Recap
Then, he saw a figure emerge from the icy sea in the distance.
It was the heavy icebreaker, the Pied Piper.
Augusta’s pupils dilated slightly, and just as he was about to say something to Karen, he found that the girl had already gone to the end of the glacier.
That direction faced the Pied Piper.
She didn’t intend to hide anymore.
Seeing that he was about to chase after her, Karen lifted her white skirt, curtsied slightly and gracefully said, “Goodbye, Mr. Augusta. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
She fell lightly into the water, into the embrace of the skeletal mermaids and the waves. No matter how Augusta reached forward, he couldn’t even touch her sun-like golden hair.
Missiles crisscrossed the sky, explosions sending seawater geysering into the air. Signal flares rained down, casting an eerie red glow on the churning waves.
The last of the skeletal mermaids fought with the desperation of a dying breed. The destruction of their main lair and the poison coursing through the sea had sealed their fate.
After a brutal half-hour, the Pied Piper broke through the skeletal barrier and continued its advance, pushing deeper into the glacier fields. Ice cracked and groaned as the ship forged a path through the frozen wasteland. Reaching the heart of the Land of Eternal Night, they sensed a surge of spiritual energy emanating from the icy depths.
The remaining skeletal mermaids had regrouped, forming a swirling black storm in the distance. And, as before, a girl emerged from the sea, clinging to a steep reef, her white dress billowing around her.
She looked exhausted, the small crown on her head askew. Her face was pale, her nose red from the cold, but her beauty and regal bearing remained.
She curtsied to those on the ship. “Good afternoon, everyone,” she announced. “I dedicate this song to Edgeworth Murphy.”
Her voice, infused with the ancient magic of Bei En, flowed across the waves, its enchanting power undeniable. But weakened by her illness and the dwindling number of mermaids, she couldn’t sustain the song.
Spiritual energy flared, whaling spears and lightsabers arcing toward her. The mermaids fought back, but their numbers were too few.
Golden light, like swirling snow, countered the song’s allure.
Shen Chaomu moved to intercept the siren, but he noticed Long Shiyu’s sudden pallor. Alarm bells rang in his head. “Is Shen Di nearby?” he asked urgently. “How’s your wound?”
“It’s okay,” Long Shiyu replied. “It doesn’t hurt much.”
The lie was obvious. Shen Chaomu had never seen him look like this. Fear coiled in his gut. Had the wound worsened? Was Shen Di’s power growing?
The skeletal mermaids fought with frantic loyalty, protecting their princess. Warships surrounded the girl, a net from which there was no escape. A missile grazed her cheek, drawing blood. Another struck her shoulder. Shen Chaomu’s golden power closed in like a blizzard. Blood sprayed into the sea. The girl stumbled, then, with renewed determination, sang.
This wasn’t the song that lured sailors to their deaths, but a song of remembrance.
A tribute to a poet who had died a hundred years ago.
Memories intertwined with the melody – the sparkling music of the radio, the comforting beam of the lighthouse, fishtails transforming into feathers, seabirds adorned with scales. And a hand reaching out, the scent of tea lingering on its fingertips.
As the final golden spear found its mark, she lost her footing, tumbling from the reef. Her hair fanned out in the wind, her necklaces glinting. Luminous currents swirled beneath her, illuminating her face, her aquamarine eyes reflecting the vastness of the North End Sea.
For a fleeting moment, she was the embodiment of Edgeworth’s poetry.
And like that day on the reef where they first met, the girl fell gracefully into the depths.
The starlight shimmered on her descending form, like a shimmering skirt.
Golden light flakes enveloped Karen, a radiant light reminiscent of the sun’s first touch upon the sea, transforming the mermaid princess into foam. Her lips moved, a final message unspoken, her elegant smile forever frozen in a mask of regret.
She died in the golden light, her body sinking into the icy embrace of the sea, carried gently toward a bed of coral and seaweed. The waves stilled, the bone fragments of the mermaids scattered, and the girl, her long skirt swirling around her, disappeared into the depths.
The song ended.
Silence reigned.
Hunters collapsed, exhausted, murmuring, “It’s finally over…”
But in the shadows, unseen, a thick darkness surged. Cold, twisted, and crazed, it bore the imprint of countless monstrous forms. It snatched the lifeless girl, tendrils of shadow creeping across her face, devouring her.
Five minutes later, the weary hunters began to assess the scene, preparing to hand over to the logistics team. Shen Chaomu lit a cigarette and was about to check on Long Shiyu when a hunter approached.
“Black Sickle, isn’t it?” Shen Chaomu asked without turning around. “Why are you here? This place is swarming with hunters.”
The mantis, disguised in human form, spoke with its usual strange accent. “Human, we wish to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“We can see that you and the dragon are close. He also bears the wounds of our settlement, yes?”
He was referring to the corrosive injury inflicted by Shen Di.
Shen Chaomu turned, his eyes wary. “What are you suggesting?”
“We mean you no harm, human,” Black Sickle assured him. “Shen Di is cunning, hiding his true nature. We have journeyed far and know of a distant galaxy where such scars can be healed. After our settlement was attacked, we sought a way to mend these wounds. But we lack the strength to form clouds capable of interstellar travel.”
“You want me to take you to this galaxy?”
“Yes,” the mantis hissed. “In exchange, we will tell you its name.”
“Why did he attack you?”
Black Sickle hesitated. “He seems interested in our twinning ability. Perhaps it is also related to the way to break his curse.”
Shen Chaomu could easily abandon them after learning the galaxy’s name. Their desperation was evident.
He considered this, then flicked ash from his cigarette. “Deal,” he said. “I’ll find a way to take you there.”
Shen Chaomu returned to the icebreaker. Long Shiyu was peering out, his face lighting up at the sight of him. “Why did it take you so long?” he asked, throwing his arms around Shen Chaomu.
“I met someone,” Shen Chaomu replied vaguely. “How’s your injury?”
Long Shiyu still looked pale. He lifted his shirt, revealing the wound, seemingly healed by dragon language. But Shen Chaomu had never seen him like this before. He suspected the injury was worse than it appeared.
They couldn’t delay any longer.
The hunter team tasked with the aftermath arrived, and the Pied Piper, carrying the exhausted combatants, began its journey back to the Damocles Bridge. After two days of relentless pursuit, everyone was sleep-deprived.
Before Long Shiyu could make any further attempts at inappropriate touching, Shen Chaomu steered him toward the bed and tucked him in.
“She’s dead,” Long Shiyu said mournfully. “There’s one less princess in the world.”
Shen Chaomu, recalling the Dragon Clan’s peculiar obsession with princesses, dimmed the bedside lamp. “It couldn’t be helped,” he said gently. “Don’t be sad. You’ll find other princesses. Go to sleep now; you need to heal.”
Long Shiyu settled obediently, his wound throbbing. Shen Di’s spiritual energy had swept over him earlier, and he wasn’t sure what the man had done.
Shen Chaomu’s terminal buzzed with a message: No body recovered.
He frowned, a sense of foreboding settling over him. The search continued, but the lack of a body was troubling.
He opened the files on his terminal.
“What are you reading?” Long Shiyu asked. “You’re exhausted.”
“Information about the siren,” Shen Chaomu replied. “Just reviewing it before I rest. I’m looking through Karen Haina’s diary, in case we missed any clues. After all, she was in this region for many years.”
“I’ll help you look. I’m not sleepy.” Long Shiyu sat up, leaning against the headboard and peering at the terminal’s screen.
Shen Chaomu continued scrolling.
Lines of handwritten text filled the screen.
[March 8th, I bought new tea bags today, rose and jasmine. Mr. Murphy likes rose tea the most.]
[April 14th, Mr. Murphy cooked chili seafood soup and completed two new poems, titled “Flying Fish” and “Silver Sunshine.”]
[June 1st, today is not a good day, he fell while walking. I went to the hospital, and the doctor said he can’t eat spicy food, but he still wants to add chili. Why is he always like a child?]
[June 6th, Mr. Murphy had a checkup when he went to the hospital last time. I’m a little worried about his health…]
[June 10th, I planted a pot of flowers today.]
A hand-drawn picture of a flower accompanied the entry.
“That’s an ugly flower,” Long Shiyu commented.
“Still better looking than your Flamingo Lily,” Shen Chaomu retorted.
Long Shiyu swished his tail indignantly.
[July 1st, the final results are out. I have to focus on my treatment.]
[September 17th, the new poetry collection is finished. Mr. Murphy is amazing! (followed by a long list of compliments)]
[October 3rd, sometimes I wonder what he would think if he knew how powerful I really am. Maybe it would inspire new poems.]
Shen Chaomu skimmed through these mundane entries, the couple’s daily life passing before his eyes. He soon reached the end of the diary.
[December 11th, my family is still angry with me. Today, Mr. Murphy said he would go shopping with me for new curtains and a TV. It’s been almost seven years, and the walls have gone from white to cracked. Time to repaint. We don’t have much money, so remember to bargain for groceries today.]
[Maybe in a few years, they won’t be angry anymore, and I can go back with Mr. Murphy.]
[Humans have shorter lifespans than me. I have to remember them well.]
He could picture the girl sitting at her bedside, carefully writing these words with her quill and ink. Faint calculations marked the diary’s margins, listing vegetables, fruits, and meats.
[Maybe Mr. Murphy isn’t a very good poet, he always says so himself. But I still enjoy hearing him ramble and brag, especially after he’s been drinking. He says the silliest things, like wanting to pluck the moon from the sky for me.]
[It makes me laugh. How can anyone pluck the moon? He’s so funny.]
[So I tell him to go to sleep and hope the hangover soup works.]
[But he doesn’t respond. He just keeps saying that one day, he’ll make the whole universe hear his poems, especially the love poems he wrote for me. I soothe him and say, ‘Yes, yes, there will be such a day.’]
[He’s always happy when I say that. But the next morning, he forgets everything.]
[I keep this secret for him, waiting for the next drunken night.]
She set down her pen and looked at the sleeping man. An ordinary life with an ordinary lover. The morning glow painted the sky in warm hues. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and opened the curtains.
The long night had ended, and the golden sun rose over the sea. Returning to her desk, she wrote one last line.
[The lights are lonely in the middle of the night. Sometimes, he tells me about his ambitions, and I dream with him.]
Shen Chaomu paused on the last page, then turned to Long Shiyu. The young man had fallen asleep, his head resting on Shen Chaomu’s shoulder.
His breathing was shallow, his face pale. He must be in a lot of pain. Yet, he hadn’t complained, hadn’t said a word. Shen Chaomu felt a tightness in his chest. As he reached to set the terminal aside and draw the curtains, Long Shiyu woke.
He blinked, his gaze settling on the sea outside the window.
The North End Sea shimmered, glaciers rising in the distance. Unusually numerous undercurrents intertwined, their colors colliding in a dazzling display of underwater fireworks. The Pied Piper sailed towards the silent bridge, its wake a vibrant scar on the water’s surface. Red, purple, and green currents danced in its path, the stars singing beneath the waves, their light a symphony of color.
“It’s so beautiful,” Long Shiyu breathed, joining Shen Chaomu at the window and wrapping his tail around his wrist. “Do you like this starlight?”
The shimmering lights reflected in his eyes, reminding Shen Chaomu of the lonely lamp in the diary entries. He gently steered Long Shiyu back to bed. “Don’t catch a cold,” he chided.
“But I’m a fire dragon…”
“Which means you get colder faster,” Shen Chaomu interrupted, joining him on the bed. “You’re injured, remember?”
“Fine.”
“I’ll show you something else beautiful, then you need to sleep.”
“Okay.”
Golden light flakes danced around the room like fireflies, their gentle light illuminating Long Shiyu’s awestruck face. Unnoticed, his eyes shifted, taking on the molten gold hue of his dragon form. The pain, a constant companion, was slowly stripping away his disguise.
The brilliant gold of his eyes mirrored the light flakes, their colors a perfect match.
Shen Chaomu blinked, the similarity startling. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss Long Shiyu’s forehead.
Long Shiyu drifted off, his form curled protectively around his aching wound.
The light flakes faded, and Shen Chaomu’s expression hardened. The ship swayed gently, the starlight outside bright and unwavering.
When we reach that galaxy, he thought, his gaze fixed on Long Shiyu’s sleeping face, I’ll find a way to heal you.
___
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