A cool, slightly salty breeze blew in from the coast. It was still early; the sun hadn’t yet warmed the sea’s surface. But Bai Chunian couldn’t wait. The effects of the AC booster lasted only 24 hours. Counting from when it took effect, he had roughly four hours left. He wanted to spend a little more time with the real Lan Bo.
Bai Chunian wore only a pair of black boxer briefs. His two long, straight, and powerful legs were exquisitely defined, perfectly complementing his tall, slender frame with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. A large, striking blue fish-scale pattern covered his right shoulder and pectoral muscles, the lines shimmering with a blue glow. A black pearl pendant on a thin black cord hung from his neck, which, ironically, made the long scar across his chest less noticeable than usual.
Bai Chunian walked barefoot on the sand, which hadn’t yet been warmed by the sun, carrying his snorkeling gear. Lan Bo was perched on his back, her slender arms wrapped around the Alpha’s neck, her fishtail coiled around his waist and one leg.
A wave washed over his feet, so cold that Bai Chunian pulled them back. He crouched down, splashing water with his hands and rubbing his arms: “Damn, it’s freezing.”
Lan Bo released her tail, sliding off his back and crawling onto the sand where the waves had receded, waiting contentedly for the waves to caress her body.
“That won’t do you any good. The seawater isn’t going to get warmer just because you’re splashing it on your arms.” Lan Bo lay sprawled on the shallow sandbar, wriggling like a caterpillar as he buried himself in the sand.
“I’m afraid of getting a cramp,” Bai Chunian continued splashing water. “Besides, drowning right in front of you would be way too embarrassing.”
“I won’t let you drown.” Lan Bo smiled, his pale golden eyelashes curving into a line. He quietly curled his tail, wrapping it around Bai Chunian’s ankle and giving a gentle tug.
“I’m falling.” Bai Chunian fell backward into the water, splashed all over by the seawater, his hair dripping wet against his cheeks.
He rolled over and pinned Lan Bo beneath him, scooping up two clumps of wet sand to mold into a pair of breasts for him. Finding them not quite round enough, he pinched and reshaped them a couple of times.
It looked perfectly natural; this fish possessed a beauty that made it impossible to tell its gender.
Another wave surged forward, crashing into Bai Chunian from behind, causing his glossy, supple back muscles to tense.
The seawater rose, submerging Lan Bo as he lay face-up on the sand. Bai Chunian watched him through the clear water and suddenly pulled Lan Bo out of the water and into his arms.
Only after pulling him up did Bai Chunian realize what he’d done. He rubbed his wet hair. “I actually worried you might choke just now.”
Lan Bo hugged him. Merfolk loved physical intimacy; it was an expression of love. In the sea, an Alpha’s body heat felt almost negligible.
Bai Chunian sat on the shore putting on his fins, while Lan Bo lay on the rocks, propping his chin up to watch him. “Why are you dressing up like a fish with two tails? None of us have two tails. You still look really strange. You won’t be able to blend in—we’re not stupid.”
“Who wants to blend in? It’s for kicking through the water. You have a tail and I don’t—how am I supposed to keep up with you?”
Lan Bo comforted him with a worried look: “Really, don’t worry about our differences. As long as I’m here, no fish will discriminate against you because of it.”
“I really don’t want to blend into the school of fish… Do you know about bionics? Human ingenuity.” Bai Chunian put on his fins and mask, slowly walked from the shallows toward the deep, and with a light leap, plunged into the sea.
Lan Bo dropped down from the reef and swam gracefully to Bai Chunian’s side.
Three years ago, the water quality here was only average. Since there were many special training students on the island, they initially lacked any sense of environmental protection and treated the place as just an ordinary resort island, casually dumping their household waste into the water. Later, when Bai Chunian arrived on the island, he happened to encounter a red tide—disgusting algae covered the sea surface. So, he began assigning a group of students every day to clean the coastline and keep the area around the training base tidy.
Now, the marine environment around Aphid Island is excellent. The crystal-clear water allows one to see fish and seaweed swimming on the seabed directly from the surface. If the Alliance hadn’t purchased the entire island to use as a training base, it would most likely have been bought by speculators and turned into a tourist destination.
Patches of light from the surface danced across the snow-white seabed, while schools of colorful small fish swam among the coral.
However, even though Bai Chunian was an excellent swimmer, he couldn’t possibly be more agile than a fish in the water. Lan Bo only needed to gently flick his tail, with his fluttering, translucent fins making the slightest movement, to swiftly cover a great distance.
He swam over to the coral, and the dazed little fish were drawn to him, following Lan Bo in schools. They kissed his body with their mouths, enthusiastically helping him clean off parasites and dead skin. However, since Lan Bo’s body was already clean and smooth, the little fish were a bit disappointed.
Lan Bo gently swayed his tail, and the bubbles he stirred up transformed into jellyfish of varying sizes, drifting through the water and emitting a faint blue glow. When his slender fingers touched the jellyfish, they dissolved, replaced by blue stardust falling like a fine rain.
The fish scrambled to catch the blue stardust formed from the jellyfish.
The fish that had swallowed fragments of the jellyfish underwent visible changes: their already vibrant colors became even more brilliant and vivid, and the bellies of some rare female fish gradually filled with eggs.
Bai Chunian stared in awe at the astonishing scene before him: beautiful, mysterious sea creatures dancing together, with blue-glowing jellyfish floating all around him.
If filmed as a documentary, it would likely win international awards. But he had no desire to do so; this was a mermaid that belonged solely to him.
Yet he wasn’t entirely certain. The waters surrounding Aphid Island alone were boundless; perhaps Lan Bo was a gift from God to the entire blue planet, and belonged to no one.
Lambo swam back quickly, took Bai Chunian’s hand, and led him toward deeper waters.
Bai Chunian winked at him.
“You’re not slow,” Lambo said, turning back as he guided him. “I’m just too fast.”
Bai Chunian needed to surface to breathe; he could hold his breath for a maximum of five minutes. Lan Bo blew a bubble toward him, which enveloped his mouth. Bai Chunian tried to breathe, inhaling all the oxygen contained within the bubble. It was no different from surfacing to breathe—in fact, he could last even longer, because the bubble Lan Bo released was filled with compressed oxygen.
“Actually, you don’t even need to wear this gear. I have enough oxygen to sustain you for a long time, and it won’t let the water pressure damage your eyes or internal organs.” Lan Bo’s voice could enter Bai Chunian’s ears through the tiny bubbles he released, so even though he spoke at his usual volume, Bai Chunian could hear him clearly.
“Actually, the ocean has sounds. It’s just that the water blocks your ears, so it’s hard for you to hear them clearly.” Lan Bo swam over and gently lay down on Bai Chunnian’s back. Holding onto his shoulders, he adjusted the oxygen levels in his body. He grew slightly heavier, pressing Bai Chunnian against the coral.
“The ocean is beautiful and not lonely—it’s another world you don’t know about.” ” Lan Bo cupped his ears, and the bubbles carried the sounds to Bai Chunian’s ears. He heard a series of strange, undulating sounds that formed a mysterious melody he had never heard before.
“Actually, I’ve watched a lot of ocean documentaries too,” Bai Chunian gestured to him.
Lan Bo was delighted to hear this: “ “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. No human knows the ocean better than I do. I’m so happy you like the sea. Sooner or later, I’ll take you to see things you’ve never seen before.”
Lan Bo led him deeper into the water. Indeed, with Lan Bo by his side, the water pressure around Bai Chunnian remained roughly the same as on land, and he didn’t need to surface for air.
Suddenly, Ranbo stopped in front of a somewhat barren stretch of reef. Numerous tripods had been placed among the rocks, each secured with zip ties holding fragments of coral.
This was a modest coral replanting site, covered with fragments of coral saved for conservation. Coral is extremely fragile; even the slightest change in water quality can kill large swaths of it. Typhoons occasionally sweep through the waters around Aphid Island, and these delicate, beautiful creatures always suffer significant losses, but with proper care, they can grow back.
Lan Bo asked in surprise, “Who made these?”
Bai Chunian pointed to himself. He spent a considerable amount of time teaching on Aphid Island each year, but since he didn’t have classes every day, he had plenty of free time. Making these things was an effective way to pass the time and practice holding his breath.
The mermaid swimming in the water suddenly lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Bai Chunian, hugging his neck, and gently kissing his face.
“We have things in common with humans. If someone cherishes what I cherish, it’s hard for me not to love them.” Lan Bo excitedly rubbed her cheek against his. “You’re so cute, Randi. I’m obsessed with you. I want to make love to you.”
His choice of words was always overly blunt and explicit, sounding a bit comical and not quite like a confession, but Lan Bo could only express his emotions with the phrases he was familiar with.
The blue jellyfish trailing from Lan Bo’s fishtail shattered against the coral, and the falling stardust brought it back to life. The small, broken pieces of coral grew rapidly into a vast expanse, and the bleached spots returned to their original state.
Bai Chunian could sense the joy emanating from his heart. He couldn’t help but gently touch his hand, then grab him and pull him into his embrace.
“Are you mine?”
He wanted to ask that, but he couldn’t speak underwater.
Lan Bo helped him float to the surface, where the waves pushed them back onto the beach.
Bai Chunian took off his goggles and fins and tossed them aside, sitting on the sand to rest. Water dripped from the ends of his hair, and the warm sunlight baked his skin. Lan Bo lay on the edge of the sand, his fishtail happily stirring up the beach.
He picked up a seashell washed ashore, placed it in his mouth, and bit it in half, using the sharp edge to carve words into his arm.
Bai Chunian hurriedly grabbed his wrist: “What are you doing?”
“Time is running out. I need to write down what’s important. If I go back to the incubation period, I might forget.” Lan Bo finished carving a line of text unique to merfolk onto his arm, then grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it into the wound to prevent the inscription from fading as it healed.
“Lan Bo!” Bai Chunian wouldn’t let him do that; he clasped his hands together. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“It hurts, but I can’t forget this.” Lan Bo blinked at him. “Can you teach me how to write your name?”
Bai Chunian pressed his lips together and traced the three characters “Bai Chunian” in the wet sand with his finger.
Lan Bo carefully traced the characters in the sand. He didn’t know how to write, so his strokes were crooked and uneven.
He practiced many times. Once he was sure he’d memorized the strokes, he grabbed a seashell and carved the name into his forearm, then stuffed a handful of sand into the wound.
“Ouch, that hurts. Don’t do that.” Bai Chunian quickly grabbed him. He was like a stubborn child determined to touch a lightbulb—the more you tried to stop him, the more he insisted on doing it.
Lan Bo still stubbornly carved his name. Two lines of text remained on his forearm, but aside from the three characters for “Bai Chunian,” Bai Chunian didn’t recognize the rest.
“Is it that important, so you carved it in?” Bai Chunian asked.
“Yeah, no one is more important than Randi.”
Bai Chunian had originally had many questions he wanted to ask him, but now, this answer was enough.
“I’m going to be away for a while.” Lan Bo sat side by side with him, hugging the crook of his fishtail knee like a human would.
The thing he’d been resisting facing deep down had finally happened. Bai Chunian let out a soft sigh and pulled Lan Bo into his arms, as if afraid that a single wave might wash Lan Bo away.
“I’ll come back once I’ve taken care of my business. I promise.”
“What business?” Alpha’s voice caught in his throat.
“Have you ever wondered how I was recovered?” Ranbo nestled against his chest, his upturned tail tip digging a small crab out of the sand. He rinsed it clean in the water, popped it into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed.
Bai Chunian had never considered it. He knew human technology had advanced to unimaginable levels; perhaps capturing a mermaid leader alive wasn’t that difficult.
“It’s not as simple as you think. This is a very complex group; it’s not easy to manage.” ” Lan Bo placed a hand on his wrist. “Besides, I haven’t treated you badly—not in the slightest. You think I’m competing with you for a spot to leave? Actually, I don’t care about that at all.”
“Without you, I’d have stayed at the research institute forever and never come out.” Lan Bo propped his chin in his hand and stirred the water idly. “I’ve lived too long. There are some things I’ve had more than enough of.”
Bai Chunian’s thoughts had been in disarray from the start. In truth, after all this time, he knew he couldn’t truly hate him. Call it depravity or masochism—Lan Bo was like weeds growing wildly in his heart; pulling them out would tear away swathes of flesh and blood. He just wanted to know if meeting Lan Bo was a stroke of good fortune bestowed by heaven, or a conspiracy.
“You… why were you captured?” Bai Chunian didn’t notice that his voice had grown hoarse.
“It’s too shameful to say now.” Lan Bo raised his hand, marked with engravings, and pressed it against his chest. “Humans coined the term ‘whale fall,’ and I find it quite fitting. I’m going back to create a ‘mermaid fall.’ It won’t take long.”
“How long is that?”
“A month.”
“Then I’ll be waiting here for you at this time next month.”
“Alright.” Lan Bo wrapped his arms around Bai Chunian’s neck. “Can you be good and not let other Omegas hold you? I’m only letting them live because of you.”
Bai Chunian couldn’t help but pin him to the ground, leaning down to kiss him with uncontrollable passion: “I’ll miss you.”
“Me too.”
“If you run into trouble, ask the Alliance for help. The entire Search Division of the Special Operations Unit is on standby—I’ll come help you.”
Lan Bo laughed: “I hope not. I just want you to come over and comfort me.”
“Damn you.” Bai Chunian kissed him fiercely, his tongue—laced with tiny barbs—licking the inside of his mouth. The stimulating sensation swirling inside Lan Bo’s mouth made him groan softly.
Today’s duty students arrived as usual with their tools to clean the beach. Every trainee loved cleaning the beach because it gave them a legitimate excuse to skip training, and besides, the beach wasn’t dirty at all.
Ying walked along, licking an ice cream she’d bought at the convenience store, passing by with Clownfish, both carrying buckets and trash tongs.
Suddenly, they stopped in their tracks. They saw Instructor Bai, wearing only swim trunks, pinned down an omega, holding his hands and forcing a kiss on him. A cold, elegant fish-scale pattern had appeared on his sharp shoulders and chest.
Ying’s ice cream cone fell to the ground.