When Yin Jie entered the small town, the morning mist had yet to fully disperse, like a thin veil draped over his shoulders.
The bluestone-paved road bore the traces of being kissed year-round by the salty, damp sea breeze. Polished bright by time, it wound deeper into town.
The houses lining both sides of the road were low, mostly wooden structures with dark gray tiled roofs. Some of the tiles were covered in a thin layer of moss. Green vines climbed the walls, and the occasional tiny red flower of unknown origin peeked through them, lending a touch of life to the quiet town.
Most of the windows stood open, revealing coarse pottery bowls, half-woven fishing nets, or dried fish hanging on the walls.
After only a few steps, Yin Jie heard a series of clinking sounds.
Following the sound, he found a tiny fishing tackle shop. The owner sat at the entrance, filing down a fishhook with an old rasp. His fingers were rough and callused, yet remarkably nimble. Before long, a silver hook had taken shape.
Yin Jie smiled at the owner, then continued toward the center of town. As he walked on, more and more people appeared on the streets.
Small stalls sprang up along both sides of the road, displaying all kinds of food—pickled fish, grilled fish, rice balls, and more.
Many fishermen who had risen early to head out to sea, dressed in patched fishing clothes, squatted beside the stalls with coarse porcelain bowls in hand, gulping down rice wine. Their voices drifted through the hazy morning mist. It was not noisy, but it brimmed with the warmth of everyday life.
The sun gradually rose, and the fog dispersed, bringing the town's outline into clear view.
Yin Jie had toured the entire town as