Chapter 137

Gu Yao’s eyes darted around, and she quickly put some distance between the two of them.

“I’m not being that arrogant. I’m just voicing my demands,” Gu Yao said to her. “I won’t even complain about the three mermaids you dumped on me. What kind of ‘experienced’ ones are they? I had to teach them everything step by step. I’ve been dead tired these past two days.”

Xu Tang raised an eyebrow. “So that’s why you’re cursing at them every day?”

Gu Yao lifted her chin. “Didn’t your mentor curse you out when you first started?”

Xu Tang had to admit she had a point.

“Then what’s with you sneaking off to the kitchen every day?”

“Your mermaids eat nothing but fish all the time—braised fish, pickled cabbage fish, steamed fish, boiled fish. I’m sick of it. I want something that runs on land for a change.”

Gu Yao stared straight at Xu Tang. “Is that so hard to understand?”

It wasn’t… not really.

Xu Tang sighed and leaned closer again, taking hold of Gu Yao’s hand. “Things are tough right now. Once conditions improve, you won’t be stuck eating only fish.”

Gu Yao replied, “I also want hot pot and milk tea. I haven’t had any in forever.”

Xu Tang considered it for a moment before saying, “I’ll look into setting up a hot pot for you later.”

Gu Yao didn’t buy that Xu Tang was suddenly so generous. She pulled her hand free. “I’m done talking. The lab work should be wrapping up by now. I’m heading back to check.”

Xu Tang watched Gu Yao’s retreating figure, her own eyes dimming slightly.

Gu Yao had essentially fled in panic. She didn’t relax until she reached the laboratory. Turning around, she saw the three mermaids standing obediently in a neat row. When they noticed her return, they gestured eagerly for her to check their “homework.” Gu Yao pretended to inspect it, and in a surprisingly good mood, she let them off the hook this time.

Just as the mermaids breathed a sigh of relief, Gu Yao added, “I can let you slide today, and maybe even tomorrow. But remember, I’m a researcher, not a babysitter. Do shoddy work again, and you’re out of the lab—no exceptions.”

The mermaids nodded vigorously and scattered.

The experiments weren’t quite finished yet. These embryonic sacs still needed more observation time before the successful ones could be transferred to the embryo freezers. So far, Gu Yao and her three mermaid assistants had barely managed to cultivate twelve viable mermaid ova, all stored in the innermost room of the laboratory.

Gu Yao didn’t want to head back to face Xu Tang’s expression so soon, so she volunteered for overtime and dove into the follow-up cultivation tasks.

Twelve ova, with at least two implanted per batch.

Assuming a fifty percent success rate, that meant at least six could develop successfully. Factoring out unhealthy miscarriages, they might even get lucky and birth five baby mermaids.

Xu Tang had told her that mermaid gestation periods were similar to humans—ten months of pregnancy. But newborn mermaids could swim on their own right away, with the intelligence and physical development of a roughly one-year-old human child.

Human newborns, by contrast, were underdeveloped and immature, their crying and lethargy signs of prematurity.

If mermaids emerged equivalent to one-year-olds, raising them would be far easier than human infants.

The thought that this tiny room could nurture at least five new mermaids made Gu Yao feel like the architect of humanity’s extinction.

Life was hard.

She bustled about until the wee hours of the morning, when exhaustion finally hit her. Gu Yao knew she’d pass out the moment her head hit the pillow—a familiar sensation that dragged her right back to her days at the Research Institute, slaving away on overtime every night.

Yawning, she locked the door and rubbed her eyes as she headed out.

In this state, even seeing Xu Tang wouldn’t faze her. She could just crash—bliss.

As that thought crossed Gu Yao’s mind, a figure suddenly appeared around the corner of the staircase. The corridor’s motion-sensor light flicked on with a snap, startling her.

Gu Yao clutched her chest and glared at the intruder. “What are you doing lurking here in the middle of the night, scaring me half to death?”

Xu Tang walked over. “You hadn’t come back yet, so I came to walk you home.”

What was this woman up to now?

Gu Yao eyed her skeptically. “Don’t tell me you’re worried I’ll run away.”

Xu Tang said nothing, merely turning to say, “Let’s go.”

They left the lab building for the living quarters. By then, the sky was pitch black, and the industrial park was lit only by a few ghostly road lamps flickering in the distance. Everything else was swallowed in darkness. Gu Yao couldn’t shake the feeling she was like some woman or child trafficked to the backwoods.

As Gu Yao mulled this over silently, Xu Tang spoke up out of the blue. “You mentioned wanting hot pot, so I sent someone to procure ingredients. It’s not a full spread, but it’ll do.”

Gu Yao thought she’d misheard. “What? Hot pot?”

Had she really prepared it just after Gu Yao mentioned it today?

Was Xu Tang actually being that nice?

Gu Yao hadn’t believed it at first, but the moment she stepped inside, there it was: a pot from who-knows-where, along with freshly washed vegetables and sliced meats. The room filled with the spicy, aromatic steam of simmering hot pot base.

It smelled so good that Gu Yao’s mouth watered.

“It’s really hot pot?” Gu Yao approached the dining table, shrugged off her jacket onto a chair, and said excitedly, “I’m starving. Can I eat all this?”

“It’s all for you.” Xu Tang flicked on the induction cooker, and the pot bubbled back to life, steaming invitingly.

Locked up by Xu Tang for months, Gu Yao hadn’t tasted hot pot once.

At least the woman had a shred of conscience.

In the dead of night around one or two a.m., the two of them sat quietly at the table, dipping into the hot pot. The ingredients were limited—no tripe or beef throat that needed special prep—but the flavor was solid overall, especially that rich hot pot base.

“Delicious,” Gu Yao said, her mouth slick with oil. She couldn’t help sighing, “Hot pot is perfect for winter~”

Xu Tang dipped some beef rolls for her, then pulled a tissue to gently wipe Gu Yao’s mouth. In a soft voice, she said, “It’s all yours. Why rush?”

Gu Yao’s heart skipped. She stared at the woman before her, flustered.

Xu Tang’s gaze seemed different somehow. The gentle affection that slipped through when she looked at Gu Yao made her tremble inside.

Her heartbeat thundered like a drum—loud enough for Gu Yao to hear it clearly. She snatched the tissue from Xu Tang’s hand and dabbed at her mouth haphazardly before jumping up. “Let’s check the midnight news. I haven’t watched the local channel in ages.”

Gu Yao fumbled with the TV remote, switching to her old favorite channel, then froze.

Xu Tang noticed the odd reaction and glanced at the screen.

The host was delivering routine city news—something about road repairs prohibiting passage for the next couple of days. Nothing noteworthy.

“What’s wrong?” Xu Tang asked. “You know that area?”

Gu Yao snapped back to herself, shot her a look, and said, “What place? That’s in the north district—why would I go there? Eat your food; you’re so chatty.” She pointed at the spinach. “I want that. Dip some for me.”

Xu Tang looked away and blanched the spinach as instructed.

Gu Yao couldn’t tear her eyes from the pot. Her adrenaline was surging. From the corner of her eye, she caught the background board behind the host.

Up in the left corner, a string of numbers: 2825628257.

The sequence itself meant nothing special—unless you knew the context.

Back when she’d first joined the Research Institute, all the interns had to complete online training. Gu Yao’s batch had been assigned to live stream room ‘282931’. It was nothing fancy—just standard institute broadcasts of basic knowledge every Saturday and Sunday at three p.m.

At the time, Gu Yao had joked to Zhao Shuqing, “282931? Isn’t that straight out of the skipping rope rhyme? Hey, Shuqing, got that one where you’re at?”

Zhao Shuqing, of course, knew it. She rolled her eyes. “Anyone who doesn’t recognize it isn’t from around here.”

28256. 28257.

For a while, whenever Gu Yao headed to the live stream for check-ins, she’d text the sequence to Zhao Shuqing as a nudge to punch in for her. Zhao Shuqing would reply with 282931. It went on until they both leveled up and no longer needed the mutual help.

Gu Yao had no idea if Zhao Shuqing was behind this string of numbers, but now that she’d spotted it, she had to check out that live stream room.

Saturday and Sunday afternoons at three.

Gu Yao committed it to memory.

Gu Yao had been in high spirits these past few days, much to the relief of her three mermaids. They’d even successfully cultivated nine more viable ova, bringing the total to twenty-one alongside the previous twelve.

If every ovum implanted successfully, that would mean twenty-one baby mermaids.

Regardless of whether they were male or female, once the technique matured, there would be an endless stream of new mermaids. The race would never face extinction again. And if they got lucky with even one or two breeding-capable males, they could build a gene bank like humans. In a century or two, extinction would be a thing of the past.

The mermaids were thrilled at the prospect.

Gu Yao stared at the embryo freezers in the small room, lost in thought. She didn’t even notice Xu Tang enter.

“What are you looking at?” Xu Tang asked softly from behind her.

Gu Yao startled and whirled around. Frowning, she said, “This is a sterile lab zone. Did you even disinfect before coming in?”

Xu Tang stepped to her side. Together, they gazed at the ranks of embryo freezers lining the room. She slipped an arm around Gu Yao’s waist, drawing her close.

“We’ve discussed it,” Xu Tang said. “We’ll select twenty-one suitable mermaids to carry these embryos. If even one survives, it’ll be thanks to you.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Gu Yao’s heart felt heavy, as if she’d personally engineered humanity’s doom. But she knew her situation left her no choice. Worrying about centuries from now wouldn’t help; better to focus on the present.

“I realized during the experiments that I’ve forgotten some basics from my training,” Gu Yao said casually to Xu Tang. “You remember how the Academy of Sciences runs live streams every weekend, right? I’d like to brush up. Can you get me a computer hooked up to the external network?”