Two days at sea, and Li Yuan had found the ship's rhythm—waking before dawn to help prepare the sails, working in the hold while the sun was high, sitting with the crew as night fell.
The ship Morning Hope had a crew of six besides Captain Safiya. Li Yuan observed them with a quiet attention—not with his Wenjing Realm unless they spoke directly to him, just with his ordinary eyes and ears. The way they moved, the way they spoke, the way they interacted with each other.
There was Idris—a hunched old man with hands full of burn scars, a cook who spoke little but cooked with a precision that showed decades of experience. There were the twins Elena and Marta, the navigator and helmswoman, who communicated more with body language than with words. There was Kofi—not the same Kofi from Hard Wave, but a young man with the same name, who mended ropes with quick fingers while singing songs in a language Li Yuan didn't recognize.
And there was Omar—a middle-aged man with wary eyes, who served as the night watch and who, Li Yuan realized after two days, rarely slept more than a few hours at a time.
On the third night, Li Yuan found Omar sitting at the stern with a tense posture, staring into the darkness as if searching for something.
"Can't sleep?" Li Yuan asked as he approached.
Omar turned with a sudden movement—the reflex of someone who is always on alert. Then he relaxed slightly when he saw Li Yuan.
"Old habit," he said in a hoarse voice. "After so many years... it's hard to stop watching."
When he spoke close enough, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm more than just the words—there was tension in his intentions, an unhealed trauma, a fear that was still alive even though the danger that caused it had long passed.
Li Yuan sat on the deck not far from Omar, not asking further questions, just being present. Sometimes people don't need questions—they just need space.
After a few minutes of silence, Omar spoke again:
"I used to sail on the eastern route. Five years ago, our ship was stopped by pirates." He paused, his fingers gripping the rail tightly. "Not Hakeem—another group. They took the cargo. Killed the captain because he fought back. And the remaining crew... we were left with a small boat, without enough food or water, three days from the nearest land."
Li Yuan listened without interruption.
"Half of us died before we reached land. I survived because..." Omar shook his head. "It doesn't matter why. What matters is that since then, I can't stop watching. Every sound in the night, every approaching ship—a part of me is still in that small boat, waiting to die."
When he finished, silence fell again—but this time it was different. Not a tense silence but an accepted one.
"Trauma doesn't disappear on command," Li Yuan finally said softly. "But it can change. From an open wound to a scar. From something that controls you to something you understand."
Omar looked at him with searching eyes. "You speak like someone who knows."
Li Yuan didn't answer directly. Instead, he stared at the dark sea. "I have lost people. Have seen horrors that cannot be forgotten. And I have learned that we don't have to forget—we just have to learn to carry the memory without letting it carry us."
Omar was silent for a long time. Then he nodded slowly, something in his posture relaxing a little.
They sat together until Omar's shift ended, not talking much, just sharing a silence that is sometimes the most honest form of communication.
The fourth morning brought a change in the weather—not bad, just different. Thin clouds filtered the sunlight, and the wind shifted from an unusual direction.
Elena—the navigator—stood on the deck with a navigation tool in her hand, measuring the angle of the sun with intense concentration.
"Something wrong?" Li Yuan asked as he passed by.
Elena looked at him, then at the map spread out in front of her. "We're a bit more east than we should be. The current is pushing us off course."
"How far?"
"Not much. Maybe half a day's journey if we correct now." She pointed to the map with a thin finger. "But if we continue like this, we'll miss Maravi Island—our next stop—and there won't be another port for two weeks."
Marta—her twin—walked over with a movement that mirrored Elena. "The captain needs to know."
They moved together toward Safiya's cabin, and Li Yuan followed at a respectful distance.
The captain listened to the report with a face that showed no alarm but also did not dismiss it. "We'll correct the course. Elena, calculate the angle we need. Marta, prepare to change the sails."
The correction process took half a day—a task that required the coordination of the entire crew. Li Yuan helped with the ropes and sails, moving among the commands given in the maritime language he had learned during previous voyages.
As the sun began to set, the ship finally returned to its correct course.
Safiya stood at the helm with a relaxed posture, but Li Yuan could see a small relief in the way she exhaled.
"Good navigation," she said to Elena and Marta. "We'll arrive in Maravi right on time."
The twins nodded in a synchronized motion, then returned to their duties with a quiet efficiency.
Li Yuan observed all this with an appreciation for the skill and cooperation that made the voyage possible—no drama, no conflict, just people doing their jobs with a competence born from experience.
This is also a form of harmony, he mused as he watched. Not a harmony forced by rules or tradition, but a harmony born from practical necessity and mutual respect.
That night, Idris—the usually quiet cook—served a dinner that was more elaborate than usual. Fish soup with rich spices, bread that was still warm, even a kind of sweet pudding for dessert.
"What's the special occasion?" Kofi asked with a wide smile.
Idris shrugged with a minimal gesture. "Good weather. Successful navigation. Don't need more reason than that."
But when he passed Li Yuan to serve a portion, he stopped for a moment and spoke in a low voice—close enough for the Wenjing Realm to work:
"Thanks for talking with Omar last night. He slept better. First time this week."
Before Li Yuan could respond, Idris had already moved on to the rest of the crew.
Li Yuan touched the wooden pendant around his neck—Mina's gift—with a light finger.
Sometimes the greatest help we can give is the simplest, he mused. Not a grand intervention or deep wisdom, but just... presence. The space to share a burden.
Dinner continued with conversation that flowed naturally—stories about ports they had visited, strange merchants, a storm that almost sank the ship last year.
And for the first time in a long time, Li Yuan didn't feel like a detached observer. He felt like a part of something—temporary, yes, but real.
Not a hero or a savior. Just a crew member sharing food and stories under the stars.
And in that simplicity, there was something... right.
On the sixth day, Maravi Island appeared on the horizon—a faint green line that slowly grew into sandy beaches and tropical forests.
Safiya stood at the helm with eyes squinting against the sunlight. "We'll dock for two days. Take on supplies, repair what needs repairing."
She looked at Li Yuan, who was standing on the deck. "You still want to continue south after this?"
"Yes."
"There's another ship sailing south from Maravi—a large merchant vessel heading to the distant archipelago. I can introduce you to its captain if you'd like."
Li Yuan nodded in appreciation. "Thank you."
As the ship neared the port, Li Yuan felt something familiar—the faint call that had led him south from the beginning. Not loud, not urgent, but it was there.
Further south, he heard through the resonance with the water in the sea ahead. Deeper into the archipelago. There is something waiting—not a conflict or a crisis, but... something else. Something I need to understand.
But for now, for the next two days, he would help the crew with repairs, would explore Maravi Island, would share a few last meals with the people who had become... not friends, maybe, but fellow travelers he respected.
The ship docked smoothly. The port of Maravi was larger than Kesara—a longer pier, more ships, more activity.
As the crew began to lower the gangway, Omar approached Li Yuan with a hesitant step.
"I... I just wanted to say thank you. For that night. For just sitting and listening without trying to fix or give easy advice."
When he spoke, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm a small change in his intentions—the trauma was still there, but it no longer dominated everything. There was space now for other things too.
"Our own trauma to carry," Li Yuan said simply. "Others can't take it from us. But sometimes, the burden feels lighter when it's not carried alone."
Omar nodded, then—with a quick motion as if afraid he would change his mind—he extended his hand.
Li Yuan shook it. Not a long shake, not dramatic, just a simple acknowledgment of a brief but meaningful connection.
And then Omar left to help with the unloading, leaving Li Yuan standing on the deck with a small smile that no one saw.
Water flows, he mused as he looked at the new island ahead. Not always with a clear destination, not always with a dramatic result. But always moving, always touching what it meets, always leaving something—even if just a small ripple—behind.
And that is enough.
He picked up his small bag—which was almost empty since he rarely carried anything—and walked down the gangway onto Maravi Island, to the next adventure, to the next lesson.
Forever moving.
Forever learning.
Forever flowing.