The imperial maritime ban had been in place for six or seven years, and Quanzhou, this ancient city that had once prospered because of the sea, had now completely declined for the same reason. The two tightly closed doors at the entrance of the Maritime Trade Office had peeling paint and rusty locks. The old ships moored at the harbor, unable to withstand wind and rain, were gradually rotting away.
From once eagerly anticipating to now having lost all hope, no one mentioned the reopening of maritime trade anymore. The city’s population had sharply decreased. Over the years, except for the old Quanzhou residents who had lived there for generations, others had left in search of livelihood. The streets and alleys no longer bustled with activity as they had during the prosperous maritime trade era.
Springs departed and autumns arrived, with only the coral trees blooming and falling, year after year, in an endless cycle.
With the decline of the ancient city, the once-flourishing Zhen family had also fallen into obscurity.
In the past, when people mentioned the Zhen family, they spoke of them as Quanzhou magnates. Their daughter had married a golden turtle son-in-law at the Emperor’s court, and even the old matriarch had received an imperial title. The entire family was honored—who wouldn’t envy them? Even now, Quanzhou residents remembered the bustling scene when an auspicious sign from heaven was taken from the Zhen family shipyard and presented amidst gongs and drums. That glorious moment had stunned the entire city, and the old Quanzhou people still recalled it vividly.
Ironically, that scene seemed to mark the pinnacle of the Zhen family’s glory, which abruptly ended afterward.
For a period, everyone in Quanzhou spread rumors that the Zhen family’s son-in-law had offended the Emperor and was banished to the frontier. Since then, the Zhen family’s doorstep had grown desolate, with no more official sedan chairs coming and going. Although in the past two years, news gradually spread that the son-in-law surnamed Pei had been reemployed by the court, his official position was far less prestigious than his former one in the capital. He guarded the border city against the northern nomads, and the Zhen daughter had followed him there. After some sighing, the matter was forgotten, and gradually, no one mentioned it anymore.
As for the Zhen family members, they had experienced several rises and falls over the years. They had known the flattery of local officials eagerly visiting to curry favor when they were prosperous, and they had also witnessed how people would avoid them when their gate was as quiet as a crow’s roost. Through these ups and downs, they had managed to maintain their principles. They dismissed many servants and workers from their homes and shipyard who were no longer needed, closed their main gate, and became self-sufficient. The gate hadn’t been opened for years; family members entered and exited through the side door. Now, with the old matriarch aging and frail, the lady of the house, Madam Meng, though a widow with a naturally gentle disposition, managed the household quite well. Zhang Da looked after the outer estate, while her daughter-in-law helped with domestic affairs. Although her son had no great abilities and occasionally caused trouble, he was extremely filial. In recent years, he had been blessed with both a son and a daughter. Most notably, the orphans and widows from the shipyard still received support from the Zhen family. Mentioning this, the old Quanzhou people would give thumbs up, praising the Zhen family’s kindness.
That afternoon, a fast horse galloped toward the Quanzhou city gate along the yellow mud road from the direction of the Fujian Circuit.
The rider was a messenger from the Fujian Circuit office. Entering the city gate, he galloped toward the prefectural office while shouting: “Imperial decree! The maritime ban is lifted! Imperial decree! The maritime ban is lifted!”
Like still water suddenly stirred into waves, passersby stopped in their tracks. The fabric shop owner, who had been dozing off behind his counter, ran out. Several women who had been sitting at their doorsteps in the sun, sewing shoe soles, stood up. A child rolling an iron hoop dropped it. Two cart drivers who were about to fight after a collision also stopped.
Everyone stared at the rapidly disappearing messenger, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Gradually, more and more people ran out of their homes, passing on the news, their faces showing a mixture of wild joy and disbelief. Some began chasing after the messenger. The news spread from one to ten, ten to a hundred, and before long, the entire city was in an uproar. People put down their work and rushed toward the prefectural office, gathering at the entrance, craning their necks, discussing excitedly, waiting for definite news.
By evening, an official announcement bearing the bright red official seal was posted overnight on the pavilion in front of the prefectural office. Yamen runners beat drums and gongs, patrolling the streets while loudly proclaiming the official announcement. The door of the Maritime Trade Office, tightly closed for many years, opened that night with a creaking sound, its hinges having been eaten by insects. Before dark, the news had spread throughout the city: the court would soon reopen the Maritime Trade Office and restore overseas trade at various southeastern ports, including Quanzhou.
People smiled with joy, beating drums and gongs, pouring into the streets. In the southeastern sky, with a sudden whistling sound, a firework soared up. It exploded in midair, blossoming into a brilliant flower. Someone had prematurely set off fireworks meant for the New Year. Then, more and more fireworks rose into the night sky, illuminating the harbor outside the city that had been lonely for many years.
That night, the entire Quanzhou city was boiling with excitement, immersed in a sea of joy. Even the city gates were exceptionally open, as many people, unable to wait, were already heading to the seaside with lanterns to check on their large and small vessels that had been empty for years. The officials accommodated the public sentiment and kept the city gates open all night.
The Zhen family’s home was also brightly lit. Madam Meng personally went to the old matriarch’s room to share the good news.
The old matriarch was now deaf and had poor eyesight, but her mind was still clear. Hearing the news, she leaned on her cane and slowly walked to the window, looking at the bursts of fireworks in the distant night sky, murmuring, “Is this a sign of changing times? Good news… good news…”
Zhen Yaoting called for Zhang Da and two servants, brought out firecrackers and fireworks, and led his now five-year-old twins—his son nicknamed Ping’er and his daughter named Xiji’er—to celebrate and wish for the safety and happiness of his sister and brother-in-law far away at the frontier. He opened the main gate that had been closed for many years and set off fireworks and firecrackers. The two children covered their ears and hid behind their father, scared but laughing with joy. After setting off all the fireworks and firecrackers, he led his children back inside, happily.
As the night deepened, the crowds gathered in the streets and alleys gradually dispersed, but the city lights remained on. Many families—fathers with sons, brothers with brothers, old colleagues with old colleagues—began planning their livelihoods after the reopening of the port under lamplight. The Zhen family was no different. Zhang Da called back those old colleagues who were still in the city, and together with the master Zhen Yaoting, more than a dozen people sat around a square table, lit by oil lamps, discussing matters, each with excitement on their faces.
Yuzhu and the cook prepared some late-night snacks and brought them outside, asking the cook to take them in while she returned to her room. Suddenly, she heard a shout from outside: “Madam! Young Master! Young Mistress! The son-in-law and young lady have returned!”
Madam Meng didn’t even have time to put on her shoes properly. She led her son and daughter-in-law rushing out. Zhang Da followed with a lantern. When they reached the second gate, they saw a pair of figures approaching from the opposite side, both dressed in ordinary travel clothes. The man was nearly thirty, wearing a woven bamboo hat and a plain outer robe. Beneath the brim of his hat, his face was thin, his brow gentle, his eyes deep. Beside him was a woman in her early twenties, wrapped in a silver fox fur hooded cloak. They were none other than Pei You’an and Jia Fu, the couple not seen for many years.
Jia Fu called out “Mother” and ran forward.
“A’Fu!”
Madam Meng felt as if she were in a dream, unable to believe her eyes. Her daughter, separated from her for many years, had suddenly returned and was now before her.
She held her daughter tightly, tears falling—seven parts joy, three parts sorrow. As mother and daughter embraced in tears, Yuzhu’s eyes also reddened. She went to greet Pei You’an. Zhen Yaoting, standing nearby, spoke a few words of persuasion, and Madam Meng came to her senses. Seeing Pei You’an approach, knowing he wanted to pay his respects, she quickly wiped away her tears, released Jia Fu, and went forward, saying joyfully: “It’s good that you’ve returned! It’s good that you’re back! Just today, the officials brought news that the court has lifted the maritime ban. With you two returning tonight, it’s truly a double blessing. Let’s all go inside!”
Pei You’an and Jia Fu entered, conversed anew, and then went to see the old matriarch. That night, Jia Fu stayed by Madam Meng’s side, just as she had on the night before her wedding. Mother and daughter shared the same bed, knee to knee, with endless conversation and emotions, laughing and crying. It was well past midnight when Madam Meng finally escorted her daughter back to her room.
Pei You’an was still sitting by the lamp, holding a scroll, his gaze fixed, the pages unturned for a long time. Hearing footsteps outside the door, he put down the book, rose to open the door, and welcomed Jia Fu into the room.
The couple lay together, heads touching. Jia Fu closed her eyes for a moment, then slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and said softly, “Elder Cousin, I’m a bit afraid…”
Early the next morning, they would go to Golden Dragon Island. The exceptional youth of years past, because of a spark of undying fire in his heart, had become a broken-winged kite, losing his freedom, confined in the narrow cage of Golden Dragon Island.
Day after day, year after year. What would that youth look like when they met again? Would that vibrant spirit in his eyes, which had captivated her at first sight, remain?
At this moment, before Jia Fu’s eyes appeared the scene of Ci’er babbling as he learned to speak, calling her “Mother” for the first time in his childish voice. In her heart, she suddenly felt a vague fear, as if she were about to lose something.
She knew her husband, lying beside her pillow, must understand the source of her fear.
He gazed into her eyes for a long time, then slowly drew her into his embrace, kissing her slightly reddened eyelids.
“Sleep,” he coaxed her softly, his voice exceptionally gentle.
…
Early the next morning, as dawn broke, Pei You’an took Jia Fu to the Naval Camp Port. Dong Chengmao and Li Yuangui were already waiting there. The couple boarded a large ship, and the sailors raised the sails and rowed toward the open sea.
The day the large ship approached Golden Dragon Island, it was near dusk. The sea surface under the setting sun shimmered with golden scales. Jia Fu stood at the bow, using a spyglass to gaze at the black landmass ahead, which was becoming clearer. In her view, the outline of a large ship gradually appeared. Drawing closer, she finally saw clearly that on a flat sandy beach by the sea stood a brand-new Fu ship, completely black-lacquered, with a pointed head and wide stern, both ends rising high. The ship was about nine zhang long, with small sails at the front and back, and a main sail in the middle. From a distance, the mast looked tall, as if touching the clouds. A figure was standing at the top of the main mast.
The golden rays of the setting sun shone on the white sail beneath the figure’s feet, as if outlining a golden-edged painting. That figure, still not entirely clear, was like a moving landscape within the painting. Yet he seemed unaware, one arm hugging the mast, the other reaching out, his head bowed as if focusing on arranging the cables at the top of the mast.
Jia Fu’s heartbeat quickened slightly. She turned to look at Pei You’an beside her. His eyes were fixed, watching the busy, indistinct figure atop the sail.
The large ship drew closer and closer, entering the warning distance. A command flag slowly rose from the bow, fluttering in the wind. On the lookout tower, the seasonally rotated guards observed through spyglasses and sent clearance signals to the artillery battery hidden behind the reef island.
The large ship proceeded unhindered, docking at the shore. Through her spyglass, Jia Fu could now clearly see the busy figure atop the sail—a young man with dark skin and an agile physique.
On the deck, an old man who looked like a veteran shipwright sat cross-legged, smoking a water pipe and resting. He saw the official ship coming from the sea, stood up, walked beneath the sail, and knocked twice on the mast.
The figure at the top of the sail finally noticed the disturbance from the sea behind him.
He paused his work, slowly turned his head, and squinted against the slightly dazzling golden sunset, looking at the ship drawing closer across the sea.
His figure froze. Suddenly, he abruptly released the dozen or so cables he had yet to secure around his arm. Without its tether, the sail fell suddenly like a kite that had lost the wind, dropping along the mast. The figure slid rapidly down with it, quickly reaching the deck. Before he could steady himself, he turned and rushed to the high, dragon-headed prow, somersaulted off the bow, and like an agile leopard, rolled onto the sandy beach, immediately sprang up, and ran barefoot toward the sea.
Pei You’an quickly descended from the deck, stepped onto the beach, and strode toward the young man running toward him.
This was Xiao Yu.
The long imprisonment had transformed him from a boy of fifteen or sixteen into the young man of twenty he was today.
The vast Golden Dragon Island had become his cage since that sea battle many years ago. On the island, apart from the regularly rotated guards, only a mute old shipwright kept him company.
When he was first imprisoned here, he was asked if he had any requests. The youth had remained silent for a long time before finally saying he wanted to build a Fu ship capable of ocean voyages.
His request was granted. Over the years, all the materials needed for shipbuilding, according to his requirements, had been transported across the sea to this place. Along with those materials came the mute old shipwright whom he called Uncle An.
Uncle An was an old sailor who was also skilled in shipbuilding. He had built countless warships for the imperial shipyard. Over these years, under the guidance of this mute Uncle An, the youth began to build his sea vessel. He smoothed each piece of wood, shaping it as needed.
Beams, planks, deck boards, rudder shafts, oars…
The long days of imprisonment flowed like water through his fingers.
The Fu ship gradually took shape, becoming what it is today, and the youth from those days had, through daily toil, grown into the young men of today.
Xiao Yu ran up to Pei You’an. With just a few steps remaining, he suddenly stopped, staring at Pei You’an motionlessly.
Pei You’an strode to him.
“Yu’er!”
He extended both hands, gripping Xiao Yu’s arms tightly.
“Master!”
Xiao Yu paused, then fell onto his shoulder, tears instantly filling his eyes.
Pei You’an tightly embraced this former student who was now as tall as himself.
“Ah—”
Xiao Yu suddenly tilted his head back and let out a long howl, as if venting his current emotions. The howl, carried by the sea breeze, traveled far.
Tears gradually welled in Pei You’an’s eyes as well. He gently patted Xiao Yu’s back: “Yu’er, your master came late, leaving you to endure such hardships and grievances…”
Xiao Yu abruptly stopped howling, wiped away the tears on his face, and grinned at Pei You’an, revealing a set of white, even teeth.
“Master! This was not hardship or grievance! I accepted everything willingly back then! I’m just happy! I never thought that in this lifetime, I would see my master and teacher’s wife again…”
He looked toward Jia Fu, who had disembarked and approached, standing nearby, smiling at him. He gazed at her for a moment, smiled slightly, and nodded, then took Pei You’an’s hand and led him toward the Fu ship with large strides.
“Master, look, this is the Fu ship I’ve built with my own hands over these years, piece by piece from wood! Master, you know astronomy above and geography below, but no matter how much you know, I bet you don’t know which types of wood are used for which parts of a ship! Beams and masts can use evergreen oak or camphor wood, but if using camphor, it cannot be harvested in spring or summer, or it will become powder-eaten over time. Deck boards can be made from any wood, but for rudder shafts, elm or palm wood is needed. Oars can be made from fir, cypress, or catalpa wood. And for the keel and main mast…”
Xiao Yu led Pei You’an quickly up to the ship’s deck.
“They must be made from precious teak! It resists sun and rain, withstands fire, and won’t be eaten by termites. Master, the keel and main mast of my Fu ship are extremely sturdy. I just completed them a few days ago! In the future, if this Fu ship can sail the sea, it will not fear winds and waves. Even after decades, it will not rot!”
Xiao Yu stroked the thick mast and turned to look at Pei You’an, his eyes shining with pride.
“Young Master—”
Dong Chengmao, who had come along, also quickly boarded the deck and was about to kneel to Xiao Yu, but was pulled up by him.
Xiao Yu looked Dong Chengmao over and laughed heartily: “General Dong, you’ve come too? How goes the fight against the pirates? Do you know that my only regret these past few years was not being able to join you in fighting the pirates!”
Tears glistened in Dong Chengmao’s eyes: “Thanks to the Young Master’s blessing, the pirate threat has been eliminated, and the court has lifted the maritime ban. Coastal people everywhere are rejoicing.”
Xiao Yu laughed loudly: “Good!” He then looked toward Li Yuangui, who had been standing silently to one side, showing a slightly puzzled expression.
Li Yuangui said: “Young Master, His Majesty has issued a decree. Years ago, His Majesty promised the realm that if the Young Emperor was found, he would be welcomed back to the capital. His Majesty has commanded this old servant to accompany the two masters here to fulfill that promise. He requests the Young Master to return to the capital immediately. His Majesty will personally welcome the Young Master at the outskirts, choose a day to worship at the ancestral temple, announce to the world, and restore the Young Master to the throne, to uphold the way of Heaven.”
“Young Master!”
Dong Chengmao knelt, his face showing excitement.
Xiao Yu’s figure stiffened, his expression gradually becoming solemn. Suddenly, he looked at Pei You’an and said: “Master, I want to speak with you privately.”
…
The next morning, as the sun rose over the sea, the brand-new Fu ship was launched with the rising tide. Xiao Yu and old Uncle An raised the sails, using the wind power to gradually sail away across the sea.
Xiao Yu stood tall at the bow, waving his arms and calling loudly to Pei You’an and Jia Fu, who was seeing him off: “Master, Teacher’s Wife! One day, after I have traveled the four seas and the world, I will return to visit you!”
Li Yuangui knelt, bowing respectfully toward the direction of Xiao Yu’s departure, then stood up.
Jia Fu watched Xiao Yu’s gradually diminishing figure, recalling what he had said to Pei You’an.
He had said, “Master, over these years, though I could not leave this place at all, my heart was never imprisoned, and it has never been more peaceful.
“Master, I am a selfish person. When I returned to the capital back then, I sought only my peace of mind. Now, my heart cannot accommodate the myriad people under heaven.
“Master, in this world, though seven or eight parts may not be as one wishes, the remaining two or three good parts are enough to make one’s heart yearn for them. I ask you to support me. From now on, with long winds breaking waves, cloud sails on the blue sea, my life will not have been lived in vain!”
She also thought of Ci’er far away in the capital, and the feeling of unease in her heart grew stronger.
At this moment, where was Ci’er, and what was he doing?
…
The South was gradually entering spring, but thousands of miles away in the capital, winter still lingered, with snow falling.
The Emperor had suspended court sessions for nearly a month the previous month, claiming illness. None of the officials had been granted an audience, causing great anxiety. Finally, the Emperor had appeared again the previous month, and the officials had been relieved.
Since then, however, the Emperor’s health has rapidly declined. He had difficulty walking and needed a cane. He no longer held daily court sessions; if there were matters to discuss, he would summon people to the Imperial Study.
On this day, after Xiao Lie had finished discussing matters and the officials had departed, he called Ci’er, who had been sitting quietly behind a screen.
Ci’er sat in his place, reading and writing. The Emperor was reviewing memorials. Cui Yinshui carefully added a few pieces of silver charcoal to the fire, making the room warm and very quiet.
“Grandfather Emperor, what does this mean? ‘The ancients who were good at governing the world calculated great matters without calculating small ones, focused on virtue without focusing on punishment, thought of danger when secure, considered harm when seeking benefit, and thus could long enjoy blessings and emoluments.'”
Ci’er held a book he had taken from the Imperial Study, came to the Emperor’s side, and asked.
Xiao Lie glanced at it and explained with a smile.
Ci’er seemed to half-understand, nodded, thought for a moment, and asked again: “Grandfather Emperor, I often hear officials talk about ‘the world under heaven.’ What exactly is this world under heaven?”
Xiao Lie thought for a moment, put down his brush, and ordered someone to bring ordinary outdoor clothes. After being helped into them, he put a cloak on Ci’er and placed a fluffy rabbit hat on his head.
“Grandfather Emperor, have my father and mother returned? Are we going out of the palace to meet them?” Ci’er showed a joyful expression.
Xiao Lie stroked his head: “Grandfather Emperor is taking you out of the palace to see what is meant by ‘the world under heaven.'”