My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 84

Cheng Ran came out of the cabin, holding a tablet, and walked over to him. “There’s a cluster of buildings about three nautical miles ahead, much larger than the ones we’ve seen before. It’s not marked on the nautical chart, but satellite images show at least four large buildings and a pier extending into the water.”

“Dock?”

“It could be. It could also be a processing or storage center. Based on the distance between transshipment points, that’s very likely the next node.”

Lin Jiqiu raised his binoculars again. No clear outlines of buildings were yet visible on the sea, but a slender pole could be seen standing on the water in the distance—it could be a flagpole or an antenna. He said, “I see it,” then lowered the binoculars and went into the cabin, Cheng Ran following behind him.

The young man adjusted the course, the boat veered slightly to the left, and headed toward the pole.

The closer the ship got, the clearer the complex became. Four large buildings lined up along the coastline, their exteriors a greyish-white, their corrugated iron roofs gleaming greyish-blue in the sunlight. They were larger than any of the transit points they had seen on land before, at least twice the size of Point Seven. The pier was also wider and longer than those smaller mooring points, capable of accommodating medium-sized vessels. Several rows of evenly spaced, concrete bollards lined the edge of the pier, suggesting that ships frequently dock there.

The boat slowed down about two hundred meters from the pier. The young man turned the engine down, letting the boat drift at a very slow pace. “We’ll be spotted if we go any further,” he said. “It’s too open here, there’s no cover. If there are people on guard on the shore, they’ll see us.”

Lin Jiqiu crouched by the ship’s railing, observing carefully through binoculars. There was no one on the pier, but there was indeed an antenna at the top of the pole, long and thin, with two horizontal arms at the top, resembling a communication device. All four buildings had windows on their exterior walls, but the curtains were drawn tightly, making it impossible to tell if anyone was inside. Several vehicles were parked in the courtyard—a white van and two dark sedans. One of the van’s doors was open, but no one was visible.

“It’s a transit center.” Lin Jiqiu put down his binoculars. “It’s larger than Point Seven, which means there’s a greater flow of supplies here. If the new base needs regular resupply, this should be one of the main transit points.”

Cheng Ran was also observing. “The water depth at the pier is sufficient for medium-sized ships to berth. Moreover, judging from its location, this is one of the southern ends of the entire transshipment route.”

What lies further south?

“The nautical chart shows that about forty nautical miles further south, there is a stretch of open water with no markings. It’s a blank area.”

“blank.”

“The Tengu Division’s base is likely located in that blank area, or somewhere within that blank area. They haven’t marked it on the nautical charts, nor have they shown any building outlines on satellite images.”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “If we want to confirm the specific situation of that blank area, we have to continue south.”

“But there are no more roads ahead. If we drive any further south, we’ll be right at the open sea.”

“Then let’s head out to sea.” Lin Jiqiu stood up and went into the cabin. “Let’s sail south for another two hours and see what’s in that blank area.”

The young man glanced at him, then at Cheng Ran, before turning the helm. The ship accelerated again, adjusted its direction, and headed further south. The engine sounded steady, the hull tilted slightly upward, cutting through the sea and creating two even white waves, like two lines unfolding simultaneously, extending from the bow to both sides.

They left the coastline. The trees and rooftops on the shore grew smaller and smaller, eventually shrinking into a thin, grayish-green line clinging to the sea. The water ahead widened, and the seawater, no longer murky as it had been near the shore, became clearer and deeper.

Lin Jiqiu stood on the deck, looking ahead. He felt the direction of the wind and the rhythm of the waves, sensing the regular rise and fall of the ship as it was lifted up and submerged by the waves. The wind, unhindered by land, blew in from afar, carrying a fainter, purer scent of the sea.

More than an hour later, Cheng Ran came out of the cabin. “There’s something ahead.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up his binoculars. A dark outline appeared on the sea ahead, small and low, like a floating reef or some kind of structure protruding above the water. The closer he got, the clearer the outline became—it wasn’t a reef, but a floating platform. It covered an area of ​​about several tens of square meters, secured to the seabed by several thick steel cables, and its surface was made of gray metal plates. A pole stood on one side of the platform, taller than the one he had seen in the complex of buildings, with a red light slowly flashing at its top.

“Observe the floating platform. Or keep watch,” Cheng Ran said.

Lin Jiqiu raised his binoculars. “There’s no one up there.”

“It’s probably automated, with remote monitoring.” Cheng Ran looked at the tablet. “These kinds of floating platforms are usually used as markers for underwater facilities. If the new base is nearby, we should see similar floating platforms.”

“Then let’s keep searching south.”

The ship did not stop and continued sailing south. Sure enough, every ten minutes or so, a similar floating platform would appear on the sea. Some were old and rusty, while others were new, as if they had been deployed recently. They were arranged in a straight line, facing roughly south, like a string of roadbed lights marking an unseen waterway.

“These floating platforms may mark a shipping route,” Lin Jiqiu said. “Following them should lead you somewhere.”

The young man didn’t speak, but simply adjusted the steering wheel to follow the direction of the floating platforms, maintaining a stable course.

The ship continued sailing along the trajectory of the floating platforms. The wind on the sea suddenly picked up, and the waves were higher than before, causing the ship to rock more noticeably, but still within tolerable limits. Lin Jiqiu steadied himself by gripping the gunwale and did not go into the cabin. He looked at the sea ahead, occasionally scanning the positions and spacing of the floating platforms, as if slowly drawing an underwater map in his mind.

About forty minutes later, a larger outline appeared on the sea ahead. It was much larger than the previous floating platform, resembling some kind of platform towering above the water, with several slender metal structures standing on it, which looked particularly clear against the gray-blue sky—like a small offshore platform.

“We’ve arrived,” Cheng Ran said.

Lin Jiqiu didn’t answer. His fingers tightened unconsciously around the gunwale as he watched the gradually clearer outline ahead. It was more solid than the transfer point, more complete than the floating platform, and emerged from the blur like a rivet at the horizon where the sky met the sea. The ship was heading towards it, the tide surging against its bow. The ship dipped slightly, then rose again, continuing its journey.

Ahead, the outline of the platform is becoming clearer and clearer.