Hearing Lily’s voice from his shoulder, Charles turned to look in the direction she pointed. A few dozen meters ahead, a bustling square came into view, filled with lively chatter and numerous street vendors selling grilled food.

  “Looks like the pedestrian street of the Sea of the Deep,” Charles said as he made his way over.

  After buying a bag of creamy oysters for Lily, he stepped into the lively square. This seemed to be the local market, with various foods and performances drawing the crowd. Lily’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  As Charles wandered unknowingly to the edge of the square, he spotted a disfigured blind man wearing sunglasses. His face was a grotesque mix of flesh and skin, resembling someone who had suffered severe burns. In stark contrast to the beautiful people around, he stood out disturbingly.

  At the blind man’s feet lay a sign that read: “Oil painting, 100 echoes each.”

  Noticing the tattered cloak draped over the blind man, Charles guessed his business wasn’t thriving. Who would commission a blind man to paint?

  The blind man crouched next to his easel, looking pitiful amidst the surrounding revelry. Just then, three young men swaggered by, kicking the easel, and laughed boisterously as they watched the blind man scramble to pick up his fallen supplies.

  Seeing everyone around ignore the scene, Charles frowned slightly. “These islanders are not only strange but also quite indifferent.”

  Lily, unable to stand by, scampered over with her little mouse and helped the blind man gather his papers.

  Feeling someone assist him, the blind man suddenly broke into tears. “Why! Why must I be so unfortunate?!”

  Charles approached, contemplating for a moment, then said to the blind man, “Stop crying; paint me a picture.”

  Seeing a potential customer, the blind man quickly composed himself, wiping his tears. “Sir, please have a seat here.” He fumbled to pull out a folding chair from behind the easel.

  Watching the blind man deftly mix colors, Charles felt a flicker of curiosity. How could a blind man paint?

  As he pondered this, the blind man turned the palette toward him and reached out with both hands, feeling his way toward Charles’s face.

  “Is he going to paint by touch?” A thought crossed Charles’s mind just as the blind man picked up a brush and began to work.

  This piqued Charles’s interest; he was eager to see the blind man’s skill.

  A few minutes later, the blind man paused, took the canvas from the easel, and respectfully presented it to Charles.

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  “Clang!” Startled, Charles knocked over the folding chair and instinctively stepped back, his hand reaching for the gun holster at his waist.

  The canvas didn’t depict Charles at all but a vivid image of Anna!

  The sound of the chair crashing caught the blind artist’s attention, and he turned toward Charles, his face filled with panic. “Sir, is it not to your liking? Please don’t go; I haven’t eaten in three days. Have pity on me!”

  Charles, with a complex expression, took the painting and pulled out several hundred echo bills, placing them in the blind man’s hand.

  Feeling the money, the blind man’s terrifying face lit up with joy. He bowed deeply toward Charles. “Thank you for your kindness, sir. May the Lady bless you.”

  “Can you read minds?” Charles asked, still holding the painting.

  “No, no! It’s just a useless ability I developed after losing my sight,” the blind man said humbly, shrinking back slightly, his face eager to please.

  Charles’s fingers traced Anna’s face on the canvas, and a flood of fictional memories surged back into his mind.

  “Gao Zhiming, I like you. Can I be your girlfriend?”

  “Gao Zhiming, stop playing games. I’m much more fun than a game.”

  “It’s fine; it’s just going underground. What’s the big deal? With me by your side, we’ll definitely get out!!”

  Charles’s expression twisted slightly, his hands clenching the edges of the canvas in anger.

  Lily jumped onto Charles’s shoulder. “Mr. Charles, who is this sister? She’s so beautiful!”

  As the mouse and the man conversed, the blind artist lifted his chin, sniffing the air intently.

  In the end, still hesitant to tear the painting, Charles slowly rolled it up and tucked it into his coat. With a hint of melancholy, he said, “Let’s go, Lily; we’re heading back.”

  The blind man raised his hand as if to call out but hesitated, ultimately saying nothing.

  On the way back, Lily noticed that Charles seemed distracted, and the little mouse quickly deduced it had something to do with the painting.

  “Could it be like in the play, where that sister had a tumultuous romance with Mr. Charles and then cruelly abandoned him??”

  When Charles returned to the inn, he found three envelopes at the door. This time, two sailors and a cook had left.

  With the recent death, nearly half of the crew of the Unicorn Whale was gone.

  “What’s going on? Why are so many resigning? Why not wait until we get back to Coral Island?” Charles decided to write in his journal and then call the crew together to ask; this was quite unusual.

  Lighting the oil lamp, Charles took out the painting and stared at it for a while before slipping it into his nautical journal.

  He pulled out his steel pen and began to write, but before he could jot down a few words, another envelope slid under the door.

  “Come and tell me in person!”

  There was no response outside, and with a grim expression, Charles walked over, opened the envelope, and immediately became serious upon seeing the name “Deep” written on it. “Lily, let’s go outside.”

  Lily jumped onto Charles’s shoulder again, the brown mice following like a carpet.

  “Mr. Charles, why are we going out again?”

  “The situation feels off; that kid Deep is in danger.”

  “Hmm?” Lily’s eyes widened.

  Charles waved the letter in front of her. “This absolutely cannot be written by him. That kid is an orphan; he can’t even spell properly. How could he write a resignation letter? This is forged by someone else!”

  Connecting this to the previous oddities, Charles was convinced something was wrong with his crew.

  If the crew wanted to leave, they would likely just walk away. Those with better relationships, like Old John, would at most say goodbye in person. Writing a resignation letter was a rarity.

  Moreover, the elegant cursive writing didn’t resemble that of rough sailors at all.

  Once outside, he said to Lily, “Send your mice out to gather everyone on the Unicorn Whale.”

  “Okay!” Lily squeaked, and the brown mice scattered like a carpet.