Day Sixty-Three: Strange Happenings by the Sea (Part Two) — An Extra Chapter for Yunqi Youran

I casually left the fishing net by the tree roots, tossed a few stones into it, and then started walking toward the source of the sound. My courage was never great, especially when it came to the unknown—here, even the slightest carelessness could cost me my life.

I moved cautiously, weaving through the trees as I made my way toward the thunderous noise. Each “boom” echoed heavily, as if pounding against my heart, washing over me in waves that made my palms sweat with anxiety.

What on earth could be making that sound? Was it a machine? Or perhaps some giant beast pounding away? My mind raced with wild conjectures, each one making me even more careful with every step I took.

The closer I got, the louder it became. I was nearing the shoreline, and the sound seemed to come from the sea itself. Thankfully, it was daytime—had it been night, I might have run away in terror long ago. Even under the sunlight, a chill crept over me.

The noise grew, pressing in, but I didn’t even realize my steps had slowed to a crawl. Only when I finally noticed how long it had taken to get here did I realize my own anxiety and caution were trying to hold me back. But could I stop? No! If I couldn’t discover what was making that sound, my curiosity would drive me mad—my imagination would conjure up a thousand terrifying images.

Ahead lay a field of jagged rocks, and the sound was coming from beneath them. Could it really be some kind of monster? The thought leapt unbidden into my mind. No, that was nonsense—maybe a stranded whale, my rational side argued. But would a whale make such a noise?

Only thirty or forty meters remained. Thoughts raced through my mind, dozens every second, the pressure nearly suffocating me. Sweat beaded on my brow.

Just one look, I told myself. I’ll take one look, and if anything’s wrong, I’ll turn and run. But will you really be able to run? another voice in my head taunted.

With about twenty meters left, I froze again, barely aware of my own hesitation. Another boom sounded, and this time I saw it—and felt it too.

So this was what it was! I’d been so afraid, so cautious, and it was simply this! How ridiculous I was.

I wiped the seawater from my face; my clothes were soaked by the spray of the waves. Only then did I notice the ground was wet all around me. It was no monster, no whale. The sound was just the sea waves crashing against the rocks, sending plumes of water meters high, spraying dozens of meters away.

The distant waves rolled in one after another, and I watched, entranced. Another thunderous crash, and only then did I remember to step back, but it was too late—I was soaked again.

Such wild, unruly waves—I’d never seen anything like it since coming to the island. Perhaps this phenomenon was called “the roar of the sea.” I felt as though I’d heard that term somewhere, but couldn’t recall exactly where.

Only after retreating fifty meters did the spray no longer reach me. The relentless waves filled me with awe—the power of nature was truly fearsome.

Mesmerized, I watched wave after wave batter the rocks, my mind blank. When I finally came to, perhaps an hour had passed. The ache in my legs snapped me out of my trance. As I prepared to leave, I glanced back at the ocean, a vague unease lingering—somewhere far away, a hurricane might be raging. How else could such massive waves surge in, when the wind here was blowing out to sea? But, worry as I might, I still made my way toward the woods.

Soon I could check my fishing net. With a good catch, I could return to my treehouse and enjoy a feast.

I plucked a wild stalk of grass that looked like foxtail, stuck it between my teeth, and leaned against a sun-warmed stone by the sea. A wave of exhaustion washed over me.

Since I had to wait a bit longer before checking the net, I closed my eyes to nap.

…

“Damn!” I was jolted awake by raindrops pounding my face. Big, bean-sized drops hammered down, pulling me from sleep. Leaves swirled in the air—the wind was picking up. Luckily, the woods shielded me where I lay, so I barely felt the wind.

I needed to haul in the net quickly and hurry back to the treehouse. Even if I left the net, I’d still get drenched on the way home, so I might as well collect whatever was caught.

Whether it was the rain or something else, the shoals of fish and shrimp I’d seen earlier were gone, leaving only a few snails clinging quietly to the seabed. The net was light, and I quickly dragged it to shore, emptying its contents.

There were so few—a quick glance was all it took to count them, just over a dozen small fish. I put them into my plastic basket, then found some bigger stones to weigh down the net.

Still, I worried something might bite through the net, so I went back and set it in the shallow seawater, piling small stones on top.

The rain was coming down harder and harder—I needed to hurry. The fish were fresh—I could feel them flopping in the basket. But having fresh food on my back didn’t cheer me up; the rain had become a curtain, shrouding the world in a white haze. As soon as I stepped out of the woods, a gale nearly knocked me off my feet.

I was soaked through. The rain beat against my face, sharp and hard. I regretted my earlier laziness—if I hadn’t napped and had hauled in the net sooner, I could be in the treehouse now, eating grilled fish and sipping honey-lemon tea.

But regret was pointless. In the storm, every step was a struggle. I hunched over, knees bent, inching forward with difficulty. Bad luck, once it comes, is unstoppable—the sky began to darken as thick, fast-moving clouds swept overhead, driven by the ferocious wind.

The resistance was so great I had to lean forward to make any progress. Every step took more energy than usual. After what must have been a hundred meters, my thighs started to tremble, but I couldn’t stop now.

The wind roared, doubling in force. Trees in the distance bent under the onslaught.

“Keep going, you’re almost there…”

Suddenly, a sharp, branch-like object flew past…

Blood trickled down with the rain…