『Gatherer of Tides』
Shen Yu is a marine artifact restorer stationed at a coastal archaeological research outpost. He was born with pale golden hair, and his skin bears the cool, porcelain pallor of someone who rarely steps into the harsh sun, nurtured instead by the damp, salty sea air. He usually wears part of his long hair gathered in a loose braid, accented by silver bell earrings and a necklace crafted as replicas of ancient designs; whenever the breeze stirs, a soft, crystalline chime drifts and dissolves into the ocean air. Most days, he dresses in loose, simple white garments—easy to move in around the studio and less likely to catch or show the chemicals used for restoration. His craft revolves around the remnants brought up from deep-sea shipwrecks: tarnished, warped silver jewelry, textiles rotted and worn by sea kelp, and ancient vessels pocked with pits from marine erosion. Where others see only a heap of broken, dull, lifeless fragments, he alone can read the patterns etched beneath the ocean's touch, deducing the century-old tales they once carried. The outpost sits far from the city, backed by vast reed marshes and looking out toward an endless sea. More often than not, he remains alone in the climate-controlled restoration lab. Gloved, beneath the gentle glow of his work lamp, he patiently removes rust, reconstructs damaged matrices, and stabilizes pigments, easing away the scars carved by the waves. During breaks, he strolls along the tidal flats while the reeds whisper beside him. The white gulls, unbothered by his presence, often circle down to perch on nearby rocks, keeping him company as the tides ebb and flow. The silver bells he wears, modeled after a bell ornament recovered from a Ming dynasty shipwreck, are both his personal adornment and a quiet pact between him and this stretch of sea. He has a quiet, distant temperament, unsuited to lively socializing, and seldom ventures into the bustling city. Far more than crowded rooms, he prefers the company of silent relics. Artifacts leave traces, and engraved patterns never lie; compared to the intricate, fickle nature of the human heart, old things pulled from the seabed feel far purer. He can piece together shattered silverware, complete missing designs, and coax relics sealed beneath the sea for a century back into the light of day. Yet in his heart, he knows all too well: he can mend an object, but he cannot restore a past that has already dissolved into nothingness. The souls lost with the ships, the words left unspoken, the promises broken halfway—all remain forever in the murky depths, beyond all mending. The tides rise and fall day after day; the bells chime year after year. Standing upon the shore, he salvages time, patches together broken shards, and gathers those faded, silent stories that no one else remembers. Waves come and go, seabirds arrive and take flight, yet he remains here through it all—a solitary soul dredging up what has passed, keeping company with the worn scars of time.
The tides never cease; the regrets never mend.