The port of Maravi was different from Kesara in almost every way. Where Kesara was a small, traumatized settlement, Maravi was a vibrant city—the docks were bustling with merchants from dozens of different islands, the market was full of goods from all over the archipelago, and most noticeably: there was no palpable fear in the air.
People walked with upright postures. Merchants negotiated with loud, confident voices. Children ran through the streets with unrestrained laughter.
Li Yuan walked through the market with a relaxed pace, observing with eyes that had seen thousands of cities but still found something new in each one.
There were merchants selling cloth in colors he had never seen—a deep blue like the night sea, a fiery red like a sunset. There were jewelers shaping metal with astonishing precision. There were spice vendors with aromas so complex that Li Yuan could identify dozens of different ingredients in a single blend.
He stopped at a small teahouse—not because he was hungry, but because observing from inside gave a different perspective than walking on the streets.
The teahouse owner—an old woman with neatly tied white hair—brought him tea without being asked.
"A new wanderer," she said—not a question. "From the north, judging by your clothes."
Li Yuan smiled faintly. "You can read a lot from clothes?"
"That fabric is from Sea Wind City. The stitching pattern is from a tailor in the northern port district." The woman sat across from him with a movement that showed painful joints but did not surrender to age. "I've been selling tea in this market for fifty years. You learn to read people."
"What else do you read?" Li Yuan asked with genuine curiosity.
The woman looked at him with eyes that were still sharp despite the wrinkles at their corners. "You carry something heavy. Not a bag—I see no luggage. But there is a weight in the way you stand. Like someone who has walked very far and will walk even further."
When she spoke close enough, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm the intention behind it—not gossip or judgment, but an observation born from decades of watching humanity.
"You're right," Li Yuan admitted. "I have walked for quite a while."
"And what are you looking for?"
A simple but profound question. Li Yuan was silent for a moment, considering how to answer honestly without revealing too much.
"Understanding," he finally said. "About how people live, how they make choices, how they find harmony or fall into conflict."
The woman nodded as if the answer made perfect sense. "Then you have come to the right place. Maravi is a crossroads—an island in the middle of a trade route that connects north and south, east and west. All kinds of people pass through here. All kinds of stories."
"Tell me one," Li Yuan said.
The woman smiled—the wrinkles on her face deepened, but her eyes shone. "There was a merchant from the west who came last month. A rich man with a large ship. He offered a very high price for a rare spice—three times the normal market price."
"The local merchants were happy at first. They sold everything they had. But then they realized: the man was buying not to resell for a profit, but to control the supply. Now he set the price, and the local merchants had to buy back from him at a higher price than they sold."
Li Yuan listened attentively. "And what did they do?"
"They united. Refused to buy from him. Searched for a new source on another island." The woman poured more tea. "The man eventually left at a great loss. And the local merchants learned a lesson about not selling everything just because the price looks good."
"Harmony born from a mistake," Li Yuan observed.
"Exactly. Sometimes we have to fall before we learn how to stand better."
Li Yuan spent the rest of the day exploring the island—not with a specific purpose, just letting his feet take him wherever felt right.
He found a small temple on the edge of town—not a religious temple but a kind of memorial for those lost at sea. The walls were filled with names carved into wood, some already faded by time.
An old man knelt in front of one of the carvings, his lips moving in a silent prayer or memory.
Li Yuan did not disturb him. He just stood on the side, respecting another's grief with a quiet presence.
After a few minutes, the old man stood with a stiff movement and noticed Li Yuan for the first time.
"Did you lose someone too?" he asked in a raspy voice.
"Many," Li Yuan answered with simple honesty.
The man nodded with an understanding that required no elaboration. "The sea took my son fifteen years ago. A sudden storm. His ship was never found."
He looked back at the carved name. "I come here every year on the day he was lost. Not because I think he can hear, but because... because I don't want to forget him."
"Remembering is not a weakness," Li Yuan said softly.
"No," the man agreed. "But sometimes it feels like it. Like I should have moved on already."
Li Yuan looked at the carvings on the wall—hundreds of names, hundreds of lives that ended too soon.
"Moving on doesn't mean forgetting. It just means carrying the memory in a way that also allows you to live."
The man looked at him with moist eyes. "You speak like someone who knows."
"I do," Li Yuan admitted simply.
They stood together in silence for a few more minutes, two strangers sharing the universal burden of loss.
Then the man nodded once—an acknowledgment that needed no words—and walked away with a step that was perhaps a little lighter than when he arrived.
And Li Yuan remained for a moment longer, looking at the names, remembering faces from fifteen thousand years—people he had known, he had helped, he had failed to save.
We all carry names, he mused. Carvings in our souls of those who have passed. And our choice is whether to let those carvings become a wound that doesn't heal, or a reminder to live more fully for those who no longer can.
In the afternoon, Li Yuan returned to the port where Captain Safiya was negotiating with local merchants about the price of grain.
She saw Li Yuan and gestured for him to approach after the negotiation was finished.
"The ship I told you about—the one going south—its captain is willing to meet you. His name is Hassan. A good man, a solid ship." Safiya paused. "But I have to warn you: he doesn't sail to the busy islands. He goes to the outer archipelago, places that merchants rarely visit."
"Why?"
"Because there are goods there that can't be found elsewhere. Rare woods, unique gemstones, sometimes ancient artifacts." Safiya looked at him with serious eyes. "But there are also dangers. Some islands are not friendly to outsiders. Some have rules that are... strange."
When she spoke close enough, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm a genuine concern—not trying to dissuade him, but ensuring he knew what he was getting into.
"I understand," Li Yuan said. "And I appreciate your warning. But I think the outer archipelago is where I need to go."
Safiya nodded in acceptance. "Hassan is docked at the eastern pier. A large ship with the name 'Star Sailor'. You can't miss it."
"Thank you. For everything—for the journey, for the introduction, for the wisdom you shared."
Safiya waved her hand in a dismissive gesture but smiled. "I didn't give wisdom. I just sailed and sometimes carried an interesting passenger."
Li Yuan found the Star Sailor easily—a ship much larger than the Morning Hope, with three masts and a hull reinforced with metal at the bottom.
Captain Hassan stood on the deck, overseeing the crew loading cargo. He was a big man with sun-scorched skin and a thick beard with gray at the ends.
"You must be Li Yuan," he said as Li Yuan boarded. "Safiya sent a message. She said you're a good worker and don't cause trouble."
"That's accurate," Li Yuan replied.
Hassan looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze. "You know where we're going?"
"The outer archipelago. Places that are rarely visited."
"And you still want to go?"
"Yes."
Hassan was silent for a moment, then nodded with a sudden decision. "Alright. We sail tomorrow morning. The journey will take two weeks, maybe more if the weather is bad. You work for your passage—no passengers who just sit and watch."
"I understand."
"And one more rule: on the outer islands, you follow my directions. Some places have customs that must be respected. Some have dangers that are not visible. You don't wander off alone without my permission."
Li Yuan nodded. A reasonable rule for unknown territory.
"Good. Welcome to the Star Sailor."
On his last night in Maravi, Li Yuan returned to the old woman's teahouse.
He bought more tea—not because he needed it, but as a way to say thank you.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" the woman asked as she poured.
"Partially. And a clue as to where to search further."
"To the south?"
"Yes."
The woman nodded with a wisdom that didn't ask further questions. "Be careful in the outer archipelago. Those places are beautiful but also unforgiving to those who don't understand their ways."
"I will be careful."
They sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the market slowly becoming quiet as merchants closed their shops for the night.
"Thank you," Li Yuan finally said, "for the stories and for the tea."
"Thank you," the woman replied, "for listening. Sometimes that is the rarest gift—someone who truly listens without being in a hurry to speak."
Li Yuan smiled and stood to leave. But at the door, he turned one more time.
"The names you carved in the memorial—who were they to you?"
The woman looked at him with eyes that were suddenly wet. "My husband. And my two sons. All lost in the same storm thirty years ago."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Don't be. They lived well while they lived. And I continue to live for them now." She blinked away a tear with a quick motion. "Go. Sail safely."
And Li Yuan left, taking with him the small stories from this island—about merchants who learned from a mistake, about a man who remembered his son, about a woman who lost everything but still found a way to live with meaning.
Stories that reminded him why he kept walking, why he kept seeking understanding.
Because in every place, no matter how different, there are humans struggling with the same questions: how to live with loss, how to find meaning, how to keep going when the path is not clear.
And sometimes, just by listening to those stories, by truly listening, one can learn something new about the nature of humanity.
Or remember something old that was almost forgotten.
Tomorrow, the journey would continue—to the outer archipelago, to places rarely visited, to whatever awaited there.
But for this night, Li Yuan sat on the deck of the empty Star Sailor, listening to the waves, and remembering names that were not carved in any memorial except in his own soul.
And that was enough.