According to intelligence intercepted by the tech division, Red Throat placed extreme importance on this drug trade. They dispatched more than one member to guard the transaction. Partially decoded contact codes by tech division ace Duan Yang indicated that Red Throat operatives were monitoring the aquarium’s surveillance room in real time, and it was highly likely the trade would occur underwater.
Thus, Bai Chunian and Lan Bo split up: Lan Bo handled underwater operations, while Bai Chunian managed the land side. Even if the method of exchange changed suddenly, they could respond in time.
Since underwater trade was more probable, Bai Chunian entrusted Lan Bo with the AC promoter containing tracking cells beforehand.
While changing clothes for the staff member he had placed in the wheelchair, Bai Chunian scanned the person’s skin—no Red Throat tattoos were found. As before, he wheeled the staff member out of the aquarium.
Outside, about 500 meters away, Bai Chunian hailed a taxi, placing the unconscious omega in the back seat and folding the wheelchair into the trunk. He handed the driver a hundred in cash, politely requesting that the person be taken to the nearest hospital. The driver, seeing Bai Chunian dressed like a student, didn’t question it.
After the taxi left, Bai Chunian ducked behind a bus stop, removing his jacket. Underneath his white sports jacket was black lining; he reversed it, tying the black jacket around his waist. He wore a black tank top beneath, a square silver pendant at his neck, and several oversized rings on his fingers. Pushing back his short hair, he tapped his glasses—transparent lenses darkened instantly into sunglasses.
In just seconds, he emerged as an entirely different person. Passing through the normal entrance, he swiped another tech division ID at the gate. He glanced at his watch—ten minutes remained until the mermaid performance.
The mermaid tank was the only one connected externally to other display tanks, making it the most likely site for an underwater trade.
Even with the glasses now acting as sunglasses, the tracking function remained. The red marker indicating Chen Yuan’s location held steady.
Bai Chunian moved calmly toward Chen Yuan’s position, quietly contacting Lan Bo: “In position?”
Lan Bo, hidden behind coral at the bottom of the display tank, whispered back through the waterproof communicator: “Saw it—mermaid, lower back, bird tattoo.”
Bai Chunian: “Looks like the remaining mermaid is Red Throat’s contact. They must have some method for the trade—perhaps interacting with the audience or otherwise. Stay alert.”
Lan Bo frowned. “Mermaid?”
Bai Chunian corrected: “Ugly mermaid—you’re the beautiful one.”
Peering through a gap, Lan Bo saw the omega in the tank wearing a gold-and-red fish tail. Its broad, ornate twin tail fins resembled the humanoid form of a fiery red betta. Comparing it to his own tail, coiled around the coral, Lan Bo pursed his lips.
He lacked tail fins at the end; his tail was soft and streamlined, tapering gradually, with semi-transparent fin membranes concentrated near his waist and knees.
Lan Bo: “You like big tails.”
Bai Chunian: “No, I like little stingrays that make heart shapes.”
Lan Bo: “Niy?”
Bai Chunian: “Really. Now go do your job, baby.”
Lan Bo: “Hen.”
He slipped into a coral cave facing away from the display tank, deliberately concealing his presence in the water. Occasionally, tropical fish swam past the entrance; he would grab and eat them.
Time came. The mermaid performance began. The omega in gold-and-red swayed gracefully, exhaling bubbles that drew applause from the spectators outside the tank.
Lan Bo, hidden in the coral, had a perfect view through a small gap, relaxing as he watched the human omega perform in seductive mermaid fashion, all while munching on more than twenty clams.
Bai Chunian’s voice crackled through the communicator: “Any unusual behavior in the audience?”
Lan Bo sucked a conch shell. “None. Fish and humans… can’t tell the difference, silly.”
Bai Chunian: “Watch the upcoming shark show.”
At this time, Bai Chunian was not in the performance hall but had entered the adjacent shark exhibit. His glasses’ tracker showed Chen Yuan and his child had entered.
Pretending to pass by casually, Bai Chunian was slightly tripped by another visitor, crouched to tie his shoe, and glanced under the child’s wheelchair. The foam block had disappeared. He removed the tracker from the wheelchair footrest and pocketed it.
The child was fascinated by the sharks, so Chen Yuan called over a staff member for explanations. While the staffer spoke, Chen Yuan discreetly slipped the foam containing the AC promoter through a gap in the railing into the shark tank.
The foam shell, designed with biomimetic suction technology, quickly adhered to the belly of the nearest shark.
Staff guided the sharks through the water channels into the mermaid display tank for the performance.
Bai Chunian observed all of this with growing curiosity. A question had been nagging at him: if the transaction were simply for the AC promoter, it could have been done through official channels. The fact that they were conducting an unsanctioned, private exchange meant this deal wasn’t explicitly approved by the 109 Research Institute.
Moreover, even for a clandestine transaction, each side could have sent just one person to a discreet location for the handoff. Instead, they used a no-contact, non-face-to-face delivery method. Red Throat may have been ruthless, but the extreme caution suggested that Chen Yuan himself didn’t want to expose anything, leaving no leverage for the other party.
What could require such meticulous secrecy? Whatever they were doing with the AC promoter was clearly something Chen Yuan could not afford to take responsibility for.
Bai Chunian whispered to Lan Bo: “It’s done, under one of the sharks’ bellies.”
Lan Bo lounged lazily among the coral. Soon, about six sharks swam past. He extended his tail tip to entangle one of their tails, tugging it sharply. “Kivi,” he said—an expression of contemptuous command.
The shark snapped its jaws, rows of bloodied teeth glinting, and charged. It assumed a defensive stance.
With a single swipe, Lan Bo pressed the shark’s head into the sandy bottom, grinding it slightly, his voice low and cold: “Molanto kivi nuva jibi jeo?”—“Who do you think you’re talking to?”
The shark shivered, closing its mouth in fear, feeling the pressure radiate through Lan Bo’s palm. It dared not move.
Lan Bo removed the foam suction from its belly, extracted the AC promoter inside, replaced it with the one he carried, and reattached it. Patting the shark’s head, he said, “Goon.”
The shark nudged nearby scallops and sea cucumbers toward Lan Bo before swimming away warily.
Meanwhile, Bai Chunian slipped into the gate control room behind the staff member. Operating the valves connecting the shark exhibit and the performance tank, Bai Chunian silently used his bonded ability—Pain Deception—on the staff member, making him writhe in excruciating pain. Seizing the opportunity, he knocked the person out from behind, then sat at the control panel, reopening the previously closed valves.
Lan Bo swam through the waterway, moving gracefully toward the adjacent shallow sea connected to the aquarium. From the shark tank glass, he appeared as a figure radiating cold blue luminescence, tail swaying elegantly, long azure fins fluttering like chiffon in the water. His semi-transparent tail subtly revealed the movements of his internal organs, while bioluminescent water “jellyfish” danced in the currents around him.
Lan Bo’s slender arms parted the water, waist swaying with the tail as he glided forward. The aura he carried was impossible for any human to imitate—a naturally proud fragility that made Bai Chunian both want to hold him and to inflict a gentle pain.
Bai Chunian activated the valves and circulation pumps in sequence, shut down the intake motors, and opened the gates. Lan Bo slipped out of the exit into the shallow sea adjoining the aquarium.
With the mission complete, Bai Chunian left the aquarium to drive to the shallow sea pickup point.
The car stopped on the sand. Bai Chunian removed his sunglasses and stepped onto the soft beach. Lan Bo sat atop a circular reef, gazing at the distant sea. Sunlight refracted through his transparent tail, casting pale blue light onto the sand, glinting off his fair skin. Occasionally, a wave surged up, splashing foam over him. He truly seemed out of place here.
Bai Chunian’s gaze locked with Lan Bo’s deep blue eyes. For some reason, he felt an almost fearful need not to see any trace of homesickness in them.
He walked over, the sea breeze lifting the jacket tied around his waist.
“If you really want those scallops,” Bai Chunian said, “I can have someone bring a couple to you.”
Lan Bo turned to him. “No need—they’re on the grill.” He pointed to a giant shell on the shore. Seaweed filled its interior, with a small pit beneath where a fire burned, sizzling the scallops inside.
Lan Bo tossed the lighter in his hand. “Originally, they were mine.”
Bai Chunian: “……”
After eating, they got into the car. Lan Bo lay back in the rear seat, belly full. Through the transparent portion of his tail, Bai Chunian could see the scallop fragments dissolving quickly in his intestines.
The next objective was to follow the mermaid staffer who had taken the AC promoter, to see where they would deliver it. After removing the uniform, the mermaid left the aquarium, driving with the AC promoter obtained from under the shark’s belly.
To avoid alerting anyone, Bai Chunian didn’t place a tracker on the swapped promoter. He relied on traffic surveillance from the tech division and his own experience to predict the route.
Unsurprisingly, the driver did not enter the city but headed toward the seafood import-export factory at the harbor.
Bai Chunian followed from a different route, hands gently patting Lan Bo’s rounded belly in the back seat from time to time.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use the restroom,” he chatted casually. “Your digestion is incredible—like a strong acid.”
Lan Bo sat up, bracing against the headrest, lifting his fin to show Bai Chunian. “I do,” he explained honestly, “through my cloacal opening.”
Bai Chunian slammed on the brakes, nearly sending the car off the road.