Where There's Money, There Are People - 1
Stepping onto the continent after so long away from islands felt especially poignant. Let's never part ways again from here on out. Even though my time on the Zhoushan Archipelago had been brief, it confirmed what I already knew: I'm the type who thrives on the mainland, not some island life.
"Then we'll take our leave."
"Yes, you've worked hard. Convey my thanks to His Highness Gi Gangwang."
"Understood, my lord."
The soldiers who had dropped us off in southern Zhejiang—specifically Taizhou Prefecture—hurried off toward the northeast. Those guys have it rough too. From Gu Gang to Zhoushan, then Zhoushan to Taizhou, and now they had to head all the way to Tsushima. Even seasoned naval troops would be exhausted from all that constant movement.
The one consolation was that the fleets from Gi Gangwang's and Dong-gu Wang's households had already launched a swift campaign to subjugate Tsushima. By the time those ships rejoined the main force, the pirate purge would likely be over. Getting a pass on the fighting in exchange for a bit of fatigue? They'd probably be thrilled. Or maybe they'd lament the lost chance for glory? No way to tell with a battle-hungry bunch like Gi Gangwang's crew.
"G-Gaga! Ppiae's acting weird!"
"Huh?"
I was watching the ships vanish beyond the horizon when Ak I-yeon called out to me in a panic.
"Weird how?"
Like all the other spirit beasts that traveled with me, our Millennium Turtle had ended up with a bizarre, convoluted name. Maybe the poor thing was traumatized by it? I hurriedly checked on Ppiae.
This creature had probably lived longer than the three of us—me, Ak I-yeon, and Jo Wi-cheo—combined. Calling something like that "Ppiae" would make anyone groan.
Ppiiiiiiaaak...
"Yeah, something's definitely off."
The more I examined Ppiae, the more it let out dying whimpers, displaying its agony without filter.
What do I do? Should I change its name right now? But if I only renamed Ppiae properly, the others might revolt.
...Is this really about the name?
Besides, we'd given it the name Ppiae just before leaving Zhoushan. It had flinched back then, sure, but it hadn't collapsed like this, wailing in despair. It had accepted its fate in silence, like someone resigning to the inevitable. Names are given by others, after all—not chosen by the bearer.
Piiiik...
Kki-ing.
Kki-ong~
As Ppiae kept crying out, Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i licked its body in sympathy. It looked just like tending to a patient, which only muddled my thoughts further. This wasn't some exaggeration—the poor thing was genuinely suffering, but I had no idea why.
"My lord."
While Ak I-yeon and I fretted over Ppiae, the ever-silent Jo Wi-cheo spoke up cautiously.
"About Ppiae's condition... doesn't it seem familiar?"
"Familiar?"
"On the way from Gu Gang to Zhoushan, Buong was in a similar state, if memory serves."
His words made me take a closer look. The labored breathing, limp body, hollow eyes that screamed cold sweat in human terms, the pitiful cries.
"You're right."
Jo Wi-cheo nailed it. Up close, Ppiae's state matched Buong's exactly from back then—the first time it rode a ship and got seasick.
...
"A turtle gets seasick?"
"I find it hard to grasp myself, but it sure looks like seasickness."
"Fair point, but..."
Now my head hurt for entirely different reasons. A seasick turtle? That's like a bird with fear of heights or a tiger allergic to meat. How have you survived this long?
"You sure you're a spirit beast?"
Ppiiiiaaak...!
I asked in all sincerity, and Ppiae wailed as if deeply wounded. Hey, it's a legit question! Buong at least had the excuse of being an inland beast, but you? You're from the sea. And you've lived dozens, hundreds of times longer than Buong.
"This is probably Ppiae's first time on a boat. A creature that roams the ocean freely wouldn't need to ride one," Ak I-yeon said softly, cradling Ppiae and patting its shell. Her heart must have melted at the pitiful cries.
"When waves get rough, Ppiae could just dive deep or ride the currents. The boat's rocking must feel utterly alien and exhausting. It might even be more sensitive than land-dwellers or animals."
Ppiiiiaaak...
Ak I-yeon's warm defense brought tears to Ppiae's eyes.
Makes sense when you put it like that.
"Next time we sail, I'll let Ppiae swim free."
Feeling a pang of guilt, I stroked its head. Being a great swimmer doesn't grant immunity to seasickness, after all.
"Want to let it rest in the sea for a bit?"
Ppiae.
Ppiae nodded eagerly at my suggestion. Looked like we'd need to linger in the harbor for a few hours before moving on.
Taizhou Prefecture, like most coastal port cities, specialized in maritime trade. It had lost some prestige since Hangzhou—the international trade hub—sucked in all foreign merchants, but that restriction only applied to outsiders. Daesong merchants could trade here freely without issue.
Plenty of domestic trade to go around.
Truth be told, with Daesong's—no, the Central Plains'—economic might and production capacity, foreign trade was a nice bonus, not a necessity. Deal in pepper, coffee, rubies, or nutmeg, and you'd rake in exclusive profits. But Central Plains merchants could make a fortune just selling rice or firewood to their own hundreds of millions.
Only the capitalist monsters craving ever more wealth and fame dove into international waters. Thanks to them, Taizhou teemed with "lesser" monsters gathering to trade, "greater" ones heading to Hangzhou, and ordinary folk buying necessities—a true crush of humanity.
"Taizhou's pretty crowded too, huh?"
Ak I-yeon's eyes, scanning the prefecture, were calmer than before. Having seen Hangzhou's scale, Taizhou's bustle felt tame by comparison. Still, her smile showed genuine interest in the new city.
Good. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. If her tourist enthusiasm had already waned, the rest of this cursed Central Plains pilgrimage would drag.
At least sightseeing keeps me sane.
"Taizhou's actually on the quiet side. Hangzhou looms to the north, Tianzhou to the south. Folks aiming north hit Hangzhou; southern traders stick to Tianzhou."
I drew her in with mentions of other spots too. Among the Central Plains' southeastern ports, Taizhou was solidly average—no unique charms, no storied history.
Tianzhou, which boomed as a trade hub since late Tang, had more fame.
"I've heard of Tianzhou! It used to play Hangzhou's role back in the day, right?"
Her eyes sparkled at the familiar name from her books.
"Exactly. It declined a bit through the founding wars, but it's still a top trade port."
Seeing her light up at my trivia, then bounce with joy at the sights? Nothing more rewarding.
"H-Hey. That thing floating out there... am I seeing this right?"
"...Looks like it. I'm seeing the same as you."
Mid-excitement TMI dump, nearby merchants started stirring.
"A golden turtle? No way!"
"The legendary Millennium Turtle? To think I'd see one in my lifetime!"
Oh no.
I'd let Ppiae loose to shake off its seasickness and play. It must have surfaced while frolicking underwater.
This is bad.
As the harbor erupted, I felt like I was on pins and needles. Turtles symbolize good fortune; gold means wealth. For merchants, those were irresistible. A golden turtle appearing? If they just took it as an omen of smooth sailing ahead, great. But merchants, greed incarnate, wouldn't stop there.
"Ships! Launch the ships! Miss it now, and we'll never catch it!"
"A Millennium Turtle's a walking lucky charm! Can't let it slip!"
"You idiots! Get official permission first! Civilians can't just hunt spirit beasts!"
"By the time we get approval, it'll be gone! Corner it, surround it—don't catch it yourself, just trap it!"
Just like that, eyes bulging, they'd all set sail to claim Ppiae.
Dive, quick.
Whether sensing the uproar or reading my glare, Ppiae slunk toward shore then sank back into the depths. As a subordinate of dragons no less, it could vanish into the ocean's abyss, untouchable—and with acidic spit to boot. No merchant stood a chance.
"...Gaga?"
"...We'll regroup when things quiet down."
Best to retrieve Ppiae at night or dawn when the crowds thinned. Sure, I could flash my official status and clear them out... but these were frenzy-mad merchants. I could already picture them begging: "Just one touch, sir! We'll grovel—let us glimpse the golden turtle!"
Better to avoid the hassle and wait. Plus, Sichuan had that mad duo who tried stealing a three-headed snake on rumors alone. Who knows what lunatics lurked in Taizhou?
Rest up, Ppiae. We'll meet at sunset.
At least its seasickness would clear up nicely.