Chen Hao's fingers were still resting on the piece of driftwood, his fingertips rubbing against the scorch marks on the edge. He didn't let go, nor did he look up; he just stared at the neatly cut surface for several seconds.
“This wood is wrong,” he said. “Who has nothing better to do than burn wood for fun? And cut it so straight.”
Nana walked to his side, the camera zoomed in slightly, making a soft focusing sound. She didn't speak, but directly pointed her right eye at the sea ahead.
Susan poked her head out of the hatch: "What else have you found?"
“He’s looking at a piece of broken wood,” Carl said as he came over, wiping the grease off his hands. “He doesn’t think he can build a new ship out of it, does he?”
“It’s not a problem with the wood.” Chen Hao flipped the driftwood over, revealing the slanted cut on the back. “Only a chainsaw or a cutting machine could leave this kind of mark. Nobody on our island carries those things.”
Nana suddenly raised her hand to signal for silence. Her optical system was gradually magnifying the field of view, the image advancing layer by layer. Three seconds later, she spoke: "4.8 kilometers ahead, bearing 073, regular geometric shape present. The outline matches the structural characteristics of the base's watchtower, confidence level 89%."
"What did you say?" Chen Hao looked up abruptly. "You can see that far?"
“It works in enhanced mode,” she said, “but the image is affected by reflections from the sea surface and requires manual verification.”
Susan squeezed to the bow of the boat, squinting in that direction. The wind was a bit strong, making her hair fly wildly. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the light, then suddenly froze.
"Is that... the flagpole at the top of the tower?"
Carl leaned closer, shielding his eyes from the sun. His fingers trembled slightly. "The flagpole is bent halfway; we repaired it after the last storm. I remember it clearly."
Chen Hao grinned and slammed his hand on the gunwale, making the kettle next to him jump. "This is really our territory! I didn't get the way wrong!"
“Don’t get too excited,” Susan said softly. “We’ve been wrong before. We thought it was a warehouse roof, but it turned out to be a reflective rock.”
The air suddenly became quiet.
Chen Hao looked down at the driftwood in his hand and slowly turned it over. He took out a knife from his pocket and carved a few words on the back of the wood: Day 624, The Road Home.
Then he took out a wire and tied the wood to the railing at the bow of the boat.
“If I mistake the place again this time,” he patted his chest, “I’ll swallow a piece of wood right here and now.”
Susan chuckled. Carl shook his head, but a slight smile played on his lips.
Nana had already turned back to the control panel, and her fingers slid across the panel a few times, immediately increasing the hum of the thrusters by one level.
"The current speed has increased to 75%, and we expect to reach the shore in one hour and twelve minutes," she said. "We have sufficient fuel and the course is stable."
"You really dare to accelerate, huh?" Chen Hao sat in the driver's seat, his hands on the steering wheel. "This boat was just patched up; don't let it fall apart."
“Structural monitoring is normal,” Nana said. “As long as you don’t make sharp turns.”
"Don't worry, I'm more steady crossing the street than an old lady now." He smiled, but his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
The sun began to sink below the horizon, its rays slanting across the water, dazzling the eyes. The distant, blurry outline remained indistinct, like a photograph soaked in water, its edges fuzzy.
But it's right there.
No one mentioned the possibility of "misreading" again.
Susan sat on the edge of the deck, hugging her knees, her feet swinging gently. She didn't speak, only glancing up in that direction every now and then. The wind lifted her sleeve, revealing an old scar on her wrist.
Carl squatted by the engine compartment door, holding a wrench, though there wasn't much to fix. He just stood there, as if afraid the machine might suddenly break down.
Nana stood in front of the control panel, the camera constantly switching focus, scanning the target ahead every thirty seconds. Data streams rolled across her field of vision, but she never looked away.
Chen Hao gripped the steering wheel, his back ramrod straight. His face was smudged with dried resin, his clothes were wrinkled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Yet, he was smiling broadly.
"What do you think we should eat for our first meal when we get back?" he asked.
“Hot soup,” Susan said immediately. “With meat.”
“Bread,” Carl interjected, “toast it a little dark and spread with butter.”
"Charge," Nana said. "I need six hours to fully charge."
Chen Hao laughed and said, "I'm going to sleep for two whole days, and I won't wake up no matter who calls me. When I wake up, I'll eat the meal you guys were talking about."
“With your weight, you’ll stick to the bed if you sleep for too long,” Carl said.
"That's perfect, I can just use it as a mattress." Chen Hao shrugged. "Anyway, no one's going to take my spot."
Susan smiled and shook her head, then suddenly raised her hand and pointed forward: "Look!"
Everyone looked in the direction she was pointing.
Just where the sun was setting, a golden light flashed at the top of that blurry outline.
It was very short, just a moment.
It looked as if the metal frame was reflecting the last rays of sunlight, or as if someone had swayed a mirror on it.
But it did light up.
Chen Hao suddenly stood up, almost hitting the lampshade above his head. He grabbed the railing, his eyes wide open.
"Did you see that? That last strike!"
“I see it,” Nana confirmed. “The reflector is located on the southeast side support of the watchtower, and the angle matches the sun’s trajectory. The probability of it being a non-natural light source is less than 3%.”
"That's a signal left by our people!" Chen Hao slammed his fist into his palm. "Someone's waiting for us!"
"It could also be that the wind blew some metal piece away," Susan whispered.
“Even if it’s just a signal blown by the wind, I’ll still recognize it!” Chen Hao grabbed the megaphone hanging on the wall. “Listen up! Home is just ahead! Whether there’s anyone inside or not, it’s our territory! The place we’ve repaired, painted, and replaced the pipes in! Now—drive forward!”
He pressed the horn button, and the piercing sound cut through the sea, startling a flock of seabirds.
Nana silently increased the speed by another 5%.
The ship vibrated slightly, and the engine sounded more powerful.
Susan stood up, walked to his side, and whispered, "Do you think... they might think we're dead?"
“They must think we’re dead for good.” Chen Hao grinned. “They’d better have prepared a memorial service. When we get back in this beat-up boat, we can just storm into the venue and save on coffins.”
Carl snorted: "Remember to take pictures then."
“We have to film it.” Chen Hao nodded. “Hang it on the wall, and the title will be: ‘Several people who should have died at sea have come back to life.’”
Susan smiled for a moment, then suddenly said, "I also brought back my notes. This data is enough to write a three-month report."
“You just love tinkering with this,” Carl said. “Aren’t you tired of it?”
"I'm tired," she admitted, "but I want them to know that our trip wasn't in vain."
Nana suddenly spoke up: "A cluster of floating objects has been detected 300 meters ahead. The density is higher than that of ordinary sea surface debris. We recommend that you detour."
"Another garbage dump?" Chen Hao frowned.
"Preliminary assessment indicates that it is the wreckage of an abandoned shipping container, part of which has sunk and is covered with algae."
“Let’s go around it.” Carl stood up. “These things often get caught in fishing nets underneath, and they can cause trouble if the propeller gets tangled.”
Nana adjusted the course, and the bow of the boat slowly turned.
Just as they were passing by the wreckage, Chen Hao suddenly shouted, "Stop!"
Nana immediately reduced the thrust.
"What's wrong?" Susan asked.
Chen Hao pointed to one of the half-submerged boxes. There was a familiar red mark on it, crooked and messy, as if someone had just scribbled it on with spray paint.
“That’s our number,” he said. “B-12, the batch we used last year when transporting supplies.”
“How could it have drifted that far?” Karl frowned.
“It’s being carried by ocean currents,” Nana analyzed. “There was a minor seabed tremor in the area in the past 72 hours, which may have caused the sunken object to rise to the surface.”
Chen Hao stared at the box for a long time, then suddenly laughed: "It seems our things came back even earlier than the people."
He picked up a piece of driftwood tied to the bow of the boat and shook it vigorously: "Hey! Listen up, everyone inside! Supply convoy B-12 is officially returning to port! Open the gates and let us out for a meal!"
No one responded.
Only the waves gently lapped against the hull of the ship.
The sun has completely set.
As the last ray of light disappeared on the horizon, the distant tower flashed once more.
It's brighter this time.
Chen Hao released the driftwood and gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands again.
"Let's go," he said. "Home."
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