They lived on the two boats on the east side, while Ethan Brooks and his son Eric Brooks lived on the boat on the west side. Strictly speaking, the Bo family and the Chen family weren’t closely related, but there was some connection. Eric Brooks’s fiancée was the youngest daughter of Bo Fu’s wife’s younger brother, but at this time, the boat of Bo Fu’s wife’s brother hadn’t arrived yet. The Tanka people didn’t have fixed villages; usually, they lived together by mooring their boats side by side according to these family ties. Also, the Tanka people rarely married outsiders, and their living environment was quite closed off. One family often couldn’t handle everything on their own, so it was better to gather a few families together to get by.

The term “land people”—Brian Carter only now understood that when Bo Zhu called him a “land person,” it wasn’t to say he was a barbarian, but rather it was the Tanka people’s way of referring to everyone who lived on shore. Generally speaking, it wasn’t a nice term. The people on shore looked down on the Tanka, and the Tanka didn’t like them either, so they came up with “land people” as a catch-all term.

The Tanka people weren’t just poor; they also had no access to education. Whether it was private tutors or public schools, none would accept Tanka children, so the Tanka had no written language, only a spoken dialect passed down orally. Ethan Brooks was an exception—his grandfather’s generation had only become Tanka after fleeing disaster, and he had been educated. So, reading and writing was a family tradition, and not just for him; people who spent a lot of time with him would pick up some Chinese as well. They might not speak it well, but they could understand it.

This dinner was just to Brian Carter’s taste: white rice and seafood hotpot. Although there were no seasonings, just coarse salt, the pot full of sea fish, shellfish, shrimp, crab, and seaweed was still delicious. The main thing was the freshness of the ingredients—even boiled in plain water, it tasted great. Brian Carter had been dragged by the boat for more than ten kilometers at sea and had been hungry all afternoon. At first, he was a bit reserved, afraid of eating too much and taking food from others, but when he saw Bo Zhu bring over a wooden basin full of prepared seafood, he didn’t hold back. The basin was more than half full of sea fish, shellfish, and crab, and they could add more as they ate—plenty for everyone. Time to dig in!

Drinking? No thanks! That couldn’t even be called wine—it was more like sour rice water. Better to focus on the big blue crab in hand. This stuff couldn’t even be bought in later times, all deep-sea crabs aged three to five years, each one full of meat. Who cares about crab roe? That’s for fools. Real sea crab is all about the meat—sweet and salty, no need for any dipping sauce. Brian Carter could eat it every day and never get tired of it.

Chapter Five: Too Many Schemes

Chatting? Not really. If only he talked, that would be telling a story. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, so what was there to chat about? The women and children ate separately at the back of the boat’s cabin, while Brian Carter sat with the Bo and Chen fathers and sons in the middle of the cabin—the main table, so to speak. They didn’t have a table; they just sat barefoot on the deck. Brian Carter hated this, because he was tall and had to hunch over like a big shrimp. Luckily, he’d trained in kneeling as a kid at sports school, or else one meal would break his back.

“You’ve been to school, little brother?” No one else had an appetite like Brian Carter. They seemed to prefer the indica rice and weren’t that interested in seafood, just watching Brian Carter put on a show. Ethan Brooks picked up his wine bowl and, watching Brian Carter wrestle with a crab leg, asked out of the blue.

“Yes, I studied in Australia for ten years, but the Chinese characters over there are a bit different from here. I can recognize most of them, but when they’re put together, I might not always get the meaning right.” Brian Carter still couldn’t get used to the way people spoke here, but luckily the Tanka didn’t mind. If they heard something odd, they just laughed it off.

“Ten years of schooling! Why not take the exams for official rank, instead of coming here to fish?” Ethan Brooks had just brought his wine bowl to his lips, but put it down again, looking at Brian Carter in disbelief.

“Where I come from, you need ten years of schooling just to get a decent job. Becoming an official isn’t about studying, but about being elected by everyone. An official not only has to be literate, but also needs some professional knowledge… For example, an official in charge of shipbuilding not only has to read and write, but also understand the general process of building ships, and know which craftsmen to assign to which jobs. If he doesn’t manage well, after a couple of years, everyone just votes him out and picks someone else.” Brian Carter was still holding back—he didn’t dare say he’d studied for sixteen years and still couldn’t find a good job. He was already considering what people here could accept, but even ten years seemed a bit much. Oh well, might as well go with it and make this mysterious Australia sound even more fantastical. That way, if he did anything out of the ordinary in the future, people would understand.

“Your grandfather is the village elder we elected—there’s really a place like that? Then what’s the point of having officials?” Bo Fu had also understood Brian Carter’s words and, pointing at Ethan Brooks, asked Brian Carter.

“Officials?” Brian Carter didn’t explain elections to them, but he did catch a word that was very representative of the era.

“That’s the emperor of our Song dynasty! We call him ‘officials’.” Ethan Brooks said, cupping his fists toward the shore as he spoke.

“Do you know what year it is? And who is the current emperor?” Brian Carter finally knew which dynasty he had traveled to—the Song dynasty! But there was the Southern Song and the Northern Song, so he still had to ask.