Shrouded Seascape

"Anna, you're nervous," Tobba remarked. His merely sixty centimeters petite stature tilted his head up to observe the young woman, who sat with her chin propped on one hand.

Anna offered no words. Instead, she grabbed the milk bottle by the side and unceremoniously shoved it into his mouth before ignoring him totally.

Her gaze remained on the passing scenery flashing by outside the window in a blur. As for her thoughts, only she herself knew what she was thinking about.

The bus slowed to a halt in front of a bustling market where there was a constant stream of vegetable vendors and deliverymen.

Anna stood up and made her way to the door; the rest of the passengers instinctively moved to follow.

"Stay put," Anna instructed, "I'll go alone."

With that, she stepped off the bus.

The ground in the market was far from clean, and it didn't take long before Anna's shoes picked up specks of dirt and residue.

However, she didn't care and strode purposefully deeper into the market. Passing through a small, nondescript door at the back of the vegetable section, Anna arrived at the back of the market.

A rusted train track stretched out, and a green freight train clattered past, its steady rhythm echoing in the open air. As the last carriage disappeared down the line, a cluster of people hovered near a garbage pile came into Anna's sight.

Their ages ranged from young to old. Their toes poking through worn-out canvas shoes, their ill-fitting, tattered clothes marked by grimy, blackened collars—all unmistakable signs of their identity: a group of homeless drifters.

A battered aluminum pot sat at the center of their makeshift gathering as their nicotine-stained fingers alternated between fishing for scraps and clutching cigarette butts.

As Anna approached, their rough voices entered her ears.

"Obviously, the scud missiles are more powerful! Even if a submarine hides underwater, a scud missile is all it takes to blow it apart!"

Despite it being a rather ridiculous topic, the bunch of homeless drifters took on a serious stance in their debate.

As Anna closed the gap between them, the discussion among the group faded into a hushed whisper. Their gazes scrutinized the striking woman in immaculate attire as they continued to pass whispers among themselves.

Anna studied their faces, moving from one face to another with deliberate purpose. Just then, a man in his twenties holding a pair of chopsticks in his hand stood up abruptly.

"Who are you looking for?" He unconsciously averted his gaze as soon as he met Anna's eyes. His fingers fidgeted nervously, wiping the chopsticks on his threadbare pant leg.

Standing before Anna with delicate features and dressed elegantly—the young man harbored not even a single hint of lust. Rather, he only felt discomfort from the inside out.

Anna was like a flawless mirror, reflecting his current reality, the arrogance he had displayed just moments ago, his debate on national affairs with false bravado, and reducing it to dust.

As a man, the mere act of her standing there, doing nothing, felt like a profound humiliation.

Anna didn't acknowledge his question. She merely stepped past him without so much as offering him another glance. Her eyes scanned the dirt-streaked faces of the younger boys huddled nearby.

After a meticulous sweep, she straightened. Her search came up empty—none of these grime-covered faces belonged to Charles.

Anna turned around at the young man frozen in his spot. She pulled out an old photo of a young Charles and showed it to him.

"Do you know this person?" she asked.

The group of homeless drifters immediately gathered around, and the photo was being passed around for a careful examination.

"That's Doggo, right?" Someone spoke up. "Are you looking for him? He went out to scavenge scrap. Probably won't be back until tonight."

"How are you related to him? Do you have money?" Another chimed in.

"Doggo's my little brother. I take care of him all the time."

"Why don't you sit around here and wait for a while. He'll be back soon," another added.

As Anna continued with follow up questions about Charles, the group of homeless drifters appeared rather eager to offer her the information she wanted. To them, exchanging words with Anna felt like basking in the glow of something extraordinary.

After getting confirmation that Charles was indeed here, she gave a slight nod and turned to leave without another word.

She retraced her steps toward the bustling market. The moment she was out of sight from the homeless drifters, her figure vibrated at high frequency as she slipped into the ground and moved toward where the homeless had gathered.

Now that she was gone, the voices above her had shifted. The topic of conversation had turned to Anna. The older ones had even begun making crude jokes about her.

Anna merely closed her eyes and waited in silence while listening to every word above.

The seconds ticked by. Anna had never felt that time was passing so painfully slow as though each second was an eternity.

Just then, a bright voice broke through the chatter. "What are you all talking about? I got three buns. Anyone want one?"

Anna's eyes snapped open.

Meanwhile, Doggo was clearly taken back by the sudden surge of enthusiasm from his ragtag group of companions.

"Don't all crowd around me! I've only got three buns. And I managed to pick up a few dozen plastic bottles. That's all!"

Amid the jostling, Doggo caught sight of a young woman dressed in a pristine white dress in the distance. For a fleeting moment, he thought he might be staring at a goddess. She was just too beautiful.

Anna moved toward the young boy who looked no more than seven or eight years old. Her eyes trembled slightly as she scrutinized the features of the boy before her.

After being apart for all this time, Charles finally appeared before her once more. However, he wasn't the same paranoid captain from the Subterranean Sea.

This Charles on the surface was too frail and scrawny. He looked like a bean sprout about to snap under the weight of the world.

He wore an ill-fitting pair of tattered sandals and a patched-up coat, with stuffing spilling from the seams, hung over his thin frame. His hair was a tangled mess and grime streaked across his face. However, his eyes shone bright with clarity.

Charles seemed to have been beaten as his right eye was swollen. But even that couldn't hide the purity of his gaze—a pure gaze that did not exist on the Charles whom she met back in the Subterranean Sea.

The moment Anna truly laid eyes on the young boy, she finally got the confirmation she truly needed. This was Charles, her Charles. And in that instant, the anger and resentment she had harbored for so long began to gradually dissolve.

Anna knelt slowly as she stretched out her arms and pulled him into an embrace. His frail body was all bones and little flesh. He was far too light, so light that it tugged painfully at her heartstrings.

"Let me go," Charles muttered as he squirmed against her hold.

"I'm dirty. If I ruin your clothes, I can't pay for them," he added, overwhelmed with anxiety and panic.

The more he struggled, the tighter Anna held him. She could feel tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Gao Zhiming… how did it come to this… this is…so pitiful…"

Charles had given his all in the Subterranean Sea to find his way back home. However, his home never existed. He had no family, no parents, no ties to this surface world. All the battles he fought, all the sacrifices he made in the name of love and belonging—they had all been for nothing.

Anna carried Charles back to the bus. Throughout the ride, she had refused to let him down, her grip on him was tight until they arrived at their hideout.

Upon reaching their hideout, Anna immediately led him to the bathroom and carefully washed away the layers of grime that clung to his small body. As she dried him off, her eyes scanned the moles on his skin.

There was no doubt; he was Charles. Those moles were hidden in places that only she would know and remember as clear as day.

Taking a soft, white towel, Anna gently dried Charles' hair. For the first time, her usual thorny demeanor gave way to an unexpected tenderness and affection in her eyes.

With the dirt and grime scrubbed away, Charles looked remarkably more adorable.

Charles warily scanned the interior decor. His small frame was rigid, his nerves evident in the way his fingers fidgeted against his knees.

But before his anxiety could take root, the aroma of freshly cooked food demanded his attention. He hadn't eaten a single bite all day and his eyes were now locked onto the food that had just been brought into the room—two steaming bowls of fish noodle soup.

"Eat," Anna said softly as she slid a bowl toward him.

The rich, savory smell of the broth made Charles involuntarily swallow his saliva. However, he didn't dig into his bowl immediately. He waited for Anna to pick up her chopsticks and take a bite before he reached for his own.