She looked at my expression, gave me a charming smile, and pulled me along as we started walking around the boat. We wandered here and there on the ship, and perhaps because of her, everyone on board looked at me with a hint of envy in their eyes.

However, there wasn’t much space for us to walk around on the boat, and I couldn’t make much sense of it, but I noticed that the woman in the qipao seemed to be deep in thought about many things on the ship.

As we circled around, we exchanged names. I learned that her name was Annie, and as I had guessed, she was from northern Jiangsu, though she didn’t say much more.

Out of courtesy, I also told her my background and name. She didn’t seem particularly interested.

After making a round, we found a spot in the narrow cabin by the window but not near the door. Looking out the window, I thought I’d be able to see the horizon on the other side of the shore, but most of the view was blocked by other sails in the harbor. This spot allowed us to avoid people coming and going, and if it got windy, we could close the window, or open it for ventilation if it got hot. There were crowds outside, making it less likely to get into direct conflict with others.

She was still gazing at the window of the boat, wearing that same thoughtful expression. Watching her, I remembered what she’d said earlier about the Fuchang not being the same as before. It seemed that this walk around the ship was her way of searching for the answer to why the boat felt different.

When I first saw the ship, I’d also felt something was off, so I asked her what was going on.

Annie looked out the window and said to me, “Because three years ago, I took the Fuchang once, and at that time, this ship was completely different from what it is now.”

Three years ago, Annie traveled from northern Jiangsu to Quanzhou to visit relatives, then took a boat to Shanghai to catch a carriage back to northern Jiangsu. She had taken the Fuchang then. She said that although the Fuchang was also this narrow back then, the hull was brown, not the pitch black it is now—a black so deep it chills you. But this blackness didn’t look like it was painted on; it seemed as if the inky black seawater of the night had stained the ship, which was very strange.

Moreover, compared to three years ago, many things about this ship were different, but she couldn’t quite say what exactly. These differences were like countless tiny, glaring thorns, making her feel uneasy.

But after looking around just now, she hadn’t found anything in particular—just noticed a lot of wooden structural parts whose purpose she didn’t know.

She remembered that three years ago, there hadn’t been these wooden structures on the ship, but they were very simple, as if just for reinforcement.

As she spoke, she pointed above the window. I looked up and saw that, sure enough, there was a triangular wooden block on the beam above the ship’s frame, with some kind of pattern carved into it. But aside from these, there didn’t seem to be anything else unusual.

You couldn’t see these things from below the ship, she said, and the differences shouldn’t be caused by these things. Something must have happened to this ship in the past three years to make it this way.

My initial unease had already turned into resignation. I comforted her, saying that since we were already on board, I’d rather believe that all these feelings were just the result of our anxiety about leaving home. She nodded without objection, but looking at her eyes, I felt she didn’t really think so.

It would take a whole day to load the Fuchang. All sorts of cargo and people boarded the ship one after another. What made me uneasy was that, that night, I saw Henry Clark and his group appear. They just gave me a cold look and left, and I had no idea what that meant. Their presence left me unsettled, and I slept very poorly that night—it was my first time trying to rest on a swaying ship. When I woke up the next day, I found that people who had boarded overnight had already packed the cabin full, and more were still coming aboard from the shore. I heard a seasoned traveler passing by say that there were more people than cargo—something he’d never seen in his life.

We didn’t get to eat until the ship set sail. I took a few bites of dry food and realized Annie wasn’t by my side. I poked my head out the window but couldn’t see her anywhere, and started to get anxious. Could it be that while I was sleeping last night, Henry Clark had taken her away again? Just then, I heard Annie’s voice coming from the side.

I left the cabin. The weather was surprisingly good—one could even say the sky was perfectly clear. Annie called my name again, and I followed her voice to find her standing by the boarding plank, looking at something.

A businessman in a long gown was dangling in midair, holding a suitcase in one hand and gripping the rope ladder with the other. Many people were shouting in alarm, telling him to drop the suitcase and grab the ladder. Among them, Frank Grant’s voice was especially loud: “Damn it, you care more about money than your life!”

Watching this, I thought Frank Grant was being too harsh, treating passengers like livestock and cursing at will. But the businessman really was in danger, so I also wanted to tell him to drop the suitcase. However, the businessman seemed confused by the shouting. Not only did he not let go of the suitcase, but he must have used too much force, and with a crack, the gangway snapped in two. At the same time, he let out a sharp, strange scream and plunged headfirst into the sea with a splash.

Immediately, everyone craned their necks and gaped at the water, which churned and frothed murkily, making it impossible to see anything.