Location: The Deck of The Endless Horizon, Somewhere in the Mediterranean
The world, for Luo Yin, was a symphony of sensation. It was the constant, gentle rocking of the ship that had been her cradle. It was the taste of the sea salt on the air, a flavor she knew as instinctively as milk. It was the rough, warm wood of the deck beneath her chubby hands as she learned to crawl, her father's watchful shadow always a step behind.
Lusi watched them from where she sat, mending a sail, her hair no longer in the long, practical braid of their early travels. Now, it was twisted into a soft, secure bun at the nape of her neck. It was a mother's hairstyle, a silent testament to the new, profound responsibility that had anchored her wild spirit. The freedom was still there, but it was a tethered freedom, all the more precious for the tiny life it now encompassed.
Time passed
Her daughter was gonna turn four years old this year , and her world was the ship. Her first steps had been taken on this deck, lurching happily into Feng's waiting arms. She pointed at the shifting, endless blue.
"Ah Yin," Lusi called softly, setting aside her sewing. "Come here."
The little girl, a perfect blend of her mother's bright eyes and her father's strong nose, toddled over on unsteady sea-legs. Lusi gathered her onto her lap, pointing toward the distant, hazy line of the coast.
"After some days, we will reach our home country," Lusi said, her voice a mix of excitement and a strange, unnamable trepidation.
Yin looked up, her small brow furrowed in a perfect imitation of Feng's thoughtful expression. "What is there?"
Feng, who had been coiling a rope nearby, came and sat beside them. He put a gentle hand on Lusi's slightly rounded belly—a new life, three months along, making its presence known. His touch was a question and an assurance all at once.
"Our family," Feng answered his daughter, his voice soft. "And most importantly," he added, tapping her tiny nose, "both grandfathers."
Lusi leaned into him, the bun of her hair pressing against his shoulder. She tried to picture it: her father's face, stern and loving, crumpling into joy at the sight of this granddaughter he never knew he had. The thought was surreal.
She felt the baby kick, a gentle flutter beneath Feng's palm. It was a reminder of the future, of the life growing within her. But the dread that had been a faint whisper since they turned the ship toward home grew a little louder. It was a feeling she couldn't explain to Feng, who saw only a happy homecoming.
He felt her tension. "What is it?"
She shook her head, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Just… it will be different."
"Different can be good," he said, his eyes full of a hope she desperately wanted to share. "They will love her as we do."
He was right, of course. But as she looked out at the sea, the world she had chosen for herself—a world of endless horizons and star-filled nights—felt like it was shrinking, being traded for a world of walls and secrets. She held Yin tighter, as if she could protect the perfect, simple world that already existed in her daughter's eyes from the complicated one that awaited them on the shore. The journey of a thousand li was ending, and a new, uncertain one was about to begin.
---