The haystack was something Lin Feng had gathered shortly after arriving here. The sweltering ocean climate not only pooled rainwater but also dried the grass on the slope until it was stiff and brittle. Sleeping on the bare, hard-packed floor had been unbearable, so she had pulled together a pile to serve as a makeshift mattress. It was still firm, but at least it wasn’t quite so uncomfortable.
When she was flung onto it, Lin Feng’s backside throbbed with pain. She went blank for a moment, curling up in the hay as she stared at the silver-white mermaid rearing up before her.
“Don’t eat me, don’t eat me…”
Lin Feng’s eyes brimmed with tears. She knew the vast gap in strength between herself and this mermaid made escape impossible. All she could do was hope the creature possessed even a shred of mercy and would let her go.
If it absolutely had to devour her, then at least skip the wild animal routine of gutting her alive—better to snap her neck cleanly and make it quick.
Lin Feng was terrified. Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she pressed her back against the drafty wooden wall. Huddled there, she cried out to the mermaid, “I’ve saved your life, at least. Don’t eat me… please don’t eat me… waaah…”
The mermaid couldn’t understand her words. She slithered forward, her tail whipping like a coiling serpent. Slender and elongated, that tail seemed long enough to brush the ceiling of the little wooden cabin when she reared up. Looming over Lin Feng, her black pupils gleamed dark as ink.
Lin Feng peeked up at her timidly and noticed something odd about this mermaid.
Her face was faintly flushed, stark against her pale skin. And near the base of her tail, on her abdomen, there was a peculiar patch of scales—spread open, revealing a long slit.
A slit?
Lin Feng froze for a second, then her eyes widened in shock.
Damn it—was this mermaid in heat?
Mermaids typically entered estrus in spring, tapering off as summer approached. During that time, they mated and conceived, carrying their young for ten months before birthing baby mermaids.
But nowadays, environmental pollution had rendered most wild males infertile. Conservation groups often intervened with artificial insemination, and humans had even opened gene banks for women of childbearing age.
The scientific expedition team had delayed their voyage until summer precisely because spring was breeding season for wildlife, to minimize disruption to the natural environment. Lin Feng just had the rotten luck of rescuing a mermaid smack in the middle of her heat cycle.
Realizing this, Lin Feng’s urge to flee surged anew. But those black eyes fixed on her intently—any twitch, and the mermaid’s gaze snapped right to her.
This was… this was…
Lin Feng’s face, which had been drained of color from fear moments ago, now flushed hot with blood rushing to her head. She yelled at the silver-white mermaid, cheeks burning, “I’m not a mermaid! Don’t go into heat over me!”
The mermaid tilted her head, oblivious to the outburst. But Lin Feng’s disheveled hair and panicked expression seemed to intrigue her. She flicked her tail and pressed closer.
Lin Feng bolted upright in fright, but the world blurred before her eyes. Something heavy thudded onto her chest. When her vision cleared, the mermaid was right there, her right hand pinning Lin Feng’s chest, head bowed low as she peered down.
The mermaid’s black hair had dried, gleaming with an unnatural luster and silkiness—like a waterfall cascading from her temple, brushing Lin Feng’s cheek. No shampoo or conditioner existed in the wild, yet it shone flawlessly.
In the darkness, Lin Feng met the mermaid’s gaze. Narrow and profound, those eyes featured thick, unruly black brows and long lashes like tiny ebony fans. The pure black pupils betrayed no emotion, simply staring down.
For some reason, Lin Feng felt her heart pounding faster.
The mermaid sensed the rapid thrum of skin beneath her palm. She lowered her eyelids, and her pale hands gave Lin Feng’s chest a squeeze.
Lin Feng: “…”
Her face turned beet red. The bizarre sensation of being groped by a mermaid left her flustered. She shoved at the weight atop her, desperate to rise, but the mermaid’s strength was overwhelming. Lin Feng pushed futilely, yet the creature didn’t budge—instead, she wore an intrigued expression, eyeing the blushing human with interest.
“Stop… stop pinching! Let me go!” Seeing force wouldn’t work, Lin Feng tried to kick her. But as one leg lifted, the sly mermaid wedged in, leaving Lin Feng’s pupils contracting in alarm. She was utterly pinned now, no room to fight back.
The silver-white mermaid leaned down, sniffing Lin Feng’s neck before extending her tongue for a lick.
“Wuu…”
Lin Feng squeezed her eyes shut in fear. She felt the mermaid lap away every trace of her sweat, that cold tongue sweeping back and forth over her neck. The mermaid’s tail thrashed insistently, shoving closer until Lin Feng was fully pinned beneath her.
The opened scales glinted brightly. Lin Feng’s voice trembled as she pushed back. “No, don’t… I saved your life! Aren’t I your benefactor? You can’t do this… you can’t…”
Oblivious to the pleas, the mermaid continued licking her human prey. Lin Feng suddenly felt like a slab of cake. She tilted her head back, staring at the dark ceiling overhead, her vision spotting white.
When the mermaid’s sharp nails sliced through her belt and deftly tugged down her work pants, Lin Feng struggled harder.
“Please… I’m not one of your kind. Don’t… ah!”
The silver-white mermaid sank her teeth into Lin Feng’s shoulder. Her captive shuddered in pain, sobbing out, “I’m not a mermaid… don’t do this to me… please don’t…”
By the end, Lin Feng was crying too hard to speak. She knew she’d been forced by a mermaid in heat—a ferocious wild beast that offered no chance of escape.
In nature, animals in estrus without mates often used smaller, weaker creatures as “tools” for relief. Dolphins, for instance, frequently vented on fish—and those victims typically ended up as meals.
Lin Feng had braced for the same fate.
But when she opened her eyes, she was alive—not just alive, but whole, without missing limbs.
Her clothes hung in tatters, but thank goodness, she had survived.
Her body felt uncomfortable, but mercifully free of tears or gashes. Aside from the bite mark on her shoulder courtesy of that damnable mermaid, nothing hurt badly.
Still, going bare-bottomed wasn’t ideal. Lin Feng groped her way out of the hay and rummaged in her backpack for a simple sundress to pull on.
When the research vessel sank, she hadn’t had time for luggage—just the life vest and her nearby shoulder bag. Both had survived with her, holding a soaked notebook and basic tools that had sustained her this long.
The dress was just a plain sleep shift, but it covered her adequately. Lin Feng noticed red marks on her wrists—marks from the mermaid’s grip during last night’s ordeal.
Thinking back on it sent chills crawling over her scalp.
In school, Lin Feng had learned that women facing assault shouldn’t try to fight back—their strength and build were outmatched. The best was to run like hell.
If you couldn’t escape, then do whatever it took to survive.
Crouched in the little wooden cabin, Lin Feng rubbed her eyes. She wanted to be tough, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Last night had been horrifying; death had loomed in an instant. Surviving was a win already. The rest… well, chalk it up to a nasty fish bite.
With no sign of the mermaid yet, Lin Feng figured she’d bolt while she could.
But changing clothes had cost her a minute. As she stepped out of the little wooden cabin, she came face-to-face with the mermaid—wet from a recent swim, hair plastered dripping to her cheeks, a fish clamped in her mouth and another cradled in her arms. She gazed up the slope at Lin Feng.
Lin Feng’s breath hitched. She stumbled back two steps and turned to flee.
The mermaid dropped her catches—Lin Feng heard the thuds and fleshy impacts. Panic propelled her legs into a sprint, blindly charging ahead heedless of terrain.
Just beyond the cabin lay dense rainforest. Lin Feng had avoided it at first, fearing venomous bugs or snakes, but desperation overrode caution. She plunged in.
The thick foliage seemed to slow the mermaid—at least, the pressure on her back eased. Glancing over her shoulder, Lin Feng saw the mermaid dodging branches, frowning as she clambered over raised roots. Clearly, those legs of Lin Feng’s gave her the edge.
Hah, take that, you clumsy fish—can’t catch me now!
Gloating inwardly, Lin Feng whipped her head around—and slammed into something cold and smooth. She bounced off and landed hard on her butt.
“Ow!”
Sitting there, feeling like her rear had split in two, Lin Feng looked up to see what she’d hit. Her gaze locked on a giant python as thick as her waist, dangling from the tree. It flicked a scarlet tongue, head swaying inquisitively toward her.
The emerald-green coils blended seamlessly with the surrounding foliage—invisible until she’d crashed into it.
Trapped now, python ahead and mermaid behind—Lin Feng figured her number was up.
The snake seemed intrigued, slithering closer for a taste. Lin Feng glimpsed the dark abyss of its maw. Before she could react, a black shadow flashed past.
The silver-white mermaid lunged, tangling with the giant python. Her razor claws raked scales from its hide. The beasts thrashed for mere seconds before parting—the python, sensing defeat, whipped its tail and fled.
The clash ended so abruptly Lin Feng barely registered it. Still seated, she stared dumbly up at the silver mermaid now looming before her, who stared right back.
“I…” Lin Feng’s mouth worked soundlessly before she blurted, “I wasn’t really trying to run. I just needed to pee.”
