Li Yuan spent his fourth day in Sea Wind City walking along the docks, observing the ships that were anchored and departing. He was looking for a ship sailing south—following the faint call he had felt the night before.
But he faced a practical problem: he had no money at all.
Not that he was poor in the truest sense—his consciousness body didn't need food or a place to stay. But in the mortal world, money was the way people exchanged value. And without it, even a wanderer who had lived for fifteen thousand years had to find another way to pay for a journey.
I could work, he mused as he walked. Offer my labor to unload cargo, mend nets, whatever a ship captain needs. My consciousness body doesn't tire like a mortal body, so I could work longer than others.
He approached several ships, asking about the possibility of working for passage. Some captains politely refused—they already had a full crew. Others looked at him skeptically—he looked too clean, too unaccustomed to physical labor.
On the fifth ship—a medium-sized merchant vessel with worn but well-maintained sails—he met someone who would change his journey.
A young woman was sitting on the edge of the dock near the ship, her legs dangling over the water, a large bag beside her. She was probably twenty-five years old, with sun-tanned skin, short, practical black hair, and sharp eyes that observed everything around her.
What made Li Yuan notice was the expression on her face—a mix of frustration and determination that he recognized well. The expression of someone facing a difficult problem but not yet giving up.
He sat down not far from her—not too close to feel invasive, but close enough to talk if the opportunity arose.
The woman glanced at him, then looked back at the sea with a frustrated sigh.
"The captain won't take me," she said suddenly—not to Li Yuan specifically, more like she was talking to herself. "Says the ship is full. But I know that's not the real reason."
As she spoke, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm the intention behind the words—not just frustration, but a self-doubt she was trying to hide. She suspected the refusal had to do with the fact that she was a young woman alone.
"Are you looking for passage to the south?" Li Yuan asked in a polite but not insistent tone.
The woman turned to look at him more closely. "Yes. You too?"
"Yes."
A moment of silence as they assessed each other.
"Do you have money to pay?" she asked directly.
"No," Li Yuan answered with simple honesty. "I planned to work for passage."
The woman laughed—a bitter but also slightly amused sound. "Me too. But it seems no captain is interested in extra labor. They all say they have enough crew."
"Or they're not comfortable with..." Li Yuan paused, choosing his words carefully.
"With a woman on their ship?" the woman finished with a sharp edge to her voice. "Yes, that too. Some believe in stupid superstitions about women bringing bad luck. Others just don't want to bother with the 'trouble' that might arise."
When she said this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm the controlled anger in her intention—not a hot, explosive anger, but a deep frustration with a world that made her journey more difficult just because of her gender.
"My name is Li Yuan," he said, deciding to introduce himself.
The woman looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yara. From the east, originally. But I haven't had a home for a long time."
"You're a wanderer?"
"Something like that." Yara shrugged. "More accurately, someone looking for something. And that something is to the south, across the sea."
"Looking for what?" Li Yuan asked—not with intrusive curiosity, just with genuine interest.
Yara hesitated, looking at him with eyes that were trying to decide if he could be trusted. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the internal struggle—part of her wanted to share, but another part had learned to be wary of strangers.
"My sister," she finally said in a quieter voice. "She was taken by slave traders three years ago. I've been following her trail ever since. The last trail brought me here, and it points south—to the islands beyond the sea."
When she said this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm more than just the words. He heard the deep love for a lost sister, the guilt she carried for not being able to protect her, and a steel-hard determination to find her no matter how long it took.
"I'm sorry," Li Yuan said with a simplicity that carried a sincere weight. "And I understand why you need to go south."
Yara looked at him with slightly glistening eyes, but she blinked them away quickly. "Sympathy doesn't get me on a ship."
"No," Li Yuan agreed. "But maybe collaboration can."
"Collaboration?"
"You're looking for passage. So am I. You're a woman alone, which makes captains hesitant. I'm a man but apparently not convincing enough as a worker. But together..." He let the sentence hang.
Yara looked at him with sharp, assessing eyes. "You think if we approach a ship as a pair—or at least a group—they'll be more inclined to take us?"
"Maybe. Or at least, we can divide the tasks—you talk to the captain about your skills, I show that I can work hard. Two people are more appealing than one for a captain who might need extra help."
Yara considered this with a serious expression. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the calculations in her intentions—weighing the risk of trusting a stranger against the benefit of having a partner in negotiation.
"Alright," she finally said. "Let's try it. But I'm warning you—I'm not looking for a long-term travel companion. When we get to the south, I have my own mission."
"I understand," Li Yuan said calmly. "I'm not looking to tie anyone to my journey either. But to cross the sea, we can help each other."
Yara nodded and stood up, lifting her bag with a practical motion. "There's one more ship I haven't tried—a cargo vessel anchored at the end of the pier. The captain looks... less superstitious than the others. Let's see if he's more reasonable."
The ship was named "Hard Wave"—an apt name for a merchant vessel that seemed to have weathered many storms. The wooden deck was worn, the ropes were patched, but everything was functional and well-maintained.
The captain—a man in his fifties with sun-scorched skin and intelligent eyes—stood on the deck, watching the crew unload cargo.
"Captain Deni?" Yara called from the pier.
The man turned, looking at them with a judging eye. "Yes?"
"We're looking for passage to the south. We're both willing to work to pay for the journey. I have experience with navigation and sail repair. My partner—" she gestured to Li Yuan, "—is strong and can help with cargo or whatever you need."
Captain Deni stepped down from the ship and walked closer, looking at them carefully. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the man's intention—not hostile suspicion, but a practical evaluation. He was considering whether they would be useful or just a burden.
"Navigation?" he asked with a skeptical but interested tone. "Who taught you?"
"My father," Yara answered firmly. "He was a merchant captain for thirty years. I've been sailing with him since I was ten until he died five years ago."
When she said this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm the truth in her intention—no lies, just facts delivered with a controlled sadness.
Captain Deni looked at her for a moment longer, then turned to Li Yuan. "And you? What's your experience at sea?"
"Little," Li Yuan admitted with honesty. "But I learn fast, and I don't tire easily. I can work longer than most people."
"Big talk," the Captain said with a cynical tone. "Every young man thinks they can't tire until they actually try to work at sea."
"Give me a test," Li Yuan said calmly. "Whatever you need done now. If I can't complete it, we'll leave without protest."
Captain Deni looked at him with sharp eyes, then nodded. "Alright. There are twenty sacks of grain in the warehouse at the end of that pier. Carry all of them to the ship—by yourself—in one hour. If you can do that, I'll consider."
Yara looked at Li Yuan with a worried expression—through her Wenjing Realm, he heard her intention: Twenty sacks? That's a job for four strong men. This captain is setting him up to fail.
But Li Yuan just nodded calmly. "Where's the warehouse?"
An hour later, Li Yuan returned to the ship. Twenty sacks of grain—each weighing about fifty kilograms—had been moved from the warehouse to the ship's hold. And Li Yuan didn't even look sweaty or out of breath.
Captain Deni looked at him with a mix of admiration and suspicion. "How did you...?"
"I said I don't tire easily," Li Yuan answered simply.
Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard the Captain's intention—no suspicion of magic or cultivation, just an assumption that Li Yuan was probably much stronger than he looked. Which was technically true, though not in the way the Captain imagined.
"Alright," the Captain finally said in a tone that was a mixture of respect and confusion. "You two can come aboard. We sail tomorrow morning with the tide. The journey will take about two weeks, maybe more if the weather is bad. You'll work like the rest of the crew—no special treatment."
"We understand," Yara said with a voice full of relief.
"And one more rule," the Captain added in a firm tone. "No drama on my ship. I don't care if you're a couple, friends, or strangers—on my ship, everyone is crew. Everyone has a job. Everyone respects everyone else. If there's a problem, you come to me, you don't make a fuss on your own."
"Understood," Li Yuan and Yara answered in unison.
That night, after placing their belongings—or in Li Yuan's case, the absence of belongings—in the cramped crew quarters, they sat on the deck as the sun set over the sea.
"Thank you," Yara said suddenly. "For that. I don't know if I would have gotten a spot on the ship without you."
"You were the one who opened the conversation," Li Yuan reminded gently. "I just followed."
Yara smiled—a small but sincere smile. "Still. So... why are you going south? You said you were following something?"
Li Yuan hesitated for a moment. Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard the genuine curiosity in Yara's intention—not an interrogation, just a desire to understand the person who was now his travel partner.
"I felt... a call," he finally said carefully. "Something in the south. I don't know what it is. But I have learned to follow calls like this."
"A spiritual call?" Yara asked in a tone that wasn't mocking but also not entirely believing.
"Something like that."
Yara looked at him with an expression that was hard to read. "You're a strange man, Li Yuan. But I've met stranger people on my journey. And at least you're honest about your strangeness."
Li Yuan laughed—a rare but genuine sound. "Is that a compliment?"
"It's an observation," Yara answered with a wider smile. "But yes, also a compliment."
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sunset turn the sky into a gradient of orange and purple. And Li Yuan felt something he rarely felt—a simple sense of companionship, born not from a grand purpose or a spiritual mission, but from a practical need that turned into a human connection.
Perhaps this is also a lesson, he mused. That sometimes the best journeys are the ones we don't plan. That the best friends are the ones we find due to circumstances, not a dramatic fate.
And maybe—just maybe—on this journey to the south, I will learn something new. Not from a great conflict or a community crisis, but from the simple experience of sharing a ship with people who have their own stories, their own struggles, their own hopes.
Tomorrow, they would set sail.
And wherever the sea would take them, Li Yuan would go with a new friend—a travel partner he didn't seek but whose presence might teach him more than he could have imagined.