Chapter 673: Dragon Household

Chapter 673: The Dragon Household

Hearing that his eldest sister was about to return to her parents’ home, Yang Xiaohai’s anxious heart settled a little. In this age, compared to life on land, life at sea was still somewhat safer.

“Wuwa! Father wants you to come over.”

Upon hearing these words from his second brother, who spoke from within the boat’s canopy, Yang Xiaohai quickly responded and bent down, washing his hands in the water before standing up and walking toward the canopy.

The interior of the canopy wasn’t large, and Yang Xiaohai could enter without stooping.

“Come here, Wuwa, raise your cup!” His father, Chi Bai Shui, pulled him over with one hand and shoved a cup of wine into his hand.

Though Yang Xiaohai didn’t drink alcohol, seeing the elderly people around him scrutinizing him, he raised his head and swallowed the wine.

But this wine was strange—full of fishy odor, making him want to vomit.

Seeing the expression on Yang Xiaohai’s face, everyone burst into laughter.

“How is it, Wuwa? Not used to it? This is Whitefish Wine—it's a fine thing, good for drinking and even for healing! You’ll get used to it after a while,” Chi Bai Shui slapped Yang Xiaohai hard on the back and laughed along with the others.

“Fish… fish wine? Can fish be used to brew wine?” As a chef, Yang Xiaohai had never seen such a thing before.

“What a strange thing to say—of course fish can be used to brew wine! Come, come, come!” Chi Bai Shui dragged him to the table.

After three rounds of wine and five courses of dishes, they began to discuss the main matter. Drunk as he was, Chi Bai Shui squinted and took a sip of wine before saying, “Wuwa, since you’ve returned, go to the Dragon King Temple tomorrow morning to officially rejoin the Dragon Household. I’ll buy you a boat. From now on, you can fish and live with your wife.”

Hearing this, Yang Xiaohai paused slightly. Buy a boat? Fish? Live with his wife? These things hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Seeing his son’s expression, Chi Bai Shui frowned. “What? Are you planning to leave again? Then why did you come back?”

Hearing his long-lost father seem angry, Yang Xiaohai panicked. “Father, no, really, it’s not—”

“Enough. It’s settled. Go out.”

Seeing her husband emerge from the canopy with a confused look, Zhao Xiumei, who had been peeling crab shells, hurriedly stood up and ran over.

“Master, what’s wrong? Wasn’t it a feast? Why do you look like this?”

Yang Xiaohai stared blankly at her. “Xiumei, my father told me not to leave, to stay here. What do you think?”

Zhao Xiumei turned around, gazing at the wooden boats on the sea, their oil lamps swaying in the wind, and the families aboard them. “A woman marries her husband, a dog follows its master—I’m fine with whatever you decide. I’ll follow your lead.”

Hearing her words, Yang Xiaohai said nothing more. He simply sat back down at the bow of the boat and continued eating with his siblings.

After finishing the seafood feast, Yang Xiaohai lay on the hanging net, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. On one side were his newly discovered family; on the other, his fellow disciples who had saved his life through danger and hardship.

Of course, he wanted both, but that seemed impossible. He would have to choose one side.

In that drowsy haze, Yang Xiaohai fell asleep. When he opened his eyes again, he saw his mother gently looking at him, as if afraid he might run away once more.

A warm feeling welled up in his chest. He had never felt such concern from family members before.

“Wuwa, you’re awake? Let me take you to the Dragon King Temple. Your father is waiting,” his mother said. Yang Xiaohai nodded and stood up, leaning on his mother as they walked up the steps to the deck.

No matter whether he stayed or left, he had to enter the ancestral hall. After all, he was part of this family.

Following a winding path between boats, Yang Xiaohai brought his mother to the group of wooden buildings floating on the sea. The uneven paths were difficult to walk on, often causing him to trip over others' belongings.

But the people living there were kind, offering him kind glances.

At one point, Yang Xiaohai wanted to ask his mother whether they should bring the family to Niu Xin Village, where life was clearly much better than fishing at sea.

But obviously, he forgot his mother was deaf. No matter how much he said, there was no response.

“Never mind. Once we’re in the genealogy, I’ll talk to father later.”

After walking for a while, a grand temple with wide eaves appeared before them. The broad eaves blocked out all light, casting a heavy shadow that made Yang Xiaohai feel oppressed.

“Come on, don’t keep your father waiting. His temper isn’t good,” his mother urged him forward.

Once inside, Yang Xiaohai looked in awe at a massive painting in the distance. The dark-toned canvas, shrouded in white incense smoke, seemed especially mysterious.

“Mother, what is that?” Yang Xiaohai’s finger was about to point when his mother pressed it down.

“Don’t point randomly. That’s disrespectful to the Dragon King.”

“The Dragon King? Isn’t that just a black snake?” In the painting, a black serpent with no pupils coiled in the corner.

“Ah, that’s what our Dragon King looks like. Hurry up and offer incense. The Dragon King used to be unpredictable, but now he’s very effective!”

Under his mother’s urging, Yang Xiaohai solemnly offered incense to the painting and bowed three times, prostrated nine times to the Dragon King.

As he knelt, a group of people emerged. Among them were Chi Bai Shui and the elders from the night before who had eaten with them.

But today, they wore robes—brown upper garments, skirts below, and a cloak over everything, looking extremely solemn.

Yang Xiaohai carefully observed—they all wore robes made of fish scales, appearing to be crafted from fish skin.

Just as he wondered whether he had truly joined the Dragon Household, an old man with white beard stepped forward, pulled out a bamboo scroll, and recited something toward the painting.

Yang Xiaohai couldn’t understand a word. His accent was thick, and his tone sounded like singing.

However, one name repeated several times, and Yang Xiaohai managed to make out that name: Ao Wuzhi.

“Kneel!” Hearing this, Yang Xiaohai immediately knelt again before the painting.

After completing another set of three bows and nine prostrations, he saw the old men in fish-skin robes circle him, staring at him with solemn expressions.

Before Yang Xiaohai could understand what was happening, Chi Bai Shui stepped forward and stripped off his clothes.

Then, fish bones soaked in ink fell onto his body, causing sharp pain.

Instinctively, he tried to stand, but found himself unable to move. The fish bones weren’t just ink—they contained something else too.

Yang Xiaohai remained kneeling, glancing sideways at his anxious parents, enduring the fish bones that carved fish-scale tattoos across his body, just like those of other dock dwellers.

(End of Chapter)