# "Su Yao's Dazzling Counterattack Chapter 85"
Morning fog rolled over the volcanic coastline of Jeju Island, where haenyeo (female divers) in white wetsuits disappeared into the slate-blue sea, nets slung over their backs. Su Yao's car traveled along the coastal road, passing fishing boats hung with orange buoys and shops selling diving gear, until it stopped at a fishing village surrounded by black volcanic rock. In the courtyard of a traditional hanok house facing the ocean, several elderly women sat on low stools, their fingers deftly weaving seaweed into mats. Their leader, 68-year-old Soon-bok, her hands calloused and a shell necklace around her neck, looked up as the group approached, holding a finished ttukseom (seaweed mat)—intertwined patterns of deep green and light brown resembling ocean waves, with red thread embroidering the iconic diving posture of Jeju haenyeo along the edges. "You've come to see the seaweed mats," she said in Jeju dialect, her voice rough with the texture of sea wind, gesturing to finished pieces drying on wooden racks. "This craft has been passed down in our families for generations."
Jeju's haenyeo have woven seaweed mats for over 400 years, a skill intertwined with their oceanic beliefs and fishing village life. The ttukseom serves both practical and ceremonial purposes: laid on ondol (Korean floor hearths) to repel moisture and retain heat, it also features in rituals—newborns' cradles are lined with the softest mats to "borrow vitality from the sea," The wedding bed was embroidered with knot patterns, in the hope of praying for a "marriage as strong and unyielding as seaweed"." Each weave carries specific meaning: diamond patterns symbolize the volcanic island's protection, wave motifs represent the sea god's blessings, and interspersed white shells act as "amulets against sharks." The raw material—large-leaf algae unique to Jeju's waters—is harvested during the full moon high tides of the lunar calendar, for "this is when the sea god sends the strongest seaweed to shore." A simple ritual precedes weaving, offering rice wine and fish to Haesin (the sea god), while haenyeo sing *Haenyeo Norae* (Diver's Ballad) "to let the seaweed remember the ocean's voice." Su Yao's team hoped to combine this natural marine material with their seaweed-metal fibers, preserving the seaweed's ecological properties while enhancing durability. But their first exchange revealed a profound divide—for the haenyeo, these mats represent "dialogue between sea and humanity," while the team's talk of "innovation" felt like an offense to this sacred connection.
Soon-bok's 25-year-old granddaughter Min-ji, studying marine ecology at Jeju National University while documenting haenyeo traditions, displayed a ritual seaweed mat edged with gold thread depicting Jeju's famous "haenyeo diving scene." "We use this during our annual Haenyeo Festival," she explained, stroking the patterns. "My grandmother wears a specific silver bracelet when harvesting seaweed—passed down from my great-grandmother, said to let the sea god recognize 'one of our own.'" She traced the patterns on the mat.. "Every three wave patterns must include one shell; adding or removing even one would 'displease the sea god.' You think these are just mats? They're our haenyeo family tree, every stitch holding our ancestors' stories."
The team brought mechanical looms and synthetic dyes, planning mass-produced simplified designs mixed with seaweed-metal fibers for "Jeju ocean-style" home products. When Lin displayed a machine-woven wave-pattern sample, Soon-bok suddenly struck the ground with her cane, causing seaweed to slip from the women's hands. Soon-bok's brother Chil-seong, the village mudang (shaman) wearing a wave-patterned hat and red sash, chanted over the sample: "Did you weave the seaweed together with the iron blocks? This thing never touched Jeju's waters or heard *Haenyeo Norae*—its patterns are dead!" He tossed the sample into a basin. "Seaweed mats must 'breathe'; yours is harder than plastic. The sea god will curse it for polluting the ocean!"
Cultural clashes deepened over material handling and rituals. After harvesting, seaweed must soak in Jeju's volcanic spring water for seven days, with salt sprinkled during daily water changes "to thank the sea's gifts." Weaving must face the ocean, for "no living patterns emerge with your back to the sea." Dyes use only natural materials—sea mud for brown, coral powder for red—mixed during high tide "to infuse colors with seawater's essence." The team's seaweed-metal fibers, despite marine origins, were deemed "foreign salt." "Your fibers come from factories," Soon-bok tossed a metal thread into the fire pit. "Our seaweed is raised by the sea god's own hands—how dare you mix them?"
Technical problems worsened: metal fibers reacted with seaweed's natural juices, creating black spots and brittle textures. Min-ji held a ruined sample with fallen shell decorations: "See? The metal rotted the seaweed. Our mats last three generations; yours won't survive one rainy season—isn't this the sea god's warning?"
Disaster struck when red tides devastated Jeju's waters, killing seaweed beds. The dried seaweed that had been stored gradually rotted in the moisture-proof warehouse.and Soon-bok's century-old tools—including her great-grandmother's copper seaweed scissors—were destroyed in a typhoon. With Haenyeo Festival approaching, the ritual platform that should have been covered in new mats stood empty. Chil-seong performed an exorcism by throwing three live fish into the sea: "These foreigners angered the sea god!" he shouted at the team. "Your metal threads are worse than fishing nets, stealing the seaweed's soul!"
That night, Su Yao sipped haenyeo-brewed rice wine in Soon-bok's hanok, the old seaweed mat on the ondol exuding faint brine. Soon-bok served Jeju black pork and seaweed soup, patting Su Yao's shoulder with rough hands: "We don't mean to be harsh," she stared at the waves outside. "I started diving at 15 with my mother. Back then, seaweed was thick and strong. Now waters grow warmer, seaweed dwindles, and young folks want machines instead of hands—do you think machines know which seaweed the sea god favors? Or when to harvest by moonlight?"
Su Yao set down her cup: "Grandmother Soon-bok, we were wrong. We thought 'innovation' meant improving the mat, but we didn't understand it's a conversation between sea and people." She pulled out the team's sketch of seaweed patterns. "What if we help restore the seaweed beds, plant the varieties you say the sea god favors? We'll learn hand-weaving, no machines. We'll treat our metal fibers so they work with your seaweed, and design new patterns together—seaweed embracing waves, honoring both Jeju's waters and the wider ocean. Let Chil-seong bless the metal in your ritual, so it carries the sea god's favor."
Min-ji burst in with a seaweed restoration plan: "I researched—your fibers might work if treated with Jeju's volcanic mud! Grandma says old haenyeo used mud to waterproof diving suits—maybe it'll make metal 'sea-friendly'?"
Soon-bok silently sipped her wine, then fished the metal thread from the fire pit: "Tomorrow we harvest seaweed. Barefoot on the tidal flats, let seawater reach your ankles—the sea god must smell you're 'one of us' first."
Over four months, the team immersed themselves in haenyeo life. They rose at 4 a.m. to gather seaweed with the women, learning to distinguish "sea god-blessed" healthy algae from枯槁 ones. They helped build wave barriers to protect seaweed beds, using Min-ji's eco-nets to trap垃圾. In the hanok courtyard, their fingers bled from seaweed cuts, treated with Jeju aloe—"haenyeo's bandages," as Soon-bok called it.
Lin finally solved the reaction problem by soaking metal fibers in volcanic mud mixed with seaweed extract, sealed with traditional beeswax—retaining strength while gaining "ocean's scent." When she presented the treated fibers, Soon-bok bit the thread: "Tastes salty enough—the sea god might recognize it."
Fiona designed "Seaweed and Currents": The traditional Jeju sea wave patterns are interwoven with the deep-sea algae patterns made of metal materials. merging at edges into hearts—symbolizing coastal and deep waters embracing. When Chil-seong blessed the new design during rituals, he announced: "The sea god appeared in my dream, saying these patterns look like his two daughters holding hands."
At Haenyeo Festival, gasps arose as Su Yao and Min-ji unfurled their collaborative mat. Sunlight made metal deep-sea patterns shimmer, blending with natural seaweed hues, while traditional diamond volcanic patterns transformed into half-land, half-sea motifs. Soon-bok personally laid it on the ritual platform, then placed her silver bracelet on Su Yao's wrist: "Now you're half-haenyeo too."
Departing Jeju, Min-ji chased their car by boat, tossing a package from the waves. Inside was a small mat of mixed new and old seaweed, with metal-thread hands—one rough as礁石 (a haenyeo's), one with fine calluses (Su Yao's). The note read: "Seaweed mats remember all hands that touch them, just as the ocean remembers all rivers that join it."
Su Yao watched Jeju's coastline shrink, phone pinging with a message from Ethiopia: Amira sent photos of Oromos wearing new shamma cloaks. She replied: "Our Jeju seaweed mats have new waves—your cattle might even crave a taste of seawater now."
Far out at sea, haenyeo in white wetsuits dove again, silver fish dancing with waves. Su Yao knew their journey was far from over. The ocean holds endless wisdom; humanity need only approach with reverence, letting different waves sing harmoniously in the same sea.