These past few days, Zhao Shuqing had been staying at the hospital.
Lin Feng’s condition wasn’t particularly good. She kept getting abdominal pains from time to time, but she endured the pain remarkably well. It was usually Zhao Shuqing who noticed something was off before realizing Lin Feng was hurting again. The doctors they called in could only monitor her at first, and if things didn’t improve, they’d have no choice but to perform a cesarean section.
The moment Lin Feng heard they might have to cut her open, she grew terrified—and that made her even more determined to tough it out. It really frustrated Zhao Shuqing.
But she couldn’t scold her for it. Instead, Zhao Shuqing stayed by Lin Feng’s side, watching her closely and questioning her at the slightest sign of trouble. They ended up staying at the hospital for a full week. Once Dr. Luo saw that the indicators were stable enough, she prepared to proceed with the surgery.
In the delivery room, Lin Feng’s face turned as pale as a sheet. In the mermaids’ understanding, no one could just slice open a belly like that—it meant certain death. And for marine creatures, once blood was spilled from an injury, there was usually no saving them. Even if they didn’t die on the spot, they’d have to watch helplessly as other predators devoured them.
Zhao Shuqing held Lin Feng’s hand and whispered endless reassurances in her ear. Dr. Luo came over to comfort her too, but Lin Feng remained frightened.
Fortunately, Zhao Shuqing was allowed to participate in the delivery process. She stayed right by the operating table, which helped Lin Feng relax a great deal.
They delivered the little fish one by one. Zhao Shuqing got a clear look at the webbing on their legs, just as the ultrasound had shown: two plump, chubby legs covered in scales, with a layer of glistening, transparent webbing along the sides and soles of their feet. They looked quite strange.
All the medical staff in the operating room had signed confidentiality agreements. Some of the nurses gasped in shock at the sight of the babies, but Dr. Luo remained calm as she cleaned them up. Then she said to Zhao Shuqing, “The babies need to go to the neonatal intensive care unit for now. Once Lin Feng wakes up, tell her not to worry.”
Zhao Shuqing nodded. She glanced back at the still-unconscious little fish, her heart fluttering with anxiety.
After delivering the second little fish, they moved on to stitching Lin Feng up. Zhao Shuqing caught a glimpse of Dr. Luo casually pushing the intestines back into place, and she asked in a trembling voice, “Don’t you need to position them properly?”
“No need,” Dr. Luo replied briskly as she worked. “They’ll find their own positions.”
Zhao Shuqing couldn’t bear to watch anymore. She averted her eyes and focused on Lin Feng’s face instead, thinking that this part definitely couldn’t be shown to her later—it might scare her half to death.
Because this was the first cesarean section ever performed on a mermaid, the entire procedure was recorded on video. This was something Dr. Luo and Zhao Shuqing had agreed on beforehand. The two of them would co-author an academic paper, concealing Lin Feng’s specific identity and only presenting the results. It was their contribution to science.
Right now, though, Zhao Shuqing felt that no paper was as important as her wife. Once Lin Feng regained consciousness, she was wheeled into a regular room.
Freshly awake, Lin Feng was still groggy and whimpering in pain. Zhao Shuqing kissed her sweaty forehead and cooed softly, “It’s all over now. Rest up for a few days, and the pain will fade quickly.”
Lin Feng murmured, “Where are the little fish…?”
Zhao Shuqing replied, “Dr. Luo is taking care of them.”
Lin Feng nodded faintly and drifted back to sleep. Zhao Shuqing stayed by her side in the room. It wasn’t until evening that Lin Feng fully woke up. They remained in the hospital for another week, but Lin Feng’s incision healed astonishingly fast—by the fifth day, she was almost fully recovered.
Dr. Luo marveled at the mermaids’ incredible regenerative abilities. After checking the other vitals, she turned to the two mothers and asked, “Would you like to go see the babies?”
Lin Feng’s eyes lit up.
She had been desperate to know about the children since their birth. During the pregnancy, she’d always known the little fish had webbing, and though all the data had been normal, she couldn’t help worrying. Now that Dr. Luo was offering, she naturally wanted to go.
The two of them headed to the neonatal center. Rows of naked infants lay there sunbathing. Zhao Shuqing was practically blinded by all those little white bottoms—they all looked identical to her, and she had no idea which ones were her daughters.
Dr. Luo took pity on them and led the pair to two babies in the middle of the group who were sunning their bottoms. “Take a look,” she said. “These are your little fish.”
Lin Feng peered over and saw the two infants grunting contentedly in the sun. They had dazed expressions, their eyes squinted shut as they stuck out their pink tongues. They looked no different from the other babies.
“Where are the fins?” Lin Feng asked curiously.
That was exactly what Zhao Shuqing wanted to know too. She had clearly seen Dr. Luo deliver them with fins—similar to Lin Feng’s, but nearly transparent, like a thin membrane wrapping around both legs. The newborns had been wrinkled too, but these two in front of her were smooth and tender, like freshly steamed buns.
The sisters lay side by side, heads tilted, oblivious to the world.
Dr. Luo smiled. “We only noticed after cleaning them up. As long as there’s no water on the babies’ bodies, the fins and scales won’t appear.”
With that, Dr. Luo picked up one of the little steamed buns to demonstrate—though it was impossible to tell if it was the older or younger sister. The little fish dangled there somewhat blankly, tongue still out as she stared at Dr. Luo. Then Dr. Luo carried her by the bottom over to a nearby warm-water pool.
The moment those two chubby white legs touched the water, transparent scales visibly shimmered into existence on them, followed by semitransparent fins stretching from her waist down to her toes.
Lin Feng’s eyes widened. She saw that each of the little fish’s legs had its own fin. Before she could react, Dr. Luo gave a gentle push, and with a splash, the little fish plopped into the pool.
“Hey!”
Lin Feng lunged to save her, but the little fish flapped once, swiftly kicked her legs, flipped over, and started swimming—back and forth, back and forth across the pool, head held high.
She even blew a couple of bubbles, then kept paddling around.
Lin Feng wasn’t the only one stunned this time—Zhao Shuqing stared in disbelief too.
“What’s going on?” Zhao Shuqing asked Dr. Luo in astonishment. “Is she human or a fish?”
“More precisely, a mermaid,” Dr. Luo said. She reached in and scooped up the happily swimming little fish, drying her off with a towel. The scales and fins on her legs vanished completely, and cradled in Dr. Luo’s hands, she looked like any ordinary infant.
Dr. Luo placed the little fish back down to continue sunbathing. Turning to the two mothers, she explained, “I’ve been observing the little fish these past few days. Their legs stay in human form as long as they don’t touch water. They must have had fins in the womb because of all the amniotic fluid, but now that they’re out in the air, they’ve reverted to their human appearance.”
Zhao Shuqing helped Lin Feng into a chair and looked up. “So, are they normal now?”
“Their reactions are identical to any normal baby’s, and they’re perfectly healthy. Limbs intact, responses sharp,” Dr. Luo said. “As long as they avoid water, they’re indistinguishable from human children.”
It was undoubtedly great news.
Lin Feng gazed at the little fish sunning themselves by the small window, her eyes shining.
Her little fish were fine— just like regular humans.
“That’s wonderful,” Lin Feng said, tilting her head up to smile at Zhao Shuqing. “The little fish look just like you.”
Zhao Shuqing paused, then patted her head. “I think they take after you more.”
Dr. Luo stayed with the two new moms as they admired the little fish. Unlike the others, these two were exceptionally cute and pretty, with sharp little noses and big eyes. Dr. Luo remarked that they would both grow up to be beautiful.
The little fish needed more observation in the neonatal center, but knowing they were relatively normal brought a huge wave of relief to Lin Feng and Zhao Shuqing. Their mood was much lighter on the way back to the room.
Lying in bed, Lin Feng still held Zhao Shuqing’s hand. “Shouldn’t we give the little fish names now?”
Zhao Shuqing was tapping away on her phone, about to send a text. She looked up warily. “No more than three characters.”
Lin Feng shot her a disappointed glance, hesitating as if to argue.
Zhao Shuqing pinched the soft flesh of Lin Feng’s hand. “Don’t even think about that name. Absolutely not.”
Lin Feng gave her a aggrieved look but settled for brainstorming other options.
In the days that followed, Zhao Shuqing frequently took Lin Feng to visit their little fish. The babies grew prettier by the day—even their jaundice-tinged skin looked more appealing than the other infants’, though Zhao Shuqing wondered if it was just her imagination.
A week later, the two little fish were finally wheeled into their room.
Dr. Luo placed the babies in the crib beside them. Zhao Shuqing eagerly snapped photos and posted them to her social circle. Lin Feng leaned in too, sitting by the crib to gaze at her little ones.
The sisters got along splendidly, hooking fingers as they stared at their mothers without a hint of fear. They each blew contented drool bubbles.
Zhao Shuqing couldn’t stop picking up the older sister. The soft, boneless little bundle felt heavenly. A nurse taught her the proper way to hold a baby, reminded them to feed every two hours, showed them how to change diapers, and advised when to schedule vaccinations.
The two excitedly practiced all day. In the evening, Ye Gui arrived.
Zhao Shuqing’s phone hadn’t stopped buzzing the entire day. She had called Ye Gui and Chen Huijun to share the news, but she hadn’t expected Ye Gui to come to the hospital in person.
Ye Gui bent down to peer at the sleeping babies on the bed. In a soft whisper to Lin Feng, she said, “They look just like you.”
Lin Feng tilted her head. “I think they all look the same.”
“There are subtle differences,” Ye Gui replied. She gently touched a little fish’s soft cheek, her eyes full of affection. “It’s been years since I last saw newborn mermaids. They’re truly adorable.”
Lin Feng leaned by the crib, watching Ye Gui. She could tell Ye Gui adored the little fish.
“Dr. Luo says we can be discharged tomorrow,” Lin Feng said with a smile. “Once we’re home, you can see them every day.”
Ye Gui looked up at Lin Feng and nodded with a smile. “I’ve already set up the rooms. I’ll hire a couple of confinement nannies to care for the babies too. You just focus on resting—no need to worry about a thing.”
Straightening up, she mused, “I wonder if the nannies we’ve booked can start right away. I need to check soon—the good ones get snapped up fast.”
Once Ye Gui stepped out to make a call, Lin Feng turned to Zhao Shuqing. “What’s a confinement nanny?”
“It’s someone who helps take care of the little fish at home,” Zhao Shuqing said, ruffling her hair with a light laugh. “Otherwise, handling two on your own would be exhausting, right?”
“It wouldn’t be that bad,” Lin Feng replied. She reached back to stroke the sleeping little buns tenderly. “I love them so much.”
