The seawater was Deep Blue, different from the sky. A gentle breeze stirred the water, creating undulating waves that resembled unpolished natural ore. Sunlight shone on the sea, making it sparkle and shimmer like it was covered with shimmering scales.
An oval-shaped object broke through the water's surface, rising from the sea before plunging back down, its form resembling a giant blue whale. However, its color was as black as ink, making it stand out starkly against the rolling white waves. Then, its slender body was fully revealed, floating steadily on the water's surface.
This is a submarine that looks a bit old; its mottled hull resembles moldy wild boar hide. Rusty antennas are exposed on the fin-like conning tower on its back.
The cabins inside the submarine were damp and dark, with aging electrical wiring connecting to glaring high-powered incandescent bulbs. The control room and activity room were piled with clutter, much of it old stuff, emanating a peculiar musty smell of isolation.
However, a young man sitting in the lounge at that moment was as refreshing and captivating as a lotus flower emerging from the mud. He had an Asian face, yet possessed a touch of Western aristocratic elegance. His demeanor was refined and noble; even sitting still, he exuded gentlemanly charm. No matter how messy, dirty, or decaying the environment was, it seemed to have no effect on him. His pristine white clothes were spotless, without a trace of mildew or dust, as if they had just been taken from the wardrobe of the United Kingdom royal family.
There were two computers in the lounge, the only things that looked relatively new. One of the computers was playing the old movie " Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," but for some reason, whether it was because there were no speakers or something else, the movie only had visuals and no sound.
Living in such a dilapidated and cramped cabin would be a torment. If a young woman came to such a place, she would do everything in her power to escape immediately. But if she saw this elegant and extremely handsome man in the cabin, she would instantly forget all the unpleasant sights, smells, and touches that this old submarine had given her, and would wish to stay with this man for eternity.
Perhaps this is how men fantasize. In this scenario, if it were a romantic fantasy film, the submarine should rescue a mermaid princess at sea, a perfect Beauty for our prince, and the ensuing, tortuous, and extraordinary love story that spans land and sea would surely be incredibly moving.
However, when the hatch opened, it wasn't a mermaid princess who entered, but a Western man with a full beard.
The man was so tall that he had to stoop to pass through the passageway and cabin door, looking quite strained. Even after entering, he didn't straighten up completely, as if he would never have the courage to stand up straight in front of this noble and handsome man.
His face bore the marks of years of weathering from the salty dampness of the sea, and his curly, unkempt hair still smelled of fish.
He stopped in front of the handsome young man and said in heavily accented Russian English, " Mr. Stone, I hope I haven't disturbed your enjoyment."
If watching silent television can be considered a refined pastime, then what refined things are there in this world? But in the eyes of this bearded Russia, there was nothing more appealing to him on the submarine than watching movies.
"Where are we, Ivan?" asked the handsome man known as Mr. Stone.
"Sir, our current location is 31.3°S, 152.5°W." Whenever Ivan was in front of Mr. Stone, he would unconsciously become more gentlemanly when speaking, but he could not change his rough voice, which sounded somewhat incongruous, yet also carried a unique kind of honesty and charm.
"Still no findings?" Stone asked.
"No," Ivan replied.
"Continue the patrol and exploration. Notify me immediately if you find anything," Stone said.
"But..." Ivan seemed a little hesitant.
"What's wrong, Ivan?" Stone asked, looking at him. "Just say it."
"Sir, I have a few questions I don't understand," Ivan said.
Stone didn't speak, but picked up a bottle of natural mineral water from the Alps, took a sip, and gestured for him to continue.
Ivan said, "The waters in this area are over ten thousand feet deep, and there isn't a single reef. We've been patrolling this area for two days now, and unless Aegir the sea god uses his powers, I don't think any miracles will happen."
" Aegir?" Stone laughed. "Do you Russia believe in this too?"
"No, I believe in God," Ivan said. "But I've heard my grandmother say since I was a child that Aegir is a giant of the deep sea, and that Odin can't touch him once he's in the water. When I first became a submariner, my instructors taught us to be brave and fearless, to forget all fear, and to only have reverence for Aegir."
Stone nodded and handed Ivan a bottle of water. "Go on."
Ivan took the water but didn't drink it, saying, "There's something else I don't understand. Why did you choose such an old and cumbersome decommissioned military submarine? Although I was once a soldier, I have to admit that modern research submarines are far superior to this old thing in terms of diving speed, diving depth, equipment sophistication, and comfort. You're not going to war, and you're spending just as much money anyway, so why not make yourself more comfortable?"
"Are you feeling unwell?" Stone asked.
"No, sir." Ivan instinctively stood at attention, adopting a military posture. "I am a soldier, and I spent seven years and three months on a submarine. This place will only make me feel at home, I assure you..."
"I know," Stone waved his hand to interrupt him, "You're a good soldier. It's a pity your country pays you too little. Your wife gave birth to three children, and... books, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't worry, after this mission, you'll never have to live those dark days in the cramped control room of a submarine again. Take your wife and children and go enjoy the beautiful sunshine in Hawaii or New Zealand."
Ivan paused for a moment, then said seriously, "I believe you, Mr. Stone, but you haven't answered my question yet."
Arthur Stone chuckled, "As a distinguished submariner, you should know the origins of this submarine, shouldn't you?"
"Of course I know," Ivan said confidently. "This is Romeo-class Type 633 conventional submarine built by the Former Soviet Union in the 1960s. It was exported in large numbers, and this one should be one of those exported to Syria."
"Yes, that's very true." Stone stood up and patted the bulkhead. "Look, it's over fifty years old and still so sturdy! Things built back then were not only of high quality, but also completely free of any tricks. Although the machines back then weren't as advanced as they are now, they would obediently follow your commands; every screw and every rivet worked for you. Unlike things now, where your data is stored in the cloud, but you never know where the cloud is or what's hidden inside."
Ivan listened for a long time, still puzzled. "I... I don't quite understand."
Stone said, "You don't need to understand, you just need to know that a machine built fifty years ago must be reliable."