The anxiety and eagerness weighing on San Zai and Fang Senyan were identical; they dashed toward a small hut by the sea. The structure looked precarious and dilapidated, seemingly ready to collapse with the next strong typhoon. San Zai impatiently shoved the door open, about to shout, but Fang Senyan yanked him back, clamping a hand over his mouth.

The hut comprised only one room, with the cooking area tucked beneath the eaves near the main entrance. Against the left wall, where the plaster was crumbling away, sat a makeshift bed constructed from stone blocks and wooden planks. A worn quilt, its stuffing fraying at the edges, covered the sleeper, the end fluttering slightly in the salty sea breeze, revealing white hair. Shallow breaths indicated the patient was deep in slumber.

Beside the bed was a wooden stool holding half a bowl of dried congee, around which several flies buzzed persistently. Fang Senyan’s eyes immediately burned with a sharp, acidic pain as he spotted the corner of a bandage, soiled with dried blood, peeking out from under the bedding. At that moment, Fourth Uncle Da must have heard the commotion; he painfully propped himself up halfway in the bed and turned his head to look over.

In that instant, Fang Senyan’s mind went blank. He felt the weight of the items in his hand multiply into tons; his grip trembled uncontrollably. The luggage clattered to the floor, and his vision blurred. For a suspended moment, the entire world seemed to shrink down to those two deeply weathered yet gentle eyes.

“Fourth Uncle Da!”

Fang Senyan finally collapsed before the bed, sobbing without restraint. All the hardships and storms endured since their separation, the fragility and pain forcibly suppressed deep within his core, erupted in a flood. In front of others, he could only maintain his strength, lest he be underestimated. But here, before this man—who had shielded him from the elements selflessly for nearly twenty years, a man who was more father than uncle—he could finally weep, he could finally release everything.

Seeing Fang Senyan, Fourth Uncle Da’s eyes welled up with tears too. He repeatedly murmured, “It’s good that you’ve returned, good that you’ve returned.”

After the father and son exchanged accounts of their time apart, Fang Senyan hid nothing, recounting everything save the details related to the Nightmare Space. Hearing how Fang Senyan had killed and fled for his life, Fourth Uncle Da couldn't help but worry about his future, which required Fang Senyan to offer ample reassurance. With Fang Senyan’s return, the worry lifted from Fourth Uncle Da’s heart, and, exhausted, he drifted back into a deep sleep while Fang Senyan was still speaking.

During the days San Zai had been away, Fourth Uncle Da was looked after thanks to Granny Zeng next door, so Fang Senyan, now the pillar of the household, naturally needed to express his gratitude. He also had to pay his respects to Uncle Da. By the time these small chores were finished, it was evening, and he was soaked to the bone by the rain on his return journey. Back home, seeing Fourth Uncle Da’s pale face shivering constantly, Fang Senyan quickly started a fire and brought him a steaming bowl of brown sugar and ginger soup. The whole family drank it down. A few gulps of the scalding soup seemed to warm their very viscera, and Fourth Uncle Da immediately felt much better, finally sleeping soundly again.

The room only had one bed, so Fang Senyan and San Zai made a pallet on the floor. They had done this countless times on boats before; it hardly counted as hardship. Listening to Fourth Uncle Da’s gradually evening out snores, Fang Senyan’s own mind began to settle. Outside, the rain drifted down, and gusts of cold air, sharp with chilling intensity, pierced the bone. San Zai shivered inside his thin blanket, so Fang Senyan simply draped his own blanket over him. Though a data-enhanced body wasn't immune to the elements, the current temperature of fifteen or sixteen degrees Celsius was easily negligible.

The next morning, when Fang Senyan awoke, the sky was dim, and he assumed it was still early. Upon listening closely, he discerned the crisp sound of water gathering on the thatched roof and dripping onto the oiled paper sheet outside, mixed with the faint, muffled noises of a nearby farm. He instantly realized it wasn't dawn yet, but rather the weather’s sheer brutality obscuring the light.

The room had been too dark the previous day for him to notice the details. Now, Fang Senyan surveyed his surroundings: crude earth-and-brick walls, much of the whitewash flaked away, and several dust-covered, yellowed New Year prints—stuck on with congee—whose corners were curled up. The uneven floor was hard-packed dirt. The roof lacked even a simple ceiling; only a slightly slanted beam supported seven or eight rafters, which were thatched with decayed mountain grass, darkened and blackened by years of exposure, along with a plastic sheet San Zai had hastily hung up—otherwise, the rain would surely pour down everywhere.

“We can’t live here anymore,” Fang Senyan half-sat up from the floor pallet, leaning toward San Zai and lowering his voice. “Anyone staying here would get sick, let alone with Fourth Uncle Da still recovering from his injuries?”

San Zai was also awake and replied with a hint of grievance: “I’ve told Fourth Uncle Da many times, but he says the remaining money is our nest egg for wives, and we can’t touch it.”

Fang Senyan directly pulled San Zai out under the eaves, speaking with impatience: “I’ll handle the money. Fourth Uncle Da is stubborn, and we can agree with him on most things, but on this, my word is final. Didn’t I see those small, detached houses nearby when I arrived? We need one of those! I see Granny Zeng looks after Fourth Uncle quite well; once you sort out the housing, go hire her. Ask her how much spare cash she has monthly; we’ll offer her double to come and look after him.”

San Zai was efficient, but inherently lacked initiative, regardless of his age—it was simply his nature. However, once a task was assigned, he handled it perfectly. After speaking, Fang Senyan tossed several stacks of money to the meek San Zai, instructing him to manage the trifles of renting a place and buying furniture. Then, he went to the stove under the back eaves, cooked sugar-sweetened eggs for Fourth Uncle Da, and brought them in to feed the patient. He sat beside him, eating his own breakfast from a bowl, and chatted casually, engaging Fourth Uncle Da in light conversation.

During their talk, Fourth Uncle Da inquired about Fang Senyan’s plans for the future. Fang Senyan had already drafted a plan; he would have brought it up even if asked. He immediately lowered his voice: “Uncle, after I shook off Hua Shanfei’s men that day, I decided to go all the way. While their base was unguarded, I slipped back in and, by chance, stole a shipment of their goods. I took it to Hong Kong and sold it through an acquaintance! You could call it a blessing in disguise. I got back over three million Hong Kong dollars. It’s a pity you’re still sick, Uncle, or we could start the business right away.”

Fourth Uncle Da looked puzzled: “Start what business?”

Fang Senyan feigned surprise: “Start chartering a ship, of course! I’ve made my living on the water my whole life. If I don't run a boat, how will I avoid spending what I have? Fuyuan is still reasonably maintained, but she’s been tossed by the sea for fifteen or sixteen years. Selling her off is fine; we can commission a new ship. But I have other things to manage; who has time to watch those workers for cutting corners? San Zai definitely can’t be trusted with this; how can we manage without you, old man, keeping an eye on things?”

The moment the word ‘ship’ was mentioned, Fourth Uncle Da’s spirits lifted: “Three million Hong Kong dollars? That’s enough to build a very fine vessel! Uncle Da knows the contacts! How big are you thinking of building?”

Fang Senyan knew Fourth Uncle Da’s lifelong dream and immediately chimed in: “I think the 77 specifications would be excellent. Since our boat will likely be going overseas, the horsepower needs to be over a thousand!”

The 77 specification meant a steel-hulled trawler with a length of forty-nine meters—Fourth Uncle Da’s ultimate dream. His face literally seemed to glow: “That’s a splendid idea.”

“Yes,” Fang Senyan affirmed seriously. “That’s why I think you, old man, need to recover as quickly as possible. If you aren't there to supervise those scoundrels building the hull, how dare I put down a deposit? When the rain stops this afternoon, we’ll go check on you at the hospital. The sooner you’re well, the sooner we build the boat.”

Hearing Fang Senyan say this, Fourth Uncle Da hesitated for a moment, then agreed. His real internal struggle had been the belief that he was now useless, squandering money on his own treatment. Once he found renewed purpose, the desire to live naturally returned.

Having successfully sparked Fourth Uncle Da’s will to live and his interest, Fang Senyan finally let out a long, deep sigh of relief. As long as Fourth Uncle Da cooperated, everything else would fall into place smoothly. After two days of systematic treatment at the hospital, combined with Fourth Uncle Da’s generally robust constitution, his condition improved significantly. To ease his mind, Fang Senyan really did use Uncle Da’s connections to place an order for a steel-hulled trawler and get the paperwork started.

Five days had now passed in the real world, and everything was on track. Concerned about matters in the Space, as the power from the Nightmare Space was his current foundation, Fang Senyan called Jessica using the number stored in his memory. The spoiled girl immediately complained about why he hadn't answered his phone before, then sulkily explained that her house was a mess due to that massive herd of beasts, and the incessant roaring made her afraid to sleep at home.

Fang Senyan was overjoyed by the news. He hung up and immediately sought out Uncle Da, for money truly could make the devil work. After confirming that Fang Senyan, the stowaway, had no criminal record in Taiwan, Uncle Da used five times the normal rate to secure a direct flight ticket to Hong Kong. Three hours later, Fang Senyan arrived at Jessica’s lavish mansion.

Although the incident Fang Senyan caused was major, most of the deceased were gangsters, and Yi Wufu was hardly a saint either, so no aggrieved parties came forward screaming for justice. Thus, the news only circulated within police circles. For the police, what benefit was there in publicizing such a series of murders other than demonstrating incompetence and inciting social panic and unrest? Consequently, they kept it quiet, investigating only in secret. Therefore, Fang Senyan found absolutely no trace of the incident in any newspapers or online.

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