Chapter 63
Xia Yi, lost in a foggy state of mind, looked into the past and saw the ever-changing patterns on the walls of the sanatorium. Upon closer observation, one could almost identify all geometric shapes within them. Various novel and colorful toys were placed on the table, but few children bothered to pick them up.
They sat silently, each absorbed in their own thoughts. A soft-spoken woman held a leather ball, encouraging them to pass it to each other.
The children’s movements were stiff, devoid of expression. They mechanically turned to the side to pass the ball to the next child.
This didn’t seem like a game at all; it was more like discarding an unwanted burden or dismissing an interruption of one’s thoughts. Some children even held the ball motionless for a long time until coaxed and urged to make their next move.
Xia Yi, around eight years old, was not the oldest among these children, but staff members considered him to be in the best condition and had the brightest prospects. At least he would actively observe his surroundings and pay attention to others’ expressions.
These were memories from a long time ago, retained only by his subconscious mind. At that time, he held onto that flowery leather ball but couldn’t pass it because the boy on his right was busy with a jigsaw puzzle, swiftly reassembling hundreds of pieces and even tearing them apart to start over.
The ball fell to the ground, and he didn’t even glance at it.
Meanwhile, the girl on the left, who had just passed him the ball, was staring fixedly at the wall. The adults didn’t know what she was doing, but Xia Yi knew.
It was a game they often played alone—simulating a little person navigating through the intricate patterns as if in a maze, repeatedly hitting dead ends, then retracing steps to start anew.
Normal children, or rather normal people, would find this kind of entertainment utterly boring. But these children were different; ceiling stains and gaps in the floor tiles were their imagined paradise.
Because they preferred to be alone.
In the room next to Xia Yi’s, a child created many colorful, abstract paintings with chaotic lines. However, Xia Yi didn’t care at all about what those were supposed to represent, nor did any of the other children.
Only the staff members would bring many beginner’s drawing and landscape structure diagrams and patiently inquire about the content of the paintings, but the child being questioned never uttered a word.
Cheerful nursery rhymes and beautiful nocturnes played in the sanatorium throughout the day, except during rest periods. But for most of the children, it made no difference whether the music was there or not. Even when the music abruptly changed, they showed no reaction at all.
Xia Yi’s dreams were hazy, but three things stood out clearly. The labyrinthine patterns on the walls, a music he couldn’t remember but knew must have been there, and finally, the lonely ball that rolled to the ground.
“A Yi, learn to express your reasons proactively. People are strange beings; usually, they don’t like to hear the truth… You must guess what the other person likes from the details.”
The blurred voice belonged to the caregiver who specialized in looking after him.
“But if you guess wrong… it won’t matter. So, you must say what you’re thinking directly…”
It was still that ball, dirty and rolling to the side. Xia Yi once tried to attend school, but after only two days, a child tricked him into believing that the ball was stuck in the dense branches of a large tree. He climbed the tree to retrieve it, only to end up with a broken bone.
Amidst the piercing screams while lying on the ground, he saw the ball roll out from a hidden pile of brooms.
The dream became hazy again, eventually turning into a vast ocean. The sea was azure blue, with foaming waves that were completely white. A group of swift terns dove into the water like arrows, seized a fish, then vigorously swam back to the surface, flapping their wings to fly again.
They belonged to the blue sky, to freedom, effortlessly weaving through storms without any restraint.
In the midst of the waves, a pale silver fish disappeared into the sea. In the next instant, that agile body with perfect curvature leaped out of the water, fingers tightly gripping a tern, wet hair covering the mermaid’s eyes. It easily restrained the struggling tern, cradling it in its hands, carefully stroking its wet feathers.
The gaze was like one fixated on a precious treasure, refusing to let go.
The azure sea water began to grow cold and ominous. Among the waves appeared many fierce fish, chasing after the shoals and attacking the terns diving for fish. After the daring adventure for survival and food, the flock of terns flew far away, forgetting their companions who came with them but didn’t return with them. They didn’t even acknowledge the mournful cries of a surviving fellow tern, as if it had never existed among their group.
It was famished and extremely panicked.
At that moment, a lively fish was delivered to the tern’s beak. Just as it struggled to swallow the food, the beautiful mermaid, while stroking its feathers, ruthlessly snapped the fragile bone on its wing.
The overwhelming pain caused Xia Yi’s vision to blur. Suddenly, the perspective in the dream shifted to that of the tern.
He finally saw the mermaid’s face clearly—those Siren eyes, that Siren appearance.
The whisper, like a spell…
“You are mine, only mine…”
“Uh…”
Xia Yi abruptly woke up.
Opening his eyes, he was met with darkness, accompanied by severe dizziness.
A familiar breath brushed past him, wiping away the cold sweat on his forehead.
Instinctively, Xia Yi tilted his head down. He felt heavy-headed, his breath hot and his body burning with no strength. Every joint and muscle ached indescribably, especially his lower back and leg joints, which felt like they were being pricked by needles.
He tried to move slightly, but an instant sharp pain nearly caused him to faint.
Between breaths, he felt a cold touch on his lips, followed by something sticky like jelly being pushed into his mouth by the other person’s tongue. His throat was dry, as if on fire, and he involuntarily swallowed.
“Cough, cough, cough.”
Xia Yi uncomfortably pressed his hand against his neck, but his arm muscles were so sore that they twitched, unable to grasp anything.
He finally remembered what had happened before.
Opening his eyes again, he indeed saw the Siren, whose eyes were filled with concern. Suddenly, a brownish-yellow tentacle wrapped in a blue ring emerged from behind him on the deck, carrying a large bucket filled with seawater and carelessly splashing it towards him.
Drenched in seawater, Xia Yi felt a stabbing pain in his wounds, but the hot sensation lessened slightly because of the seawater.
Abiseth the octopus seemed to be having a great time, his tentacles sliding down and quickly popping up again, splashing a bucket of water with a splash.
Xia Yi also saw a dolphin performing a perfect 720-degree aerial spin into the distant sea, and this little fellow seemed to be having even more fun.
He attempted to move slightly, but it was impossible. Instead of a hard deck beneath him, he lay against the Siren’s chest. Xia Yi didn’t speak; he didn’t even show any expression, just laboriously glanced downward.
The pale silver fish tail was just as he had initially seen it, with smooth scales arranged densely. At the end of the tail was a semi-transparent membrane supported by bone.
Xia Yi furrowed his brow.
His legs, especially around the knee bends, still bore scraped and peeled wounds from the scales—an unpleasant memory.
His body felt extreme pain and slight physical pleasure, while his mind was forced to experience the exact opposite of joy.
Despite his hatred, Xia Yi couldn’t summon sufficient righteous emotion to support himself.
He closed his eyes again, unable to shake off the nightmare’s final scene from his mind.
“Xia Yi?”
It wasn’t echolocation. The mermaid’s voice was somewhat hoarse, but very melodious and pleasant. Calling his name didn’t feel as unfamiliar as it used to. It sounded quite familiar, as if it was the repetitive call in his dreams, except during the haze he couldn’t distinguish who it was.
“Xia Yi…”
Still that icy touch.
Xia Yi gritted his teeth, refusing to let go.
His arm was struck by something, causing Xia Yi to gasp in pain. He was immediately swallowed up, the same jelly-like substance forced down his throat.
Glancing sideways, Xia Yi realized that what had struck his arm was actually a fish.
The fish was quite large, nearly a meter long, resembling an enlarged version of the yellowfin tuna one might find in a supermarket. Its gills flapped desperately, as it should have been long dead, but Abiseth kept pouring seawater towards them. Its vigor was gone, but the tail could still flick.
The Siren carefully placed Xia Yi on the deck, holding the fish down with one hand. His sharp nails pierced the fish’s gills, directly pulling them apart along the belly. Before the blood could seep out, he extracted a palm-sized golden oval object, still gleaming despite the overcast sky—it looked like a strangely shaped balloon.
He pulled it out from the fish’s belly; it seemed to be the swim bladder.
As expected, it burst at a poke, immediately softening. The Siren tore off a piece of the golden, slimy substance, rinsed it in the seawater Abiseth poured, then placed it in his mouth. After a moment, he leaned over, seemingly about to kiss Xia Yi.
Ignoring the ache in his arm, Xia Yi pushed him away. The residual seawater on the deck flowed abnormally in his direction but failed to form a water shield and quickly dissipated. Xia Yi felt as if a hammer were pounding on his forehead, unable to control his abilities.
Suddenly, he felt a refreshing coolness, like immersing in ice water during the hottest days of summer, followed by that eternal, deathly silence of pitch-blackness.
Was this the abyss?
After their mental fluctuations aligned, Xia Yi sensed the Siren’s intense unease.
After their mental waves converged, Summer sensed the Siren’s intense unease.
It wasn’t language but a deeply profound and intense love, expressing a kind of dangerous emotion.
Summer remained silent, allowing those turbulent feelings of disappointment, discomfort, resentment, and conflicting thoughts to transmit outward. He harbored no intense hatred or fear, just a faint hope for everything to simply end.
No…
The Siren suddenly embraced him tightly, his arms trembling.
Summer’s resentment was actually directed at himself; he slightly struggled, lost in thought.
He never could figure out what others were thinking, nor could he accurately gauge whether others meant well or ill toward him. He only wanted to live in his own world, where his likes, dislikes, and everything else were solely his concern. Even this small wish proved elusive for him.
The Siren no longer had any kin… that’s what those sea monsters said.
It had been a long time since they had seen other mermaids…
Initially, he stubbornly believed in the notion that the Siren would seek out others of its kind, which turned out to be wishful thinking. What others were thinking was something he would never understand or be able to dissuade.
Now, Xia Yi only resented himself for not making things clear.
Like in that nightmare, what he truly desired and envied was the freedom of the sea swallows, living without restraints. He could be swayed by the Siren, not just because of the mermaid’s allure but also due to its strength, capable of battling sharks and freely swimming in the ocean, without natural predators or kindred.
Even the sea monsters, typically kept to themselves; when they felt like talking, they could chat with one another, and when they didn’t, they could remain silent. Perhaps what he truly liked or loved was just this lifestyle, and the beautiful creatures symbolizing it.
He thought that liking something was solely his affair, not needing to be spoken of or brought up.
But once again, he was wrong.
In over twenty years of his life, it was the umpteenth time, and the most serious!
“I won’t do this again… You won’t leave, will you?”
The Siren’s sound waves calmed Xia Yi once more.
Yes, that was a good question.
Wanting to leave was a certainty, but where could he go?
At the speed of a mermaid in water, he might just end up following…
Exhausted, Xia Yi closed his eyes. Before falling asleep, he finally said:
“Don’t come near me.”
The Siren’s body stiffened, but in the end, he set Xia Yi down, letting him lie there, preparing to wait until Xia Yi fell deeply asleep before feeding him something.
The aircraft carrier was no longer in its original stranded location.
After the waves from last night’s storm, it had moved forward by a large margin, with only a small portion still caught in the crevices of the reef.
The prehistoric-like octopus swam over, once again leisurely swimming to the deep waters not far away for air.
“Siren, do you want me to catch another yellow lip fish?”
“No need…”
The Siren glanced at Xia Yi’s wounds. The bleeding had stopped long ago, and the most severe wound was no longer visible, but there was still an entire yellow lip fish swim bladder left unused. It should be fine.
“Cheep, it tastes so good, but there’s just not enough.”
Abiseth scratched his head with a tentacle. It was easy to guess which of them had swallowed the yellow lip fish’s swim bladder.
“Siren, you haven’t eaten in a day and night. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not hungry…”
The mermaid continued to watch over Xia Yi, calling Abiseth to pour water when he noticed his persistent fever. The Siren was too concerned to think about eating.
“Oh!” Abiseth thought, “Yeah, you almost ate Xia Yi, right? Of course, you’re not hungry.”
The octopus was too large, so its movements were crystal clear, causing the group of American soldiers on the island to stare in astonishment as this prehistoric-like monster continuously used buckets to pour seawater onto the aircraft carrier’s deck, looking dumbfounded.
“Is it trying to sink the ship? How clever, but is the target wrong?”
The aircraft carrier’s flight deck was completely smooth; even in a storm, seawater would flow off both sides of the deck, unaffected.
So, you’re saying this sea monster can cleverly use the discarded buckets on the aircraft carrier to scoop and pour water.
How come it hasn’t figured out that it’s wasting its efforts, and why doesn’t it just use its entire body to press down?
“Major… why? Why is this monster eyeing the aircraft carrier? Does it think we’re still on board?”
“Maybe, but the most critical issue now is that we can’t go back to get food.”
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