What about pooping? Even simpler—just squat on the side of the boat and do your business into the sea, then scoop up some water to wash yourself off. In fact, Brian Carter thought this was quite hygienic, at least more so than scraping your butt with tree branches or bamboo slats. The problem was, the women didn’t avoid people at all; when they felt the need, they just squatted right down, which made Brian Carter very uncomfortable. What was even more uncomfortable was that not only the married women did this, but Paul Grant did it too. The most uncomfortable thing was that he had to do it as well! The only difference was that he could squat at the bow of the boat, while they could only squat at the stern.

All morning, while working, Brian Carter chatted with Paul Grant about the Tanka people’s customs and habits—gotta learn, after all, to avoid accidentally offending anyone in the future. There were quite a few rules among the Tanka, especially on the boat. First of all, women—no woman is allowed to sit at the bow of the boat; they believe it’s bad luck for going out to sea. The stern is where women belong, and it’s also the kitchen of the family. There, they can row and cook at the same time, never delaying either task.

When eating fish, you can’t say you’re “flipping” the fish over; you have to say you’re “turning it along,” also for good luck. When he fell into the water, Paul Miller didn’t pull him onto the boat, but threw him a rope to grab onto instead—this too was a Tanka custom. They believe that someone in the water might be a drowned ghost in disguise, so they won’t pull you up directly; at most, they’ll throw you a rope to hold onto.

On the first and fifteenth of every month, Tanka people set out delicious food and drinks at the bow of their boats to offer to the Dragon King and Mazu. The Tanka claim to be descendants of the sea snake god and like to tattoo a sea snake on their bodies—both men and women. In this regard, Brian Carter felt rather proud. He took off his outer garment and showed Paul Grant the colorful big rat’s head tattooed on his back, which made Paul Grant's eyes go wide. First, she didn’t really understand why someone would tattoo a big rat’s head on their back; second, she was amazed at how the tattoo could be so beautiful. She had a sea snake on her upper arm, but it was just a single black color—compared to Brian Carter’s big rat’s head, it was like an earthworm: ugly and tiny.

“This is a craft from my hometown. If I ever get a big boat, I’ll take you to my hometown to see it, and I’ll get you an even bigger, more beautiful sea snake god tattoo!” Brian Carter could only bluff in response to Paul Grant’s questions—after all, there was no telling when he’d actually be able to fulfill that promise.

“％＆＆￥＆……＆” Paul Grant seemed to really believe him. Even with her dark skin, you could see her face turning red. But she didn’t shy away; instead, she sat at the stern and started singing loudly. Brian Carter still couldn’t understand what she was singing, but judging from the expressions of the other women, he could more or less guess the meaning. Crap, looks like he’s gotten himself into trouble, though he wasn’t sure exactly how.

Paul Grant wasn’t exactly pretty—by any standard, she was just average, and her skin was very dark. The only things worth praising were her bright, big eyes and her neat, white teeth, which was rare in ancient times without dental correction or care. As for her figure, probably due to years of hard work on the boat, her hands and feet were very rough, and she wasn’t very tall—at most about 1.5 meters. Her arms and legs were round and sturdy, with no slender waist, and certainly no curves. She was only 17, maybe even younger if you count by traditional age reckoning, probably not fully developed yet. As for her hair, Brian Carter couldn’t see it—she always wore a headscarf, showing only her face.

As for Paul Grant’s feelings, Brian Carter didn’t object. He didn’t particularly like her, but he didn’t dislike her either. Given his current situation, if Paul Foster’s family made such a request, it would be hard for him to refuse. Besides, Brian Carter didn’t see it as a big deal—he’d even married women from the Simba tribe in Africa, so what was there to be afraid of? If he married her, so be it. It wasn’t like ancient times had monogamy; if he met someone he liked later, he could marry again, as long as he didn’t wrong Paul Grant, there was nothing to feel guilty about. For now, the top priority was to escape a life of eating taro every day and avoid constant constipation—he didn’t want to finally travel through time only to die from being backed up.

“Amy Grant, come on, let’s go out to sea and check the fish traps!” If you want to go out to sea, you need a boat. Brian Carter had already checked—other than that little boat from earlier, there were no other boats. He couldn’t exactly take a raft out to sea; he couldn’t handle that thing, so he still had to rely on Paul Grant.

“Grandpa won’t let me go to sea alone…” Paul Grant was willing, but a bit hesitant.

“If the two of us go, it’s not alone. We won’t go far. Do you know any nearby spots with lots of fish?” Brian Carter was like the big bad wolf, luring Paul Grant step by step.

“Sis-in-law won’t agree…” Paul Grant was still worried.

“Sis-in-law, I’m going with Amy Grant to wash the nets… let’s go!” Brian Carter didn’t bother waiting for Paul Grant to agree. He shouted toward the cabin, grabbed Amy Grant’s sleeve, and headed for the side of the boat.

“Don’t go too far… and take the fish and shrimp with you!” came Edward Scott’s voice from the cabin. She agreed, but assigned them two little tails to follow along.