SA | Chapter 4

Whale Watching Out the Sea

Gu Deng made a ridiculous request and waited for Zhang Li to back down in the face of difficulty, but after a very long time, Zhang Li still did not say anything.

Gu Deng softened again and was just about to say forget it when Zhang Li suddenly said, “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Gu Deng did not quite react in time. Or rather, he had understood, but because it was so absurd, he did not dare believe it was real.

Zhang Li said again, “Watch whales.”

“I don’t believe you, unless you take me to go see them.”

“Okay.”

But even now, Gu Deng still did not believe Zhang Li. He was simply holding on to a mindset of, I want to see what exactly you’re trying to do, and wanted to expose Zhang Li’s trick.

The city was very quiet at night as they kept driving south toward the southeastern coast. The nighttime light was faint, and there was still unmelted snow on the road, but Zhang Li drove very steadily. Gu Deng could not sleep, so he only turned his face and looked at the distant streetlights.

Gu Deng did not want to talk, and Zhang Li was also very quiet. Two people who had only just met, impulsively driving through the night in Alaska, it all felt rather strange.

But Gu Deng had already completely given up trying, while Zhang Li’s silence seemed able to tolerate every strange thing in the world. In the end, neither of them felt that this was especially absurd, or perhaps, especially miraculous.

The car kept heading south. Just before dawn, Gu Deng finally slept for a little while. When he opened his eyes again, dawn was only just breaking. The road wound onward, the fjord was veiled in morning mist, and beneath the emerald-green mountains was a sea of vivid jade-green water.

The Alaska Peninsula lay at a high latitude, but thanks to the Alaska Current passing through, the southern region had a small amount of temperate oceanic climate, warm and humid year-round, presenting scenery completely different from the north.

The car passed winding, secluded inlets and slowly drove into a small town, finally stopping beside a small harbor. Various types of small boats were moored there. The forest onshore was deep green, and in the distance were gleaming white snow mountains. A red house sat shrouded in morning mist, quiet and far-reaching, like a scene from a fairy tale.

Gu Deng rolled down the window and took a deep breath.

Zhang Li got out and walked toward the red house, where he started talking with an old man inside. Gu Deng glanced at the location on the navigation screen. The town’s name was very unfamiliar, and had almost never appeared in travel guides.

Before long, Zhang Li came back with a key and said, “Let’s go.”

Only now did Gu Deng finally realize that Zhang Li was not just stubbornly talking tough. He was serious. He really was going to take him to see whales.

A burst of panic rose in Gu Deng for no reason. He looked at the key in Zhang Li’s hand and pretended to stay calm. “Do you work part-time as a tour guide too?”

“You’re my first customer,” Zhang Li said.

“Do you know where the whales are?”

“I’m not sure, but we can go take a look.”

Gu Deng fell silent.

The town was so quiet that this silence only created an even greater stillness, as if the surrounding mountains and sea were all surging toward him, giving Gu Deng the illusion that he was being submerged by nature.

When he came back to himself again, it was because he heard the cries of seagulls.

Gu Deng pulled out his phone and said, “How much is it? I’ll transfer it to you first.”

“No need,” Zhang Li said.

“No, you have to take it.” Gu Deng’s attitude was firm. “Who knows whether you’re taking me to see whales or planning to sell my organs?”

“I won’t sell your organs,” Zhang Li said. “Selling you whole would fetch a higher price.”

Gu Deng: “…”

He could not be bothered to argue with Zhang Li, so he simply sat down on a bench by the roadside. The sun was bright, the fjord was tranquil and distant, and Gu Deng closed his eyes. Orange light and shadow danced over his eyelids.

But Zhang Li did not let him off. Instead, he continued the earlier topic and said, “I’ve already received my payment.”

Gu Deng opened his eyes.

Zhang Li took out his phone. A familiar melody came from it, it was the piece Gu Deng had written on the Dalton Highway.

Gu Deng often wrote things during hypomanic episodes. At those times, inspiration overflowed from him, and his confidence soared. He would lock himself in the recording studio for an entire day without eating or drinking, convinced that he had created a work more outstanding than anything before. But then when he got up the next morning and looked at it again, he would tear up the manuscript in anger and treat those works like garbage.

At first, his manager would still pick the manuscripts out of the trash can, but Gu Deng absolutely refused to let that portion of his drafts see the light of day, and had even argued with his manager several times over it. After enough times, the manager simply let him do as he liked.

But Gu Deng had never imagined that this time, he had actually given away a half-finished piece.

“Don’t play it!” As if he had seen a flood beast, Gu Deng immediately covered his ears. “Don’t let me hear that thing!”

Zhang Li was a little surprised, but he still turned off the audio.

Awkwardness hung in the air. Only after quite a while did Gu Deng slowly lower his hands and say, “Sorry, I can’t listen to that.”

“Okay,” Zhang Li said. “I won’t play it.”

Gu Deng nodded, then fell silent again.

The cries of the seagulls grew louder, followed by the sound of the wind, then the waves. A thin, high call came from above as a bald eagle glided from a tree branch down toward the sea to hunt.

“Forget it, let’s go back.” Gu Deng stood up and said, “I was just saying that casually before. It’s not like I really want to see whales that much anyway. Sorry for wasting your time. I’ll pay you the local guide fee.”

Gu Deng pulled out some cash and held it out. Zhang Li blocked it with one hand and said, “Can you think about it a little more?”

His gaze was deep and serious. When he looked at someone like that, it created the feeling that there was nowhere to hide.

Gu Deng flung Zhang Li’s arm away and said coldly, “I’m not going.”

Zhang Li said again, “You can see the whales you want to see here.”

That familiar scene surfaced again in Gu Deng’s mind. He had watched it too many times, so many that he could already recreate every single frame perfectly, the pink-purple sky, the thick sea water, the splashes like gold, the whales swimming in total freedom.

Once, simply imagining scenes like that had been enough to make him happy. But now… even his favorite kind of scenery could no longer stir his emotions.

“Zhang Li, can you let me go, please?” Gu Deng half-crouched down, almost pleading. “I really don’t want to go.”

He did not dare go. He was afraid that even after seeing the whales, he still would not feel satisfied. He was afraid that even after seeing the scenery he had dreamed of, he still would not become happy.

Gu Deng looked so pitiful, as though something invisible had seized him, tangled itself around him, and left him unable to break free.

At last, Zhang Li gave up. He took a step back and said, “Okay. Then we won’t go.”

As if he had not expected the compromise to come so easily, Gu Deng looked up in shock, his eyes faintly red.

“Sorry,” Zhang Li said, searching for the right words. “I didn’t mean to force you. I only brought you here because I hoped you’d be happy.”

Gu Deng sniffed, feeling a little guilty. “Sorry.”

Zhang Li shook his head and said, “Rest here for a while first. We can talk about everything else later.”

Gu Deng nodded and agreed to the suggestion.

In his current state, he was not fit to drive, and Zhang Li had driven through the whole night, so naturally Gu Deng felt embarrassed about asking him to turn around and drive the car straight back immediately.

That red house was the dock manager’s residence, and it was also rented out as a guesthouse.

Gu Deng and Zhang Li each took a room. Gu Deng’s room was on the second floor, and the window faced the sea. He could hear the cries of seagulls.

Gu Deng lay down on the bed without even taking off his clothes. He had only meant to rest for a while, but the town was too quiet, and the sunlight slanted in through the window, giving him the feeling of taking an afternoon nap back in his childhood hometown. Gu Deng watched that patch of light and gradually closed his eyes.

When he woke again, it was already afternoon. When Gu Deng went downstairs, the landlord uncle told him that lunch was in the kitchen, and that Zhang Li had gone out to sea, but could be contacted by satellite phone.

Gu Deng settled lunch by himself, but afterward he felt sleepy again. This time, however, he did not want to go back to his room, and instead sat on a bench at the dock to bask in the sun.

Suddenly, a bald eagle flew onto the top of a sailboat’s mast and let out a string of thin cries. Gu Deng felt like laughing a little. The bird looked majestic and imposing, yet its call was so delicate and dainty.

Gu Deng went upstairs to get his recording equipment, but by the time he came back down, the bald eagle had already flown away. Forget it, it had only been a passing whim to begin with. It did not matter if he failed to record it. Gu Deng turned to leave, only to hear another burst of those thin cries again.

He searched with his binoculars for quite a while before finally realizing that the bird had flown onto a small island nearby. The distance was not too far, and the sea surface was also very calm, so Gu Deng asked the dock uncle whether there was any way to get over there.

“There is,” the uncle said, pointing to the side. “A paddleboard, an inflatable dinghy, or a kayak can all get you over there.”

Gu Deng rented a kayak, put on a life vest, brought a GPS locator, and paddled toward the island.

To relieve his illness, he had tried many types of exercise before, because the doctor had said that exercise could improve one’s mood. Gu Deng did admit that the endorphins and dopamine released by exercise had once made him healthy and strong, but in the end, all it had really done was delay the progression of his illness.

Gu Deng paddled over beside the bald eagle and recorded sound there. Immediately afterward, he was drawn by other sounds as well. The island was rich in species, and there were many animals he did not recognize. By the time he had wrapped up this round of recording, he realized that he had already left land far behind him.

In front of him was a winding fjord. The sea was calm and under the sunlight took on a thick, dense texture. Gu Deng looked back once in the direction of land, then decided to keep paddling forward.

Small islands were scattered across the sea like stars, and at first glance they looked no different from Qiandao Lake. Gu Deng paddled toward the distant sea, leaving one small island after another behind him. By the time his arms started to ache and weaken, he finally reached a broad stretch of open water.

The sky was blue, the sea was green, and in the distance a stretch of white glacier plunged into the sea, with floating ice scattered everywhere.

Gu Deng kept paddling toward the glacier. The wind and waves were somewhat stronger out in the outer waters, but once he drew close to the floating ice, the sea calmed again. The sun lit the floating ice until it shone clear and crystalline. Gu Deng passed through the scattered ice one piece after another, and the glacier drew closer. Two pure white walls of ice extended inland in a V shape, immense, pure, and translucent. Gu Deng tried to turn on his phone, but discovered that his phone simply could not capture the sheer impact of the scene.

As he continued paddling inward, he saw a red inflatable boat moored beneath the glacier, with no one in it.

Had the boat been abandoned? Or had something happened to its owner? Gu Deng was just about to head over and check when a whale call suddenly rose from beneath the sea.

Gu Deng stopped short and froze there, both afraid and expectant. He stayed motionless in place for more than a minute, then continued moving toward the unmanned boat.

The whale call grew louder, and a blurry deep-gray shadow appeared under the sea, making the sea surface rock faintly with it. Gu Deng hurriedly paddled over to the little boat. Suddenly, bubbles began rising from the surface with a gulu-gulu sound, and Zhang Li, dressed in a wetsuit, emerged from the water. Beside him was a whale lying belly-up.

The whales Gu Deng had seen before had always been swimming or breaching. They were always in motion and never let humans get too close. But this whale was different. It lay there quietly with its belly turned up, like a person floating on their back in the water, completely exposing its chin and belly.

The scene was honestly a little bizarre. Gu Deng stared blankly for a while before finally asking, “What are you doing?”

That use of “you” was a little inappropriate, but Zhang Li did not correct him. Instead, he put his hand behind his back and said, “Nothing.”

That attitude only made the situation look even stranger.

Gu Deng looked at the whale again. It was a humpback whale, common in these waters. Because humpbacks were huge and swam comparatively slowly, they were easily infested with barnacles. Lucky humpbacks only got them on their chins. The unlucky ones had it much worse, invaded from head to tail, with not even their fins escaping.

But this humpback was spotless. Its chin was white and soft-looking, with only one or two scattered black specks.

Zhang Li glanced at one of the black specks, moved with lightning speed, plucked it off in one go, and then swiftly put his hand behind his back again, as though he had not done anything at all.

Gu Deng looked at the whale, then at Zhang Li, and said in disbelief, “You’re picking barnacles off a whale?”

Zhang Li had his own logic. “If you pick them off, then they’re gone.”

Gu Deng: “…”