Chapter 134

Gu Yao had run into some trouble lately.

To be precise, she encountered all sorts of issues every day, but the past few days had been especially chaotic.

Ever since Xu Tang had imprisoned her, Gu Yao had never stopped trying to save herself. It wasn’t until she watched Zhao Shuqing’s live stream that she learned the person she’d been crushing on for so long was actually a mermaid.

And not just any mermaid—their leader, no less.

That very night, Xu Tang sent someone to whisk Gu Yao away. They drove through the night, bumping along some unknown route, with the driver staying completely silent no matter how much Gu Yao prodded for answers.

Whatever. She had no rights here anyway. This bunch of mermaids was keeping her around, probably just fattening her up as emergency rations.

Once Gu Yao accepted her inevitable fate of being eaten sooner or later, she suddenly found herself letting go.

Through fire and brimstone, through traps and schemes—none of it mattered. Her life was in the hands of these mermaids now, with no guarantee of safety. She couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, so she might as well go with the flow.

And so, amid the jolting of the car all night long, Gu Yao drifted off to sleep. When she woke the next morning, daylight had fully broken. The vehicle had stopped in front of an old tube building that looked long abandoned, though faint signs of habitation lingered here and there.

Xu Tang arrived fashionably late. She pulled open the door and glanced at the unharmed Gu Yao, clear relief washing over her eyes.

“Get out,” Xu Tang said to her. “I’ll take you to a room to rest.”

Gu Yao stepped down in her slippers. The morning chill snapped her awake, her messy hair sticking up as she followed Xu Tang’s deep-and-shallow steps forward. She didn’t bother asking where they were—obviously, it was a mermaid hideout.

And just like that, Gu Yao settled into life in the mermaids’ lair.

The area around the tube building seemed like a ghost town, filled with structures from centuries past. The building itself had no running water or electricity. As they walked through, every room housed someone—or something—with a haunted look in their eyes.

They huddled in the dim gray interiors like discarded creatures. Some clung to human form, while others had tails exposed, lying motionless on beds as if already dead.

The sight sent chills down Gu Yao’s spine, and she instinctively edged closer to the only one who seemed remotely normal: Xu Tang.

Though she wasn’t exactly normal either.

“We’ll stay here for now,” Xu Tang said, pushing open a south-facing room. She glanced back at Gu Yao. “Daily supplies will be delivered later.”

Gu Yao murmured an “oh” and stepped inside.

The room was much like the others, but it had great lighting—likely because it was near the end of the hallway, with a large side window offering a wide view. If not for the dilapidated state, it wouldn’t have been a bad spot.

Gu Yao pushed open the window and gazed into the distance. Nearby lay a reservoir ringed by forest, surrounded by scattered rocks and derelict shacks. The single road leading out vanished into the horizon.

She turned to Xu Tang. “You brought me to a place like this? Aren’t you afraid I’ll run off?”

Xu Tang stood in the doorway. “Without a car, you won’t get far.”

Gu Yao got the message: give her wheels, and she’d be gone.

From then on, she and Xu Tang shared that room. Over the next few days, more mermaids trickled in—some driving themselves, others brought by companions. Panic etched every face. Gu Yao even spotted some children; she couldn’t tell if they were disguised or real kids.

But none of it concerned her.

Gu Yao lived on the top floor of the tube building. When boredom struck, she’d peer out the window and catch mermaids gliding about below—swimming or walking, exactly like Lin Feng on land.

She also noticed something else: these mermaids weren’t as united as she’d imagined. Internal conflicts simmered, and she’d already witnessed several fights breaking out over disagreements.

“What a joke,” Gu Yao muttered, propping her chin by the window as she watched the brawl below. “Even mermaids yank hair in fights…”

She’d half-expected them to just slap each other silly.

It seemed mermaids weren’t so different from humans after all.

“Why cut off our supplies? You promised safety here, but now you’re starving us—you want us dead?”

“We only provide for mermaids. That human child you brought can’t have any.”

“She’s the child I raised from infancy—what’s the difference from my own? I asked permission to bring her, and you said yes. Now you withhold rations?”

“Mermaids are our kin. Showing mercy by not eating humans is kindness enough. Keep this up, and we’ll toss you and your kid out.”

The enraged mermaid shifted to her true form and lunged, clawing at the other’s dark wavy hair. “Xu Tang brought a human too! Why does she get food every day, but not my daughter?”

Gu Yao had been thoroughly engrossed in the drama when her own name dropped. She pointed at herself in confusion, watching the fight escalate until blood drew. Only then did the Mermaid Guard Team finally show up to haul both parties away.

With the show over, Gu Yao shut the window in disappointment and settled in for another day of waiting to be eaten.

In the days that followed, mermaids came and went. The one with the human child vanished—either ostracized or evicted—dragging her suitcase and the seven- or eight-year-old girl away.

More left after that, some unable to adapt, others unwilling to abandon their “family” back in human society.

Perhaps inheriting emotions meant some mermaids now saw their hosts’ loved ones as their own. They cared for relatives, stayed by children’s sides—it all came naturally.

Gu Yao thought mermaids were simple creatures.

They treated humans like family, but would humans do the same? There was an old human saying: “Those not of our kind are bound to have different hearts.” Gu Yao didn’t need to think hard to imagine the chaos outside.

Yet these mermaids still dreamed of returning. Simple, or just foolish?

Half a month of idleness dragged on like this. One night, as Gu Yao lay awake in bed, Xu Tang slipped inside.

Gu Yao had no desire to talk to her. Though they saw each other constantly—sharing a room, even a bed—Gu Yao’s feelings had soured. She ignored the sounds and feigned sleep.

She heard Xu Tang rustling out of her coat, then sliding silently under the covers.

And wrapping around her from behind.

“I know you’re awake,” Xu Tang whispered against her back. “We had a meeting today about the mermaids’ future. Some want to give up now that we’re exposed and head back home. Others believe we can push on and stay to finish the plan.”

Gu Yao listened in silence, too apathetic to respond.

Xu Tang’s arm circled her waist, her face pressing into Gu Yao’s back.

“I’m staying,” Xu Tang said. “And so are you.”

Gu Yao felt no surprise. She closed her eyes again and fell asleep quickly.

The next morning, the roar of car engines jolted her awake. Xu Tang was gone, the room empty. Gu Yao threw on a down jacket, shuffled to the window, and leaned out.

Dawn hadn’t broken fully; a hazy gray light blanketed the vacant ground. A group bustled, loading vehicles amid shouts.

It looked like they were heading back to human society.

“My mom said she doesn’t care if I’m a mermaid—as long as I come home,” one by the wall root chatted.

“My girlfriend said the same. God, I miss her.”

“I hear restrictions have eased outside. I’m taking my family to my rural self-built house in the suburbs. We can hide out a couple years.”

“I’m going abroad. Mermaids aren’t hunted as hard there. I’m done with this dump—no water, no power, not even cell service. I haven’t gamed in half a month; I’m losing it.”

“Life here isn’t fit for humans—or mermaids. I dream of shopping, sipping milk tea.”

“Are we hiding forever? I can’t live like this.”

“I want back to modern society.”

“If I die out there, fine. But I refuse to be a mermaid in the next life.”

Gu Yao strained to eavesdrop. She watched them pile into cars, forming a convoy along the highway until the forest swallowed them at the bend. A golden hue crept over the horizon—the sun rising.

She exhaled a plume of white breath, staring at the departing crowd, her mind blank.

Would these mermaids be safe back in human society?

Would they die?

An odd worry gnawed at Gu Yao. Prolonged exposure had shown mermaids weren’t so terrifying. The baby mermaid next door, with her halting speech, even brought mung bean cakes.

Thinking of mung bean cakes made Gu Yao’s stomach rumble. She turned—and there stood Xu Tang in the doorway, silent as a ghost.

“You sneak up like that?” Gu Yao grumbled, shutting the window and shivering back under the cold covers.

“No more sleeping.” Xu Tang approached. “This place isn’t safe anymore. Time for us to move.”

Gu Yao huddled deeper. “You’re the unsafe ones. I’m perfectly fine.”

Xu Tang simply watched her. Just as Gu Yao braced for anger—or worse—Xu Tang quietly began packing their bags.

Gu Yao sat up, clutching the quilt. “Hey, why are you packing my stuff? You still won’t let me go?”

Xu Tang stuffed items into the suitcase. “Don’t even think about it.”

Gu Yao couldn’t fathom her. Cold one minute, now scrambling to drag her along if she fled. Narrowing her eyes, Gu Yao hesitated before asking, “You’re not planning to use me as a hostage, are you?”