Recap
Outside the small window of the room, there was a faint warm yellow light from the ship passing by.
The light was hazy and dim, fleeting like a fleeting image, but it outlined the lines of the people around him and the bright expectation in his eyes.
Like a hazy dream, swaying gently with the ship.
So Shen Chaomu said: “I don’t need a goodnight kiss.”
He pressed Long Shiyu back to lie down, lowered his head, and kissed his forehead: “But, I can give you one.”
___
Lu Shanyao’s terminal vibrated in the research station. It was probably another message from Lu Shanhuai, but he had no time to check. Although skeletal mermaids had no blood, their bone marrow was an excellent research subject. The robotic arm was busy transferring reagents into test tubes, which were then sent to the observation chamber for analysis.
Despite some promising leads years ago, research on a poison against skeletal mermaids had been discontinued when the incidents subsided. Now, with the creatures’ resurgence, Lu Shanyao was scrambling to catch up. He had forgone sleep on his journey from the main star, poring over old research reports instead. Since then, it had been nonstop work.
It wasn’t difficult, not theoretically. And time, in theory, was sufficient. The association’s research on strange beasts was constantly improving, and the scientific team had brought the latest equipment, making the process far more efficient than it had been years ago.
But when the antidote would be ready remained a question. The current estimate was three to four days, but every minute mattered. At another research station several kilometers away, a separate team was working on improving the signal flare.
Another experiment failed, and Lu Shanyao frowned. The research station was quite cold, but he was covered in a thin layer of sweat. He wasn’t feeling well and decided to go outside for some air.
He put on his coat and stepped out. It was windy, but not yet the biting cold of night. On the shore, a group of hunters who had just returned from a mission were being held up by a man. Lu Shanyao recognized him as Sun Fu, the “wise” inspector who seemed to exist solely to criticize others. He had been here for several days, finding new faults with the hunters every day.
It was true that those hunters hadn’t always followed procedure, but these were desperate times. Everyone was working tirelessly, and most oversights were due to exhaustion, not negligence. They hadn’t caused any serious consequences. Sun Fu, who remained safely onshore, had no idea what it was like out there.
Sun Fu’s lecture finally ended, and the hunters dispersed, many with grim expressions. Sun Fu hadn’t been punched yet only because of his family’s influence. The Sun family donated heavily to the association. Otherwise, how could he hold such an easy and well-paid position?
Lu Shanyao had come out to clear his head, but the sight of Sun Fu filled him with renewed irritation. His mood worsened when, half a minute later, Sun Fu entered the research station.
He saw Lu Shanyao standing at the door and faltered. “Oh, you’re not…that…whose…” he stammered.
“Lu Shanhuai is my younger brother,” Lu Shanyao said flatly. He knew that Lu Shanhuai had confronted Sun Fu a few days ago.
“Oh, yes, I remember,” Sun Fu said. “I think I saw you in Star City. You’re the team leader here, aren’t you? Why don’t you show me how the work is progressing at the research station?”
“Everyone is very busy; they may not have time,” Lu Shanyao replied coolly.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Sun Fu walked inside. “I’ll just take a quick look around.”
Lu Shanyao frowned but followed.
Sun Fu looked around as he walked. “This environment is a bit dirty,” he observed. “Look at the water on the floor. And this table…” He gestured towards the dark tables and chairs in the middle of the hall. “Covered in a thick layer of dust. This doesn’t meet the association’s standards for research facilities.”
“That’s melted ice from the soles of our boots,” Lu Shanyao explained. “This station has been abandoned for years; we haven’t had time to clean. The laboratories themselves are spotless.” He added pointedly, “We’re researchers, not cleaners.”
Sun Fu ignored him and continued to mutter disapprovingly. Lu Shanyao’s frown deepened. He didn’t want to waste time with this man. “My break is almost over,” he said. “I need to get back to my experiment.”
“So soon? It’s been less than ten minutes.”
“Yes, excuse me.”
Lu Shanyao returned to the laboratory and started the next round of experiments. Ten minutes later, he heard the muffled sound of an argument outside. This was extremely unusual for a research station. He stepped out to see Sun Fu arguing with several team members. The researchers, unaccustomed to confrontation, were no match for Sun Fu’s practiced rhetoric.
Sun Fu, having spotted a piece of equipment left outside, was harping on about hygiene again.
One of the more short-tempered researchers finally snapped. “This instrument can’t be moved right now due to a lack of manpower! Do you expect us to grow extra hands?”
Seeing the quarrel escalating, Lu Shanyao intervened. “Inspector Sun,” he said, his tone laced with barely suppressed impatience, “we all know the regulations, but we simply can’t prioritize cleaning right now. The poison experiment is at a critical stage, and time is of the essence.”
“I understand that,” Sun Fu said condescendingly, “but your attitude is unacceptable. The association values order and respect. You are being rude to a superior who is conducting an inspection. And you—” he lifted his chin at Lu Shanyao—”you are as negligent as your brother. If I report this behavior…”
“Report your mother,” a gruff voice boomed.
Sun Fu whirled around angrily, his tirade cut short. An older man in a white lab coat appeared around the corner. He had a scruffy beard and messy hair, as if he had just woken up. He wore flip-flops and carried a container filled with a strange, swirling green liquid.
“Teacher!” Lu Shanyao’s face lit up.
Sun Fu blanched at the sight of Fang Qing. The two had worked together at the general meeting, and Sun Fu was exactly the type of person Fang Qing despised. They had clashed countless times, with Sun Fu constantly scheming to impeach Fang Qing.
The inspector had considerable authority, but Fang Qing was a force of nature within the scientific research group. Academically, aside from a high student failure rate, his research results were impressive and beyond reproach. In his personal life, he was not known for his temper. He cursed violently, and Sun Fu was a favorite target.
When Sun Fu had been publicly humiliated by Shen Chaomu’s “A Week of the Wise Man,” Fang Qing had celebrated for days, even posting about it on social media.
“If you dare to file a report,” Fang Qing growled, shaking the container with the strange liquid, “the little cutie in my hand will be decorating your head.”
He shook the strange liquid in the bottle.
Enemies are extremely jealous when they meet, Sun Fu gritted his teeth and said: “You still ignore the discipline as before, why do you come back after you resign?”
“Came back to piss you off.” Fang Qing said, “You only know how to bully my lovely students every day. A teacher for a day is a father for life. You are bullying my son. A friendly warning to you, I am now a member of the association. People outside, no rules can control me – although it seems that I couldn’t control it before. So listen to me, Sun Fu, you are a fucking maggot, and I can throw the papers I wrote on your face You have a concussion.”
This fluent sentence, which was practiced by listening to Flamingo Lily cursing, made Sun Fu so angry that his eyes turned red: “You say it again…”
Fang Qing threw his flip-flops into his face.
…
Beneath the icy surface of the Land of Eternal Night, the skeletal mermaids had vanished. The vastness of the ice sea, coupled with the siren’s intimate knowledge of its hidden depths, made finding her nearly impossible. Even Augusta and the mercenaries were unaware of her current location.
After deliberation, Lu Shanhuai decided to prioritize locating the Pied Piper, the heavy icebreaker that had sunk years ago. Whether to invest resources in salvaging and repairing it would depend on Yang Zhiming’s technical team.
Several warships floated on the surface while hunters searched the seabed near the shipyard. Exoskeletons and spiritual energy helped resist the frigid temperatures, but prolonged underwater operations still left most hunters with numb lips and a bone-deep chill. They had to maintain intense focus, alert for mermaid attacks, which added to their fatigue. To combat this, they rotated every two hours, ensuring they were alert and giving the underwater robots time to recharge.
But there were exceptions, like the still-missing Uther Green and the ever-unconventional Shen Chaomu.
Long Shiyu swam through the water, his limbs flailing haphazardly. He hadn’t worn one of the limited exoskeletons, opting instead for fins and a breathing mask so he could talk underwater.
“Diving and swimming are different,” Shen Chaomu observed. “Why do you move like that?”
“I usually swim with my tail,” Long Shiyu replied. “Didn’t you say I could let my tail out when we were away from the warships?”
“So, you resort to dog paddling when you don’t have a tail?”
“Yes,” Long Shiyu said matter-of-factly. “I’m quite fast, anyway.”
His speed was indeed impressive. This bizarre swimming style was surprisingly effective, despite its chaotic appearance. Shen Chaomu, unable to bear it any longer, grabbed Long Shiyu, activated his exoskeleton’s power source, and propelled them through the water at high speed.
Undercurrents were common in the Land of Eternal Night. Stardust in the air hindered aircraft, and underwater currents made it difficult for submarines. Bei En’s beauty and danger coexisted.
Another undercurrent surged, a swirling ribbon of color. They continued their descent, passing through it with ease.
“So, you haven’t worked in a swimming pool?” Shen Chaomu asked.
“No. The only contact with water was at the aquarium.”
Shen Chaomu thought of Long Shiyu’s underwater spinning dragon performance. “Then you should stay away from that industry,” he said dryly.
Starlight filtering through the water illuminated the seabed, lessening the gloom. Underwater robots dispersed, searching for large metal signatures. Only a small area remained unsearched. They estimated they would find the Pied Piper within the hour.
As they waited underwater, they encountered another corpse. Though reduced to bone, it still maintained a posture of supplication, both arms outstretched. They now understood that this was the siren’s song’s final, cruel effect: a yearning so profound that it persisted even in death.
With nautical charts and compasses, flags and masts, and real-time data capture and analysis on their terminals, the sailors had set sail, accompanied by the cries of seabirds. The sea was vast, the waves undulating, but a sip of warm sea flower wine banished the cold, and they feared nothing. Occasionally, old sailors would boast of their experiences in the Land of Eternal Night.
To watch the sea at night, with brilliant stardust overhead and luminous currents swirling below, was to witness Bei En’s unique romance.
But one day, while journeying through the deep ocean, far from any island, they heard an ethereal song, dreamy and intoxicating. A beautiful girl sat on a reef, dangling her white feet, bathed in moonlight and humming softly. This song conjured visions of home and loved ones, and the sailors involuntarily stopped their ships, trekking into the sea until the water covered their feet, their waists, their heads. With smiles on their faces, they reached out as if to grasp their deepest regrets. All the dead wore the same expression of desperate yearning.
Shen Chaomu sent the corpse’s coordinates back to the ship. Waiting underwater was tedious; they were tired of observing the fish, and the fish were likely tired of observing them.
Long Shiyu finally unfurled his silver tail, effortlessly maintaining his balance. “I wonder what they saw before they died,” he mused.
“Probably the thing they most wanted to see,” Shen Chaomu replied. “Otherwise, why would they be so entranced?” He suddenly looked at Long Shiyu, his expression serious. “Run away if you see the siren. You have no spiritual power; you can’t resist her song.”
Though he was now more confident in his ability to protect Long Shiyu, legendary monsters like the siren were still a significant threat.
“Oh, I’m just curious,” Long Shiyu said. “What would happen if there was nothing I most wanted to see?”
“That’s impossible. Everyone has something.”
Long Shiyu rolled in the water, his silver tail shimmering. “What do you think you would see?” he asked with a hopeful expression.
“I don’t know,” Shen Chaomu admitted. “I haven’t been tempted. Most spiritual attacks are ineffective against me.”
“Okay.” Long Shiyu sounded disappointed and rolled again. “I’ve never seen a bone nest,” he said, changing the subject.
“It’s like a large bird’s nest, except it’s made entirely of bones,” Shen Chaomu explained. “A steady stream of corpses is brought there, and the skeletal mermaid eggs hatch on them. When the eggs reach a certain stage, the bones scatter and become part of the nest. Not all of them were killed by the siren; she sends the mermaids to collect the bodies of those who die in shipwrecks. That explains why the deaths span such a long time.”
“Okay,” Long Shiyu said with a smile. “You know so much.” He rolled over again.
“Stop playing the spinning top,” Shen Chaomu said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“I can spin vertically, too,” Long Shiyu said excitedly. “It’s a bit silly, but do you want to see?”
“No.”
“Okay!”
Shen Chaomu found himself subjected to a 360-degree underwater spinning dragon show. He watched the little spinning top for a while, then, unable to help himself, reached out at just the right moment and caught a dragon horn.
Long Shiyu’s spinning abruptly stopped. “Ying!”
Shen Chaomu was quite satisfied with this impromptu dragon horn stabilizer. He even gave it a little shake.
The robots finally finished their search. Having found no sign of the shipwreck, they moved to another nearby area. On the way, Shen Chaomu’s terminal received a notification. “Uther destroyed another bone nest,” he announced.
“I thought he was out of contact.”
“He was. He destroyed it and then lost contact again, just like I’m doing now.”
Long Shiyu giggled.
Arriving in the new search zone, the underwater robots resumed their scan. This time, the search ended quickly. Within ten minutes, all three robots emitted a sharp beep, signaling the detection of a large metal object.
Golden spiritual energy surged, breaking through layers of coral and scattering schools of silver-blue fish. The shattered coral rained down, revealing another deep trench.
The two descended towards the abyss. Two undercurrents rushed past overhead, weaving a tapestry of color and light. As they went deeper, the starlight faded. They proceeded cautiously. Though they could vaguely make out a shape on the seabed, it would take nearly ten minutes to reach it.
Only the sound of their exhaled bubbles broke the silence. Shen Chaomu thought of that strange dream again: golden grass, windswept hills, white mist, and a silver dragon. He glanced sideways. Even in the deep sea, Long Shiyu’s scales shimmered with bamboo green, soot, and steel blue.
Because I am a child of the stars.
Shen Chaomu’s heart skipped a beat.
“I see the shipwreck,” Long Shiyu said a few seconds later, tugging on his arm.
At their feet, the faint starlight illuminated the silent vessel. It was undeniably massive, half-buried in the seabed. The unique coral of Bei En grew in vibrant profusion, climbing the black hull like ivy, a colorful, macabre spectacle. At the stern gaped a giant hole—the power cabin destroyed by the skeletal mermaids years ago.
The robot began its damage assessment.
Long Shiyu followed Shen Chaomu toward the icebreaker. The railings on the deck were rusted, the paint unable to withstand fifty years of neglect. Near the stern, some railings and masts were bent and broken, bearing the ferocious teeth marks of the skeletal mermaids.
Confirming there was no immediate danger, they circled around the side, following the hull. Through the small windows, they glimpsed the ship’s interior. Cans and knives remained scattered in the galley, the floor warped and cracked from water damage. In the crew quarters, mattresses floated against the ceiling, vases had become homes for small fish, and seaweed sprouted from a fallen teacup. Clothes still hung in an open wardrobe, wallpaper peeled, and in a portrait on the wall, a woman smiled softly.
The alliance had always claimed that heavy icebreakers were unsinkable. The Pied Piper’s demise had been sudden, and traces of life still lingered. Fortunately, the crew had escaped in time.
“If the siren was behind this, orchestrating the sinking, it would explain a lot,” Shen Chaomu mused.
“Yeah.” Long Shiyu peered through a window. “The menu on this ship looks good. Why don’t we have this on the Yermak?”
Shen Chaomu chuckled.
“I want octopus balls.”
“Good boy, I’ll get you some when we get back.”
They continued their exploration. At the bow lay scattered lockers, their locks broken. Inside, amidst the jumbled contents, lay crumpled photographs—group photos and family portraits.
“Do you have any friends or family?” Shen Chaomu asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention them.”
“Not really,” Long Shiyu replied. “They aren’t very friendly.”
Compared to most strange beasts, who were born into conflict, his past had been relatively peaceful. The only one in his clan stronger than him was the old Dragon King. The Dragon Clan valued strength above all else, and no matter how reluctant they were, they had to submit to him.
When the bell tolled and the world trembled, it was a young man in silver who sat at the head of the table at the dragon feast.
The hall was resplendent, filled with the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation. Golden light shimmered in the cups, mingling with the vibrant colors of his attire, like a swirling galaxy. Favored by the universe, born of the stars, he had arrived during the Dragon Clan’s most prosperous era. The wealth of the world lay at his feet, and the entire star sea awaited his golden gaze.
And then, he went to capture a princess.
Long Shiyu recalled this, a smile spreading across his face.
Shen Chaomu felt a pang of sympathy. The orphan dragon’s past must have been a brutal struggle against hostile peers. Yet, here he was, still smiling with that carefree innocence.
Shen Chaomu patted Long Shiyu’s shoulder, offering reassurance. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here for you. And I’ll…I’ll tell you bedtime stories when we get back.”
___
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