The night was pitch black, A furious storm raged. The surging waves of the sea slammed against the reefs with savage force, as if threatening to tear the very land apart in the next moment. The orange-red balloon, tethered more than ten meters above the ground, was already swaying wildly, a sure sign that the typhoon was upon them. Even the sturdy wooden posts anchoring the wind-break ropes were beginning to creak and groan, sounding as if they might snap at any second.

For the secluded port of Siqiao, such dreadful weather wasn't a daily occurrence, perhaps happening three to five times a year. Thus, the residents were accustomed to it, retreating into their shanties to shelter, lighting dim candles to sip Erguotou alongside dried fish. Of course, they also diligently placed basins, oilcloths, and anything capable of warding off dampness beneath the leaks in their roofs. Even so, their bedding inevitably remained perpetually clammy, feeling as if a layer of moisture would cling to the touch.

Amidst this atmosphere, within a dilapidated shack on the west side of Siqiao Town, a fierce fire burned. Piled haphazardly inside were discarded rubber tires—a cheap and effective material for patching boat skins for the impoverished boat people—around which gathered a dozen dark-skinned boatmen whose expressions were alight with excitement. Most were robust men in their twenties and thirties. Only the middle-aged man seated at the very center bore deep, sharply etched wrinkles, as if carved by a blade, and the stubble on his jaw showed streaks of white. His features conveyed a mixture of hardship and kindness; he was clearly the sort of man resigned to the whims of life and fate.

“Ah, ah, if you ask me about today’s catch, San Zai deserves credit, but it was Sen Yan’s shot that hit the mark perfectly!”

The speaker was a young man named Gao Qiang, bearing a scar on his face. He spoke with exaggerated gestures, spittle flying. His words clearly resonated with his companions; many nodded repeatedly, casting looks of admiration toward the young man sitting to his right.

This young man had thick, dark eyebrows, and defined muscle bulged on his arms; he possessed a sturdy physique. Though a hint of impetuous spirit flickered in his eyes, he carried himself with undeniable composure. He was currently lounging casually on a rickety wooden stool, holding a chipped porcelain bowl. Perhaps the water inside was scalding hot, as he had to blow on it before taking a sip. This young man, named "Sen Yan," offered a slight smile upon hearing his name mentioned but remained silent, merely nodding thanks to his comrades before returning to his drink.

“Sen Yan’s shot was undeniable, but I managed to sink nine prongs in it—a full nine!” A burly man with a large nose stepped forward, proclaiming loudly and gesturing animatedly with his hands.

“Damn it all, that beast dragged us for a good thirty li at least! Ten more li and we’d have been caught in this squall.”

A lean, dark middle-aged man huddled in the corner suddenly chimed in with a dry chuckle:

“Big Fourth Brother, the ointment scraped off this time must be close to twenty kilograms, right? Even after drying, it’ll be at least ten kilograms—we’ve hit the jackpot this time! Haven’t you always wanted to give the Fuyuan a major overhaul? This haul is enough for ten overhauls!”

Big Fourth Brother was clearly the middle-aged man. He chuckled good-naturedly at the comment, but undeniable joy radiated from his eyes. Born by the sea, the salty tang of the ocean had soaked into his very bones. He had lived his life virtually married to his boat. Because he had taken in two orphans early on, he had never managed to find a wife, and seemingly had no intention of doing so afterward. Years ago, he had spent his entire life’s savings to acquire the old fishing vessel Fuyuan, only to be swindled; the boat required a major repair immediately after he took possession, leaving him still drowning in debt.

If kindness and honesty were truly favored by fate, Big Fourth Brother would surely be rolling in wealth by now. But the reality was that no matter how tirelessly he labored, he could not escape a life of wandering poverty. However, even the harshest heavens occasionally look kindly upon their subjects. Two days prior, while out at sea, the Fuyuan had encountered a solitary Fat Head Monster!

"Fat Head Monster" was the common vernacular among fishermen in the Guangdong/Guangxi/Hainan region for the renowned Sperm Whale. Its body was short and stocky, its movements slow and clumsy, and its appearance strikingly bizarre, presenting a heavy-headed, light-tailed silhouette. If one were forced to compare it to another creature, a colossal tadpole magnified millions of times might vaguely suffice. The Sperm Whale’s massive head could account for a quarter to a third of its total body length, the entire head resembling a large box. Its blowhole was equally peculiar: only the left nostril was open, situated high and forward, while the right was blocked; consequently, its spout of mist jetted out at a 45-degree angle toward the front left. Experienced fishermen could spot these whales from afar merely by observing this unique spout. Yet, after decades of relentless hunting, the Sperm Whale population had dwindled to only a few hundred globally. In the last five years, the entire South China Sea had only reported three successful hunts of the Fat Head Monster, illustrating its extreme rarity.

It was Ah Fa, the dark and lean man considered Big Fourth Brother’s peer, who first spotted the lone Sperm Whale. All the younger crewmen addressed Big Fourth Brother as "Fourth Uncle." Truthfully, given the outdated equipment aboard the old Fuyuan, there was no way they could tackle such a giant. Fortunately, one of the orphans raised by Fourth Uncle, San Zai, was clever and resourceful. A few days prior, he had scavenged a discarded harpoon gun at the docks, tinkered with it quietly, and managed to make it barely functional. His original intention was only to take some rubber sheets from sharks frequenting the South China Sea; who could have guessed they would encounter the nearly extinct Fat Head Monster?

What followed was a relentless pursuit.

The Fuyuan resolved to seize this heaven-sent opportunity, ignoring the typhoon warnings to fiercely dog the ten-meter-long Sperm Whale amidst the raging waves! However, besides Fourth Uncle, none on board had any experience in whaling. Furthermore, the ship’s mounted cable harpoon gun was nearly derelict, misfiring four times in the turbulence without connecting, which only served to alert the massive creature, which was moments away from diving into the depths.

It was at this critical juncture that Fang Sen Yan, the other orphan raised by Fourth Uncle, sprang forward. His body swayed violently on the heaving deck like a falling leaf, yet his hands gripped the harpoon gun as if welded in place. He aimed for a solid ten seconds, and just as despair settled over everyone, he fired!

That single shot pierced the Sperm Whale’s vital spot!

The dying leviathan, writhing in pain, dragged the Fuyuan for a full thirty nautical miles, staining the surrounding water crimson. But ultimately, it became humanity’s unwilling prize. The heavily laden old Fuyuan miraculously managed to return to Siqiao Port just before the typhoon made landfall. For the Sperm Whale, although its meat, oil, and bones fetched high prices, its most valuable component was the "fragrant ointment" found within its intestines. This was the local fishermen's term for what, once dried, became the famous "Ambergris."

The primary diet of the Sperm Whale consists of squid and cuttlefish. After ingestion, they cannot digest the creatures' sharp beaks or internal endoskeletons. This irritation causes a pathological change in the terminal end of the whale’s large intestine or the beginning of the rectum, resulting in a gray or slightly black secretion. This substance gradually forms a viscous, dark material in the small intestine, stored in the colon and rectum. It smells foul when first extracted but gradually develops a pleasing aroma after storage—this is the so-called Ambergris.

Ambergris contains 25% ambrein, making it a raw material for precious perfumes, the best substance for fixing fragrance in perfumes. It is also used as a valuable traditional Chinese medicine. The Sperm Whale Fourth Uncle hunted was only a little over ten meters long, medium to small in size among its kind. Nevertheless, the resulting yield of Ambergris would fetch a substantial fortune!

The crew remained gathered, chatting and laughing, until deep into the night. They had been at sea fishing for half a month, made more arduous by racing against the typhoon's arrival. Once the excitement of catching the giant subsided, fatigue immediately set in. The rain outside was torrential, and the typhoon was not expected to cease until the next afternoon. Fourth Uncle naturally offered shelter in his shack, letting the men sleep on the floor. These boatmen, hardened by life at sea, didn't mind. However, San Zai and Sen Yan had already moved out separately; they had each built modest shacks near Mazu Temple Street on the northern edge of Siqiao Town, securing their own private space. Despite the fierce wind and rain, covering themselves with oilcloth and walking from one end of town to the other would take little time.

They pushed open the old door, which was reinforced haphazardly with several wooden planks, allowing a gust of cold wind laced with heavy rain to sweep in, immediately causing them both to shiver involuntarily. Even the crewmen already lying down around the central fire grumbled in annoyance. Fang Sen Yan and San Zai, hunched under their oilcloths, braced the door shut. Fourth Uncle hurried over and thrust an umbrella at them. Using the faint light filtering through the crack in the door, they oriented themselves and walked back toward their homes with heavy, uneven steps.

Siqiao was a tiny settlement, one that wouldn't even be marked on a map.

Its precise location was a small bay south of Fangchenggang, a border city in Guangxi, so close that on a clear day, one could see the territory of Vietnam to the west with the naked eye. Administratively, it fell into a veritable gray area under minimal jurisdiction. This reality had naturally fostered a deformed port characterized by smuggling, illicit trade, and illegal crossings. Most inhabitants were involved in shadowy trades that operated on the fringes of the law.

The honest man, Big Fourth Brother, had chosen to settle here because the old vessel Fuyuan had been stolen, and he simply could not afford the exorbitant taxes and fees. Fang Sen Yan had once seen the long fee schedule, involving numerous departments: Finance, Taxation, Industry and Commerce, Public Security Border Control, Health, Township Government, Fishery Committee or Village Committee, Fishery Management Company, and so on. Here, however, one only needed to pay a regular protection fee to the local "boss," Hua Shan Fei.

Because raids from higher authorities could occur at any time, the architecture in Siqiao was mostly temporary, constructed cheaply from plywood, old tires, and fiberglass tiles—the kind of illegal structures that were the bane of urban management officials. Fang Sen Yan was nearly nineteen, a few months older than San Zai, and had been working on ships since he was fourteen after Big Fourth Uncle pulled some strings. Because of his steady and reliable nature, he earned high praise from employers, frequently being entrusted with important tasks, allowing him to travel the world’s ports at a young age, distinguishing him as a cut above the rest in both experience and character.

(To be continued, please visit [Website Address] for the latest chapter.)