Deng Xi did not rush forward, nor did he make a sound to disturb the scene. He hid secretly behind a distant reef, clutching his large tail and taking care not to reveal his presence. Since the “Little Mute” didn’t want to be discovered, Deng Xi pretended he hadn’t seen anything at all.
The little mermaid hid behind the rock, covering his eyes with his hands, but carefully left a tiny slit between his fingers to peek through.
This stretch of empty seabed was covered in gray sand and dense clusters of shells. Because there were no reefs or coral for cover, the silver-tailed merman’s figure was exceptionally prominent. Deng Xi could clearly see his every move.
The silver-tail swam almost flush against the gray sand, his caudal fin swaying slowly. He used his fingertips to nudge the shells aside one by one, checking to see if anything was hidden beneath them. On this shallow seabed plain that stretched for kilometers, shell after shell was flipped over. It was impossible to say how much time had passed, but the silver-tail had only finished searching one small corner.
Unconsciously, Deng Xi let go of his large tail and stopped covering his eyes. He leaned against the reef, poking his head out to stare blankly with his blue eyes.
To search this entire shallow beach of shells, even a whole night would not be enough time. Furthermore, it was unknown if the lost conch shell had been carried here by the wind-driven waves—and even if it had stopped here, whether it had been blown away again by the tide during the time they were gone.
Searching for a palm-sized conch in the vast ocean… the hope was simply too bleak.
Deng Xi hadn’t dared to think about it before. The sturdy fishing line was usually very difficult to break, and the knot he had used to tie the conch was very secure; it wouldn’t have come loose easily.
How exactly was the conch lost?
Deng Xi pursed his lips. He remembered how the silver-tail had been angry with him today for no reason. Had he thrown the conch away because he was angry? Did the Little Mute start to hate him?
Deng Xi quietly lowered his eyelids, his heart feeling swollen and stifled. These were strange emotions he had never experienced when he lived alone before—a bit of sadness, a bit of anxiety, and a slight urge to cry.
If he threw it away, why does he want to pick it back up now? Deng Xi didn’t understand.
As the shells were searched one by one, the silver-tail swimming over the gray sand gradually drifted further away from Deng Xi. The area of the searched beach expanded, and as time ticked by, Si Jisheng’s expression grew increasingly cold.
“Stop looking.”
Si Jisheng’s hand paused as he reached for a shell.
Deng Xi had swam up behind the silver-tail at some unknown point. Biting his lip, he summoned the courage to ask, “The conch… did you throw it away?”
Si Jisheng’s hand suddenly clenched. The shell between his fingertips let out a strained “crack” and shattered instantly. The larger shards sank into the seawater, while the fragments held between his thumb and forefinger were ground into powder.
Deng Xi couldn’t help but shrink back, his fists tightening nervously.
As Si Jisheng turned around, he saw the blue merman’s slight retreat.
When Deng Xi first met the Little Mute, he had been afraid of the silver-tail’s fierce gaze. But gradually, he had become bold enough to huddle beside the cold silver-tail. Even if Si Jisheng remained silent, Deng Xi would chatter non-stop, always looking happy. No matter how cold a face the silver-tail showed, Deng Xi would always cover it with a larger smile.
But now…
He was afraid.
Si Jisheng’s breathing hitched, and his translucent silver gills nearly froze in the water.
Deng Xi stubbornly asked again, “How was the conch lost? Did the Little Mute throw it away?”
After a long silence, Si Jisheng gave a slight nod.
The silver-tail admitted it.
Deng Xi’s eyes stung, and his fingertips turned white from the force of his grip. It hurt. Only a little bit, but it hurt. Deng Xi’s translucent gold gills trembled erratically, his breathing becoming disordered beyond his control. His voice was muffled as he asked, “Why did you throw it away?”
Si Jisheng’s lips thinned into a cold, straight line.
Another long silence.
Deng Xi looked up at the silver-tail. “And why do you want to find it back?”
Si Jisheng’s lips parted slightly, then closed again in futility. His brows furrowed coldly, his fingers clenching tightly into his palms.
The silver-tail’s “keep-away” expression made Deng Xi feel that his insistence on swimming over to ask for an explanation made him look like a clownfish. He felt he had become quite ugly. Deng Xi knew he wouldn’t get a logical explanation because the Little Mute couldn’t speak; every word required dozens of arduous repetitions to be uttered accurately.
But he still wanted to hear it.
Deng Xi took a deep breath. “If it’s thrown away, it’s gone.” He said petulantly, “I don’t have any other conchs, and I won’t look for a new one.”
“I want the Little Mute to tell me clearly.”
“If you hate me,” Deng Xi’s voice was strained as he forced the words out one by one, “if you don’t want to take me with you, and you don’t want to live with me anymore…”
“We can end the deal.”
To Si Jisheng, the logic was clear: Deng Xi was a failed experimental subject of unknown origins. Even if he were brought back to the Empire, he would only be handed over to the military for interrogation. Reaching that stage would be too ugly. It would be better to have no further involvement.
His brain had already decided on the optimal choice, yet his body felt like a rusted machine, his joints screaming with bitterness. Si Jisheng tiredly closed his silver eyes and, with an extremely light motion, nodded his head.
He agreed.
The deal was over.
Deng Xi’s mind went blank for an instant. His gills seemed to stop trembling entirely. He blinked very, very softly. For a moment, his blue eyes submerged in the sea seemed to blur; a flash of tears refracted, then dissolved into the seawater.
This precarious relationship, built on one-sided devotion, would break like a fragile thread the moment the active party stopped tirelessly maintaining it. It shattered without mercy.
Deng Xi’s eyes curved slightly. “Okay.”
Except for the sea, no one knew the mermaid was crying. It wasn’t until he swam behind the reef—away from the silver-tail’s emotionless gaze where no one could see him—that Deng Xi buried his face in his curly long golden hair. He remained in that position for a very long time, motionless.
Si Jisheng lingered in place for a while before his movements became stiff again. He leaned down to resume picking up shells one by one, repeating this tedious and dull action. The trembling of his gills became extremely faint, as if he were suppressing something—like a taut rope where any extra vibration would cause it to snap.
With every blink, his silver eyes underwent subtle changes, shifting from rounded and pale to narrow and sharp. His pupils trembled slightly.
The entire shallow beach suddenly became deathly quiet. A heavy, suffocating atmosphere spread instantly until a slight movement sounded in the distance. Si Jisheng’s narrowed pupils snapped toward the direction of the noise.
A flash of blue-green first entered his vision.
Si Jisheng’s breathing grew heavy. He stared at that familiar conch for a long time before shifting his gaze to the large creature carrying it.
It was a dark gray deep-sea octopus, nearly blending in with the surrounding gray sand. It was massive. Its beak-like jaws were clamped onto the small conch. With a slight roll of its serrated tongue, the conch disappeared into the swirl of its dancing tentacles.
Si Jisheng’s silver pupils instantly transformed into full vertical slits.
The side effects of his “Siren-transformation” surged like a giant maw, devouring his remaining rationality.