While Zhao Shuqing was cooking, Lin Feng stood nearby, chattering away about the day’s amusing discoveries.
“I’ve said hello to the little sparrows,” Lin Feng said proudly as she munched on some grapes. “From now on, I can come over for meals every morning and afternoon, and they’ll tell me everything happening around here. I asked them so many questions today that they ate all my grapes, and I didn’t even get to taste one. They’re surprisingly sweet.”
Zhao Shuqing sliced the pork elbow while asking, “So, what did you find out?”
Lin Feng perked up and began counting on her fingers. “The building across from ours has a rich lady living there. Every month, she brings different men home for some fun. Her record is thirteen in a single month.”
She continued, “There’s a family in the neighborhood that owns four cats. Every day, they patrol the area several times, round up all the local cats, and lead a parade through the streets. They told me to steer clear of that cat crew from now on.”
Lin Feng went on, “The owner of all nine villas is the same person, but each one houses a different woman. And they all share the same wife.”
Seeing that Lin Feng was about to keep going, Zhao Shuqing quickly cut her off. If she kept prying, Lin Feng might soon know which families had kids that weren’t biologically theirs.
“Don’t poke into other people’s business,” Zhao Shuqing cautioned her. “And tell your sparrow friends not to go snooping around houses anymore. We need to keep an eye on our cat too—no letting Pumpkin join the cat parade.”
The last thing Zhao Shuqing wanted was for her cat to turn into a street stray.
For lunch, she made several dishes Lin Feng loved, and Lin Feng politely devoured every bite. Afterward, she grew drowsy, so Zhao Shuqing sent her off to the bedroom for a nap and released Pumpkin, who had been confined all morning.
Lin Feng slept soundly and woke up right at dinnertime. Zhao Shuqing had assumed an afternoon nap would curb her appetite, but Lin Feng devoured two full bowls of ramen anyway—nearly finishing off Zhao Shuqing’s bowl too.
That evening, with Pumpkin dozing on the living room sofa downstairs, Zhao Shuqing dug out some crayons she’d bought at some point and handed them to Lin Feng.
“What are you planning to draw this time?” Zhao Shuqing glanced at their pristine white ceiling, a pang of reluctance in her voice. “You can draw on our walls however you like.”
Lin Feng tested the crayons’ feel. She thought the drawing she’d done for Zhao Shuqing last time was too ugly, so this time she was determined to do her best.
The ceiling was too high, and with her pregnancy so advanced—carrying the two little fish that her feet were almost out of sight—it wasn’t as easy as it had been in her first couple of months. In the end, Zhao Shuqing took the crayons and fetched the folding ladder from their renovation supplies.
“Right there, like that—draw a circle,” Lin Feng instructed, cradling her belly and craning her neck upward as Zhao Shuqing wielded the crayons.
Seated on a chair, Zhao Shuqing swept her hand in a perfect arc. Lin Feng clapped delightedly. “That’s so round!”
Not for the first time, she marveled at how humans drew better than she could.
Once Zhao Shuqing learned that any color would do, she selected some soft, elegant pastel shades. Under Lin Feng’s direction, she drew circle after circle, then added a few finishing touches to the final image. It no longer looked terrifying—instead, it had a whimsical, childlike charm.
Pink eyes, grass-green arcs, dotted with purple flower petals—it resembled a nursery mural.
“This way, no one will be startled awake,” Zhao Shuqing said with satisfaction as she descended the ladder and admired her handiwork.
Lin Feng agreed. Now she could finally sleep without worry at night.
In the days that followed, aside from trips to buy groceries, Zhao Shuqing spent her time settling into their new home. She added some soft furnishings but kept many of the previous owner’s items.
They must have left in a hurry—some furniture still had tags on, brand new. It gave Zhao Shuqing a thrill, like she’d scored some great deals.
After spending time together, Pumpkin lost interest in Lin Feng. Having realized this fish wasn’t edible and held no appeal, the cat turned her attention to the cat patrol passing by the door each morning and evening. She begged shamelessly to join them, earning several spankings from Zhao Shuqing.
Lin Feng’s main tasks were to take good care of herself, feed the little sparrows struggling in winter, and chat with them.
Everything seemed peaceful.
On New Year’s Eve, fireworks lit up the neighborhood. Lin Feng, seeing them for the first time, excitedly dragged Zhao Shuqing to sit in the courtyard all night. Zhao Shuqing watched her little fish’s cheeks flush red from the cold, amused and tenderhearted.
The new year began, and life gradually returned to normal—even the oceanarium reopened.
Wen Xiaoying texted Lin Feng the news while Zhao Shuqing was cooking.
Upon learning the oceanarium had reopened, Zhao Shuqing called right away to ask about the details.
“It should be after the New Year’s holiday ends,” Wen Xiaoying replied over the phone. “The curator plans to open before Spring Festival, when kids are on break and tourists flock in. That’s prime business time, so we’ll open no later than then.”
The oceanarium still needed ticket sales to pay staff wages and feed the marine animals.
“What about the employees? Are they all the same ones?”
“Pretty much everyone’s back. Wages are unchanged, but no performance bonuses or year-end payouts this year.” Wen Xiaoying sighed. “Good thing I’ve moved into the dormitory. Some staff were renting and can barely afford it now.”
Zhao Shuqing felt a twinge of discomfort. Truth be told, the oceanarium’s troubles were tied to her.
Sensing her silence, Wen Xiaoying comforted her. “Don’t beat yourself up—this isn’t your fault. It was those mermaids who started it. We’ve only lost bonuses; the fishermen who can’t sell their catch have it worse.”
Zhao Shuqing sighed. “I’ll come visit once you’re open.”
Wen Xiaoying hummed in agreement, then said wistfully, “It’d be great if Lin Feng were here too. It’s been so long—wonder if she’s gone back to the sea.”
Zhao Shuqing didn’t dare reveal that Lin Feng was right there with her, living together.
After hanging up, Zhao Shuqing’s mood lingered unsettled.
Seafood unsold, oceanarium shuttered, humans on edge—these stemmed from Xu Tang and her group’s plan, which Zhao Shuqing had exposed, making it worse.
But the mermaids’ ambitions were like a festering sore; ignoring it wouldn’t heal it. For now, they sought to reproduce, but they might demand more later. Zhao Shuqing suspected they’d eventually want their own nation—a modern ‘Atlantis.’
Speaking of which, she had questions for Lin Feng.
“Hm?”
Lin Feng gnawed on braised chicken feet, their skin crisped to a tiger-striped pattern. “Atlantis isn’t as nice as here—just rocks and seaweed, with some small fish around. Mermaids live in the crevices. Beds here are way comfier.”
Zhao Shuqing pressed, intrigued. “Can you describe it in more detail?”
Lin Feng shot her an odd look but, grateful for all the delicious food, obliged.
“Humans can’t find the place,” she explained. “And it’s not as great as you imagine.”
“Do you know what a whale fall is?” Lin Feng asked.
Zhao Shuqing raised an eyebrow. “You know about whale falls?”
Lin Feng beamed smugly. “Of course. When a whale dies and sinks to the seafloor, its body nourishes seaweed and other sea life in that area for years. Small fish feed on it, and its bones form natural barriers, shielding them from danger.”
Zhao Shuqing got it. “So Atlantis is like that?”
“Pretty much,” Lin Feng said. “The first mermaid was enormous—bigger than a lake. Where she fell became Atlantis. We little fish lived off her flesh and bones for ages. Other mermaids who die are placed there too, fostering new habitats.”
It sounded miraculous.
Zhao Shuqing realized mermaids truly differed from humans. They lacked strong familial bonds or the urge to return home in death. Even their corpses became nourishment, not ashes sealed in a small box.
Lin Feng described the landscape further, and Zhao Shuqing sketched a quick black-and-white rendering from her words.
Staring at the lifelike lines, Lin Feng exclaimed in surprise, “You can draw too?”
“I studied it briefly—just simple sketches.” Zhao Shuqing set down her pen and held up the paper. “Is this like it?”
Her sparse strokes captured it beautifully. Lin Feng examined the drawing from every angle, utterly pleased.
“Yes, that’s it—you’re amazing.” She pointed to the protruding ribs. “We live around here, where the tailbone connects to the spine—a long, long hallway.”
Zhao Shuqing extended the sketch, adding the elongated tailbone stretching to the edge.
That night, while Lin Feng slept, Zhao Shuqing inputted the details into her computer, including the drawing. Lately, she’d compiled all her notes into a paper. She lacked data from the first three months of Lin Feng’s pregnancy, but everything from March onward was meticulously recorded and organized.
Surveying the hefty files, Zhao Shuqing figured she’d have more to compile once the little fish grew up.
Winter dragged on languidly yet flew by. As Zhao Shuqing counted days on her fingers, it was soon time for the prenatal checkup. This time, Dr. Luo called proactively.
“Keep your diet light for the next couple of days—no spicy or stimulating foods. Drink plenty of water, but not too much on the day of your visit,” Dr. Luo instructed. “No need to arrive super early. Tell Lin Feng the procedure is simple and painless—she shouldn’t worry.”
Zhao Shuqing nodded repeatedly. But after hanging up, she noticed her palms were slick with sweat.
