Chapter 471: Island Ahead

The pirate’s body had already been swallowed by the deep.

Zhu Ping’an remained half-submerged in the sea, both hands gripping the edge of the floating wooden cabinet, borrowing its buoyancy to keep himself afloat. The storm drenched him thoroughly, leaving him like a soaked chicken dragged from the rain. Faint streaks of blood still clung to his face, not yet washed clean by the downpour.

Though he looked utterly bedraggled, his eyes were bright, alive with spirit. The corner of his mouth even lifted into a faint arc.

After twists and turns upon twists and turns—after dancing with Death and brushing past its scythe more than once—this experience would likely be unforgettable for the rest of his life. As for Li Shu and the bun-faced little maid, who had been raised in comfort and sheltered from hardship, this night of blood and storm was surely beyond anything they had ever imagined in their worst nightmares.

The wind and rain still raged. The towering waves had lessened from their earlier monstrous heights, but the sea remained restless and violent. The cabinet drifted farther and farther from its original location, carried away by the wind and the current, wandering into the vast darkness of the ocean.

In the distance, the navy had returned to the site of the attack. Zhu Ping’an could see faint glimmers of light flickering upon the water. That should be where the disaster had occurred.

“Here! Over here! Look this way!”

“Look here! We’re over here!”

“Help! We’re here! Hurry!”

“Someone, come quickly! Miss and Master are here!”

Seeing the distant lights from the navy ships, Li Shu and the little maid were instantly overcome with excitement. Clinging to the cabinet, they waved their arms wildly toward the darkness, their upper bodies swaying with the motion. They shouted at the top of their lungs, putting every ounce of strength into their cries.

Their voices were not soft.

Their gestures were not subtle.

But in this pitch-black night, amid the roaring sea and crashing waves, their cries were swallowed almost immediately by the thunder of the storm. The sound of wind and water was tens of thousands of times louder than their desperate shouts. There was no way their voices could carry to those distant, flickering lights.

“Are you blind?”

“Are you deaf?”

“When we get back, you’ll answer for this!”

“We’re right here! How can you not see us? I’m angry now!”

At first, Li Shu and the little maid were full of hope. Then came disappointment. And finally, frustration and anger.

Zhu Ping’an had shouted along at the beginning, but after realizing it was useless, he began paddling with his hands and kicking with his feet, trying to push the cabinet toward the navy ships. He struggled for a long while—only to have a single wave crash over them and undo all his effort in an instant.

Utterly useless.

If it were daytime, things might be different. He could try standing on the cabinet and lifting Li Shu or the little maid’s bright clothing to wave as a signal. There would be a decent chance of being spotted.

But in this stormy black night?

Forget it.

The sea continued to heave and roll. The three of them drifted farther and farther away. Gradually, even the faint lights of the navy ships disappeared from sight. Wind roared. Waves surged. The cabinet drifted endlessly, like something abandoned by the world itself, left to follow the will of the current.

They were completely lost.

Friend, have you ever tasted despair?

Soft sobbing rose into the night.

Hopeless despair—thick, suffocating—finally crushed the little maid.

Watching the distant lights vanish entirely, her round face crumpled. She sniffled once, bit her lip, then burst into loud, uncontrollable sobs. Tears and snot streamed down together. She cried with all the sorrow of a child who believed the world had ended.

Li Shu, though equally disappointed, did not break down like the maid.

“Don’t cry,” Zhu Ping’an said gently. “When it’s daylight, the navy will send out rescue boats. We just need to conserve our strength and wait for dawn.”

Whether the navy would truly dispatch search vessels, and whether those vessels could find them, Zhu Ping’an had no certainty at all. But right now, offering hope was all he could do. A painted cake could not satisfy hunger—but at least it looked like food.

Sometimes, all a person needs is a thread of hope to hold on long enough for a miracle.

“Really?” the little maid asked through her sniffles, her swollen eyes lifting toward him.

“Of course,” Zhu Ping’an replied firmly. “Li Shu is the niece of the Marquis of Linhuai. I’m a sixth-rank official of the Great Ming. And you’re her personal maid. Do you think they’d dare not rescue us?”

“Wuu… that’s true…” The little maid sniffled twice more, gradually calming down as hope returned to her heart.

Li Shu glanced at Zhu Ping’an but said nothing. She understood the same uncertainties he did. Whether rescue ships would come at dawn—and whether they would find them after drifting who knew how far—were all unknowns. But she would not say such things aloud and shatter the fragile hope that steadied the little maid.

“To the distant darkness, a faint glimmer of light moved closer. Then, within that glow, a young woman appeared, dressed in water-green robes. Her brows were delicate, her eyes refined, her skin pale as jade—whiter than frost or snow. In the darkness, she carried an almost uncanny brilliance, a beauty both captivating and strangely eerie.

Zhang Xiaofan suddenly stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, unable to speak. This girl—it was the green-clad maiden he had encountered at Shanhai Garden in Heyang City when he first descended the mountain…”

To keep their spirits up, Zhu Ping’an began telling the story of Zhu Xian while treading water, one hand steadying the cabinet, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves.

“Skin whiter than frost and snow? Just how white is that?” the little maid asked curiously.

“How white? Hmm… about as white as your Miss, I suppose,” Zhu Ping’an replied casually, casting a glance at Li Shu in the darkness.

“Rogue…” Li Shu pouted, her voice tinged with mock indignation. “When have you ever seen my skin? Stop talking nonsense.” Even in the dim light, her cheeks flushed faintly.

“It’s true, it’s true! Miss’s skin really is as white as snow,” the little maid nodded earnestly, siding with Zhu Ping’an.

“You little troublemaker—talking nonsense along with him. See if I don’t tear that mouth of yours,” Li Shu retorted, reaching out to lightly pinch the maid’s round cheek.

Soon, laughter and playful protests drifted over the sea, adding a fragile spark of life to the endless darkness.

As time passed, the storm gradually subsided. The waves still rolled, but the wind lost its fury. The three of them continued drifting, carried wherever the sea willed.

“So cold…”

Li Shu tightened her clothing around herself, shivering slightly. It was likely past midnight now, the coldest hour before dawn. After the storm, the sea air felt especially biting. Raised in comfort and never lacking warm clothing, she had never endured such chill before.

“You two take my outer robe,” Zhu Ping’an said, removing his soaked outer garment. He wrung it forcefully, squeezing out as much water as he could before handing it to Li Shu. First, it was repayment for saving his life. Second, as he had said—soaking in seawater, wearing extra layers made little difference to him. The water itself was slightly warmer than the night air; one less garment would not matter.

He still wore a white inner robe, so removing the outer layer was not improper.

“No… you’re not wearing much either,” Li Shu protested.

Only after he insisted several times did she accept it. She and the little maid draped the robe over themselves, huddling close together for warmth.

The waves continued to rise and fall. Zhu Ping’an’s storytelling voice flowed alongside them.

Gradually, the distant horizon began to pale.

Ahead of them, not far away, the faint outline of an island emerged—likely a small coastal isle rising from the sea.

At the sight of land, the three of them could not help but smile.

At last—solid ground.

Even a small island was far better than drifting endlessly in the cold embrace of the ocean.