Chapter 675: Food Earned Through Labor Has Dignity

Chapter 675: Only Food Earned Through Labor Brings Dignity

The harbor of Ring Island.

A damp, sweltering cabin.

Sitting cross-legged beside an electric lamp, Sesame Paste read aloud from a storybook she had borrowed from Sisi to the children gathered around her.

At first, Misa had done this alone, aiming to keep the restless children entertained while also teaching them to read and write.

Later, Sesame Paste joined in.

Thanks to this, she had recently noticed her Common Tongue improving considerably, especially in reading and writing—she could now read simple texts without relying on her VM.

Crouching beside Sesame Paste, a little girl of about seven or eight hugged her knees, her eyes fixed on the cat ears that twitched atop Sesame Paste’s head.

When the story ended, the girl could no longer contain her curiosity and spoke in a soft, sticky whisper.

“Big sister.”

“What is it?” Sesame Paste, turning a page, smiled warmly at the girl.

She remembered the girl’s name was Gooseberry.

Her father, a fruit farmer, had entrusted her to the ship before vanishing into the jungle outside Golden Garna Port with other Moonfolk determined to resist.

Like many children here, she had no family on board; Misa had always looked after her.

The girl gazed timidly at Sesame Paste, hesitating for a moment, but finally voiced what was on her mind.

“Are you a messenger of the Silver Moon Goddess?”

Slightly startled, Sesame Paste blinked and asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because everyone says so… the people on the ship,” the girl continued softly. “I was thinking… maybe the Silver Moon Goddess of Silver Moon Bay and the Moon God of Boro Province are actually the same person.”

Occasionally, she saw mercenaries from Silver Moon Bay secretly praying to this cat-eared sister, yet the others in the cabin called her an incarnation of the Moon God.

Everyone said different things, leaving her confused about what this cat-eared sister truly was.

Seeing the eager eyes fixed on her, Sesame Paste couldn’t help but smile. She reached out and gently patted Gooseberry’s head.

“Hmm… maybe it really could be that way. After all, myths and histories are written by people.”

“Really?” Not just Gooseberry, but all the children’s eyes lit up.

“Mm-hmm!” Sesame Paste said with a laugh. “As it happens, big sister has a good friend who loves studying this… You can discuss it with her. She might seem aloof, but she’s actually very warm-hearted.”

After finishing the story,

Sesame Paste closed the book, patted her pants, and stood up from the floor. Then she noticed an elderly woman watching her, so she walked over and asked with a smile.

“Is something the matter?”

The old woman’s name was Sangru. At sixty, she was the oldest survivor here and a respected elder among the Moonfolk.

Looking at Sesame Paste as she approached, the old woman nodded slightly and spoke earnestly.

“Nothing much. I just wanted to thank you on behalf of everyone… Those children are pitiful. Their fathers are fighting the Xilan Empire’s army a thousand miles away, and who knows if they’ll ever reunite. Thanks to you and Misa, at least they have a chance to learn.”

“I only did what I could. Honestly, I’m happy too.” Faced with such solemn gratitude, Sesame Paste felt a little shy and scratched her cheek awkwardly.

“Even so, we are deeply grateful—to you and to your friends who took us in,” Sangru said seriously, a hint of shame in her voice. “If there’s anything we can help with, please tell us. Even if it’s just washing your clothes or scrubbing the deck. We’ve been eating your food, using your things… It weighs on our hearts.”

Looking at the earnest old woman, Sesame Paste gave a wry smile.

“Really, you don’t have to—“

“It matters to us.” Sangru lowered her eyes apologetically. “Forgive me if these words trouble you. In the ancestral teachings of our Moonfolk, only food earned through labor brings dignity… We are grateful for your help, and we will repay you. But if circumstances allow, please give us a chance to earn our own dignity.”

Sesame Paste stared at the old woman.

Feeling the sincerity and resolve in her gaze, she took the old woman’s wrinkled hand and responded with a serious expression.

“Yes, I promise!”

…

At the same time, on the deck of the Meatball, a cacophony of chatter filled the air.

A person and a bear, leaning over the ship’s railing, peered excitedly westward through binoculars.

“Whoa! Meatball! Another ship’s coming!”

“I see it! It’s bigger than us!”

Though they had been bored at the harbor for days, the two lively souls never let themselves idle, always finding ways to amuse themselves.

Like now.

They were playing a guessing game—whether the first ship to dock today would be a warship or a cargo vessel.

So far, it looked like Meatball was winning.

A cargo ship, belching black smoke with a wide, long deck, was approaching the harbor, led by two speedboats.

As soon as the fully loaded cargo ship came into view, the dock’s loudspeakers crackled to life like a long-awaited rain.

Urged by the broadcast, workers lounging on the shore rose lazily, slung towels over their shoulders, and trudged to their posts, startling a flock of seagulls that had been singing in chorus on the dock.

The once-leisurely harbor suddenly bustled with activity.

With the southern seas locked in fierce battle, even though Ring Island was far from the conflict’s center, few foreign ships visited.

Gazing at the empty sea, Meatball sometimes naively thought that perhaps this was why the harbor governor hadn’t driven them away.

After all, the docks would be empty anyway.

At least they paid a thousand dinars in docking fees every day.

Tail: “Whoa! Meatball! See what’s piled on that deck?”

Meatball: “Can’t tell clearly… Looks like ore?”

Tail suddenly yelped.

“Uh-oh, Meatball, we’re in trouble! That ship… might be pirates!”

Meatball stared in surprise at Tail, who had struck a pensive pose, hand on chin.

“Huh?! How can you tell?!”

“You wouldn’t get it, Meatball.”

Tail put away the binoculars, planted one foot on the railing, and cleverly raised a not-so-bright eyebrow.

“Tail saw right through it! The Northwest Wind, sailing in with the northwest wind, is actually a pirate ship disguised as a cargo vessel! It plundered the port, kidnapped the governor’s daughter, but the White Bear Knights stopped them… That’s how it always goes in movies!”

Realizing she was joking again, Meatball sighed in relief and laughed, teasing her.

“What the heck is the Northwest Wind?”

“It came from the northwest, don’t sweat the details! Isn’t there something more worth mocking, Meatball?”

As she said this, Tail suddenly wrinkled her nose.

“Wait… Meatball, do you smell something weird?”

Rourou was momentarily stunned, then took a deep breath against the sea breeze, her furry bear face scrunching up as she pinched her nose and stuck out her pink tongue.

“Yue!”

“So stinky!”

……

At the same time, on the deck of the Northwest Wind, spread-out furs were emitting a thick, nauseating stench.

Though Mogavi had anticipated the furs might already be starting to rot, the speed of organic matter decay in the tropical climate still surpassed his imagination.

The moment his mercenaries untied the hemp ropes binding the pile of furs, a pungent, foul odor quickly flooded the entire deck.

The smell was like a whole container of pickled herring being opened at once—even the bravest Awakened staggered back several steps before steadying themselves.

But Mogavi couldn’t afford to care about that.

To stop the furs from rotting further, he had to endure the churning in his stomach and urge the retreating mercenaries to spread each fur out on the deck, then scoop seawater with buckets and pour it over them, one after another.

This treatment method wasn’t actually wrong.

When salt is scarce, directly dousing furs with seawater, rubbing and beating them, is itself one of the techniques for tanning hides and leather.

Saltwater not only kills bacteria on the fur’s surface but also prevents cracking and cleans off sweat, blood, and grease.

But Mogavi had underestimated the roughness of this batch of goods and the waterproofing of the Northwest Wind.

The buckets of seawater didn’t wash the stench into the sea; instead, the water mixed with grease and blood seeped into the hold.

Now the lower deck looked like a murder scene, covered in sticky grease and damp bloodstains.

Seeing his beloved ship in such a state, Captain Song Haining’s lips turned blue with rage, his face flushing like pig liver.

If not for the charter fee still held at Silver Moon Bay Port, he would have gladly thrown this man and his cheap junk overboard to feed the fish!

“…I’ll say it again: as soon as we dock, get this stuff off my ship! We agreed to haul coal and iron—not these moldy, stinking things!”

“What moldy, stinking things!” Mogavi’s eyes widened as he looked at him. “Do you know how much these sell for in the desert? Especially in the Golden Lizard Kingdom to the far north—they’re even more popular than silk made from Devil’s Thread!”

Song Haining glared at him, his face ashen.

“I don’t care what they are—this is cargo outside the contract! You breached first, Mr. Mogavi! And our agreement says my ship doesn’t carry perishables!”

Mogavi argued his case.

“These aren’t perishables! They’re furs—”

Song Haining cut him off angrily.

“Enough! Don’t play word games with me! These were just stripped from a kill!”

Mogavi clasped his hands together, pleading.

“Please, friend, once this deal is done, I’ll clean everything spotless—I swear your ship won’t have a trace of smell!”

“Thirty thousand dinars!” Song Haining stared him down. “I’m not letting you near my ship again. Once we dock at Silver Moon Bay, you get as far away as possible!”

“Fine, no problem!” Mogavi nodded like a bobblehead, grinning. “As long as you agree to wait a bit outside Fries Port on the return trip—”

“Get lost!” Unable to stand him any longer, Song Haining shoved him and roared, “Take your junk and get off now!”

Watching the furious captain, the helmsman’s apprentice dared not speak to him and could only rely on his clumsy experience to steer the ship toward the dock.

The Northwest Wind pulled up right next to the Rourou, the two ships of wildly different styles moored side by side.

Leaning on the railing, Tail and Rourou watched the commotion with excitement, munching on melon seeds and cheering.

“Ooh! They’re fighting!”

“Go, go!”

Hearing the noise from the other ship’s deck, Song Haining, who was about to grab the swindler by the collar and teach him a lesson, instinctively paused and looked over.

There stood a girl and a bear at the railing, watching them.

Meeting his gaze, the short-haired girl waved enthusiastically.

“Hey, friends over there! Who are you?”

Song Haining squinted, studying her and the white bear beside her for a moment, then glanced at the flag hanging above the cabin—it felt oddly familiar.

“This is the Northwest Wind! And you?”

The moment they heard the name, the girl and bear on the railing were stunned.

“Huh?!”

“Giao! It really is the Northwest Wind?!”

Song Haining stared intently at the pair, racking his brain for where he’d seen these two characters. But Tail thought he was waiting for them to introduce themselves, so she quickly spoke up.

“We’re the Rourou! I’m Tail! And she’s Rourou!”

Tail?

Song Haining blinked, not yet reacting. But Mogavi, standing nearby, heard the name and cried out in surprise.

“Tail?! Wait, you’re Tail?!”

Hearing that someone recognized her on this vast sea, Tail’s face lit up with delight.

“That’s me! You’ve heard of me?!”

Mogavi grinned sheepishly, shaking off the hand gripping his collar.

“I think I’ve seen your portrait… Ah, I remember! At Silver Moon Bay Port, there was a group from the Boro Province—they were showing your picture to everyone, asking about you and that talking bear beside you.”

At this, Tail and Rourou were shocked.

“Giao?!”

“I’m wanted too?!”

Seeing their exaggerated reactions, Mogavi quickly explained.

“Not wanted—the Silver Moon City lord’s office hasn’t made a move. But you might’ve crossed some… uh, shady types. Better be careful lately.”

Hearing this, Tail breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for the info! We’ll be careful!”

“No problem,” Mogavi said with an awkward smile, glancing at Captain Song Haining, then turning to Tail with a hopeful look. “By the way, do you have plans to return to Silver Moon Bay soon?”

Tail replied matter-of-factly.

“No, why?”

Mogavi’s expression stiffened as he scratched the back of his head.

“Ah… that’s tricky. Headache. The guy I met at Fries Port told me to come find you here and ask.”

Sensing the scent of a side quest, Tail’s eyes lit up as she gripped the railing.

“Ooh! Is there a mission—I mean, are you in some trouble?”

“Sort of,” Mogavi said, glancing at the furs spread on the deck, his face full of resignation. “Because of this unexpected windfall, I’ve pissed off my old friend here to death…”

“Who’s your old friend! And it’s about money?!” Song Haining shot him a furious glare. “Cut the crap—get this filth off my ship now!”

Seeing the captain's emotional agitation as he looked at him, Mogavi quickly raised his hand in an attempt to calm him down.

"I know, I know, don't rush! I have to find people to help me handle all this first, don't I?"

Hearing this, Tail's eyes immediately lit up even more.

"Wait, you need people?"

"Do you have any?" Mogavi paused, instinctively sizing up the so-called Meat Meat.

A few sailors and mercenaries could be seen on the deck, but at most there were no more than thirty—maybe even fewer than his own crew.

Tail grinned smugly.

"Well, you've come to the right people. We've got plenty of hands!"

"That's great... I need about two hundred, uh, preferably four hundred people to help me process these furs. It's simple—just pour seawater on them, rub them repeatedly, and scrape off the rotten bits. I'll figure out the tools. It's fine if you don't know how; I'll teach you step by step... but do you really have enough people here?" Mogavi looked at the girl doubtfully, unsure whether she was joking or serious, his voice lacking confidence.

"Of course we do! Wait here!"

With that, Tail scurried away from the railing, dashed to the cabin, pulled open the door, and shouted inside.

"Si! Come out and greet the guests!"

"What is it now, Awei..."

Clutching a half-organized notebook, Sisi walked out of the cabin with a resigned expression. But the moment she stepped onto the deck, her pretty face twisted into a grimace.

"Eww—did Meat Meat poop on the ship?"

Though the muttered remark was soft, Meat Meat's sharp ears caught it, and a loud roar echoed across the deck.

"Am I that kind of person?!"

Sisi averted her gaze with a subtle expression.

Tail, ignoring all that, grabbed her shoulder excitedly.

"Si! That pirate ship next to us needs help processing freshly skinned furs! They need a lot of people!"

Sisi paused, then walked to the railing, eyeing the man on the other ship who was smiling sheepishly and waving.

"Hello... are you the captain here?"

Instinct told him this one might be slightly more reliable than the previous two.

"No... the one beside me is," Sisi glanced at the polar bear behind her, then looked back at the NPC on the opposite ship, steadying herself. "How many people do you need? What's your offer? How will you pay?"

Mogavi looked at her intently.

"The more, the better! If you can finish processing all these furs within two days, I'll pay you a hundred thousand dinars! Cash!"

Hearing payment in dinars, Sisi immediately showed a disinterested expression.

"A hundred thousand silver coins, and I might consider it. Dinars? Forget it."

"A hundred thousand silver coins?! Are you pirates?!" Mogavi's eyes bulged. "Absolutely not! I only spent a hundred thousand on these furs!"

"Oh? Are you sure you only spent a hundred thousand?"

Sisi narrowed her eyes slightly, tucked the notebook under her arm, and rested her elbow on the railing, looking at him with a faint smile.

For some reason.

Under that gaze, Mogavi felt a chill run down his spine. He swallowed unconsciously, hesitated for a long time, and finally raised three fingers.

"Never mind how much I paid for them—thirty thousand silver coins... for the lady's sake."

Ignoring the merchant's flattery, Sisi gestured with her chin toward the deck not far away.

"That blood marten fur—I think I saw one like it in the Petra Fortress court. I heard a single piece can sell for millions of dinars. And you only spent a hundred thousand to get one, two, three... four pieces? Tsk, you really know how to do business."

Meeting her narrowed gaze, Mogavi gave an awkward smile, but cold sweat trickled down his back. He hadn't expected to run into someone who knew the market.

"...What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just a casual remark. Don't overthink it." Sisi smiled faintly and continued, "Let me add one more thing: these raw furs have been handled... hmm, very roughly. If you don't salvage them soon, they'll be beyond saving. The residents of Ring Island all have their own jobs, and with the war going on, even if you have the money, you might not find that many people in a hurry—especially not ones who've done this kind of work before."

Mogavi stared at her in disbelief.

"Do you have professionals here?"

Sisi said casually.

"I wouldn't say all of them, but one or two out of ten... that's enough, isn't it? We can guarantee to clean them up for you."

On this matter, she wasn't lying to him.

There were quite a few survivors in the Brahmin Province who made a living by hunting, especially among the Moonfolk, who were skilled with bows. In typical hunter households, it was common for men to go hunting and women to process the pelts stripped from the prey.

Among the survivors Tail had rescued from Golden Harbor, a fair number were hunters. Simple tasks like processing furs were naturally no trouble for their wives.

Mogavi hesitated for two seconds, then finally nodded.

"A hundred thousand silver coins... that's not impossible! But promise me one condition: don't tell the butchers at Chip Harbor about those blood marten furs..."

He still wanted to keep doing business there.

If those butchers found out how much profit he'd made on this deal, he feared they'd skin him alive the next time he came ashore.

Hearing this, Sisi knew he'd taken the bait, and a cheerful smile spread across her face.

"Don't worry. They're all rule-abiding folks. Even if they found out, they wouldn't say anything—at worst, they'd curse you behind your back."

A tenfold difference between purchase and sale price was standard NPC behavior. Most RPG shops were the same; after playing a couple of games, you got used to it.

Compared to that, *Wasteland OL* was more humane. In this game, players rarely had the privilege of choice.

At least when they realized they'd been fleeced by an NPC, they could learn from the experience and find someone else to trade with next time.

Or change the way they negotiated.

"Then let's hurry... no time to waste." Seeing the agreement was reached, Mogavi didn't want to delay a moment. He patted the railing, urging them on.

But the captain beside him grabbed his collar.

"Wait, you can't process these goods on my ship! And after unloading, you have to clean the ship inside and out!"

Mogavi looked pleadingly at the woman on the opposite ship.

Reading his expression, Sisi smiled faintly and said.

"Add ten thousand silver coins, and we'll clean up for you too."

"Ten thousand silver coins?! You might as well—" At the offer, Mogavi's eyes bulged like a caught frog. But before he could finish, the captain of the Northwest Wind interrupted.

"Deal! It's settled!"

Seeing both of them staring at him, Mogavi looked more pained than if he were constipated, but thinking of the stinking cargo on the deck, he finally nodded.

"Deal."

"Then it's happily settled. Eleven thousand silver coins. I'll go tell the girls."

A smile curling at the corner of her mouth, Sisi turned and went back into the cabin.

Within minutes, a large group of ragged girls filed through the cramped cabin door onto the deck.

The moment they saw those girls, Mogavi and Song Haining, standing on the deck, were both stunned. Then their gazes toward Sisi shifted.

“……Tell me honestly, what kind of business are you really in?”

Tossing the hair that had fallen on her shoulder, Sisi said casually.

“Charity.”

Mogavi looked at her with an expression that clearly said, “Like I’d believe that.”

Too lazy to explain in detail, Sisi glanced at the opposite deck, then at her own, and said offhandedly,

“Go buy a few sheets of plastic sheeting from the port, or borrow them if you can—it won’t cost much.”

“There’s plenty at the stalls selling fish feed and urea. I just don’t want to get the boat dirty.”