Chapter 89

Lin Feng had just been about to step into the kitchen to ask if the two of them wanted milk tea—she could treat—when she overheard Zhao Shuqing’s remark about the “little monster” right at the doorway.

Lin Feng stopped in her tracks. She lowered her gaze and stood there for a long while before quietly retreating back to the bed, where she sat in a daze.

She understood the reasoning perfectly. Zhao Shuqing wasn’t wrong. A child born from two different species really would be a little monster, wouldn’t it?

Zhao Shuqing hadn’t said anything wrong.

So why did Lin Feng feel so heartbroken?

Lin Feng flopped onto the bed and hugged the stuffed doll to her chest. She only rolled over and buried her face in it after she heard Zhao Shuqing escort Gu Yao to the door, pretending all the while that she was asleep.

“Lin Feng.”

Zhao Shuqing walked in, completely oblivious. She saw Lin Feng facing away from her, so she sat on the edge of the bed and patted her butt. “Stop faking sleep. There’s no way you fell asleep in just two minutes.”

Lin Feng felt upset inside and didn’t want to acknowledge her.

Zhao Shuqing found it strange. She leaned over to check Lin Feng’s expression and saw that she really was lying there with her eyes closed. A flicker of doubt crossed Zhao Shuqing’s mind—had she actually fallen asleep?

Lin Feng wasn’t usually such a heavy sleeper.

Perplexed, Zhao Shuqing had no choice but to pull the blanket over her. She gently stroked the top of Lin Feng’s fluffy head and leaned down to plant a soft kiss there.

Lin Feng shrank back a little but kept her eyes tightly shut.

Zhao Shuqing took in her reaction and glanced once more toward the kitchen doorway. Her heart tightened slightly, but she said nothing. Instead, she rose and went to the desk to handle some documents. Lin Feng sneaked a peek back at her but could only see Zhao Shuqing’s back as she sat in the chair.

Lin Feng’s eyelashes trembled faintly before she slowly closed her eyes.

She had only meant to pretend to sleep at first, but now she really drifted off.

Lin Feng had a nightmare. In it, she sprouted two legs and happily rushed to find Zhao Shuqing, expecting her to be delighted. But Zhao Shuqing stared at her in shock and shouted, “You’re a monster!”

“I’m not…”

In the dream, Lin Feng cried as she explained to Zhao Shuqing, “I’m not a monster, I’m not…”

Late into the night, Zhao Shuqing was at her computer preparing her presentation materials. She had only intended to sort through them quickly, but when she looked up, it was already well past midnight. Before she could react, she heard what sounded like crying from the bed.

Zhao Shuqing gripped the arms of her chair and turned around. She saw that Lin Feng had rolled over at some point and was now clutching the mermaid doll to her chest, sobbing.

Was it a nightmare?

Zhao Shuqing got up and went over. She gently patted Lin Feng’s shoulder to soothe her. “Lin Feng, wake up.”

After just two pats, Lin Feng’s wet lashes fluttered open. She stared blankly at the person in front of her, a crystalline teardrop sliding from the corner of her eye into her hair.

“Zhao Shuqing…”

Lin Feng had just woken up, her voice thick with sleep and a stuffy nose. She looked at Zhao Shuqing helplessly and said, “I’m not a monster…”

Zhao Shuqing gazed at her in confusion and wiped away her tears. “What monster?”

Suddenly, it clicked for Zhao Shuqing. She remembered the conversation she’d had with Gu Yao in the kitchen earlier that day. Lin Feng must have overheard it, which explained the nightmare and her muttering about not being a monster.

“You’re definitely not a monster,” Zhao Shuqing quickly reassured her. She leaned down and kissed Lin Feng’s feverish eyelids, whispering, “You’re my little fish. You’re not a monster.”

Lin Feng lifted her arms to loop them around Zhao Shuqing’s neck and buried her face in the crook of her neck. Her body felt ice-cold all over.

“One more time,” Lin Feng said to her. “You’ve used up your quota for today. Can we?”

Zhao Shuqing froze for a moment, her hands on Lin Feng’s waist. “But I’m worried you won’t be able to handle it.”

Lin Feng’s eyes were already red. So Zhao Shuqing really did see her as a monster after all… She sniffled pitifully…

Seeing her little fish on the verge of tears again, Zhao Shuqing had no choice but to coax her with a few gentle words before reluctantly agreeing.

That night, Lin Feng was unusually proactive. The first time, she was pinned to the bed, gasping for breath and desperately rubbing her tail against Zhao Shuqing. But by the second round, she had learned to rock her hips on her own, taking the initiative to straddle Zhao Shuqing’s lap.

Lin Feng’s cheeks were flushed, tear tracks staining the corners of her eyes. Even though she was clearly spent, she still tugged at Zhao Shuqing for another go.

If Zhao Shuqing refused, Lin Feng would cry, looking utterly abandoned, which left Zhao Shuqing with little choice but to give in.

They went at it until nearly dawn before Lin Feng finally collapsed in exhaustion. Zhao Shuqing was worn out too and simply held her close as they both passed out on the soaked sheets.

During the day, Lin Feng vaguely heard the phone ring, but she was far too tired to even lift a finger. In her hazy state, she caught snippets of Zhao Shuqing speaking before the call ended.

In her drowsiness, Lin Feng felt a kiss on her skin. She reached out groggily, snuggled into Zhao Shuqing’s arms, and pulled her close to keep sleeping.

That nap lasted straight through until two in the afternoon.

Lin Feng had slept for so long that even she felt a bit disoriented when she woke. She lay there on the bed looking utterly dazed and vacant.

She didn’t look particularly bright-eyed.

“Awake?”

Zhao Shuqing turned to look at her. That morning after getting up, she had changed the sheets while Lin Feng slept like a dead fish no matter how much she tossed her around. Zhao Shuqing had wiped her down with a towel and laid her on the fresh linens.

Lin Feng tilted her head, her eyes unfocused as she stared at Zhao Shuqing. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was still dreaming or if this was reality.

Amused, Zhao Shuqing got up, walked over, and bent down to squish her cheeks. She chuckled lightly. “Slept yourself silly? Do you remember what you were begging me for last night?”

Lin Feng blinked slowly. “What?”

Zhao Shuqing’s lips curved as she leaned in close to her ear and breathed out two words: “Fuck you.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Lin Feng remembered how, in the dead of night, she had clung to Zhao Shuqing demanding that second round. Zhao Shuqing had hesitated, and she had cried until they did it—sniffling the whole time. She couldn’t even recall exactly what happened after that or when she finally fell asleep.

Hearing Zhao Shuqing say it now, Lin Feng instinctively tried to sit up. But with a loud thunk, their foreheads collided.

“Ow!”

Zhao Shuqing clutched her head and staggered back a couple of steps. Lin Feng curled up on the bed holding her forehead, rolling around a bit before going still.

Zhao Shuqing rubbed her forehead—it was definitely red now—and crawled back over to Lin Feng, who lay there. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong again?”

Lin Feng was still covering her forehead, her eyes rimmed red.

Hey, you bumped into me first, you know.

Zhao Shuqing felt helpless inside. She sat on the bed, pulled Lin Feng up into her arms, and rubbed her forehead. “Lin Feng, you overheard what Gu Yao and I were talking about yesterday, didn’t you?”

Lin Feng kept her eyes closed, letting Zhao Shuqing massage her forehead.

Since Lin Feng didn’t deny it, Zhao Shuqing knew she had. Their kitchen chat hadn’t been much, just Gu Yao asking her thoughts on the embryo at the end, and Zhao Shuqing calling it a “little monster.”

Given how unsettled Lin Feng had been last night, Zhao Shuqing figured she had overthought it.

“I didn’t mean our baby would be a monster, and I certainly didn’t mean you,” Zhao Shuqing said softly. “You’re the most important person to me. If the two of us could have a baby, it would absolutely be one of the most important people in my life too.”

“But you should understand,” Zhao Shuqing continued. “We’re two different species. The chances of a child from that union being healthy are very low. Keeping it as data is the best option.”

A cross-species pairing was doomed not to produce a healthy child. It went against nature and ethics alike.

So Zhao Shuqing had thought it through clearly. While those two embryos hadn’t fully formed yet, recording them as data would suffice. There was no need to risk actually bringing one into the world.

She loved Lin Feng, and Lin Feng loved her. That mutual affection was enough.

Lin Feng was still young and had over four hundred years ahead of her, while Zhao Shuqing was just a fleeting passenger in her life. It was enough for them to cherish each other like this without complicating things with offspring.

“I love you,” Zhao Shuqing told her. “That’s why I don’t want to cause you any pain. You’re not a monster—you’re my little fish, always.”

Lin Feng looked up at her. After a long moment, she reached out, hugged Zhao Shuqing’s shoulders, and slowly closed her eyes.

Zhao Shuqing knew she’d gotten through to her. She patted Lin Feng’s back, inhaling the faint salty sea scent of her skin, and said in a light tone, “I called in sick for you today. Stay home and rest. Don’t dwell on this anymore, okay?”

Lin Feng nodded gently against her shoulder.

Perhaps Lin Feng had come around, or maybe Zhao Shuqing’s upcoming business trip helped diffuse the tension between them. But by month’s end, as Zhao Shuqing prepared to head overseas, Lin Feng inevitably developed some separation anxiety.

She refused to go to the oceanarium and wouldn’t eat. She trailed after Zhao Shuqing all day, her eyes turning red if they were apart even for a minute as she searched everywhere for her.

Today was especially bad. Not only did she skip meals, but her stomach started hurting too.

Lin Feng’s face went deathly pale from the pain. She curled up in Zhao Shuqing’s arms, beads of sweat dotting her forehead. When the doctor arrived to examine her, she wouldn’t let him.

“Lin Feng, be good,” Zhao Shuqing soothed, holding her. “Let the doctor check you out. Your stomach hurts so much right now—you need an exam.”

Lin Feng shook her head. “No, don’t touch me…”

The doctor felt awkward and exchanged glances with the others. Seeing how adamantly Lin Feng refused to let anyone else touch her, he prescribed some human stomach meds for now—just one pill to start, and they’d observe.

Zhao Shuqing dissolved the pill in warm water and helped Lin Feng take it. Lin Feng leaned against her, eyes squeezed shut, one hand still pressed to her stomach. She clearly wasn’t comfortable.

Zhao Shuqing grew anxious and asked the doctor, “Can she take human meds? Why isn’t it working?”

The doctor explained, “She just took it. It takes about ten or fifteen minutes to kick in. Her physiology is close enough to a human’s that most human drugs work on her.”

A few minutes later, the furrow between Lin Feng’s brows eased. Though her face remained pale, she relaxed her grip on her stomach, and a spark returned to her eyes.

The doctor watched for a bit longer to confirm nothing was amiss before packing up his kit and leaving.

“Zhao Shuqing.”

With the doctor gone, Lin Feng looked up at her from her arms. “I don’t want you to go. Can you stay?”

Zhao Shuqing felt torn. The flight was booked, arrangements were made on the other end—everything was set except for Lin Feng.

“Lin Feng,” Zhao Shuqing tried to explain. “I’ll only be gone seven days. Count it out on your fingers up to the seventh, and I’ll be back. So don’t be so scared, okay?”

She leaned down and kissed Lin Feng gently. “I won’t leave you.”