To be precise, Mu Enli didn't truly consider himself qualified to be a good captain—even though he was once in the navy and even had an engineer's title, he was, after all, too young.
He didn't even know how to manage the many employees on this ship—although he had returned to this homeland he had never met, and although those working with him had the same skin color as him.
But Mu Enli had to admit one thing: the cultural differences between two different societies were really too great.
The seagulls flew low over the horn; on a summer evening of a certain year, Mu Enli stayed alone in a certain place on the cruise, took off his hat, and leaned tiredly against the railing, drinking sullenly in secret.
Shortly after, a silhouette agilely climbed up, dressed in ordinary crew attire, lowering its head, walking toward Mu Enli.
"Mu Enli, why is this route repeated this time? We should take as many different routes as possible to explore more areas."
