Amidst the silence, a warm, hearty laugh rang out, breaking Meng Hao’s train of thought.
“Hello, young sir, do you wish to cross the sea?” A small boat slid across the water, guided toward Meng Hao by an old man wearing a woven rush raincoat. His face was covered with the evidence of a life of hardship, but he spoke with a smile.
“I do not wish to trouble you, old sir,” said Meng Hao, looking surprised. He hadn’t been called ‘young sir’ for three years now.