Chapter 65

Shen Qingming’s breathing came in ragged gasps. He stared at Xu Tang with unblinking intensity, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to speak. All that emerged was a wheezing rasp, like a broken fan grinding to a halt.

Xu Tang’s tone remained light and cheerful as she addressed him. “You won’t last much longer anyway. Even if we don’t touch you, you’re done for. Since death is inevitable… why not let us help you on your way?”

What do you want from me?

Shen Qingming’s eyes pleaded the question silently. Xu Tang read his intent clearly and decided there was no harm in letting him die informed.

“A long, long time ago,” she began, “we discovered something remarkable about human genes. Mermaids only need to consume a human to absorb that person’s memories and emotions from their genetic code.”

She pointed to herself. “Take her, for instance. After her college entrance exams, she went diving with classmates. The dive instructor was a real sleaze—he lured the poor girl out into the ocean and threatened to leave her behind unless she paid extra for photos. They argued until she drowned. He didn’t even try to save her; he just swam away. That’s when she met me.”

“I devoured her body and inherited her memories. I swam back to shore on my own.” Xu Tang smiled. “I’ll never forget the look on that instructor’s face when he saw me—like he’d glimpsed a ghost in broad daylight.”

Shen Qingming’s eyes widened. This was the first time he’d heard a mermaid speak so candidly about it.

It had to be their greatest secret. For years, he’d known mermaids hid among humans seamlessly—some even transforming suddenly—but he’d never uncovered how they did it.

Now he knew.

Too late, of course.

With every ounce of strength left in his body, Shen Qingming turned his gaze to Xu Tang. His mouth gaped open, and in a hoarse, monstrous rasp, he forced out the words one by one: “Are… you… going… to… kill… me?”

Xu Tang shook her head. “I won’t kill you. But you won’t last much longer.”

“Then… why… are there… so many… mermaids… among… humans…?”

“Do you have any idea how many people drown or die at sea each year?” Xu Tang met his eyes steadily. “And how many more would do anything to bring a loved one back from the dead?”

“You… murder… people…”

“We never kill proactively,” Xu Tang replied. “We simply wait for them to die on their own, then consume what’s left.”

Suddenly, Shen Qingming burst into laughter.

Xu Tang watched him in bewilderment. “What’s so funny?”

He laughed harder, his gaze fixed on the stark white ceiling above. His heart pounded wildly, threatening to burst from his chest.

“I… get it… now…”

Shen Qingming twisted his head toward her. “Devour me… I want… to live on… in another… form…”

Xu Tang stared at him in shock at first, then nodded with a glimmer of understanding.

Death came for everyone, after all.

Years ago, humans had obsessed over creating digital immortality—uploading a person’s life, memories, and emotions into data that could persist forever, even after the body failed.

Being devoured by a mermaid wasn’t so different from that 【digital life】. The mermaid gained the human’s memories and emotions. They might even resume the person’s job, studies, and affections for family. Was such a mermaid truly a fish… or the person reborn?

To loved ones, was it a murderer… or a cherished soul returned?

In that moment, Shen Qingming felt that his lifelong study of mermaids had culminated in witnessing their most sacred secret.

Devour me.

His eyes implored her.

If change was impossible, let him continue in another guise…

Lin Feng dreamed she was back in the deep sea.

Unlike the vibrant undersea worlds humans imagined, most of the ocean’s depths were an endless void of blackness. In such isolation, one rarely glimpsed even a fish—let alone another of one’s kind.

Back then, Lin Feng had no name. No mermaid in the pod did. They lived communally but identified each other through gestures rather than words, so familial bonds were faint. Beyond survival and reproduction, they rarely interacted.

She saw that mermaid again.

He was the last male mermaid in the pod. Like other species in nature, those at the genetic fringes gradually lost fertility. Viable males had dwindled until the mermaids reverted to their ancient matriarchal ways.

This male was over four hundred years old—ancient by any measure. The females gathered around his corpse, placing it gently into a massive clamshell before sinking it into the abyssal dark.

“The last male mermaid is gone. Our pod cannot continue like this. We must seek a new path.”

The mermaids had anticipated this. They’d secretly sent scouts ashore long before.

Now was the time to reap the rewards.

“By consuming humans, we inherit their memories and blend seamlessly into human society.”

“Human society holds miracles.”

“They’re facing their own extinction risks too, but their science lets two females bear children.”

“Perhaps going ashore is our only salvation.”

Lin Feng watched as hundreds of mermaids gathered in solemn silence. Some began to sing mournful songs, for they all knew failure might doom them to be the last of their kind.

Lin Feng was very young then. There were scarcely any baby mermaids her age in the pod; she hadn’t even reached adulthood.

The adults’ discussion grew too heavy for her. Bored and impatient, she flicked her tail and slipped away unnoticed.

A violent storm raged on the surface that night, but for Lin Feng, it was no great obstacle—just a playful shove from the waves toward the sky. That’s when she found the mother and daughter.

The woman wore an orange life vest, her child bound tightly to her chest with rope and belts. They clung desperately to an inflatable raft, tossed helplessly by the sea.

Lin Feng thought: They’re done for.

Never approach humans—that was a rule drilled into her from birth. So she merely surfaced at a distance, watching the pair covertly.

The waves battered them across the currents. Dawn broke, and Lin Feng trailed them until the sky blushed pale blue and the seas calmed. Only then did she draw nearer.

Dead?

She glided to the raft’s side. The inflatable held firm, no leaks. The woman lay sprawled, cradling her child, her breaths—if any—too faint to detect.

Surely dead by now.

Emboldened, Lin Feng reached out. She’d never touched a human before.

Her fingers brushed the woman’s cheek, and the woman’s eyes snapped open. Lin Feng locked gazes with her in terror, heart hammering. With a panicked splash, she dove beneath the waves.

In her delirium, the woman glimpsed a shadowy figure and mistook it for rescue. Her cracked lips parted toward the rippling surface. “Help… please save us…”

But the sea lay empty.

Clutching her child, the woman wondered if she’d hallucinated.

Calm winds followed the storm for days. Lin Feng fretted over the pair and, that night, caught a fish. She crept close and tossed it into the raft before fleeing.

The next evening, she returned to find the fish untouched, desiccated, its eyes staring blankly in pitiful death.

Why not eat it?

Puzzled, Lin Feng observed from hiding. Even in daylight, the woman lay motionless with her child. Just when Lin Feng assumed her dead, she’d twitch—biting her own wrist to drip blood into the child’s mouth.

No hope left.

Lin Feng grieved inwardly. The adult would perish by tomorrow; without her, the child wouldn’t last two days.

That night, Lin Feng caught another fish. Realizing humans lacked claws or sharp teeth to eat it whole, she shredded it into bite-sized chunks underwater and sneaked them aboard.

This time, she was caught.

The woman lay on her side, her gaze meeting Lin Feng’s furtive one.

Lin Feng froze mid-toss, pulse stalling in fright.

“Have you been the one throwing fish onto the raft these past days?” the woman asked weakly.

Lin Feng snapped to her senses and whirled to flee.

“Wait!”

The woman called out, propping herself up. Dehydrated for days, parched and feeble, she continued only when Lin Feng hesitated. “Can you save my child?”

Lin Feng couldn’t understand the words but grasped the plea—especially when the woman pointed to the limp child in her arms.

“I know what you are. Mermaids.” The woman gazed at her. “I’m too injured to survive, but my daughter must live.”

Lin Feng swam closer, peering over the raft’s edge at the tiny human nestled against the woman.

A female infant.

The baby’s cheeks burned fever-red, eyes squeezed shut in illness.

“She’s sick,” the woman murmured, stroking the child’s scorching face. “She needs to reach land, get treatment. Will you help me?”

Lin Feng regarded her with sympathy and resolved to assist.

She gauged the direction, dove behind the raft, and began pushing it forward. Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she clutched her child tighter, grateful for the aid.

All seemed to turn toward hope.

But the open ocean to shore was days away. The woman weakened rapidly, descending into hallucinations. Even minced fish went uneaten in her final days.

Lin Feng knew death loomed.

She’d foreseen it from the start, yet sorrow gripped her as it arrived.

Humans were so fragile.

The woman held her comatose daughter, aware these were her final moments together.

“Shuqing…” She caressed the child’s flushed face. “Mommy can’t stay with you anymore. You have to grow up safe and strong.”

Lin Feng rested by the raft, gazing at the tiny human infant. Softly, she echoed the name: “Shu…”

The human tongue proved tricky; Lin Feng mangled it. The woman smiled through her pain, fixing on Lin Feng’s brilliant blue eyes. Patiently, she enunciated: “Her name is Shuqing. Zhao Shuqing.”

“Shu… Qing…”

Lin Feng stared at the fragile little human and spoke her first words in their language: “Zhao Shuqing.”