A week after Kethara, and the sea began to change.
Not in a dramatic way—no approaching storms or suddenly violent waves. But there was a subtle shift in the water's color, in the wind patterns, in the way the seabirds flew.
Li Yuan sensed the change through his Water Understanding—a different resonance, like hearing a familiar melody played in a slightly different key.
Hassan felt it, too, though in a different way. He stood at the helm more often, his eyes squinted at the horizon, the unlit pipe just hanging from his lips.
"We're entering a transition zone," he said on the seventh day at dinner. The crew gathered on the deck—a nightly tradition when the weather allowed. "The water here is deeper. The currents are more unpredictable. And the islands... are becoming scarcer."
"How long until the next island?" Zahir asked, while distributing bread that was beginning to harden at the ends.
"Three days, maybe four if the winds don't favor us. Sarith Island." Hassan looked into the bowl of soup in his hands. "A strange place. They have a rule about time—you cannot arrive after sunset, and you cannot leave before dawn."
Bashir—who was usually quiet—spoke in a low voice. "I've heard stories about Sarith. They say at night, the sea around that island... whispers."
Some of the crew laughed nervously. Others were silent, unsure if it was a joke or a warning.
"The sea doesn't whisper," one of the younger crew members—a man named Idris with confidence not yet tested by experience—said in a dismissive tone. "That's just a fairy tale to scare children."
Hassan didn't laugh. "The sea does many things we can't explain. I've sailed long enough not to consider anything impossible."
He looked at Idris with sharp eyes. "And in the outer isles, arrogance kills faster than a storm. Remember that."
Idris closed his mouth, his face slightly flushed.
Li Yuan heard—through his Wenjing Realm when the crew was close enough—the intent behind Hassan's words. Not anger but genuine concern. This captain had lost crew before, and he did not want to lose any more.
That night, Li Yuan could not meditate as usual. There was something in the water—a resonance he could not fully understand, like a sound too low to hear but that he could feel in his bones.
He got up and went to the deck. The moon was almost full, making the sea glow with a silver light. The waves were gentle, the wind almost nonexistent. Perfect conditions for sailing.
But there was something...
He knelt at the edge of the ship and touched the water with his finger. Through his Water Understanding, he heard deeper than usual—not just the stories the water carried, but something more fundamental.
A vibration. Like... a pulse.
The sea had a pulse.
He had always known this in an abstract way—water moves with a rhythm, with a pattern. But this was different. It felt like... consciousness. Not an individual consciousness like humans, but something bigger, more diffuse, more ancient.
I have heard the stories the water carries, he mused, listening to that vibration. But I have never heard the water itself. Not the stories it carries, but its own voice.
And here, in this deeper sea, that voice is clearer.
"You feel it too."
Li Yuan turned to find Hassan standing not far away, a pipe finally lit in his hand.
"Feel what?" Li Yuan asked, although he knew.
"The sea. The way it... changes here. More alive somehow." Hassan came over and stood next to Li Yuan, looking into the shimmering water. "The first year I sailed to the outer isles, I thought I was imagining it. But every time I've returned, the feeling is the same. It's like the sea is watching us."
When he spoke close enough, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm not fear in Hassan's intent, but profound respect. And something else—an awareness that there are things in this world that are greater than human understanding.
"You're not afraid?" Li Yuan asked.
"No. Fear makes you make mistakes. But respect... respect makes you careful." Hassan exhaled smoke that mingled with the night wind. "There's a difference."
They stood in silence for a few minutes, listening to the subtle sound of the waves, feeling the gentle movement of the ship.
"You're looking for something in the south," Hassan finally said—not a question.
"Yes."
"Do you know what it is?"
Li Yuan was silent for a moment. "Not entirely. Only... a calling. Something that resonates with who I am."
Hassan nodded as if this made perfect sense. "The sea calls some people. Not with a voice, but with something deeper. I felt it the first time when I was a child—I knew I would spend my life on the water."
He looked at Li Yuan with eyes that tried to read something. "But you... you're not called by the sea. You're called through the sea. To something farther."
The observation was more accurate than Hassan probably realized.
"Perhaps," Li Yuan admitted.
Hassan laughed quietly—a sound that wasn't mocking but understanding. "We are all seekers in our own way. I hope you find what you're looking for."
He turned to leave, then stopped. "And Li Yuan? If the sea really whispers at Sarith... listen. Sometimes the sea knows things we need to hear."
Three days later, Sarith Island appeared on the horizon just before sunset—perfect timing according to the island's rules.
But there was something about this island that made Li Yuan pause. Even from a distance, he could feel something that was... different. Not dangerous, but... special.
The island was small, with tall rock cliffs on one side and a sandy beach on the other. And along the beach, there were strange structures—stone pillars standing in the shallow water, covered with something that shimmered in the late afternoon light.
"What are those?" Idris asked in a voice that had lost its arrogant confidence.
"Shell chimes," Zahir answered. "Shells hung on ropes. When the water moves, they make a sound."
As the ship approached, Li Yuan began to hear—not with his ordinary ears but through his Water Understanding. Every wave that touched the pillars made the shells vibrate, creating a note that joined into a complex and ever-changing melody.
The sea was singing.
No. Not singing. Whispering.
Just as Bashir had said.
The boat was lowered, and Hassan chose a crew to go ashore—this time including Li Yuan, Zahir, and Bashir. Idris was left behind on the ship—a subtle punishment for his arrogance a few days ago.
As they rowed to the beach, the sound of the shells became louder, clearer. And Li Yuan heard—through his Water Understanding—that this was not just decoration or an empty tradition.
The shells were... a language. A way to communicate with the sea. Or perhaps a way for the sea to communicate with the island.
The people of Sarith waited on the beach—a small group in clothing made from fabric dyed with the colors of the sea: blue, green, white. They did not speak when the visitors approached. They just stood in silence, listening to the sound of the shells.
After a few minutes—a time that seemed to be measured by the pattern of the shells' sound—an old woman stepped forward.
"You came at the right time," she said in a soft voice that carried authority. "The sea welcomes you."
"We are grateful for the welcome," Hassan said, bowing. "We came for water and if you are willing, for trade."
The woman nodded, but her eyes—like the leader on Kethara—stopped on Li Yuan.
"You," she said, "hear more than the others."
Not a question. A statement of fact.
When she spoke close enough, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm an intent filled with... recognition? Like meeting someone who speaks the same language in a foreign land.
"I hear the sea," Li Yuan admitted. There was no point in denying it to someone who already knew.
"Not just hearing. You understand." The woman looked at him with eyes that seemed to see deeper than the surface. "Come with me. The shells want to speak to you."
Hassan looked at Li Yuan with a questioning expression. Li Yuan nodded—he wanted to understand what was happening on this island.
The woman led them not to the village but to the beach, to one of the largest shell pillars. The water around it was only knee-high, clear as glass.
"Listen," she said simply. "Not with your ears. With something deeper."
Li Yuan stepped into the water. And as he stood there, listening through his Water Understanding, something incredible happened.
The sound of the shells—which had been random, beautiful but without meaning—suddenly began to form a pattern. Not words in a human language, but something more fundamental.
A feeling. A memory. A resonance.
The sea was speaking. And for the first time in fifteen thousand years, Li Yuan heard not just the stories the water carried, but the voice of the water itself.
And what he heard made him stop breathing for one long moment.
The sea... remembered him.
Not specific details. Not a name or a face. But the resonance of someone who had walked on and under the water for thousands of years, who had touched the oceans in thousands of places, whose Core Consciousness was water itself.
The sea recognized one of its children who had been away from home for a very long time.
And it whispered—in a voice made of shells and waves and wind:
You've returned. After so long, you have finally returned to the source.
Li Yuan closed his eyes, not believing what he was hearing, but unable to deny it either.
And for the first time since leaving the northern land, he understood why he was called to the south.
Not to find something new.
But to remember something very old.
Something about where he truly came from.
And perhaps—just perhaps—where he was finally heading.