The morning of farewell arrived with a thin mist embracing the surface of the sea.
Li Yuan woke up before dawn as usual, but this time with the awareness that it was his last awakening in the wooden house that had been his sanctuary for five years. He felt no sadness or regret—he had processed those emotions in the previous months. What he felt was a profound tranquility and sincere gratitude.
Qinglu was already awake and standing in the yard, looking toward the sea with a calm but attentive posture. The deer seemed to understand that this day was different from all others.
"Our last morning together, my friend," Li Yuan said as he approached Qinglu and scratched the back of its ears one last time as a morning routine.
Li Yuan spent the first hours of the morning in a simple but meaningful farewell ritual. He walked to every part of the house, touching the wooden walls he had shaped with his hands, remembering the process of building it. In each space, he paused for a moment and offered a silent thank you.
"Thank you for being my protection and comfort," he said to the house. "May you stand for a long time and perhaps one day provide shelter for other creatures in need."
Then he went to the plant formation in the yard. The plants vibrated gently as he approached—not a vibration of joy as usual, but something deeper and calmer. They knew he was leaving.
Li Yuan knelt in the middle of the formation and placed both hands on the ground. Through his Understanding of Water, he sent a final message—not words, but a wave of gratitude, love, and blessings for their future growth.
The plants responded with the most beautiful harmony he had ever heard from them—a spiritual symphony that sounded like a loving farewell song.
"You are the best teachers I have ever had," Li Yuan whispered. "You taught me about patience, sincerity, and harmony. I will carry those lessons with me wherever I go."
After saying goodbye to the house and the plants, Li Yuan walked to the small spring where he had gotten water every day. He knelt at its edge and drank the fresh water for the last time, feeling its familiar coolness.
"Thank you for providing life," he said to the spring.
His next journey was to the spiritual spring cave. Li Yuan stood at the edge of the pool that had given him access to the island's spiritual archive, feeling the vibration of the water that now felt like a gentle farewell greeting.
"Thank you for sharing thousands of years of wisdom," he said. "The stories you hold will always be a part of me."
He didn't take any water from the pool—it remained the island's spiritual treasure. But he carried something more valuable: the understanding and wisdom he had absorbed over five years.
The final journey was to the hidden bay. It was in this place that he had learned about productive emptiness, about presence without an agenda. Li Yuan sat on the sand for the last time, looking at the endless ocean horizon.
"This is where I learned that sometimes being nothing is the best way to be everything," he mused.
He sat in silence for nearly an hour, feeling the peace he had found in this place flow through his entire consciousness body. When he finally got up, he felt complete with this phase of his life on the island.
Returning to the house, Li Yuan found Qinglu waiting for him in the yard with a different demeanor. The deer stood tall, looking at him with clear and calm eyes. In that gaze, Li Yuan saw a sincere understanding and acceptance.
"You understand, don't you?" Li Yuan said as he approached and gently hugged Qinglu's neck. "You understand that this isn't about leaving, but about continuing the journey."
Qinglu nodded in a very human-like way, then did something it had never done before. The deer walked to the beach, stopped, and looked out toward the sea—as if showing Li Yuan the path he should take.
"Thank you, my true friend," Li Yuan said, his voice slightly trembling with emotion. "You taught me about a friendship that needs no words, about simple loyalty, and about a love that demands nothing."
Li Yuan walked to the edge of the beach where the small waves reached the sand. He stood there for a moment, feeling the seawater touch his feet—a sensation that reminded him of the beginning of his arrival on this island five years ago.
Then, with a deep breath, he began to step into the water.
His consciousness body didn't need a boat or any means of transportation. He could walk on water or even fly if he wanted to. But he chose to swim—the most natural way to leave the island that had taught him about following the natural flow of life.
As the seawater began to cover his body, Li Yuan felt a familiar transformation. His Understanding of Water in the Wenjing domain flowed perfectly, making him one with the medium that was carrying him away from the island.
He swam with calm and efficient movements, neither rushing nor delaying. Every movement was a meditation, every breath a prayer of gratitude.
When he was about a kilometer from the shore, Li Yuan stopped and turned to look at Narau Island for the last time. From this distance, the island looked like a green gem floating in the blue sea, beautiful and peaceful in the morning light.
He could see Qinglu still standing on the beach, a small, loyal figure waiting until he was truly gone. Li Yuan raised his hand in a farewell gesture, and he was sure he saw Qinglu nod in return.
"Until we meet again, perhaps in another life," Li Yuan whispered, then turned and continued his journey toward the horizon.
He swam for hours, letting the ocean currents help him move toward a destination he had not yet specifically determined. All he knew was that he wanted to find signs of human civilization—a port city, a trade route, or at least inhabited islands.
After five years of silence and simplicity, he longed for the complexity of human interaction. Not because he was tired of peace, but because he felt ready to share what he had learned.
The sun reached its peak when Li Yuan saw something on the horizon—a thin line that could be land or perhaps a ship. He couldn't be sure from this distance, but something was there.
"A new beginning," he said to himself as he adjusted his swimming direction toward that line on the horizon.
Five years on Narau Island had taught him invaluable lessons:
That true peace can be found in simplicity.
That friendship needs no words or even the same species.
That emptiness can be a form of abundance.
That sometimes stopping the chase is the best way to move forward.
That true love sometimes means knowing when it's time to let go.
Now, with those lessons safely stored in his heart, Li Yuan was ready for a new phase of his endless journey. A phase where he would try to integrate the wisdom of silence with the complexity of life, personal peace with social engagement.
The seawater carried him forward gently, and in the rhythm of his swim, Li Yuan felt a joy he hadn't felt in a long time—the joy of an adventure that was just beginning.
Behind him, Narau Island slowly disappeared on the horizon, but its presence would forever be a part of Li Yuan's soul.
In front of him, the world waited with all its possibilities.
And Li Yuan swam toward the future with a peaceful heart and a soul ready to share.