The river vessel pulled away from White Orchard under a gray morning sky. Only Yan, Qinghe, and Han boarded for the sea passage. Ning remained at the clinic, Gu at the furnace, and Bai at the trade desk, each with work the refuge needed more than another passenger. Yan stood at the stern and watched the familiar roofs slide behind the bend.
He had thought leaving would feel like a door closing. Instead the roofs disappeared a little at a time, giving him room to notice the new sounds: rope creaking through a pulley, oars striking the surface below the deck, the ship’s hull shifting as the channel widened.
The captain came up beside Han with a route book. “Mei Qiao,” she said. “I’ve carried medicine boats along this coast for fifteen years. I know where the sandbars move after heavy rain.”
Han gave her the chart. “What do you know about Registry patrols?”
Mei tapped the split channel. “They usually turn here. But that’s last month’s pattern. I can’t promise the route is safe now.”
“Good,” Han said. “I’d rather know what you don’t know.”
Mei smiled at that and opened the route book. She showed Han the old patrol track and the place where the current could carry the vessel toward the bank. They agreed to check the signal flags as they approached the estuary. Neither treated the old chart as a guarantee. Mei showed Han how the crew used a short blue flag for a clear channel…
