The Black Marsh had many sounds.
The croaking of frogs.
The whisper of reeds.
The splash of fish beneath the water.
For the people of the Poison Tribe…
Silence was the only sound they feared.
…
Before sunrise…
Grandmother Wu gathered six children.
Among them was Zhao Long.
“You’ll be gathering Moon Reed today.”
One boy smiled.
“The sweet one?”
Grandmother Wu nodded.
“The same.”
The children laughed.
Moon Reed was one of the few wild plants every child loved to eat.
She handed each of them a woven basket.
“Stay together.”
“If you see something unusual…”
“Do not investigate.”
“Return immediately.”
The children nodded.
…
Morning mist covered the marsh.
The reeds stood taller than a grown man.
Sunlight struggled to reach the ground.
As they gathered the pale green stalks…
The youngest girl suddenly froze.
“Brother Long…”
“What is it?”
She pointed toward the water.
“There…”
Floating gently between the reeds…
Was a small wooden toy boat.
None of the children recognized it.
Zhao Long slowly walked closer.
The boat was beautifully carved.
Far too beautiful to belong in the Black Marsh.
There were no carvings like this in the tribe.
He crouched.
The boat drifted just beyond his reach.
The current was almost still…
Yet somehow…
It continued moving away.
…
“Leave it.”
Everyone turned.
An old hunter had appeared without making a sound.
His bow remained lowered.
His eyes never left the little boat.
“It doesn’t belong here.”
One of the boys asked,
“Shouldn’t we bring it back?”
The hunter answered quietly,
“If something enters the marsh…”
“It either lost its way…”
“…or wants you to lose yours.”
He pushed the boat deeper into the current using a long branch.
No one spoke again.
…
As they returned to the village…
Zhao Long looked back.
The tiny boat had disappeared.
Only ripples remained.
…
That evening…
The children sat around the cooking fire.
The youngest girl whispered,
“Do you think someone made that boat?”
Before anyone answered…
Grandmother Wu placed another piece of firewood onto the flames.
“Every object has an owner.”
She looked at each child.
“When you find something that doesn’t belong…”
“Your first question shouldn’t be…”
“‘What is it?'”
“It should be…”
“‘Why is it here?'”
The children fell silent.
Even Zhao Long lowered his eyes in thought.
…
Far from the village…
A lone figure watched the marsh from the branches of an ancient tree.
He carried no torch.
Made no sound.
His gaze lingered on the place where the toy boat had drifted.
Then…
He quietly vanished into the forest.