Lan Bo crawled from Bai Chunian’s lap to his shoulder, then down his back to the ground. His tail flared red, teeth bared, issuing a sharp warning: “Nowa, goon, plansy le. (Don’t, go away, leave it.)”
Bai Chunian, sitting on the floor, grabbed the tip of the small, flaring tail in his hand.
Lan Bo’s cheeks warmed; the tail changed from red to blue, the tip curling shyly in Bai Chunian’s palm. He crawled back into Bai Chunian’s embrace, wrapping his long tail around him.
“Go see… the sleeping bed,” Lan Bo whispered in his ear.
The merfolk watched their Queen rise, carrying their King toward the sleeping chamber. They huddled together, whispering:
“Muya bigi. (Handsome man)”
“Quaun bulli siren mimi. (The Queen pulled Siren’s tail)”
“Siren curel. (Siren will get angry)”
“Quaun al jiji mua jeo? (Will the Queen be eaten?)”
“Nowa. (No)” an older merfolk said meaningfully, looking toward the sleeping chamber. “Siren buligi, siren milayer. (He carries the scent of Siren’s rearing; he is Siren’s child.)”
Lan Bo’s sleeping chamber appeared far more splendid than what the monitoring footage had suggested. The walls were lined with white butterfly shells, and jellyfish inside the shells cast a soft blue glow throughout the bedroom.
Lan Bo sat on the soft giant clam shell, patting the empty space beside him for Bai Chunian to lie down.
The bed was thoughtfully designed—half submerged, half above water. Bai Chunian sat on the dry side, examining the intricate surroundings.
Lan Bo explained that he had gathered every white butterfly shell and golden conch from the surrounding seas to decorate the chamber.
Bai Chunian could tell how valuable these items were; the three-meter clam he sat on alone would be considered a world-class treasure on land.
He noticed a skull on the bedside, housing a small red fish. Placed in the water side of the bed, the tiny fish swam only within the eye sockets, never venturing out, much like a pet dog on land.
“Your ear piercing?” Lan Bo pinched his earlobe. “I noticed long ago, just didn’t mention it.”
“It healed closed from before,” Bai Chunian said, touching the earlobe.
Lan Bo, mesmerized by those deep black eyes, embraced him gently, wrapping him in calming pheromones while softly humming a tune near his ear.
His vocal cords, different from humans, produced a unique, ethereal sound. Bai Chunian’s mind went blank. When he regained focus, a new piece of jewelry adorned his left ear.
Two new piercings on the earlobe and helix were still bleeding slightly, but Bai Chunian felt no pain; Lan Bo licked away the blood gently.
“It’s beautiful… what is it?” Bai Chunian asked, watching the reflection in the water.
“It’s made from carved white shell, hollowed out, with an irregular black mineral set in the center. In light, it looks black; in darkness, it turns deep blue.”
“My ribs and heart,” Lan Bo said.
Bai Chunian’s eyes widened; he reached to remove it from his ear, but Lan Bo held his hand, gazing at him with an intense, raw expression: “I am the Faint King.”
At this time, Aphid Island was still in the afternoon, sunny and clear. The special trainees gathered in the medical room for their annual full-body checkup.
Every child at the training base was the heart of the instructors, enduring intense daily training. The island’s isolation meant both physical and mental issues could arise.
Han Xingqian sat at a diagnostic table, wearing a white coat over his instructor uniform, stethoscope around his neck, occasionally glancing at his laptop. The technical team reported that Bai Chunian had been out of contact.
Han Xingqian knew exactly what that guy had been up to, but his upcoming research required a blood sample from the Kraken. He sent an email to the tech team: “Push that scatterbrained rascal.”
Lu Yan placed his physical exam sheet on the diagnostic table and sat across from Han Xingqian, opening his mouth.
“Cavities—cut down on sweets,” Han Xingqian said, glancing at the rest of the items on the sheet. “Your body fat is way too high, Meat Bunny.”
“Ah?” Lu Yan’s rabbit ears shot up.
Han Xingqian didn’t actually need a detailed check; he could sense the body’s condition directly. After signing a few items on the sheet, he handed it back. “Next.”
Bi Lanxing’s indicators, like his report card, were flawless—there wasn’t a single flaw to be found.
“Ugh, everything about me has a problem,” Lu Yan sulked, draping his ears over Bi Lanxing’s shoulder in complaint.
The next student, Xiao Xun, stepped up, placing his exam sheet on the table. He sat stiffly on the exam stool, hands flat on his knees.
Han Xingqian didn’t look up. As he scanned the sheet, he also sensed Xiao Xun’s body. “Heart rate’s high.”
Xiao Xun stiffened.
On the sheet, the mental health section bore Dr. Samoyed’s signature: Psychological State: C.
The mental health grades ranged from A (best) to C (worst). C was the lowest, though a full analysis would only be complete in a day. From the sheet alone, nothing seemed seriously wrong.
“What’s going on?” Han Xingqian asked.
“The doctor asked me a few questions,” Xiao Xun replied softly. “I didn’t answer well, so I got a C.”
Lu Yan, standing slightly behind, noticed something wedged between Xiao Xun’s legs, creating a ridge in his pants.
“No worries, it’s not a test,” Han Xingqian said. “Open your mouth.”
Xiao Xun obeyed.
Suddenly, his neck tensed as Han Xingqian’s distinct, knotted hands rested against it. The warmth of the palms pressed against his skin. Xiao Xun stiffened his back but did not resist. “What?”
“Check your thyroid,” Han Xingqian said calmly.
“But no one else needs—”
“Their psychology isn’t at C like yours,” Han Xingqian cut him off.
…
Xiao Xun hesitated. “Do you want to ask more questions… I sense 55% doubt, 44% concern, and 1%…”
Han Xingqian raised an eyebrow, his gaze behind golden-rimmed glasses sharpening. “Next.”
Xiao Xun froze, then took his sheet and left.
Seeing Xiao Xun’s exam riddled with issues, Lu Yan brightened. Feeling sympathetic, he ran over, tapped Xiao Xun’s shoulder, and, glancing around to make sure no one saw, whispered, “Hey, seems like something’s stuck in your pants.”
Xiao Xun froze mid-step, heat rising to his face, and hurried off.
“?” Lu Yan blinked, muttering quietly, “I didn’t say it out loud… I often lose socks stuck in my pants too.”
Bi Lanxing walked over and rubbed his head. “Let’s go.”
Han Xingqian’s gaze lingered briefly on the slight bulge in Xiao Xun’s pants. He coughed into his knuckles, then returned to his laptop to nudge Bai Chunian once again.
Bai Chunian dozed in the soft giant clam shell. The signal receiver at his waist vibrated. It was connected to the underwater drones; a response meant a tracked lifeform had been detected.
“Sweetheart, I’ve stayed too long here,” Bai Chunian murmured, patting his face to stay awake. He had just used all his self-control to keep his ears and paw pads from poking out.
“I still have a mission… I’ll finish it first.”
Lan Bo stood, wanting to follow, but a merfolk reported that the orca pod had suddenly gone berserk and needed the King immediately.
“See you later,” Bai Chunian said with a faint smile, raising a hand.
“Blasyi kimo. (Bless you)” Lan Bo pressed his palm to Bai Chunian’s, then dove into the water. Bubbles turned into jellyfish, following him all the way.