That night, the moon was bright and the stars were sparse.
Xuan came alone to the old place again and stared blankly at the rising and falling tide.
Laozi's figure silently appeared behind him, making no effort to conceal his presence.
Xuan turned warily and saw an plainly dressed old man with an otherworldly bearing. A trace of astonishment flashed through his eyes, but there was no panic.
He rose and respectfully bowed, imitating how the tribe treated its elders:
"Where did you come from, Old Sir? The night is cold and the dew is heavy. Be careful not to catch a chill." His voice was childish, yet it carried a composure far beyond his years.
Laozi smiled faintly. Without answering, he casually sat on a reef, pointed at the bright moon over the sea, and asked:
"Child, look at the moon. It wanes and waxes, waxes and wanes. Why is that?"
Xuan followed his gaze, thought for a moment, and answered seriously, "The elders in the tribe say there's a god in the moon. When the god closes and opens his eyes, the moon wanes and waxes.
But I don't quite believe that. I've observed it for a long time and found that the moon's changing shape seems to have something to do with the rising and falling of the tides, and also with the positions of the stars in the sky... I just haven't figured out exactly how they're related."
The admiration in Laozi's eyes deepened. "Then look at these waves. They surge forward one after another without ever stopping. Why is that?"
Xuan frowned in thought. "Water flows downhill. That's common knowledge. But why does the sea move on its own and form waves?
I guess... it might be because the wind blows? Or perhaps something on