Only a few days remained until the end of the year. On this day, Jiafu accompanied her mother to the Zhen family's shipyard.
This place was not just a dock for building or repairing ships; it also housed a large settlement of makeshift dwellings. The Zhen family had always been kind-hearted—since their ancestors' time, they had provided shelters here for the poor sailors and shipworkers who worked for them on sea-running voyages, giving them a place to stay when they came ashore. Over time, those men married and started families, their numbers gradually growing, and so did the shanties. By Jiafu's father's generation, over a hundred households lived here. Three years ago, the families of the sailors and workers who had set out to sea with her father and never returned were still being sheltered here. The widows made a living by doing odd jobs at the shipyard. Though life was hard, at least they had a roof over their heads to shield them from the elements and could support themselves and their children.
Every year around this time, Madam Meng would personally come to distribute rice, meat, and two strings of cash to each orphaned or widowed family, so they too could celebrate the New Year.
Jiafu had accompanied her mother every year, and this year was no exception. After visiting the widows and orphans, as she was leaving the shipyard, she suddenly remembered the young man she had encountered and brought back for treatment that night several months ago. Wondering if he had survived, she paused and asked a nearby shipyard supervisor about him.
At first, the supervisor couldn’t recall—there were simply too many people doing miscellaneous work here. After a moment, he slapped his forehead and said, “Ah, I remember now! That lad Steward Zhang had sent over! He pulled through, and his illness was cured. He’s working in the shipyard now. Should I call him over to kowtow to you, young mistress?”
Jiafu replied, “It’s good that he recovered. I just happened to think of him and asked. There’s no need to summon him.”
The supervisor chuckled. “Young mistress, your kindness is truly remarkable—you still remember him. That boy was lucky to have met you that night, or he’d have surely lost his life. If it had been the Jin family, he’d have long ended up as fish food by now.”
Though the speaker meant no harm, the listener took it to heart. The phrase “fish food” struck a chord in Jiafu, reminding her of her father, and her mood darkened. The supervisor immediately realized his blunder and slapped his own mouth hard, hastily bowing in apology. “Forgive my careless words, young mistress. Please don’t take offense.”
Jiafu knew he hadn’t meant it and gave a faint smile. Turning, she saw her mother and the others had already reached the shipyard entrance and were looking back for her, so she lifted her skirt and hurried over.
The shipyard was close to the harbor, where sea winds were always fierce, and the entrance bore the brunt of it. Just as Jiafu passed a row of racks used to secure stacks of logs, a gust of wind howled through.
The racks had stood there for years, their ropes weathered and rotted but never replaced. The strong wind made the structure creak and groan, and suddenly, the ropes snapped. A row of logs—each taller than Jiafu—came crashing down, tumbling straight toward her.
The logs had been delivered just days prior, awaiting use and not yet moved away. They weren’t overly thick, only about the diameter of a bowl, but even so, if she were buried beneath that many rolling logs, the consequences would be unthinkable.
Jiafu had been looking down at the path and didn’t notice the commotion beside her at first. By the time she realized something was wrong, it was too late to react—she froze in place.Madam Meng stood at the entrance of the Shipyard, chatting with Zhang Da and a few others while waiting for her daughter to arrive. Suddenly, she heard an unusual commotion behind her. Turning around, she was utterly terrified. Zhang Da and the others also noticed and reacted immediately, rushing over—but it was already too late. Just as Jiafu was about to be crushed by the collapsing pile of logs, at the critical moment, a ragged young boy darted out from the side. Moving as swift as lightning, he reached Jiafu in the blink of an eye. Just before the first log rolled to her feet, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her aside. Both of them tumbled to the ground.
Zhang Da and the others arrived shortly after, some securing the logs while others rushed to help. The entrance of the Shipyard descended into chaos.
Madam Meng, her face deathly pale, hurried over and pushed through the crowd. She saw the young boy lying on the ground, shielding her daughter tightly beneath him. Frantic, she cried, "A'fu! A'fu! Are you alright? Are you alright? Don’t scare your mother like this!"
The boy had moved so quickly that Jiafu was left dizzy and disoriented, pinned beneath him. Only now did she regain her senses. Hearing her mother’s voice, she opened her eyes and replied shakily, "Mother, I’m fine… I’m unharmed…"
The boy swiftly climbed off her and slipped away through the crowd. Madam Meng and Zhang Da were too preoccupied with Jiafu to pay him much attention at first. They helped her up from the ground and checked her over. Apart from her dress being smeared with mud and her face pale from fright, she was indeed unharmed. Only then did they breathe a sigh of relief.
Still shaken, Madam Meng held Jiafu close, murmuring prayers of gratitude repeatedly. As Zhang Da berated the Shipyard manager for negligence, Madam Meng suddenly remembered the boy who had saved her daughter. She glanced over and saw him walking further away. Quickly instructing someone to escort Jiafu to the carriage to rest, she hurried after the boy and called out to stop him. Taking a closer look, she saw he was dressed in tattered clothes, wearing only hole-riddled straw shoes in the dead of winter, his face smeared with dirt. Yet upon closer inspection, his features were strikingly handsome. Unfazed by his disheveled state, she took his hand and said, "Good child, we owe you so much today! What’s your name? Whose child are you?"
Zhang Da caught up and studied the boy, feeling a vague sense of familiarity but unable to recall where he’d seen him before. Since the boy was here, he must be working at their Shipyard. When the boy remained silent, Zhang Da turned to the manager.
The manager, pale-faced and terrified after nearly causing a disaster due to his oversight, hastily stepped forward. "He’s the boy the young lady sent here a few months ago. He was nearly dead from illness at the time. Remembering the young lady and your steward’s instructions, I took great care to nurse him back to health. Once he recovered, I had him do odd jobs inside."
Zhang Da finally remembered and briefly recounted to Madam Meng how they had coincidentally brought the boy back. Overflowing with gratitude, Madam Meng praised him repeatedly. After a few words, she noticed the boy had lost the agility he’d shown earlier. He stood motionless, head bowed, silent and seemingly dull-witted. Puzzled, she glanced at the manager.The steward said, "Madam, this boy is mute and cannot speak. Perhaps the fever he had before addled his wits—he's usually not very sharp." As he spoke, he shouted at the youth, urging him to greet Madam Meng properly.
Madam Meng gasped, her pity growing. She quickly stopped the steward and sighed. "You can see the boy's kindness. Even with his mind unclear, he still remembers how A'fu saved him and risked his life just now to repay that debt. I think he has a fine, handsome face—if he were with his parents, who knows how treasured he’d be? He must have been taken by kidnappers and ground down to this state. How pitiful!" With that, she ordered the steward to fetch the boy a set of thick new clothes and shoes, repeatedly instructing him to treat the boy well from now on and never bully him. The steward hastily agreed.
After a few more words, Madam Meng finally released the boy’s hand and turned to leave, boarding the carriage. To Jiafu, she said, "Poor child. He’s mute, and his mind isn’t quite right."
Jiafu had been resting in the carriage for a while, gradually calming from the earlier fright. Watching her mother release the boy, she saw him turn and continue walking away, head lowered—but something about his gait seemed stiff, slightly unsteady, a far cry from the agility he’d shown when rushing to her rescue. Hesitating, she asked her mother to wait and stepped out of the carriage again, quickly catching up to the boy and stopping him.
The boy lifted his eyes at her approach, seeming momentarily startled, though his expression remained blank.
Jiafu smiled gently at him. "Did you hurt your foot just now? I noticed you’re walking a bit stiffly."
The boy didn’t respond.
"Can you understand me?" Jiafu softened her voice further, stepping closer. "If you’re hurt, you can tell me. Don’t be afraid."
She was near now. The boy caught a faint, elusive fragrance from her, a scent that quietly seeped into his lungs—utterly different from the faint briny air he had grown accustomed to here, and nothing like the expensive incense and perfumes that once filled the grand chambers he had known.
Unconsciously, the tips of his ears reddened. Fortunately, his face was smeared with grime, hiding it from her.
He shook his head, avoiding her gaze, and quickly moved past her.
Jiafu turned, staring at his feet. Through the worn-out soles of his shoes, now little more than frayed straw, a streak of bright red blood seeped out.
"Stop!"
She called him back again.
Zhang Da hurried over and removed the boy’s shoe.
A bamboo splinter, as long as a little finger and sharp as a knife, was deeply embedded in the sole of his foot.
Meeting Jiafu’s pained gaze, the boy’s eyes—usually shadowed—gradually brightened.
He shook his head lightly and smiled.
A fleeting expression, so subtle that only she caught it.
...
Thus passed New Year’s Eve of the third year of Yongxi. As the old year faded, the people of Quanzhou City were still beating drums, dancing with lions, and parading dragons in celebration. But by the third day of the new year, Jiafu received unexpected news.A messenger arrived from Quanzhou Prefecture, delivering orders from above that required the Zhen family to register and report all unregistered individuals they had employed over the years, especially boys who appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen years old. None were to be omitted. Concealing any would result in severe punishment if discovered by the authorities.
The messenger, who had long been close to Zhang Da, dismissed the others after delivering the orders and whispered to Zhang Da, "This 'above' isn't just any higher-up—it's the Brocade-Clad Guards... A certain Lord Wang arrived, said to be an extremely formidable figure. Whatever he said, when our magistrate came out afterward, his face was ashen. The Jin family's shipyard and vessels employed countless unregistered laborers. They didn’t grasp the severity of the situation and hid a few, thinking nothing would come of it. But they were unlucky—last night, several were taken away. The unregistered ones were still alive after interrogation and were conscripted into the army. But I heard two young workers from their shipyard were beaten to death. When they were dragged out, their guts were spilling everywhere. Normally, I wouldn’t tell anyone this. But your Zhen family has extensive business dealings, and over the years, you’ve likely employed a few unregistered workers. I couldn’t bear to see you suffer the same fate, so I’m saying more than I should. Remember—keep this to yourselves!"
After seeing the messenger off, Zhang Da immediately reported to Old Mrs. Hu. The old madam’s expression turned grave, and she ordered him to compile a roster of all unregistered individuals—whether sailors, dockworkers, porters, shipyard craftsmen, or assistants—and ensure every single one was accounted for and closely monitored.
Madam Meng, who had been present at the time, mentioned it to Jiafu upon returning and sighed, "Who knows what’s happened now? It’s left me terribly uneasy. We must keep a close eye on your brother these next few days to prevent him from wandering off and causing trouble."
With that, Madam Meng hurried away. Jiafu, too, felt unsettled.
According to the shipyard supervisor, the boy was not only mute but also somewhat simple-minded.
Yet Jiafu had a feeling that might not be entirely true.
The day she had been in danger, when the boy had swept her up and thrown her to the ground—regardless of his skill—their eyes had met briefly in that moment.
Though she had been petrified with fear, limbs frozen, she still remembered his gaze vividly—clear and sharp, the whites and blacks distinct.
And then there was his faint smile when he was discovered with an injured foot. His eyes had shone with a brilliance like the sun, undimmed even by the dust covering his face.
To call him simple-minded didn’t seem right to Jiafu.
If he was pretending, why? What secrets lay behind this boy? The authorities had taken such drastic action right after the New Year—could it really be connected to him?
Jiafu recalled Xiao Yintang’s sudden appearance, the scene they had encountered near Fuming Island, and the young monks dragged away in chains—each memory vivid.
She wondered if the Brocade-Clad Guards involved then were the same group as this Lord Wang now in Quanzhou.
Following their grandmother’s orders, Zhang Da would undoubtedly include the boy in the roster.
For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Jiafu didn’t want that. Suddenly, she felt a pang of worry for the boy.But she also knew her grandmother's actions weren't wrong. The Brocade-Clad Guards were as fierce as wolves and tigers, leaving no stone unturned. If their Zhen family dared to have even the slightest irregularity and were discovered, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Jiafu wanted to tell him the news, to have him leave quietly as soon as possible. Yet she hesitated.
After a night of indecision, the next day she finally couldn't resist going to Zhang Da, pretending to inquire about the young man's foot injury.
Zhang Da glanced at Jiafu and said cautiously, "Young mistress, I was busy these past few days and forgot to tell you. That lad passed away on New Year's Eve. Someone saw him go alone to the seaside and jump in—he never came back up. These past few days, he hasn't been seen at the shipyard either. His bedding and that new set of clothes were left scattered, as if he'd gotten up half-asleep in the middle of the night and wandered off. Those sleeping nearby said he was startled by the firecrackers, stumbled out in a daze, and jumped into the sea..."
Jiafu was both shocked and saddened.
She had only worried that he might be in danger, never imagining he would die on New Year's Eve.
For some reason, the unexpected death of this young stranger—whom she had casually rescued—left her feeling unusually stifled.
Perhaps it was because of the desperate, life-seeking gaze the dying boy had fixed on her, which she had deeply empathized with. Or perhaps it was the lonely, slightly unsteady figure she had seen days ago when he used his frail young body to shield her from danger before silently walking away—a sight she couldn't forget.
After a moment of stunned silence, she suppressed the surge of sorrow and said, "Uncle Zhang, please have someone burn two sticks of incense for him."
Zhang Da replied, "This old uncle will remember. Don't be sad, young mistress."
Jiafu smiled faintly and nodded.
...
The thirteenth day of the first month, two days before the Lantern Festival. Though the festival hadn't arrived, every household in Quanzhou already had lanterns hanging outside. At night, the lanterns and the bright moon illuminated each other, filling the city with a festive atmosphere.
In stark contrast to the city's scene was the silent, deserted harbor outside its walls.
On this clear, moonlit night, a young man sat alone on the seawall, his figure swallowed by the shadows. The sea breeze blew against his face, yet he remained motionless, facing the rising night tide, his back solitary.
Suddenly, he swiftly removed his clothes and shoes and leaped forward like a stone, plunging into the night tide.
Moments later, accompanied by a soft splash, the young man's head emerged from the water. He swam a few strokes before reaching the seawall, now holding something in his hand.
It was a palm-sized square object wrapped in softened leather, dripping wet as it rested in his palm.
Though most of Quanzhou's winter days were damp and cold, the young man seemed utterly unaffected by the bone-chilling seawater. Slowly, he unwrapped the leather, his eyes fixed on the object in his palm.
A jade seal, its knob entwined with five dragons, inscribed with the eight seal-script characters: "Mandated by Heaven, Longevity and Eternal Prosperity." Untouched by even a speck of dust, under the bright moonlight, the jade's luster was so radiant it made the palm holding it appear translucent, tinged with a faint flesh tone.
This was the Imperial Seal of the Realm, the nation's most sacred treasure since the Qin dynasty. For a thousand years, it had appeared and disappeared intermittently, with emperors of every dynasty viewing its possession as a divine mandate.When Great Wei was founded, the founding emperor obtained the Imperial Seal of the Realm by chance and was overjoyed. He kept it hidden in the Hall of Primordial Beginning within the palace. During every grand ceremony to worship heaven, the seal would be brought out to stamp the imperial edicts, signifying the divine mandate bestowed upon him.
Yet when the current Yongxi Emperor ascended the throne, doubts arose incessantly precisely because he lacked this Imperial Seal of the Realm, the symbol of imperial authority.
It was said that after the Young Emperor Xiao Yu fell from his horse and died during a hunt, this Imperial Seal of the Realm mysteriously vanished as well.
By the side of this embankment, where people came and went during the day, no one would have guessed that for the past three years, it had been wrapped in a piece of cowhide and hidden in a hollow eroded by the sea beneath.
With each rise and fall of the tide, it lay quietly and alone in the darkness, much like its owner—this young man.
The young man stared at the seal in his hand for a long while, then suddenly curled his lips in a self-mocking smile and muttered to himself, "What use is keeping you now? Better to let you go with the tide—free and unbound, wandering the four seas, better than hiding in the shadows, never seeing the light of day!"
He climbed back onto the embankment, stood tall, and with a sudden sweep of his arm, prepared to hurl the seal into the night tide under the moonlight.
Once it entered the sea, the surging waves would carry it away, and this treasure would sink forever into the depths, never to return.
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