and held it in front of herself in the mirror: royal purple satin, with gems studding the bodice and sleeves, and a hem falling halfway to her ankles, split to the knee. Now she was halfway to the bistro, running nervous fingers over the fabric.
The last time she’d worn this had been six years ago. Before Josa, before the Niro-Helfi Race, before she’d fully known that this would someday come to be her life. How the days fleeted by.
In a blink, the streets had gone from dim to glowing, and it was almost impossible to miss that they were approaching the venue: the number of taxi carriages decreased and the fancy new rigs increased in number—gleaming, streamlined chrome hoods and invisible exhaust chimneys waiting their turn on every side street, like ants congregating around honey. Besides the sailors and officials, the exorbitant entry prices kept the less-than-wealthy outside the door.
On the edge of Muli Fish Market, facing the shopping district, there stood a tapering building with a jutting steeple that had, in a previous life, been a temple to Ihir. It had since been converted—against the vehement wishes of the devout minority—into an upscale bistro, known across Wulien for serving the best fish on the island.
Jinai gazed up at the Nakano Bistro’s glitzy eaves as they pulled into its driveway: it had been made over, yet again, with floating Thread lights, stained glass crocuses and lilies glowing from within.
As the sound of ocean waves and drunken laughter tided in through the windows, she thought she saw the familiar shape of her teammate by its barricaded double doors, out of the reach of the queue. She hastily thanked her driver and placed the fare in his hand, eyes already trained on the figure and trying to make out more details. She flung the door open and flew out, shutting it with a click behind her.
Now the full glory of the night was around her, and it lit the gems in her dress, so she spun briefly—so rarely did she get to be even a little daft and unseen—then lifted the skirt and sprinted up the steps.
It was almost certainly Anqien by the door, she noted as they began towards her in a brisk walk. Their coat—a modern take on a traditional Li’un outer robe that she had seen them wear once or twice before—billowed behind them in lavender. They collided into a hug, two-thirds of the way up the stairs.
“Love the dress!” they exclaimed, stepping back. “I’ve never seen it before, is it new?”
She chortled. “No, but I don’t think I’ve worn it since we met, so fair guess,” she replied, touching the small of their back. From here they could see the white patterning on their coat, forming flowers and spirals like wind currents. “I always loved this coat, it looks great on you.”
“Oh, hah, thank you!” they said with a grin and a tweak of their sleeve, drawing in a deep breath—during which the boom of the music became suddenly noticeable, rumbling through her feet. Their smile looked more nervous than before. “Let’s, head inside?”
With a nod to each other, they started towards the door. They never had to produce invitations, and it was the same this time—the bouncers took one look at them and nodded, one waving them into the inner sanctum while the other tapped the headsets in their ear.
It was just about as all-over-the-place as a Sail Fed party should be. Amid the Ihirin sloping rafters and the Niro-style decorations—painted screen walls, carved wood and swinging lanterns that glowed red and gold—the music shook the chairs and the carpets, as did the thumping feet of partygoers. At every standing bar table, they saw people playing games, unstopping bottles of foaming beer at unsuspecting faces, drinking out of unlikely receptacles.
Seconds after they stepped through the door, a bright white light flared from the altar and hit them in the eye, so Jinai flinched. The music was clipped briefly by the voice of the master of ceremonies— “Welcome, welcome! Look who it is, the Cloudlanders!” A roar and a round of applause answered from the crowd and many downed a swig. “Come out to the front, we’ve been waiting for you, Wulien’s favourite local duo!”
Anqien glanced at Jinai. “We’re their favourite local duo?” they asked, voice approaching a yell.
“Who’s even MCing, I need to have a word,” she answered at equal volume, then laughed as she caught the contagious spirit of the space—and they strode out into the scintillating purple party lights and spraying beer foam, waving like royals.
They passed the banquet table of catered food—rice paper wraps and raw fish, of which Jinai and Anqien snatched a few pieces in paper plates before arriving at the altar. Booming music, unabashed excess, and flowing beer: this was a Sail Fed party alright.
The master of ceremonies, it turned out, was Folien I-San—legendary singer with a legendary reputation for tomfoolery—gesticulating and announcing on the mini-stage with an overcoat of golden embroidery complemented by gem-studded chains swaying, a peacock-tail headpiece in his long, free-flowing hair.
Here at the altar with him were just about all the sailors from the press conference and then some, though none right now were recognisable as the sports stars they were, dancing with abandon—buoyed on the beat of whatever was playing, as the spotlights swept the lamplit room.
Shimizu was cradled in Kainara’s lap, the two conversing eagerly with someone from the North Star team. Over by the leftmost wall, Xye danced borderline indecently with a woman who may have been among the unsuccessful competitors, though you could barely tell from the wild joy in her eyes. Xye’s ruffled blouse, unbuttoned midway down her chest, revealed a diamond pendant on her neck, and her blond hair was twirled into a bun around a glittering hairstick. Intermittently, she took a swig of the wine bottle in her hand.
As the two passed, their looks seemed to draw her attention, and she chose that moment to beckon her dancing partner with a finger, and pull her in to kiss her on the mouth. It was unclear where Zera was—if she was here at all.
It wasn’t hard to be reeled into the atmosphere within Nakano’s walls. Both partook freely of the beer taps and the endless catered canapes that were trolleyed out every fifteen minutes. They drank out of waxed paper cups with gold foil and chowed down on Nakano’s ludicrously delectable offerings until Jinai couldn’t see quite straight and had lost Anqien in the crowd.
“Hey, hey, Miss Vailu!” It was perhaps an hour into the party and many drinks in, that Jinai heard Xye call out through the surging crowd, strutting to the beat of whatever dance hit was playing to where her rival stood. She clapped a hand on Jinai’s shoulder. “How do you do?”
“Oh, what a surprise!” she drawled back. “Am I finally worth talking to?
“What do you mean? You’re always worth talking to. I mean, you’re the most impressive of our opponents, if not one of the most impressive ever.”
She laughed, a little too euphoric on the drinks to muster up the indignation she thought she should feel. “What d’you want?”
“I heard you were retiring,” she answered, walking a circle around her. “End of an era, huh?”
“Yeah, and?”
“I know we’re meant to hate each other’s guts and all, but…” She flicked a hand at the air. “Whatever, you’re incredibly cool, for real. Don’t tell Zera I said that.”
Jinai grinned toothily back. “Is she the one who decided that the two of you should treat us like worm fodder?”
“Ptch, no, that’s all me,” she answered, laughing into her fist. “But still, it’s kinda all for show, you know? It’s what the fans like to see, rivals who look like they’d really go for each other’s throats. But, I mean, what in the world—it’s not fair. We could’ve been friends in a different life. Or ex-lovers with deep dark history.”
Her words jolted Jinai briefly, but play along, let’s see where this goes. “Sorry, I’m full up on ex-lovers,” she answered.
Xye raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is this a story we don’t know?”
“As much as it may surprise you, you can just choose not to put your entire life on display,” she said, and lifted her cup to down the rest of her plum wine cocktail.
“Alright, not ex-lovers—how about future lovers?” she pressed on, smirking.
In her head, Jinai studied her mannerisms, struggling for even a modicum of insight as to what her intent was here. But she wasn’t acting any different—just same old drama magnet Xye.
“No offence” she replied, “you’re hot, but not my thing.” Bravado blazed in her chest—or perhaps it was just the flush of alcohol.
“Huh, I see,” answered Xye, and if she was disappointed, her smile did not show it. “That’s wild, the only people who reject me outright are the ones who already have someone else.” She paused for a beat. “And Zera. She’s amazing but I’ve never seen her be interested in anyone? So. Are you taken?”
“No way,” she laughed, swatting ineffectually at their face, “I’m just done with the whole romance thing.”
“Aw,” Xye shook her head, chuckling. “You’re gonna disappoint Anqien if you tell them that.”
“Alright, now you’re just being annoying on purpose,” she answered, shoving her by the shoulder.
In the background, one song segued into the next, and she started tapping her heel to the new beat. “I’m just saying what I see—so if you know better, then great! Guess you’ll just have to ask them, huh? Oh dear, here they come right now. Tiiiming!”
As Xye’s last singsong note trailed off, Jinai felt a hand clamp on her shoulders. “Jinai! Xye!” She whipped her head around. Anqien smiled back, looking like they might be on more drinks than she, but only by a little—swaying and flushed and smiling more widely than they usually did. “Saw you two having a chat, thought I’d come join in.”
“Oh, nah, she was just being a pest as usual,” she said, grinning. “It’s about time we ended that. Silly.”
“That’s how you thank me for my wisdom? Well, then, cheers,” she answered with a two finger salute, and then whirled away and back into the languid chaos on the altar.
Deep in Jinai’s heart, Xye’s last words had sunk their burrs in. She buried the thought for now, though she hadn’t quite shaken it off. Meeting Anqien’s eye again, she said, “How are you going?”
They laughed. “Good!” they said. “The lights are so pretty in here. I just lay down on the steps with the Niro sailors and stared up at them. Also, three people have tried flirting and one just skipped the flirting and went straight for the kiss.”
She shook her head. This seemed to happen at every party. “Did any of them catch your fancy?”
They shook their head. “Wasn’t really feeling it, even after all the drinks,” they said.
Jinai let out a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding. A synth hit cut through the silence. Her head lifted. “No way, this is my favourite song!”
As if working magic, the first notes of the song roused a torrent of motion across the room as all the stragglers who had begun to hunker down for the evening raced to the floor, holding hands or raising them.
This wasn’t one of the throbbing, hypnotic numbers that had come before. The hit was a driving ballad whose bleeding-heart sentimentality had propelled its wildfire spread across the country. Anqien launched into the first bars of the lyrics and twirled, their ponytail swishing after.
Jinai couldn’t resist the song's charm and her companion’s joy for long. The whole room was bouncing and surging like the surf on a stormy night, and carried by the current, she and Anqien took each other’s hands and spiralled and belted the words by heart. The lights shifted to blue and teal, setting the crowd aglitter like a pearl-speckled seabed—the ultra-wealthy who had paid their way into this hall, the people from the streets who had snuck in through the fire escape, the sailors they would battle tooth and nail very soon—all alike in blue.
Just for blinding seconds, she felt like nothing mattered beyond this very moment. This was how she wanted to remember tonight, if she could remember it always. None of them were the people they had been before; all were only dancers and dreamers in this pulsating cerulean light.
