The fourth year began with a question that emerged from the silence.
Li Yuan was sitting in the hidden bay, enjoying the moments of mind-emptiness that had become a daily routine, when a simple question emerged in his consciousness without him intending it:
After this, what?
It wasn't a question born of restlessness or dissatisfaction. He still felt the same peace, still enjoyed the simple life on this island. But the question came with a clarity that could not be ignored.
Li Yuan opened his eyes and looked at the ocean horizon. For the first time in three years, he thought about the world outside of Narau Island.
"Is this a sign that my time here is almost over?" he asked the waves that came and went with a constant rhythm.
The waves did not answer with words, but in their silence, Li Yuan heard something akin to a gentle agreement.
He did not feel rushed to leave. Nothing was pulling him away from the island by force. But there was a growing awareness that this phase of his life in this place might be reaching its natural completion.
Returning from the bay, Li Yuan found Qinglu waiting for him in the yard with an unusual demeanor. The deer was sitting upright, looking toward the sea, as if it also sensed the coming change.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Li Yuan said while scratching the back of Qinglu's ears.
The deer looked up and stared at him with clear eyes, then did something it had never done before—it walked toward the plant formation and lay down in the middle of it, as if inviting Li Yuan to join.
Li Yuan sat cross-legged beside Qinglu, surrounded by the plants that had become his friends for many years. As he placed his hand on the ground, he felt the familiar spiritual vibration, but this time there was a new nuance within it.
A feeling of... preparation.
Through his Understanding of Water, he heard a conversation he had never heard before from the plants. It wasn't the daily communication about weather or nutrients, but something more profound.
They were talking about the coming change.
Not with panic or sadness, but with a quiet acceptance. As if they already knew that the cycle that had lasted for four years was about to shift to a new phase.
"You are ready to part ways," Li Yuan realized with a mix of awe and emotion.
The plants vibrated in a way he could interpret as a loving agreement. They didn't want him to leave, but they understood that growth sometimes requires movement.
The following weeks passed with Li Yuan beginning to mentally prepare for the possibility of leaving, although he did not yet know when or how it would happen. He was not in a hurry, but began to notice things in a different way—as if seeing everything with eyes that would soon be saying goodbye.
The wooden house he had built with his own hands. The small spring that had provided fresh water every day. The path he had walked a thousand times. All the places and things that had become part of his daily routine for four years.
"I will miss you all," he said one morning, not to anyone in particular but to the entire island.
The morning wind blew gently, moving the leaves with a sound that sounded like a soft farewell whisper.
The fourth dry season came with an unusual intensity. It wasn't extreme or dangerous, but enough to test the readiness of all life on the island. Li Yuan observed how he, Qinglu, and the plants responded to this challenge for the last time as a community.
They worked together with an efficiency born of years of experience. There was no panic, no competition, no drama. Just the right response and natural collaboration.
"We have become a true family," Li Yuan mused while sharing water from his reserves with Qinglu and watering the plants in just the right portions.
In that simple cooperation, he saw an achievement no less valuable than all the spiritual understandings he had ever developed. The ability to live in harmony with other living beings without domination or manipulation.
The ability to be part of a community without losing individuality.
The middle of the fourth year brought a moment he would remember forever.
One afternoon, as Li Yuan was sitting in the spiritual spring cave, he heard a sound he had never heard in his four years on this island—the sound of humans.
It was not a close sound. Through his Understanding of Water, he picked up the echo of conversations carried by the ocean currents from a very far distance. A ship, perhaps a merchant or expedition vessel, was passing through the waters around the island.
Li Yuan did not panic or hide. He just listened with a calm attention.
The sounds carried stories of the world outside the island—of trade and voyages, of port cities and distant lands. Of human life with all its complexities, ambitions, and hopes.
"The world keeps turning," Li Yuan whispered to the water in the spiritual pool.
And for the first time in four years, he felt something akin to... a longing. Not a longing to return to a complicated or dramatic life. But a longing to reconnect with other consciousnesses that could speak with words, that could share abstract questions, that could understand the nuances of complex thoughts.
"Perhaps," he said to himself, "complete isolation can also be a form of imbalance."
The sound of the ship was carried away by the currents, but its echo remained in Li Yuan's mind. Not as a disturbance or a dissatisfaction, but as a reminder that there are aspects of existence that he could not explore in solitude, no matter how peaceful and healing it was.
That night, he sat in the yard with Qinglu and the plants, sharing a different kind of silence from previous nights. There was a quality of "waiting" in the air, as if everything was preparing for the coming transition.
"I still love this place," Li Yuan said to his small community. "But love sometimes means knowing when it's time to let go."
Qinglu moved closer and laid its head on Li Yuan's shoulder—a rare gesture, as if it also understood that moments like these become more valuable because they are limited.
The fourth year ended with Li Yuan sitting in the hidden bay, watching the sun set on the ocean horizon. The colors of orange and pink beautifully painted the sky, creating reflections that danced on the water's surface.
In that beauty, he felt a deep gratitude for all that he had received on this island. Four years of peace. Four years of gentle learning. Four years of friendship with forms of life that taught him about simplicity and sincerity.
"Thank you," he said to the island, to the sea, to the changing sky.
And in the whisper of the evening wind, he heard something that sounded like: "You're welcome, cherished child. Now go and share what you have learned."
Li Yuan smiled, realizing that his departure from this island was not the end of a phase, but the beginning of a new one. A phase where he would bring the peace and wisdom he had found in this place into his interactions with the wider world.
The fourth year ended with a calm decision: next year would be his final year of preparation on Narau Island.
After that, it would be time to fly again.