Shen Qingming wanted to resign?
Although he had passed retirement age, his body was still hale and his mind sharp. By all expectations, he could keep teaching for another five years. So why was he suddenly announcing his resignation?
“Why resign?” Zhao Shuqing asked hurriedly. “Won’t you keep teaching, Teacher? What will you do after retiring?”
Shen Qingming replied flatly, “After that serious illness, I finally saw things clearly. There’s no need to push myself so hard anymore. I’d rather stay home tending my flowers and plants, chatting with the neighbors. And when I’m too old to get around, I’ll move into a nursing home.”
Zhao Shuqing frowned. “But everything was fine… why so suddenly…”
“Since Teacher has made up his mind, we shouldn’t stand in his way,” Xu Tang said, patting Zhao Shuqing’s arm. “He’s getting on in years, and he’s been ill. If he doesn’t want to work anymore, let him rest. Don’t press the issue.”
Zhao Shuqing opened her mouth, then closed it again. Xu Tang’s words did make a certain sense.
She turned to Shen Qingming. After a long pause, she said, “If that’s your decision, Teacher, then we won’t object.”
Shen Qingming smiled and turned to Xu Tang. “I’ll hand over all my ongoing projects and tasks to you.”
Xu Tang nodded calmly, as if she had seen this coming. “I will, Teacher. Rest assured.”
His decision had come out of nowhere, but the retirement paperwork went extraordinarily smoothly. By the next day, it was nearly complete. The school made no effort to keep him and even threw him a farewell party to celebrate his retirement.
Zhao Shuqing watched the video Xu Tang had sent her. Teachers and professors offered their blessings to the camera one after another. The clip ended with a photo of Shen Qingming posing with the school leaders, a banner stretched out behind them reading “Celebrating Professor Shen Qingming’s Glorious Retirement.”
It all looked so official.
Xu Tang had added a note: “It was quite lively here. Too bad you couldn’t make it.”
Zhao Shuqing hadn’t been able to take another day off, so she had skipped the party. She replied, “Teacher looks happy. I’ll visit him when I have time.”
Xu Tang wrote back, “He’s keeping a close eye on our experiment’s progress. He hopes it succeeds.”
Zhao Shuqing stared silently at her phone for a moment before replying with a simple “Mm” and closing the screen.
When she looked up, she spotted Lin Feng gliding gracefully through the water. The stylist had outdone herself today, dressing Lin Feng in a flowing white gauze skirt that made her look like a shimmering white silverfish as she swam.
Zhao Shuqing pocketed her phone and watched Lin Feng with keen interest. Lately, thanks to her singing, the oceanarium’s visitor numbers had hit peak levels day after day. Even on a weekday like today, the crowds were unusually thick.
Rumors had even spread online that locking eyes with Lin Feng would make your wishes come true, drawing mobs of people who chased after her just for a glance. She was living the life of a lucky koi fish.
The oceanarium provided meals at ten in the morning and noon. Lunch today was a slab of imported salmon sashimi—something Lin Feng particularly loved.
Zhao Shuqing wiped her hands and face clean, then chided her gently, “Look at the mess you’ve made. Your makeup is all smudged.”
Lin Feng gazed at her and grinned. “Does it matter?”
She was naturally beautiful, after all. Makeup or no makeup, she was stunning.
Zhao Shuqing shook her head in exasperation, pulled over a small folding table, and sat cross-legged by the poolside to eat with her.
“This salmon is super fresh,” Zhao Shuqing said. She dipped a piece in wasabi and vinegar, then fed it to Lin Feng. “Air-shipped in. I sliced it for you myself.”
Lin Feng adored fish, especially raw sashimi like this. The wasabi gave it such a strange, thrilling kick.
She opened her mouth expectantly for another bite.
Once they were full, half the fish remained. To avoid waste, Zhao Shuqing ate a few slices herself and shared the rest with her colleagues.
“Look at this.”
During their lunch break, Zhao Shuqing showed Lin Feng the oceanarium’s new line of merchandise: plush dolls, figurines, keychains, and stickers. The mermaid stickers were especially cute—Q-version illustrations commissioned from an artist, turned into trading cards and stickers that were flying off the shelves.
The first batch of samples had just arrived, and Zhao Shuqing couldn’t wait to share them.
Lin Feng had never seen stickers or trading cards before. She peered at them curiously. “What are these?”
Rather than explain, Zhao Shuqing peeled off a sticker depicting Lin Feng curled up asleep like a little blue-and-white mochi ball.
With a mischievous glance at Lin Feng, she slapped it right onto her face.
Lin Feng froze for a second, then touched her cheek in bewilderment. She looked up at Zhao Shuqing. “What are you doing?”
Zhao Shuqing burst out laughing. Lin Feng, seeing how delighted she was, couldn’t help smiling too.
She had no idea what was so funny, but mimicking her seemed like the right move.
“Silly little thing.”
Zhao Shuqing gazed fondly at her, rubbing her soft cheek and pressing the sticker firmly in place. “These are all for you. See anything you like?”
Lin Feng sat beside her, sorting through the items. They were all merchandise based on her: mini figures with blue tails and pale long hair. Sort of like her, but not quite.
In the end, she liked the sticker Zhao Shuqing had given her best. Clutching it, she said, “I want this one.”
“You don’t like the others?” Zhao Shuqing asked.
It wasn’t that she disliked them—she just liked this one more.
Lin Feng felt too shy to say so. She gripped the now-minus-one sticker and repeated, “Just this one. You can take the rest back.”
With that, she hugged it to her chest and dove back into the water.
“Hey!” Zhao Shuqing called. She had forgotten to warn this dim-witted little fish that stickers weren’t waterproof.
Moments later, Lin Feng returned, cradling the soggy, ruined sticker. She perched sadly on the pool’s edge, staring at it with pitiful eyes. In the end, Zhao Shuqing took it and let it air-dry nearby.
It had lost all its stickiness, but Lin Feng still adored it.
When it was time to clock out that afternoon, Lin Feng hadn’t forgotten her dried sticker. Seeing how much she loved it, Zhao Shuqing let her keep it and took her home.
Lin Feng toyed with the little sticker the whole way, unable to put it down.
Zhao Shuqing guided her to the balcony. “Enough playing. Stay here a bit. I’ll feed the cats next door first, then come back and cook for you.”
“Okay~” Lin Feng drawled without looking up.
As Zhao Shuqing scooped litter next door, she couldn’t help thinking what a “keeper” she had become—feeding cats, cleaning their box, feeding the fish, sweeping up after her. Her days revolved around the stove and the litter pan. She was in danger of forgetting her actual profession.
Maybe it was time to talk to Xu Tang about joining the research team.
She couldn’t keep living this aimless life with Lin Feng forever, after all.
With the litter scooped, Zhao Shuqing headed home to cook. Her fridge used to be either empty or stocked with petri dishes—and sometimes specimens from the Pacific, like frozen fish.
Now it was full of frozen fish, too—but all for Lin Feng.
Zhao Shuqing sighed and pulled out a bag of frozen shrimp. She dumped them into a basin to thaw, planning shrimp egg custard for Lin Feng, blanched mantis shrimp on the side, and stir-fried potato shreds for herself.
When she brought the three dishes to the table, she found Lin Feng still fussing over her stickers, murmuring to Nemo clutched in her arms. Who knew what she was saying.
“Dinner time,” Zhao Shuqing called.
Lin Feng hurriedly set Nemo and the stickers aside, swam over, and settled primly into her spot. She picked up her spoon.
From the kitchen, Zhao Shuqing called, “Start without me. The seaweed shrimp soup is almost ready. Eat slowly.”
Lin Feng hummed in acknowledgment. Her gaze drifted to Zhao Shuqing’s usual seat—and her pair of personal bamboo chopsticks.
Lin Feng still couldn’t use chopsticks, even after being on land so long. She ate with a spoon like a child. There were just some things mermaids and humans didn’t share—like an obsession with fish, or the knack for chopsticks.
At the oceanarium, she’d seen Wen Xiaoying and the others wield them effortlessly, snagging even a single soybean with ease.
Lin Feng figured Xu Tang could, too. After all, she’d been human for ages, with someone else’s memories to boot. Chopsticks should be child’s play.
Not for her, though.
Lin Feng stared at her copper spoon, hesitated, then set it down and grabbed Zhao Shuqing’s bamboo chopsticks instead. Time to try.
By the time Zhao Shuqing emerged with a bowl of soup, Lin Feng was straining with all her might, chopsticks clutched awkwardly as she tried to spear a single shrimp ball.
Zhao Shuqing blinked. “What are you doing?”
Lin Feng looked up, her eyes downcast and brimming with grievance. “Trying to use chopsticks.”
“You don’t know how,” Zhao Shuqing said, setting down the soup. She took the chopsticks from Lin Feng’s hand and saw they were pitted all over—nail marks from her determined grip.
Amused but helpless, Zhao Shuqing shook her head. “Out of nowhere, why chopsticks now?”
Lin Feng hung her head, her tail flicking. “Everyone else can. I want to, too.”
“Isn’t the spoon good enough?” Zhao Shuqing asked gently. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll pick it up for you. Easier that way.”
“But you’re not always here with me,” Lin Feng said, lifting her head. Her lovely eyes brimmed with reproach. “What if you’re not around? What then?”
She was talking about chopsticks, but Zhao Shuqing sensed something deeper.
Gazing at the mermaid before her, she drew Lin Feng into her arms.
“You’re my little fish,” Zhao Shuqing murmured. “No matter what happens, I won’t leave you.”
Lin Feng tilted her head up, resting it softly against Zhao Shuqing’s chest.
Listening quietly to the steady thump of her heartbeat.
Lin Feng knew why Zhao Shuqing said such things. She didn’t yet grasp the full truth. Once she did, she’d be the first to abandon her.
“I want to learn chopsticks,” Lin Feng said softly, eyeing the pale bamboo pair in Zhao Shuqing’s hand. “Will you teach me, Zhao Shuqing?”
“Of course.” Without hesitation, Zhao Shuqing kissed her cheek. “Wait here.” She fetched another pair from the kitchen and placed them in Lin Feng’s hands. “Come on. I’ll show you how.”
