The glass walkway was on Deck Seven, a full curve of glass panels jutting out over the sea.
When we arrived, sunlight was just breaking through a gap in the clouds, cutting a golden scar across the water. There were already people in the walkway: an elderly man leaning on the railing watching the sea, a couple taking selfies, a few children lying flat on the glass floor, chasing the waves beneath.
Dianzi pulled me to the observation spot farthest out. The mist-pink skirt brushed across the floor, the light turning the fabric nearly translucent, peach-coloured. The two tendrils of hair framing her face shifted, the mother-of-pearl clips catching the light. The tiny mother-of-pearl flowers at her ears swayed as she moved.
I stood beside her. The silver embroidery on my black dress glowed faintly in the bright light, the wine-red ribbons in my grey-gold hair occasionally catching a cold flash from the silver gear clip. The cuffs of our stockings sat neatly just below the hems of our skirts—hers with the band of mother-of-pearl lace showing, mine hidden in shadow.
"Look, darlings," she said, leaning toward the interface projecting from her choker, angling the camera out the window. "This colour of the sea—doesn't it look like someone smashed a whole sapphire and scattered the pieces across the water?"
I stood half a step behind her, letting the camera frame both her and the sea.
The chat began to scroll.
[chat] So beautiful 😍
[chat] Daughter's dress today is perfect with the sea
[chat] Mother wants to see the sea too 🌊
A seagull swept past the window, its wingtip nearly brushing the glass.
"Seagull," Dianzi murmured, pressing her finger against the glass, following the bird's flight. "It's flying so low."
"Waiting for someone on the ship to throw bread," I said.
"Then we'll throw some too."
"For a girl, you need to be mindful of the rules. Otherwise, you get fined."
She shot me a look over her shoulder, but her mouth was curved.
I was about to respond when my peripheral vision caught a small figure standing alone at the far end of the walkway.
A girl, maybe five or six, in a pale yellow dress, her hair tied in two little buns. She was leaning against the glass railing, her head practically hanging over it, staring at the sea below.
No adult beside her.
I adjusted the camera angle to widen the frame. Not deliberately—it was just that the girl had drifted into the edge of the shot.
Dianzi saw her too.
She didn't say anything, just kept describing the ship's wake and the outline of islands in the distance. But her gaze kept drifting in that direction.
The girl held that position for a long time.
Then she straightened abruptly and called out.
"Mama."
Her voice wasn't loud—the wind and sea covered most of it—but I saw her lips move.
She didn't turn around right away. She waited.
For an answer.
A seagull cried outside. Someone laughed behind us. Footsteps echoed from the other end of the walkway.
But there was no voice.
The smile on the girl's face slowly faded. First the lips, then the eyes, then the faint light that had flickered there from anticipation. Her small shoulders tensed, as if someone had given her a gentle shove from behind.
I pressed pause.
Not because I needed to film anything. It was just that my camera happened to be angled at her profile, and that moment—the moment the smile faded—deserved to be remembered.
The chat went silent for a second.
[chat] ??? 😥
[chat] That little girl looks like she's alone
[chat] Where's her mum
[chat] Daughter, don't be scared
"Little one," Dianzi was already walking over, crouching down to her height, her skirt pooling on the glass floor. "What are you looking at?"
The girl turned. Her eyes were wide, her lashes holding onto something that might have been tears or might have been light.
"Flying fish," she said, her voice thin. "I saw them. They fly."
"Really? This girl has never seen flying fish."
"Really!" The girl stretched out her hands to show. "They jump out of the water like this, and their wings are shiny, and then they disappear."
"Then I'll wait with you, okay? Until they fly out again."
The girl nodded. Hard.
Dianzi crouched beside her, purple-pink hair falling beside the girl's pale yellow dress.
I stood a few steps away, aiming my camera at the sea, not at them.
The chat started scrolling again.
[chat] Daughter is so warm 💕
[chat] This young lady is so gentle
[chat] Mother's crying
[chat] Hugs for the little sister
Waves rolled in, breaking into white foam against the ship's side. No flying fish.
The girl waited a moment, then turned and called out again.
"Mama."
This time her voice was louder.
Several people in the walkway looked over. A woman in sunglasses paused, glanced, then kept walking. A man with a camera passed by, lowered his lens, took a photo, and continued.
No one stopped.
The girl's small shoulders tensed again.
This time she didn't turn back. She just stood there, facing the empty walkway.
I saw her lower lip begin to tremble.
Dianzi reached out, resting a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Maybe Mama went to get you some snacks?" She tilted her head, her voice soft as cotton candy. "Want me to wait with you?"
The girl didn't answer. She turned back to the sea.
She didn't call out again.
Two minutes passed. Maybe more. The light in the walkway shifted slowly, seagulls' shadows gliding across the glass again and again.
Then footsteps came from the entrance—quick, uneven.
A young woman ran up, clutching a plastic bag. There was a dark water stain on her skirt—coffee, fresh, the edges still wet.
"Xiao Yu!" She was breathless, her voice carrying a barely suppressed panic. "Mama just went to buy water, and you were gone."
She crouched down, pulling the girl into her arms. The plastic bag swung against her arm—two bottles of water and a small box of biscuits inside.
The girl didn't cry. She just pressed her face into her mother's shoulder and said quietly, "I saw the flying fish."
"Really? What did they look like?"
"Shiny wings."
"Then next time Mama will watch with you."
The woman stood, taking the girl's hand, and nodded at Dianzi.
"Thank you," she said, still catching her breath. "She runs off so fast. I turned around and she was gone."
"It's okay." Dianzi stood too, brushing a bit of dust from her skirt. "She was very good. She waited right here. I stayed with her for a bit."
The woman thanked her again and looked down at her daughter.
The girl, her hand held by her mother, twisted to look back. She looked at Dianzi, then at me, standing a few steps away. Then she raised her free hand and gave a small wave.
I waved back.
Dianzi crouched down to her level again and waved too.
"Next time you watch for flying fish, remember to hold Mama's hand, okay? Be a good girl."
The girl nodded.
Mother and daughter disappeared around the bend in the walkway.
I closed the interface and pulled the camera back from the sea.
The chat was still scrolling, but slower now.
[chat] Daughter is so gentle
[chat] Mama's having a hard time
Dianzi walked back and stood beside me.
The wind pushed a strand of her hair against my shoulder.
"I hope she always has someone with her when she watches the sea," she said.
Her voice was soft, like she was speaking only to herself.
——When I got lost in a department store as a child, I stood still and waited a long time.
I didn't answer. I just opened the interface again and aimed the camera at the endless sea, now fully lit by the sun.
The walkway returned to what it had been before: the elderly man watching the sea, the couple taking selfies, the children lying on the glass chasing waves.
As if nothing had happened.
But I knew that moment—the moment the girl turned and called for her mother and found no one behind her—had already been folded into data, stored somewhere I couldn't see.
Together with countless other moments on this route.
The seagull flew past again.
This time I didn't watch it.