The Seafarer's Star left Tavish at dawn—a ship now heavier with supplies but also more ready for a longer journey without a port.
Li Yuan stood at the stern, watching the island slowly disappear on the horizon. Tavish was the last hub—the last place with a large market, with traders from all over the archipelagos, with a known structure.
After this, according to Hassan, the islands would become smaller, more isolated, more... unpredictable.
"Are you ready for the unknown?"
Li Yuan turned to find Bashir standing beside him with a newly replaced rope in his hand—he was always working, never truly stopping.
"I've lived in the unknown for long enough," Li Yuan answered. "At a certain point, the unknown becomes more familiar than the known."
Bashir looked at him with a curious expression. "That's a strange way to say you're used to traveling."
"Maybe because it's not just about the travel. It's about accepting that every day is new territory, even if you don't leave your home."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard Bashir's intention shift—from light curiosity to a deeper contemplation. This man was beginning to learn to listen for the meaning beneath the words, not just the words themselves.
"Hassan said after Miren Island, we'll go into a region even he has never visited," Bashir said, checking a knot on the rope. "It makes me a little uneasy. He's the best navigator I know, but even he doesn't have an accurate map for the southern region."
"Does it make you want to go back?"
Bashir was silent for a moment, considering the question seriously. "No. Just... makes me more cautious. There's a difference between brave and foolish. I want to make sure we stay on the right side of that line."
"That's good wisdom," Li Yuan observed. "Many people cross that line because they don't acknowledge that it exists."
Bashir nodded in acceptance, then returned to his work—checking every rope, every knot, making sure nothing would fail when they needed it most.
Li Yuan looked out at the limitless sea stretching before them. The water here was slightly different from the convergence zone—warmer, calmer, carrying stories of abundant life in the depths.
But there was something else too. Something he felt through his Water Comprehension—a very subtle change in the rhythm, like music slowly transitioning from one movement to another.
We're moving further from the known, he mused. And the sea feels that difference—or maybe it's me who feels the difference in myself.
Every kilometer south is a kilometer further from the places I've visited in my previous life iterations. Truly new territory, even for someone who has lived fifteen thousand years.
And there's something fascinating about that—to finally stand in a place where I have no memories, no context, no previous experience to draw on.
To truly see something for the first time.
Two days later, they reached Miren Island as Hassan had predicted. A small island with a population of no more than two hundred people—mostly fishermen who lived in simple harmony with the sea.
There was no formal dock, just a sandy beach where small boats were pulled ashore. The Seafarer's Star anchored at a safe distance, and the small boat was lowered to go to shore.
Hassan chose three people to go down—Li Yuan, Zahir, and himself. The others stayed on the ship to keep watch.
As they rowed to the beach, Li Yuan noticed the inhabitants gathering—not with suspicion but with genuine curiosity. Within the ten-meter radius as they approached, he heard their intentions—curiosity mixed with caution, but no fear or hostility.
An old man stepped forward—clearly the community's leader based on how the others made way for him. He had very dark skin from decades under the sun, frizzy white hair, and clear eyes despite his age.
"Welcome," he said in the trade language with a strong accent. "We don't often receive large ships. What brings you to Miren?"
Hassan bowed respectfully. "We are traders from the north, sailing south. We're looking for fresh water and if you are willing, a chance to trade."
The leader nodded slowly. "We have water. And we have pearls—not many, but of good quality. What do you carry?"
The negotiation began in a familiar way—Hassan showed examples of the goods he carried, the leader considered carefully, with few gestures and words to reach a fair agreement.
Meanwhile, Li Yuan observed the village with calm attention. The houses were simple but well-maintained. Nets were hung out to dry. Boats were being repaired on the beach. Children played in the shallow water with free laughter.
A community that lived simply but with a clear satisfaction.
A young woman approached Li Yuan with a hesitant step. She carried a small basket filled with shells.
"Excuse me, sir," she said in a low voice. "Are... are you from the mainland?"
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard her intention—an intense curiosity, a hidden desire, and something deeper... a longing.
"We are from the north," Li Yuan answered gently. "But not from the mainland—from the islands there."
The woman nodded, a little disappointed but still curious. "I... I've always wondered about the world outside Miren. My father went to Tavish once when he was young. He said it was like a different world—so many people, so many goods, so many... possibilities."
"That's true," Li Yuan acknowledged. "Tavish is a place where many worlds meet."
"I want to go one day," the woman said in an almost whispered voice, as if admitting a secret. "But my father said Miren needs everyone. We're just a small community. If too many people leave, the community will die."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard the painful conflict in her intention—love for her family and community clashing with a desire to see more of the world, to experience something beyond this small island.
"That is a difficult dilemma," Li Yuan said with genuine empathy. "There are no easy answers—only choices, and every choice brings loss and gain."
The woman looked at him with eyes that showed unshed tears. "How do I know the right choice?"
"You don't. Not completely. But you can ask yourself: five years from now, ten years from now, which choice will make me feel that I lived the right life for me? Not a life that others wanted for me, but a life that feels right in my own bones."
Li Yuan paused, choosing his words carefully. "And remember—the choice to stay can also be a powerful choice if it's a choice you make consciously, not because you're too afraid to leave. And the choice to go can also be a powerful choice if it comes from a desire to grow, not from running away from responsibility."
The woman nodded slowly, digesting the words. "Thank you. I... I will think about it."
She offered the basket of shells. "Here. A gift for the wisdom you shared."
"I didn't give wisdom," Li Yuan said gently. "Just a perspective from someone who has seen many people make similar choices."
But he accepted the shells with gratitude, and the woman returned to the village with a step that seemed a little lighter—not because she had found an answer, but because she felt heard.
They spent a few hours on Miren—filling barrels with fresh water from the island's spring, trading cloth and knives for beautiful pearls and fish smoked with local spices.
Hassan was satisfied with the trade—the pearls could be sold for a good price on a larger island, and the quality of the smoked fish was better than what they usually got.
As they prepared to leave, the old leader approached Li Yuan specifically.
"You spoke with Lira—my daughter," he said in a low voice. "I saw from afar. What did you say to her?"
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard this leader's intention—not anger but a father's worry who knew his daughter was unhappy but didn't know how to help.
"I just listened to her longing and suggested that whatever choice she makes must come from an honest place, not from fear or pressure."
The leader was silent for a long time, looking out at the sea. "I know she wants to go. I see it in her eyes every time a ship comes. But Miren is so small... if too many leave, we won't survive."
"But if you force people to stay, they will stay with a resentment that slowly kills their soul," Li Yuan said softly. "And a community built on resentment is no stronger than a smaller community filled with people who choose to be there."
The leader looked at him with eyes that showed the weight of decades of leading a small community. "You speak as if you know."
"I have seen many small communities. Some survive because they find a way to let people leave and return. Others die slowly because they hold on too tightly."
"And which one is right?"
"There is no universally 'right' one. Every community must find its own balance." Li Yuan paused. "But if I may offer one observation: your daughter loves Miren. That's clear from the way she speaks. She doesn't want to leave forever—she just wants to see what's out there, to grow in a way that a small island can't offer."
"If you let her go with your blessing, with the promise that she always has a home to return to, she might leave for a few years and then come back with experiences that make her more valuable to the community."
"But if you force her to stay, she will stay with a bitter heart and eyes that always look to the horizon with regret."
The leader nodded slowly—a heavy acknowledgment. "I will think about your words."
He looked at Li Yuan with a meaningful expression. "You are no ordinary trader. There is a wisdom in your eyes that doesn't match your young face."
"I have walked long enough to see many things," Li Yuan answered simply—a truth that didn't reveal the full truth.
That evening, as the Seafarer's Star sailed away from Miren, Hassan called the crew for a briefing.
"Tomorrow we enter a region where I have no accurate maps. I have information from other traders—rumors about islands, approximate directions, signs to look for. But it's not a reliable map."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard the crew's tension rise—not panic but a serious awareness of what this meant.
"That means we navigate carefully. No night sailing unless the moon is full and the sea is calm. We anchor if the weather is bad. We don't take unnecessary risks."
Hassan looked at each face. "If anyone wants to go back, this is the last reasonable time to decide. After this, we'll be too far to return easily."
Silence. No one spoke.
Then Zahir said in a calm but firm voice, "I've been sailing with you for seven years, Hassan. I won't stop now just because the map isn't perfect."
Bashir nodded. "I agree. We've come this far."
Idris—who a few weeks ago might have been afraid—spoke in a voice that was more mature than before. "I want to see what's beyond the map."
One by one, every crew member stated their commitment.
And Hassan nodded with a satisfaction that wasn't visible on his face but was clearly audible in his intention—within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard this captain's pride in his crew, and a determination to bring them all home safely.
"Good. Then tomorrow we sail into uncertainty. But we sail together."
Late at night, Li Yuan stood at the stern alone—a favorite position that had become a kind of ritual.
The moon was nearly full, making the sea shine with a soft light. The water was calm, the wind was light, the stars were so numerous that the sky seemed more bright than dark.
Within five centimeters around his feet that touched the wooden deck—which was always slightly damp from sea spray—he felt the ship's vibration, the sea's rhythm, the stories carried by every drop of water that clung to the hull.
And through his Water Comprehension, he heard deeper—not just the water's stories but also the fundamental note of the sea itself in this region.
Something was changing. Not dramatically, but clear to someone who had been listening for fifteen thousand years.
The sea in this south was older. Or maybe not older—age doesn't apply to water in the same way—but more... primordial. Like hearing a language that was closer to the root from which all other languages were derived.
I'm moving further south, he mused, and the sea is becoming purer in a way. Less touched by human activity. Closer to its original state.
What will I find if I keep going? There is no specific goal I'm seeking. No quest I'm on.
Just... curiosity. A desire to see how far south is reachable. To stand in a place where I've never stood before.
To hear water that carries stories I've never heard.
"Can't sleep?"
Li Yuan turned to find Idris standing at the door that led below deck—clearly just coming up for his watch.
"Just enjoying the night," Li Yuan answered.
Idris approached with a hesitant step, then stood beside Li Yuan at a respectful distance. "I wanted to thank you. For our conversation a few days ago. About... about finding my own path."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard his intention—genuine gratitude and also a newfound peace. This young man was beginning to let go of the need to decide immediately, to prove something immediately.
"I didn't give much," Li Yuan said.
"You gave enough. You reminded me that it's okay not to know. That the journey of searching for the answer is part of the answer itself."
Idris looked out at the sea that shimmered under the moon. "I think I'll keep sailing. At least for now. Maybe forever. I don't know. But for the first time, I don't feel like I have to know right away."
"That is good growth," Li Yuan observed. "Many people spend a lifetime running from uncertainty. Those who learn to live with it in peace find a freedom that others never know."
They stood together in a comfortable silence, listening to the waves, feeling the gentle movement of the ship, contemplating the journey that had brought them to this point and the journey that still lay ahead.
"You'll go further than us, won't you?" Idris finally asked. "When Hassan reaches his limit, you'll find a way to continue."
"Yes," Li Yuan admitted.
"Why? What are you looking for in the south?"
Li Yuan was silent for a long time, considering how to answer honestly without revealing too much.
"I'm not looking for anything specific. I just... want to see what's there. To stand in a place I've never stood. To understand the world a little more completely than I do now."
"That's a good reason," Idris said with a new-found understanding. "Not all journeys need a destination. Sometimes the journey itself is the destination."
Li Yuan smiled—a faint but sincere smile. "Yes. Exactly that."
And they stood together until Idris had to start his watch, leaving Li Yuan alone again with the sea, the moon, and the unanswered questions that had accompanied him for fifteen thousand years.
Questions that might never be truly answered.
But that made the journey continue to be worthwhile.
Tomorrow, uncharted territory.
But tonight, the peace of not knowing what would come.
And that was enough.