91: Chapter 91 Don't worry, it won't be lost.

The breakfast restaurant downstairs was still open. He ordered a bowl of hot porridge, ate it with two side dishes, and then drove his car out of the underground parking garage. The morning in Jinling City still held a thin layer of dampness. The plane tree leaves along the road were hung with dew left over from the night; as the morning breeze passed, drops fell sporadically.

He turned on the navigation and set the destination to Southern Fujian. The system announced: "The total distance is approximately 670 kilometers, with an estimated travel time of ten to eleven hours."

Hu Tian tapped confirm and drove the car onto the main road.

After exiting the urban area of Jinling City, the road gradually widened, and there were fewer cars. Traveling southwest along the Shanghai-Kunming Expressway, the landscape on both sides slowly began to differ from that of the city. There was more flat land, with fields connecting to fields, occasionally interspersed with a few villages where the smoke from cooking fires had just begun to rise—thin, white wisps drifting upward.

The morning in Jiangnan was just like this—laid-back and unhurried. Even the wild grass along the roadside grew lazily against the ground, not in any rush to shoot upward.

By the time the car passed through the territory of Jiangsu and Zhejiang, the sun had already come out, baking the road surface until it shone. In the distance, rolling hills stretched out, their peaks covered in thick vegetation. Shades of deep and light green piled together in many layers, making it impossible to discern where one ended and another began.

The road conditions in this section of Jiangsu and Zhejiang were good; the surface was smooth, and the car ran well. Hu Tian kept his speed steady at around 120 km/h and left a crack in the car window. The wind from outside blew in, carrying that unique scent of vegetation from the mountains—fresh and slightly cool.

After passing Wenzhou, the road began to wind into the mountains. Mountain road sections became more frequent, with one curve after another. Guardrails lined the roadside, and beyond them lay deep valleys. There was water at the bottom of the valleys; it looked as thin as a thread, but it was a perennial mountain stream.

This area was close to the border between Fujian and Zhejiang, and the terrain suddenly became steep. The types of trees also changed, with more Masson pines growing straight up, their needles dense and thick, covering the hillsides tightly.

Villages along the road became increasingly sparse. Occasionally, there would be a service area where a few large trucks were parked. The drivers inside were eating, their expressions languid, looking like people well-accustomed to long-haul driving.

Hu Tian pulled over at a service area, got out to stretch his legs, poured a cup of hot water, and leaned against the car to drink it. After gazing at the mountain scenery for a while, he got back in the car and continued driving south.

Entering the territory of Fujian, the changes came little by little. First, old Fujian-style buildings began to appear along the road, with white walls and dark tiles. However, the eaves curved upward with a greater arc, as if they were about to fly into the sky. The locals called this a "swallowtail ridge," saying it was a symbol of good fortune—swallows carrying mud to build nests, a sign of settling down.

Traveling further in, banana trees became more common along the road, their leaves broad and deeply green. It was completely different from the dry feeling of the north. The air held a layer of dampness—not heavy, but sticky, clinging to the skin as if something were gently resting upon it.

The mountains of Fujian were different from those in Zhejiang. They were mountains, yes, but they were full of human presence. Villages and towns followed one after another along the way. At the entrance to the villages, there was often a small Earth God temple with red-painted pillars. In the incense burner, a few half-burned sticks of incense were inserted, sending wisps of white smoke curling and dispersing with the wind.

The people in this area were devout in their belief in deities. Mazu, Guan Yu, and the Earth God were worshiped in almost every household. They would pray before leaving and pray upon returning; with this coming and going, the incense smoke never ceased.

People in Southern Fujian called this having something to rely on. No matter how difficult life was, with gods watching overhead, their hearts felt at ease.

Passing through a small town, a morning market by the street hadn't closed yet, and the stalls were filled with various foods. Hu Tian slowed down and scanned them, seeing someone selling oyster omelets. They sizzled on the iron plate, eggs wrapping around the oysters, spread out with a sprinkle of sweet potato starch, and a small dish of red satay sauce placed on the side.

People in Southern Fujian couldn't live without satay sauce. It was a condiment passed down from Southeast Asia, made by stir-frying peanuts, coconut, dried shrimp, and various spices together. It was dark in color and rich in flavor, but not pungent, carrying a hint of sweetness and a touch of spice. Dipping anything into it immediately added another layer of flavor.

Hu Tian didn't stop, but upon smelling that aroma, his stomach already reacted. He glanced down at the dashboard; it was almost lunchtime.

Driving forward for another twenty minutes or so, a cluster of stone houses appeared by the roadside, built against the mountain in a staggered, orderly fashion. Several electric scooters were parked at the entrances, and an old banyan tree spread its huge canopy, with roots hanging down like a net, shrouding half the intersection in shade.

In Southern Fujian, banyan trees were significant and couldn't be cut down casually. The older generation said that banyan trees were sacred trees; the longer they lived, the wider the area they protected. If there was a century-old banyan in the village, it was the village's blessing. If any family dared to touch it, the neighbors would all come to intervene.

For lunch, Hu Tian stopped at a small roadside restaurant. The sign hung crookedly at the entrance, reading "Southern Fujian Flavor." The shop wasn't big, with only four or five tables. The proprietress was a woman in her forties whose speech carried a heavy Southern Fujian accent; she mixed Mandarin in, but every few words, a word or two of the Southern Fujian dialect would pop out.

Hu Tian ordered a bowl of vermicelli soup and a plate of braised pig's trotters. The vermicelli soup was served—rice-white and thick, with a few pieces of pig's blood and a handful of fried shallots resting inside, steaming hot. Hu Tian stirred it with a spoon and took a spoonful. It was savory with a rich base flavor, clearly extracted from bone broth, not the fake savoriness fooled by MSG.

After eating and paying, he got back on the road. The afternoon sun was high, baking the road surface until it was hot. The distant mountains were hidden in a thin layer of heat haze, looking somewhat unreal.

After another two-plus hours, the name of a place in Southern Fujian appeared on the road sign ahead. Hu Tian glanced at it and narrowed his eyes; the remaining distance on the navigation was slowly shrinking.

Almost there.

He kept his speed steady and drove forward. Outside the car window, the sky in Southern Fujian began to slowly sink into orange. The sunset glow spread across half the sky—reds, yellows, and oranges layered over each other, contrasting with the rolling mountain shadows in the distance. It was very quiet.

The wheels rolled over the final stretch of the coastal highway. The casuarina trees on both sides were pressed slightly askew by the sea breeze, their treetops pointing in the same direction, like road signs, or perhaps like a welcome.

The sea appeared outside the window.

It wasn't the kind of water surface caught in an occasional glimpse inland, but the real sea—blue with a hint of green. By evening, the color deepened, with golden light pressing into the ink-blue, spreading outward in layers along with the sunset glow.

In the distance, a dark outline lay across the horizon, faint and indistinct, like a reef someone had placed on the sea. But it was too massive to be a reef; that was Donghu Island, right there.

Separated by a strait, it looked close, but one had to take a detour by water; it wasn't a place one could reach in a straight line.

Hu Tian slowed the car down and drove slowly along the coastal boulevard into the city center.

The scale of the city was not small. The seaside location had always been a gathering place for merchants. High-rise buildings stood up by the sea, their glass curtain walls catching the last bit of sunset, refracting it into fragments and scattering them in all directions.

The navigation prompted that the destination was three hundred meters ahead.

The sign for a five-star hotel stood at the intersection, backed by a low-lying old town area and facing the sea. The location was chosen extremely well.

Hu Tian drove the car into the underground parking garage. The moment the engine was turned off, he leaned back against the seat and took a deep breath.

Nearly ten hours.

His lower back was a bit stiff, and there was a faint cracking sound when he turned his neck. His legs were numb, too. He flexed his ankles, pushed open the car door, and stood up.

When checking in, the receptionist was a young girl who spoke softly and gently. When she handed over the room card, she held it with both hands, perfectly polite.

The room was on the sixteenth floor, a sea-view room. When Hu Tian requested this floor, the receptionist asked if it was to see Donghu Island, her tone containing a bit of habitual understanding. Probably seven or eight out of every ten guests who came here were thinking about that island.

Hu Tian didn't say much; he nodded and took the room card upstairs.

The elevator doors opened. The hallway was covered with dark carpet, and footsteps made no sound as they landed.

Pushing open the room door, the lights turned on automatically, the warm yellow glow illuminating the entire room softly.

Hu Tian set his luggage by the bed and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, pulling back the curtains.

The sea was right there, looking even more expansive than from downstairs. Night had already descended, leaving only a layer of blurry dark blue on the sea surface. The lights from the shore were reflected into the water, dragging out long, fragmented golden shadows that rose and fell with the waves, swaying incessantly.

The outline of Donghu Island was still visible, a black shadow lying across the night sea, looking more solid and heavier than it did during the day.

Hu Tian stared in that direction for a while, took out his phone, and dialed Zhou Waner's number.

It rang twice before the other end picked up.

"You've arrived?"

Zhou Waner's voice was somewhat languid, as if she had just been leaning somewhere resting, carrying a hint of a tone that wasn't fully awake.

"I've arrived, just finished checking in."

Hu Tian stood by the window, his voice level. "Sixteenth floor, sea-view room, I can see Donghu Island."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then she gave a light hum. "Fine, living in a sea-view room with the lights on, you certainly know how to enjoy yourself."

"That goes without saying."

"Was the journey smooth?"

"Smooth. The road in the afternoon was hot, but otherwise, there were no issues."

"Have you eaten?"

"I had a bowl of vermicelli soup and braised pig's trotters on the road. It was quite good."

Zhou Waner paused for a beat. "Just that little bit?"

"I'll eat again at night; I just got settled."

"Alright."

Her voice faded slightly. "Then go do what you need to do. Just knowing you're safe is enough. Don't make me wait for news until I fall asleep without knowing if you've arrived or not."

Hu Tian pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry, I won't get lost."

"I'm not worried about you getting lost,"

Zhou Waner replied in a flat tone, "I'm afraid that if something happens, no one will know where you are."

Hu Tian didn't speak. The sea breeze outside pressed against the glass, making a faint sound.

"Alright,"

Zhou Waner spoke first. "Get some rest early; there's a lot to do tomorrow."

"Mm."

Hu Tian responded, paused, and added, "Take care on your end."

"I know."

She hung up.

Hu Tian cupped the phone in his palm and turned his head to look out the window again. Donghu Island was still there, motionless, pressed by the night, silently resting on the sea surface.

The Treasure Hunting Radar's sensing seemed to be asleep at this moment—calm, without any unusual movement. But Hu Tian knew that was only because it was still separated by a strait.

Once he stepped onto that island tomorrow, the situation would be different.

He stood by the window for a while longer, etching that black outline into his eyes, before turning around, drawing the curtains, and going downstairs to find a place to have dinner.

He found a restaurant and just had a simple meal to get by.

Hu Tian returned to the hotel.

The floor-to-ceiling glass window faced the sea directly. The sunset glow outside had one last breath left, orange-red pressing down on the horizon. The outline of Donghu Island was much clearer now—a pitch-black mass sinking between the water and the sky, as if suppressing some secret.

Hu Tian stood in front of the window for a while, sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, and then reached out. With a thought, he took his laptop out from the System Space.