The two of them followed the coastline for an entire morning. As the sun gradually climbed higher, the morning mist over the sea completely dispersed, revealing an endless expanse of azure blue. The sound of the waves kept them company all along the way—sometimes gentle, sometimes surging, but never ceasing, as though the sea were speaking to them in its own language. Now and then, they spotted shells and fragments of coral washed ashore by the tide, glittering with fine specks of light beneath the sun. Liu Qingyan would crouch down to pick out a few pretty ones and tuck them into her bundle, saying she wanted to take them back to Thunderfall Mountain to decorate their little home.
Around noon, a small fishing village appeared ahead. The village was not large, with only a few dozen households stretching along the shoreline. Most of the houses were wooden, their roofs covered in thick thatch. Fishing nets and bamboo baskets were hung out in front of the doors, while the air was filled with the smell of drying fish and the salty tang left behind by evaporated seawater. A small pier stood at the entrance to the village, where several fishing boats were moored, the flags on their masts fluttering gently in the midday breeze.
The villagers were busy by the pier. Some were sorting their catch, some mending fishing nets, and some loading fish into bamboo baskets to sell in a nearby town. When they saw two strangers approaching from the beach, they all looked up curiously for a few moments before quickly lowering their heads and returning to their work. People who lived by the sea were used to travelers coming and going, so the arrival of strangers was nothing unusual.
As Shen Xiu and Liu Qingyan passed the