“Can I do this? Will you think I’m dirty?” Bai Chunian murmured against his temple.
“You can.” Lan Bo cupped his face and instructed him, “Sometimes when I say ‘don’t,’ you don’t have to stop. But if I get angry, you can’t leave me alone—you have to come over and hold me like this.”
“Mm.” Encouraged as if granted something immense, Bai Chunian moved, his eyes reddening.
Lan Bo’s fish tail was semi-transparent; when the fin veil was lifted, what lay within could be faintly seen. Bai Chunian lowered his head and stared without blinking.
It was rare for Lan Bo to feel embarrassed. After living so many years, being stared at by a younger alpha until he blushed felt a little humiliating.
An alpha’s endurance was truly too long. Lan Bo, who had started in a composed, instructive state, gradually found himself unable to bear it.
Helplessly, Bai Chunian learned too quickly. After extrapolating from everything Lan Bo said, he clung to the merman and refused to get off. Gradually, Lan Bo could no longer control him.
Though Bai Chunian seemed bound by the chain collar, in reality he was slowly taking the initiative.
He lifted Lan Bo’s slender arm and pressed him to turn over. His lips brushed faintly against the back of Lan Bo’s neck, inhaling the light fragrance of his pheromones.
His hand rested at Lan Bo’s waist, searching until he found the end of the bandages wrapped around his upper body. He loosened the knot and began to unwind them.
Lan Bo grabbed him backhandedly. “Don’t take them off. There are scars on my back.”
“I know. I’ve seen them.” Bai Chunian easily clasped both of his hands in his right hand, using his nimble left to continue loosening the bandages.
His movements were gentle, but Lan Bo realized he couldn’t break free at all. His strength was as unfathomable as what he had shown in battle.
Usually, Bai Chunian was simply used to being suppressed by Lan Bo, enjoying submitting to him. But in truth, his strength far exceeded Lan Bo’s. Still, he left the muzzle chain in Lan Bo’s hand, allowing him to control the beginning and end of this intense, passionate union.
The bandages fell scattered across the sand, revealing Lan Bo’s back, long hidden from sunlight.
His back was covered in mottled claw marks. Though old wounds had healed, the dark red scars could not fade. They formed a ghost-face pattern—a symbol of exile in the language of the merfolk.
“You’ve suffered.” Bai Chunian lowered his head and kissed the back of his neck. “Your people misunderstood you. Even I once misunderstood you and hurt you.”
“It’s in the past.” Lan Bo tilted his head slightly, breathing softly. “You’re still young. You can change.”
“I’ll help you forget.”
“With annihilation?”
“With this.” Bai Chunian reached up and pressed the clasp behind the bite guard, unlocking it. He removed the restraint from Lan Bo’s fangs and jaw, leaving only the collar around his neck.
He pressed down on Lan Bo’s shoulders and lowered his head. The rough surface of his tongue reddened Lan Bo’s pale, cool skin. When Lan Bo trembled slightly, unable to help it, Bai Chunian bit into his gland.
Sharp teeth pierced the fragile skin, and a rich brandy-like pheromone flooded in. The intoxicating scent spread into the air around them.
“Ah—!” Lan Bo’s fingertips dug into the sand as his body trembled involuntarily. Pain and numbness surged through his limbs.
A fiery red line began to show through his back. As more pheromones were injected into his gland, the line spread, like flowing magma, burning into a bright golden flame across his pale skin.
The burning lines intertwined, gradually forming the mark of a lion that covered his entire back, concealing the dull ghost-face scars beneath.
“I’ve marked you. Permanently. Irreversibly.” Bai Chunian kissed him excitedly.
The mark he left was vivid—fierce red laced with shimmering gold, as passionate as his love and desire.
“When we sleep in the same bed, sometimes I hold you too tightly at night. You get scared in your dreams, mumbling that it’s hot. I know you’re not rejecting me—you’re remembering something painful.” A drop of blood hung from Bai Chunian’s fang as he wrapped Lan Bo tightly from behind, his burning body enveloping him. “Forget the magma. Just think of me holding you.”
A black pearl rolled from the corner of Lan Bo’s eye, falling into the sand, followed by more in a soft cascade.
Beneath the scales of his fin, the opening was narrow and cool. When Bai Chunian’s member entered, it stretched it open, and from the outside one could see the movement through the semi-transparent tail.
“…Mm… we’ve done it three times already… do you still have the energy…” Lan Bo stroked Bai Chunian’s hair, pinching the base of his lion ears. “Your barbs are standing—be gentle when you pull out, don’t scratch my egg passage.”
“I’m very good.” Bai Chunian’s body burned with heat, instinctively seeking Lan Bo’s coolness. Through the translucent tail, he watched himself push in to the deepest point, touching a pink protrusion.
Lan Bo trembled violently.
“Ah, do I make you feel that good?” Bai Chunian was driven to the peak of excitement, thrusting rapidly with his strong, lean waist against that soft pink spot.
Lan Bo gripped his arm, nails digging into flesh, his expression strained with unbearable sensation, yet tinged with seductive allure. “Slower…”
“You like this. You like me.” Bai Chunian held his waist tightly, thrusting tirelessly and intensely. Lowering his head, he took Lan Bo’s nipple—hardened from stimulation—into his mouth, licking and sucking with obsessive hunger.
Lan Bo’s sacred, cold demeanor was completely shattered. The flushed, wanton color and pained expression made him look like a desecrated white marble statue.
Merfolk are an inherently lustful race, but that is because their reproductive capacity is weak. They must engage in frequent mating to continue their species, and so they do not place much importance on emotional connection or the pleasure of sex.
With the muzzle removed, Bai Chunian became unbearably clingy. Even Lan Bo could hardly withstand such overwhelming intensity. Grabbing at the sand, he tried to crawl toward the water. “Enough… we can’t keep doing this… be good…”
“Lan Bo, Lan Bo—you like me. Tell me you love me. Please.” Thinking he was about to leave, Bai Chunian grabbed his waist with both hands, lifted the fin at the back of his tail, and pushed in blindly.
Lan Bo suddenly cried out, “That’s the excretory opening!”
Sensing Lan Bo struggling to escape, panic took hold of Bai Chunian. He refused to let go, pressing down and continuing recklessly.
That place was not meant for intimacy. The tearing pain made Lan Bo suffer unbearably. He wanted to turn and bite this reckless little cat, but Bai Chunian wrapped around him from behind, clinging tightly, his voice choked with tears against his neck. “Don’t run, Lan Bo… please… no one wants me. You have to love me. Don’t go into the water. Don’t leave me.”
Warm tears slid into the hollow of his neck. Lan Bo’s heart softened. He turned back, rubbing Bai Chunian’s eyes and cheeks. “Be good… slower… it hurts.”
It was only that place… if he wanted it, then so be it.
“…Mm.” Bai Chunian placed the chain connected to his collar into Lan Bo’s hand. “If it hurts, pull it tight. I’ll slow down.”
Lan Bo held the chain loosely, but did not tighten it.
Bai Chunian moved his hips, finally releasing his heat inside him.
Afterward, he simply clung to Lan Bo, hugging him tightly from behind. His scorching breath fell against Lan Bo’s nape, his eyes half-closed, droplets still clinging to his lashes.
Enduring the pain, Lan Bo turned and pulled the curled-up Bai Chunian into his arms, letting his forehead rest against his chest, stroking his hair to comfort him. “I’ll cherish you. I won’t leave. Don’t be afraid.”
Thanks to a group of meddlesome dolphins in the Pacific, news that the king had bestowed his body upon another spread overnight across the five oceans. The entire sea race was both overjoyed and stunned, celebrating and passing the news far and wide.
Under the blazing afternoon sun, Bai Chunian woke from deep sleep, raising an arm to shield his eyes.
He suddenly jolted awake, sitting up and looking around. There was only a lone coconut tree beside him—Lan Bo was gone.
Fine scratch marks were left on the bark. Bai Chunian reached out to touch them and realized his hands felt different.
He could not quite describe it. His nails seemed longer and more refined, and the calluses from handling guns had disappeared.
Walking to the water’s edge, he looked at his reflection in the still surface—and froze.
In the past, Bai Chunian had never thought his appearance was anything remarkable. His aesthetic sense had not fully aligned with human standards, and most experimental subjects looked similar, so he never found himself special.
But now it was different. His features had not changed much individually, yet together they formed a kind of beauty even he could recognize.
“…What the hell. Why?” He touched his face; his bone structure seemed subtly refined.
He tried activating his J1 ability—skeletal reinforcement—and found his strength had been refined as well. The energy required to harden his entire skeleton was now only half of what it used to be.
“…Where did Lan Bo go?”
He searched around for a long while. When he suddenly touched the collar at his neck, he calmed down, sitting quietly to wait.
An hour later, Lan Bo broke through the surface of the water, shaking his wet golden hair as he leapt onto the small island.
He had a large scallop tucked under one arm and another slung over his shoulder. It had taken quite some effort to carry them up, as the shells were slippery and round.
Bare-chested, the fiery lion mark on his back still shimmered like molten lava carved into his skin.
Using water-forged steel, Lan Bo fashioned a small sharp knife and skillfully pried open the shells, removing the meat intact and cutting it into pieces.
Suddenly, his waist tightened. Strong alpha arms wrapped around him as Bai Chunian clung from behind, pulling him into the space between his legs and kissing the top of his head.
“I’m cooking. Move aside—don’t make trouble.” Lan Bo flicked his tail, scooping some seawater into an empty shell and setting it on the hot sand to dry into salt.
“Mm, no… just let me rub against you.” Bai Chunian rested his chin on Lan Bo’s shoulder, sticking close, murmuring by his ear, “Why did you go into the water without wearing anything?”
“There’s no one in the sea to see.”
“There are fish watching! They were all looking. A sea turtle just swam by—some old pervert stared at you several times.” Bai Chunian took the washed and dried bandages and wrapped them back around Lan Bo. “Put these on. You’ll get sunburned. I bought you so much sunscreen and you never use it.”
“…You’re especially clingy today.” Lan Bo pushed away the face crowding in beside him.
“What? No.” Bai Chunian pressed his lips to the gland at the back of Lan Bo’s neck, marked with several rings of his bite, and kissed it. “Hey… can we talk about something?”
Lan Bo lowered his eyes, spreading the dried salt onto the cut scallop meat with his small knife. “No. You’ve done it too many times. It’s still swollen, and my waist hurts.”
“…I wasn’t asking for that…”
“Then what?”
“This.” Bai Chunian lifted the collar at his neck. “Do you even need this? If not, I’ll keep it for you.”
“You like it that much?”
“…Yeah.”
“Then keep wearing it.”
“You’re giving it to me?” Bai Chunian brightened immediately. He had only worn a black pearl before; the collar was made from Dead Sea Heartstone, essentially a form of water-forged steel. Once the chain was removed, it disconnected from Lan Bo, turning black—like a clear, crystalline black metal.
Like a child receiving a birthday present, Bai Chunian let go of Lan Bo and went to gather weeds, lighting a fire with a lighter to cook.
The two of them sat on the floating island, each holding a roasted scallop, their legs dipped into the clear seawater.
A cluster of brightly colored fish gathered around Lan Bo’s tail, fighting over the glowing blue jellyfish stirred up by the bubbles. After swallowing the jellyfish, the fish became even more vibrant, their bodies growing slightly larger as well.
Bai Chunian tilted his head up to look. Four coconuts hung high on the tall palm tree. He muttered, “Do you think those coconuts are ripe? I’m thirsty.”
“They’re ripe.” A golden shimmer flickered across Lan Bo’s scales. One of the mature coconuts loosened and fell, landing perfectly on a discarded shell, cracking it open so it could be drunk directly.
“Huh?” Bai Chunian picked it up in confusion and poured the sweet juice into his mouth. “So sweet. Must be the sweetest one out of the four.”
“…Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you upset?” Bai Chunian scooted closer, his ears drooping like he’d done something wrong.
“I ate the HD serum.” Lan Bo lowered his head, fiddling with the leftover pieces of meat in the shell. “There were too many of them, and I was in a hurry to find you.”
“It’s fine. We already have a sample—the one we took from the pyramid lab. As long as they don’t get it, it’s okay.” Bai Chunian stretched lazily, resting his hand on Lan Bo’s sun-dried golden hair and ruffling it. “Did you get any new ability?”
“Koi blessing. My luck becomes very good. I don’t even need to use it deliberately—it activates on its own at the right time.”
Bai Chunian stifled a laugh. “That suits you.”
Lan Bo lifted the tip of his tail and turned to ask, “Are we on a honeymoon right now?”
“…Not really. It only counts if we’re traveling. And it has to be a long trip.”
“Alright.”
The small island they were on kept drifting. Without a map, Bai Chunian had no idea where they were, but his communicator was still working, and he could contact his teammates. They had already returned to the PBB military base.
According to Bi Lanxing’s report, they had discovered survivors hidden in the pharmaceutical factory, as well as a large number of trafficked people used for live experiments. He had worked overnight to finish the photos and report and submitted them to headquarters. He Suowei had also led a team to capture the experimental subject that ambushed them—the “Demonic Sound Cicada”—and was currently interrogating it. There should be news by the time Bai Chunian returned.
After contacting his team, Bai Chunian finally relaxed. He put down the communicator and saw Lan Bo sitting alone by the water, staring out at the endless sea.
He walked over and sat beside him, tossing a dry shell into the ocean. “What are you thinking about?”
Lan Bo gazed at the distant horizon and murmured, “I don’t agree with humans calling this planet ‘Earth.’ Just the Pacific Ocean alone is wider than all the land combined. There’s more ocean than land—it should at least be called ‘Ocean.’ Humans are arrogant and overbearing. And this place isn’t peaceful. The sea is easily angered. Even after all this time, I still can’t get used to human ignorance and shallowness.”
“Foolishness creates disaster.” Lan Bo raised his hand and rested it on Bai Chunian’s broad back.
“…Forget it. Let’s go back.”
“Mm, wait a second.” Bai Chunian took his hand, lifted the hem of his shirt, and used one of Lan Bo’s fingers to draw a blue line along his hip bone—three centimeters long.
Then another—four centimeters.
Another—two centimeters.
And another—three centimeters.
Lan Bo watched him carefully marking lines on his body and asked, puzzled, “Does that have some special meaning?”
“Yeah. The number of times we did it.”
“Why are they different lengths?”
“One millimeter equals one minute.”