Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 178

Days became years, and months became weeks – Zhi’s concept of time grew blurry.
The sailor who cleaned the floor was now a navigator, who determined their position and decided
their direction through the movement of stars. He could never forget how bright the star was back then.
The ocean and the sky blended together as the water reflected the starlight. It was as if they were floating in
the sky. It was his favourite sight.
He learnt that Zheng He fell into the sea under the attack of a group of pirates. Zhi witnessed it
several times afterwards too. Sometimes, they traded with the locals in ports, who occasionally offered them
hospitality. However, their kindness was mostly declined. “We would like to keep on going,” said their
leader. The fleet was restless, and Zhi loved it.
It was exciting, how everything ahead of them was unknown, yet they would always figure out a
way.
Most importantly, Zhi was no longer lost.
He always considered himself a resident of the ocean, but inside he knew he belonged to China, his
homeland.
But why did it matter? What he was could not define who he was. He was Chinese, but he also
belonged to the world. He would show China to the world.
Suddenly he felt like he knew himself. Suddenly he had a purpose.
They were being attacked again, Zhi was one of those fighting on the deck. A blade went through
his abdomen, and he fell into the sea from the bow.
“Zhi? Wake up, we are in Brisbane.”