By Zhai Mo

A Solo Voyage A Departure of Love

By Zhai Mo

“I sacrificed my relationship for the ocean journey. I stared at the moon on the horizon, recalling the nights I spent with Angie looking at the moon together. “The most fortunate place for Scorpio is in the water,” she said. In my chest, I felt the warmth of her fingertips, as I finished a bottle of beer, and slipped it into the sea.”

I had never been out to sea, but when I finally stepped on a boat, I understood right away that I belonged there—a life full of uncertainty on the waves.

The next day, I bought the boat, I brought my girlfriend Angie over and spent my first night on the boat with her. After dinner, I held Angie’s hand, and brought her to the deck to count the stars. At nightfall, the sea was silver-gray, and the sky was encrusted with stars across the whole horizon. She and I felt as if we were in a giant dome embedded with diamonds, figuring out the constellations.

The next morning, I was woken up by the sound of the waves, and Angie was right next to me. The sun was bright and the sea was sparkling. The sea begged me to jump in and go for a swim. Money could not buy this view, and I suddenly felt the pleasure of a successful and wealthy businessman.

Two days later, I said to Angie, “I want to sail around New Zealand as my first long voyage in order to gain some experience.” She said “yes” without a moment’s hesitation.

Everything was ready. I held the steer, and Angie put her arms around me. We hit the sea.

The land gradually left our sight,and our boat was entering deeper waters from inshore. The sea was not as gentle as it was when we were close to its coast. It started to get a little rough. With several waves, the boat was thrown up and down. Angie began feeling bad from the seasickness, and she was constantly sick. At first, she still could suppress the discomfort and ate a little, but she kept throwing up anything she ate, and then she would dry heave. Over time, she could not control herself anymore—holding the mast, she shivered.

“Go back. I cannot go on.” She was begging me, out loud. But now I was here, with the boat I sold everything to buy, how could I give it up so easily? I tried to persuade her, “Please hold on a little longer. You will be fine once you get used to it.”

We went through our first tough night since we had boarded the boat. Due to the worries that the ship would be capsized by the waves, Angie could not sleep. In case of the slightest disturbance, she sat up in anxiety. The weather was not as good as we thought it would be, but we could still see the stars through the haze. Angie told me she did not know it was so unromantic to go out to sea, “If we drift on like this, I have no idea where we will end up.”

In my sleep, I could hear her sobbing softly. I knew she missed the land, but I did not turn back. My whole heart was put into the sea.

Eventually, on the third day, Angie finally could not hold on any longer. She put her arms around me and said,“I cannot keep on sailing with you. My body cannot withstand it any longer. I want to go ashore. I will wait for you in Auckland.” Her voice went up with the gusting wind and then pounded my heart. Angie cried. It began to rain in my heart.

After we pulled in, I got her some fresh tomatoes and bread to help her regain strength, and then she said goodbye to me. Her figure gradually became a black spot on the land, and my heart started aching, but I did not intend to go back at all. The ocean was like a black hole, and it had captured me, a wandering star in the vastness of space.

I spent six months circumnavigating the entire island of New Zealand.

I got as much sunlight as I possibly could, and my muscles were toughened by the sea breeze. I was singing and roaring alone, exulted in true freedom. All sailing enthusiasts love New Zealand, because there are so many complicated reef clusters and everchanging torrents—if you pass the test in New Zealand waters, you can sail anywhere.

But Angie was the strongest factor that motivated me. She was driving on land to follow my journey. She was always waiting for me at the wharf at every stop. Whenever she met me, she would bury her head in my chest and say, “You made it. I am so happy for you.”

At each stop, she waited for me; her slender figure attracted everybody’s attention at the wharf. From afar, I could see her waving to me, and at that moment, my heart would fill with excitement.

I once encountered blasting winds at sea. After struggling with the storm, with my 8-meter canvas sail, I wasseveral days late to my destination. At this time, I did not see Angie at the wharf, but in a hospital.

“Your girlfriend was excessively shocked by the strong feelings in her heart when you didn’t arrive. She almost failed to make it through.”While the nurse was angry at me, Angie was totally apologetic, “I am sorry to make you worry.”

I approached her, held her hand, and said, “I should be the one to apologize.”I talked in a melancholy voice with my head down, and there was a storm in my head. I could either keep her as my company, from New Zealand to the South Pacific Ocean, and across the entire Pacific Ocean, and then further along to the endless eternity, or I could just let her go, since I could not give her true lifetime companionship. I knew I should give her another chance to find happiness.

“Do you still want to keep her so worried? Can you do what a boyfriend should do?”a voice asked me.

The answer came from my subconscious, “I cannot.”

Gritting my teeth and with my eyebrows furrowed, I told Angie my decision as quickly as possible with the most determined tone.

She was shocked, and her face turned pale.

“What is the point of sailing? Why is it not a better idea to keep on painting? Why do you roam the sea with that stupid boat? Can that be your career?” she yelled at me.

My goal is Tahiti. No one can stop me from that.

She covered her face and started sobbing, and she threw herself into my arms, “I believe you will come back. And when you do, will you embrace me again?”

As a result, Angie waved goodbye to me, and it was farewell for good.

It was not until she disappeared in the maze of street lamps on land that I untied the rope and let my boat drift aimlessly into the sea.

I sacrificed my relationship for the ocean journey. I stared at the moon on the horizon, recalling the nights I spent with Angie looking at the moon together. “The most fortunate place for Scorpio is in the water,” she said. In my chest, I felt the warmth of her fingertips, as I finished a bottle of beer, and slipped it into the sea.

(FromSailing, Yangtze River Literature and Art Publishing House. Translation: Trans)