The Boat

Chapter 674: The Boat

“What rules?” Yang Xiaohai asked, curious despite himself. The farmers back on land didn’t have nearly this many rules.

“What else? The sea’s rules,” the boat captain replied. “We boat-dwellers have a few of our own—certain surnames can’t come aboard, certain words can’t be spoken on deck. But the Dan-min have even more restrictions than the boat-folk. They even consult the feng shui before they piss or shit.”

“I don’t know the rest. When you get home, ask your family. You don’t want to stumble into a taboo.”

“I see.” Based on the captain’s words, Yang Xiaohai tried to piece together a picture of what the Dan-min looked like.

“But I’ll say this for the Dan-min, though. One thing they do right. If they find anything floating on the water—living or dead—they have to haul it up and take a look. They say if they don’t, their ancestors will take offense.”

As he spoke, the captain gave his fishing rod a hard yank. A bluish-green sea fish broke the surface, trailing crystalline drops of seawater.

Satisfied with his catch, the captain nodded, drew a knife from his belt, and gutted the fish on the spot, slicing it into translucent fillets.

When he drizzled some soy sauce over the meat, the fillets seemed to quiver as though they still had feeling.

The captain picked up a few slices with his fingers, stuffed them into his mouth, and chewed with satisfaction. “Want a taste? The secret to eating fish is freshness. Anything that’s been out of the water longer than fifteen minutes? That’s just for the landlubbers who don’t know any better.”

“Thanks. I don’t eat raw food.” Yang Xiaohai shook his head gently.

“Then you’re missing out. The Qingtoubiao is fattest this time of year.” With that, the captain picked up another slice and popped it into his mouth.

“You said you’re looking for the Dan-min, right? We’re here. See those boats lashed together? That’s where you want to go.”

Hearing this, Yang Xiaohai’s eyes went wide as he followed the captain’s pointing finger.

On the water’s surface near the shore stood a cluster of wooden houses built on stilts above the sea. Ringing those houses were boats of all ages, some old and some new.

“That’s my home? The place I was born?” Yang Xiaohai stared at the settlement, his emotions beginning to churn. He had crossed all the way from Daliang back to Shu, enduring hardship after hardship, for this very day.

When the flat-bottomed boat drew close to the wooden island, Yang Xiaohai finally understood why the captain had been so sure he wasn’t a Dan-min.

Years of wind and sun had left the Dan-min’s skin deeply tanned. They wore blue-and-black clothes dyed from hemp cloth, with trousers so wide they looked like skirts. The men went bare-chested and barefoot.

And on their dark, glossy skin were tattooed scales—layer after layer of them. Men had them. Women had them, too, and the women even had them on their faces.

Though every Dan-min he saw looked at him with open hostility, Yang Xiaohai felt an inexplicable warmth toward them.

“Uh, Uncle? Do you know a man named Chi Baishui?” Standing on his boat, Yang Xiaohai carefully asked an elderly Dan-min on a nearby vessel, naming his father.

But the old man just set his jaw, slammed his window shutter shut, and cut off Yang Xiaohai’s friendly gaze.

When he got no answer, Yang Xiaohai tried the next person. And the next. One after another, no one answered him. Their hostility ran deep.

Just as desperation began to creep into Yang Xiaohai’s chest, someone finally acknowledged him. “What business do you have with Chi Baishui?”

It was a middle-aged man, his beard still wet, as if he had just surfaced from the water.

Yang Xiaohai waved his arms for a moment, then said in an excited rush, “I’m Chi Baishui’s son! I’m his son!”

“His son?” The man looked Yang Xiaohai up and down with evident doubt. “I don’t remember Baishui having a son like you.”

“Can you take me to see him? The moment he sees me, he’ll know! I really am his son.”

After listening to Yang Xiaohai, and glancing again at the flat-bottomed boat beneath him, the middle-aged Dan-min waved his right hand. “Come on, then. I’ll take you.”

Yang Xiaohai nodded, said a few words to Zhao Xiumei, and jumped into the water to swim over.

Under the man’s guidance, Yang Xiaohai vaulted from boat to boat. Most of the vessels were shabby, covered in patches and repairs, but to Yang Xiaohai they felt strangely familiar.

After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the middle-aged Dan-min stopped in front of an old, worn-out boat.

An elderly woman with graying hair sat in the bow. The scales tattooed on her face were blue-green, mingling with her wrinkles, giving her a very strange appearance.

She looked at the middle-aged man with confusion. “What is it, Jiang Erlang? Who’s this child?”

“Is Uncle Baishui around? This boy says he’s your son.” Jiang Erlang gestured as he asked the old woman.

When the hard-of-hearing old woman understood what he meant, her eyes went wide. She stared at Yang Xiaohai. “You… you… you’are Fifth Boy?”

Yang Xiaohai’s mind went blank. He stepped forward unsteadily, dazed, looking at the woman before him. The information he’d gathered earlier had said his mother was deaf—and this woman fit the description perfectly.

“Mother?” Yang Xiaohai hesitated, taking another step.

The old woman seemed to read what he had said. She stumbled forward and pulled him into her arms.

Then she rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a faint mark near his elbow.

When she saw that mark, the tears she had been holding back spilled over. “Fifth Boy! It’s really you! I never thought I’d see you again!”

When he realized this woman really was his mother, Yang Xiaohai threw himself into her arms and held her tight.

Feeling the warmth and the familiar scent he had only ever known in dreams, for one moment Yang Xiaohai felt that every hardship he had endured along the way had been worth it. He finally had a mother.

And if anyone ever called him a son of a bitch again, he could finally, righteously, curse them back!

“Fifth Boy! Mother failed you! I failed you so badly!” The old woman wailed, clutching Yang Xiaohai tightly.

The Chi family’s sold-off son had returned. As soon as Yang Xiaohai’s identity shifted back to Dan-min, the hostility in everyone’s eyes softened.

When Yang Xiaohai worried aloud about how to get the flat-bottomed boat’s cart back to his family’s vessel, several Dan-min rowed their own boats over without being asked, offering to help him cross.

After a flurry of effort, Yang Xiaohai, Zhao Xiumei, the three monkey-boys, and their cart were finally settled aboard the Chi family boat.

“Mother, this is my wife, Zhao Xiumei.” Yang Xiaohai waved his hands, trying to make his deaf birth mother understand.

“Good! Married so young—what a capable boy!”

“Mother, this is lamb from Qingqiu. Try it. It’s delicious!”

As Yang Xiaohai spoke excitedly with his mother, other Dan-min gathered around, smiling at the heartwarming scene, occasionally whispering among themselves.

The hostility in Jiang Erlang’s expression had completely melted away now that he knew the boy had truly come to find his family.

He leaned toward a younger man beside him and asked in a low voice, “Where’s Uncle Baishui run off to? Something this important, and he’s not here.”

“Uncle Baishui took his son to the Dragon King Temple, I think.”

“Go tell him. Tell him the fifth boy he sold off has come back on his own.”