Chapter 98

What Caesar didn’t know was that from the moment he gave the order to set sail, Miguel had been watching him—until he and the Wind Fury had completely disappeared from his line of sight.

Miguel stood on the beach, pulling off his waterlogged riding boots. As if to accompany the sound of the seawater pouring out of the boots and returning to the sea, the Wind Fury’s sails billowed in the distance. Miguel looked up. Even though the ship was now far away, he could still hear the sound of the wind filling the sails, echoing in his ears.

Tossing the boots aside, he plopped down on the soft, white sand. A small crab crawled out of the sand pile beside his hand, scurrying sideways and leaving a tiny trail in the sand—just as it was about to reach the water, a slender, pale hand suddenly snatched it up. The crab’s claws flailed as the young woman dropped it into her cherry-like mouth.

The crunching sound and the way her cheek bulged as she chewed made Miguel feel the urge to push this foolish girl, who was inexplicably smug, back into the sea.

Chicken-flavored, crunchy.

“Hey, loser, I know there are things you can’t bring yourself to say,” Zhizhi’s small, pale toes dug into the sand as she hopped lightly, kicking up soft grains. In a couple of bounds, she was beside Miguel, squatting down and hugging her knees. She nudged the black-haired young man. “But you need to know, if you miss the chance, you’ll never be able to say it.”

“…”

The Wind Fury had become a tiny dot on the horizon. Miguel stared blankly at the fading fleet, not responding to Zhizhi’s words.

“Some people are like that. If you don’t reach out and grab them, you might have to wait countless tomorrows for them to turn back,” Zhizhi tilted her head, seeing that Miguel wasn’t reacting. “Especially those who are slower than others in this regard—they might never look back, even until they die, and you’ll just end up waiting for nothing.”

“…Didn’t I try to grab him?” Miguel seemed to finally snap out of his daze, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I practically threw myself at him, grabbing his legs, pulling his sleeves, and dragging his pants, begging him to stop—but he ignored me. What else could I do?”

“You didn’t try hard enough.”

“I risked my life. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s fate,” Zhizhi reached out and slung an arm around the black-haired young man’s shoulder. “Though it’s not written in the prophecy book, I think you two aren’t done yet—believe me, I’ve done so many jobs, but being a sea witch was the one I was most comfortable with. I’ve lived for over a hundred years. Even without the gift of foresight, I can see some things clearly.”

Miguel: “…”

Zhizhi patted his shoulder: “You two definitely won’t end like this.”

Miguel: “…”

Zhizhi: “So keep trying, young man.”

Miguel: “…”

Zhizhi smiled and went to gather some wood from the edge of the jungle behind them. They didn’t have any fire starters, so they had to resort to the tedious task of rubbing sticks together to create a flame. The work was monotonous and time-consuming, so at Zhizhi’s urging, Miguel began recounting his entire story with Caesar, from beginning to end, as if telling a tale.

…

Miguel started with that summer night in the Mediterranean Sea, when he stepped on a half-dead pirate—Caesar had appeared like some strange alien creature, suddenly and without warning, at a specific point in Miguel’s life… They couldn’t communicate, and Caesar was blind, yet Miguel had taken this odd creature home.

From then on, his small, lonely cabin gained an extra set of bowls and chopsticks; when he went to the market, he suddenly had things he wanted to buy—bandages, fresh water, fruits—all carefully selected and then proudly dumped onto the lap of the man who couldn’t yet see; he gave him a new name, a name that had nothing to do with the man’s past, known only to Miguel himself; and at night, listening to the music and dancing of Djerba Island, he would press his face against the back of the man who always turned away from him, listening to his heartbeat as he fell asleep peacefully.

It was like Robinson meeting his Friday.

Caesar’s presence had subtly shaken Miguel’s world, and his previous mindset of just waiting to die after transmigrating had suddenly collapsed—for the first time, he felt the desire to live well.

Because in this world where even the language was unfamiliar, he suddenly felt like he wasn’t alone anymore.

“You were just too lonely,” Zhizhi quickly spun the stick in her hands, not looking up as she commented, her small nose twitching as she caught the faint smell of burning wood.

Miguel was stunned by her words.

“Don’t pretend to space out just to slack off,” Zhizhi rolled her eyes. “Get to work—and keep telling the story.”

“…”

Staring at the two dry sticks that were starting to spark under Zhizhi’s hands, Miguel suddenly felt like he had so much he wanted to say to Caesar—so much that it would take three days and nights to say it all. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say, but he just wanted to look into those amber eyes and have a proper conversation, like an old couple, chatting endlessly.

…

First, he wanted Big Dog to thank him.

He wanted Big Dog to thank him for the three barrels of fresh water, all the bandages, and the clean, white sheets that didn’t need disinfecting—without them, the Black Sea Wolf’s dog life might have ended forever six months ago; he wanted Big Dog to thank him for the first accurate weather forecast that allowed the Wind Fury to continue its pursuit of the Hornet, which led to obtaining the Spanish royal nautical map; he wanted Big Dog to thank him for pretending to be careless, which allowed him to discover the use of the Sinan Fish and eventually find the Fountain of Youth… Perhaps it would have left the man, who was determined to break his family’s curse, with lifelong regret, but at least his resume would have ended with the words “died of old age.”

…

Then he wanted to scold Big Dog.

He wanted to scold Big Dog for being absent from his life once again. Miguel felt like his life had returned to its original trajectory. He had struggled so hard to return to this unfamiliar environment for the man, and yet the man hadn’t fulfilled his duty of raising the sails and being his shield; he wanted to scold Big Dog for the fact that he had been injured over and over again for him—his arm broken, his head cracked open like a summer watermelon—and yet the man who was supposed to bandage his wounds hadn’t stayed to do so, leaving the wounds on his back to ache, possibly infected, or maybe it was just psychological; he wanted to scold him for not staying to watch the stars, the moon, the waves, or to talk about life, dreams, values, and the future until dawn; he wanted to scold him for not even staying to watch a single sunrise or sunset at sea with him.

…

And finally, he wanted to thank Big Dog.

He wanted to thank him for never letting go of the plank, even though he had threatened to throw him into the sea countless times; he wanted to thank him for always coming to his rescue, even though he had repeatedly warned him not to run around during battles, and yet when he did run around and got himself into trouble, the man had always descended like a hero, cursing as he pulled him out of danger, pretending it was just a coincidence; he wanted to thank him for pretending to whip him in front of the entire crew while secretly going easy on him, and for slathering him with the best ointments on the ship, even though he acted like he didn’t care; he wanted to thank him for not being cut out to be a good father, yet still supervising his pretend paralysis every day, making him crawl around on the carpet like a dead man, even though he had so many other things to do.

…

From now on, if no one would ever complain about him being annoying.

From now on, if he would never hear that resounding “trash” again.

From now on, if no one would ever tell him to get lost.

From now on, if no one could ever make him feel safe.

From now on, if…

They had met by chance.

And ended beyond chance.

…

The last rays of sunlight slowly faded on the horizon, and as the final glimmer was swallowed by the sea, night finally fell. Beside him, the small flame they had managed to ignite flickered, not as warm as it would have been in the enclosed cabin of a ship, but it still provided a bit of warmth to the outer layers of his skin.

Miguel suddenly felt that even this small amount of warmth was enough to keep someone alive.

“Hey?”

“What?—You’ve been slacking off the entire time we were starting the fire. What gives you the right to call me in such a cocky tone? At least have some gratitude for using the fire I started, you jerk!”

“I’m heartbroken, okay?”

“Pfft, I’m not your daughter, and Caesar’s not my dad. Why should I care about your breakup?”

“Where’s the lively, cute, considerate, and gentle Zhizhi?!”

“She died the moment you flew off the side of the Wind Fury like a pancake and splashed into the water.”

“…We’re not done, right?”

“Right, I’m not done with you.”

“Who said I was talking about you—besides, it’s not like we can just end things now, right?” Miguel raised an eyebrow. “This island’s so small, I could smell it if you farted from the other side.”

“I-I don’t fart secretly!” Zhizhi bristled.

“Tell me, do you really think Caesar and I can have a happy extra chapter?”

“Yeah.”

“How do I write that happy extra chapter?”

“Chase him.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to chase him to?”

“Wherever he goes, you chase him there.”

“And then?”

“Then? As long as you’re still alive, and he’s still alive, that’s your happy extra chapter.”