Capítulo 1322: Chapter 20: No Whales or Sirens in the Azure Sea (Double-length)

In the summer, the large ship sails leisurely on the sea to the familiar island to restock, mooring at the edge of the island. Ma Xiangyu leans against the side of the ship, looking at the rising and falling waves with boredom, casually patting the knife hanging from his belt wrapped with hemp rope several times, producing a dull sound.

Of course, an iron knife doesn’t sound as pleasant as a finely-crafted, beautifully-patterned sword. He’s a man who’s half pirate, half fisherman, unable to compare with those glamorous noble sons.

It’s not just the noble sons; even those who’ve read a few books surpass him, seeing those slick dandies irritates him.

Thinking about this, Ma Xiangyu feels a wave of bitterness in his heart.

He turns his head inside and sees the scholar openly staying on the ship, regretting shouting those words. Could it be that the boss’s sister actually handed over the strange scholar?

He’s seen those so-called scholars who read the Sage’s Book before; most are either stubborn like a dumb ox or pretentious, with eyes more cunning than anyone else, initially planning to watch a joke.

But this scholar is different, staying on the ship without those fake noble habits, appearing approachable but actually looking down on everyone, nor does he get as red-faced and rash as a stubborn ox, ready to jump into the sea to prove his point, always presenting a friendly face.

He is sincere with others, willing to roll up his sleeves to help when things arise. In just a few days, he seems like an old hand on this ship, familiar enough that everyone greets him, even Ma Xiangyu, who was planning to laugh at the scholar, can’t make fun.

On board is an old scholar who studied for half a lifetime before realizing it was pointless and burned his books, saying this is a true scholar who tastes the book’s essence. In roadside fox tales, those taken away by fox immortals are usually this kind.

The old scholar also adds with a strange laughter that fox immortals probably aren’t interested in faces like Ma Xiangyu, with three to five jin of pockmarks, not even if he drops a few heavy book bags.

Ma Xiangyu touches his face, spits into the sea’s rise and fall, racks his brain for a long time, raises a middle finger, and curses:

“Men looking better than the boss.”

“Definitely not decent.”

“I spit!”

Several white seabirds flap across the ship’s edge, cawing loudly. Ma Xiangyu furiously swings the knife hanging with hemp rope and curses:

“Birds, filthy birds, get lost, get lost.”

“Beware old man taking down your birds to drink with.”

Wang Anfeng, using the alias Wang Feng, turns around, doesn’t pierce the face of skinny Ma Xiangyu with the pocks, who unwittingly pokes into ‘boss being the best-looking,’ and replaces an old sailor’s thick rope with ease. The old sailor, who had swung on the ship for half a lifetime, praises the young man’s steady pull.

Wang Anfeng smiles; the sea breeze blows on his face, still feels somewhat unfamiliar.

The large ship travels slower than he expected.

Instead of going straight to the East Sea Coast, it sails from one island to another for trading goods. Thick hemp ropes tie to the stones on the island edges to save the ship from drifting away. The fruit on the trees is special, round as a ball, tough outside but sweet inside, unseen in Central Plains, Western Regions, or Northern Frontier, probably a sea specialty.

Uncertain whether it preserves well.

He indeed knows many who love these foods: Dongfang Ximing, Zhang Tingyun, Qingfeng Edge, Lin Qiaofu. Though Lv Baiping is older, dressed in white with a sword, still prefers sweets…

Departing from Central Plains, traversing Western Regions, entering Northern Frontier, battling thousands of miles, breaking through mountains and glaciers into the East Sea.

Since separating from friends, over a year has passed, more than two years since seeing Zhang Tingyun.

While lost in thought, the exceptionally robust boss Miao Zhiquiao charges from the island to the ship. Though her movement technique is ordinary, it’s clear that she isn’t using random methods. She steps swiftly onto the thick hemp rope that anchors the ship and dashes onto the ship with ease.

People dressed as fishermen sent off her on the coast.

An old man amongst them cheerfully shouts to bring certain things next time, hearing it’s all sea goods. If too bitter, marry his second son, long considered better than working sails.

Miao Zhiquiao impolitely spits, raises a middle finger, and curses ‘screw you;’ the fishermen instead laugh cheerfully, then with some politeness bow towards the somewhat bandit-like captain girl, saying:

“Safe journey, the villagers await your goods.”

Miao Zhiquiao waves a hand to acknowledge, and this large ship, Wang Anfeng unsure what kind, turns direction, sails into the sea. The old sailor who reels back the thick hemp rope chews fish jerky, smacks his lips, saying:

“Strange the scholar wonders how we’re so close with these fishermen?”

Wang Anfeng merely smiles, saying nothing.

The old man shrinks his neck, gazes at the sea, mutters to himself:

“Telling you doesn’t matter… our ship does business with no capital; that’s how the boss thinks, no capital in business, later always protects the merchant ships back and forth, only asks for thirty percent of fish catches, leaving their goods.”

“Thirty percent fish catches, honestly it’s one or two months of food. Encounter any guys with their brains tied to their belts, you’d still have to fight. But even opponents know our strength, not many dare to challenge us. These two months, the old folks on islands simply don’t go to sea, need us to trade goods, hehe, they know the way, give silver.”