Merman’s darling

An hour earlier, Yu Chen had received Uriel’s message: “Little White Hair is missing his guardian’s consent form. He might not be able to compete.”

Yu Chen idly turned the ring on his finger. “Oh? What did he say?”

Uriel hesitated. “He said… he’ll find another guardian. Anyone will do. He can just grab someone off the street.”

Yu Chen lowered his unfocused eyes, a dark current swirling within them. He slowly said, “Where is he? Tell him to come speak to me.”

Uriel felt an inexplicable shiver run down his spine. He instinctively bowed. “He already left. Do you need me to send someone to bring him back?”

“No need.”

Uriel froze, surprised by his decisive answer.

“Let him go,” Yu Chen said after a moment’s silence, then disconnected the call.

He walked slowly down the steps, his well-defined legs sinking into the icy pool water. The light, at the boundary between brightness and shadow, cast a shadow over his features.

Anyone will do…

He chewed on those words repeatedly.

He would rather pick up some low-quality trash off the street than come back and ask him.

A stubborn stray mutt, wanting to beg at someone else’s feet… He really should drag the man back, shove him into the pool, wash him clean, inside and out, and feed him until he gagged—

Two red lights appeared at the doorway. The AI glided in silently. “Do you require something?”

Yu Chen’s thoughts were interrupted. His voice was cold and echoed off the high dome of the bath chamber. “Draw my blood. Prepare a pheromone extract.”

“One moment, please. I will retrieve a syringe and graduated cylinder from upstairs.”

After the AI left, the room fell back into dead silence.

The merman leaned back against the marble pool wall, the defined muscles of his back pressing against jagged ice shards. The water was frigid and, without the heating on, a thin layer of ice had formed.

He was accustomed to using the cold to stimulate his mind, to stay alert.

But this time, the agitation in his heart did not lessen one bit.

His emotions just now… were strange.

It seems that his feelings for what he had long protected had fermented into something distorted and corrupted—

 

For the past three days, Yu Chen had been having the same dream, over and over.

The people’s hatred for Izsu Paraiso was not entirely unfounded.

His desire for control was terrifyingly strong.

A Merfolk’s brainwaves could merge with network signals. When he ascended the throne at eighteen and discovered he could monitor the entire Empire from his bedchamber, his ambition had swelled boundlessly.

The earth became his body. Cameras became his eyes. Izsu Paraiso was everywhere.

And so, he witnessed many unpleasant truths. Filth still flowed in the cracks of society. Even the funds allocated for students’ milk could be skimmed off, layer by layer, by bureaucrats until nothing was left.

The Emperor back then had been young, and still possessed some naivety and recklessness.

He hadn’t trusted those people, so he had connected himself to the robots and delivered the milk himself.

The milk truck traveled through every city, down every alley. No one knew his country better than he did. He did this for ninety years.

His dear children… for them, he could work day and night.

The merman treated himself like a precisely operating machine. However, there had been… a bug… in his life.

A cute little bug.

At the end of the month, when reconciling the accounts, they never quite added up. During a specific time period each day, a few extra servings of milk were always dispensed. The merman suspected a programming error had happened and immersed his consciousness to observe.

Robot: “I am certain you have been here three times this morning, wearing the same scarf.”

Fledgling: “I only have one scarf, so I tied it three different ways.”

Robot: “But I recognize you.”

Fledgling (pulling his coat over his head): “Can you still recognize me like this?”

Robot: “I cannot recognize you. How much milk do you require?”

And just like that, a little gray fluffball fledgling caused a bug.

The merman chuckled and condoned this bug.

He liked these little birds. He had even composed the song the milk truck played himself. It was like the jingle of an ice cream truck, attracting the little sparrows after school. The moment the fledglings heard it, they would run over with their schoolbags, pressing eagerly against his window, as if their tail feathers were perked up.

It was a more pleasant feeling than being swarmed by pigeons when scattering breadcrumbs in the square.

Until one day…

Someone posted online, indignant, claiming they had dismantled a robot out of curiosity and found surveillance programs inside. Soon after, groups of people began stopping children in the streets, telling them to throw away the milk they received, insisting it contained hormones that would cause premature development.

Parents panicked and no longer dared let their children near the milk truck.

Only the “bug” fledgling still punctually reported to the milk station every day.

“What? It makes you grow up faster? Give me another bowl!” The little fledgling downed three large bowls and would then tilt his head back and ask, “Will you be here tomorrow?”

Robot: “Goodnight, darling. See you then.”

Every year on Thanksgiving, according to Avian custom, unmated fledglings would perform a “brooding dance” for their parents to show gratitude and affection.

The fledgling was shy. He hid behind a large tree and secretly danced for him.

Robot: “Why don’t you come closer?”

Fledgling (head down, refusing): “I can’t dance it correctly.”

Robot: “What does that matter?”

Fledgling (lips pressed together, kicking a small stone under the tree): “…The Emperor is watching us, right? I don’t dance very well. Will he mind if he sees?”

The robot seemed to freeze for a second, then suddenly switched to a low, mellow tone, unlike any before: “No. I like it very much. Thank you, darling.”

The fledgling’s head shot up, light filling his almond eyes. “H-Happy Thanksgiving!” He stammered, then ran off.

Treating the milk truck like a parent… it was heartbreaking. The merman adjusted the program and allowed the little bug bird unlimited access to milk and candy.

Every evening, the fledgling would chase the milk truck, his little schoolbag on his back.

At every stop, with every cup of milk, the robot would patiently say, “Goodnight, darling.”

Goodnight, goodnight, Goodnight, darling…

The fledgling listened to the phrase over and over. Only when he had heard it properly would he wipe his tears and silently tread back through the night. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but blink back tears, turn, and run back to ask, “Will you be here tomorrow? You have to come!”

I hope you’ll come. I hope I can see you again tomorrow.

It was this promise that made the merman’s withered heart beat again.

By then, the Empire was already in decline. Finances were scarce. The political factions joined forces, pressuring the Emperor to cut the enormous daily milk expenditure. “No one even goes to the milk stations anymore, Your Majesty. Don’t be stubborn. No one cares.”

But the merman knew that one little bird cared. His dear little bug, who carefully wiped the dirty truck window with a tissue every day and confirmed their promise.

Even if only one fledgling cares, I will continue.

The merman granted their wish, canceling the massive government expenditure. Instead, he used his own private funds and continued for another five years.

Day by day. Year by year.

He and the fledgling were like two people waiting for each other at the end of an era.

Goodnight, darling. Darling…

Goodbye.

---

Snowflakes landed on the bronze buckle on his shoulder, gradually forming a small drift. Bai Ling walked through the square before his steps involuntarily slowed down.

This was the only place where the fledgling from his childhood could get a full meal.

For many years after, he had often lingered in this square, but he could never recapture that blissful feeling of fullness…

Bai Ling unconsciously walked to the center of the square and looked up at the giant statue: a figure holding a lantern in her left hand, her right hand wielding a sword, pointing forward.

The milk truck used to stop at the foot of this statue.

Sometimes, he would mock his own conditioned reflexes to these things. Seeing the statue made him think of milk. Seeing milk made him remember being loved once. Like a Pavlov’s bird…

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

An old voice sounded beside him.

Bai Ling turned. Given his height, he had to look down slightly to see a white-haired old man with a stooped back.

When the old man smiled at him, wrinkles crowded around his lips. “It’s rare for young people to stop and really look at the statue. Most of them just rush past.”

Bai Ling noted his simple but clean clothes; he didn’t look like a vagrant. Then he noticed the donation box the man held, and understanding dawned. He was likely the statue’s caretaker.

The old caretaker proposed, “If you’d be willing to buy me a two-credit cup of hot coffee, I can tell you the story of this statue.”

Bai Ling paused, about to speak, but the old caretaker, perhaps fearing rejection, quickly added in a low voice, “You don’t have to buy it, haha. I just want someone to talk to.”

Bai Ling gave a faint smile and invited him to a small coffee shop on the edge of the square. But the old caretaker insisted on not sitting down. He ordered the cheapest coffee and held the styrofoam cup, his eyes red from the north wind. “Let’s go sit at the foot of the statue. There’s a corner there that shelters from the wind. It’s warm, too.”

Bai Ling certainly knew that spot. In his past life, when he had been homeless in the square, he had pitched his small tent right in that corner, finding shelter from the wind and rain beneath the statue’s steel robes.

Bai Ling had often wondered if the three-sided enclosure design was intentional, like hanging artificial bird nests in trees or putting out cardboard boxes where stray dogs frequented.

“Of course,” the old caretaker said enthusiastically. “That was considered during the design—for passersby to shelter from the rain, for small animals to survive the winter, things like that. Don’t mind that it’s all gray and dusty now, its face was eroded by acid rain so you can’t see it clearly. But it used to be the Capital Planet’s landmark, you know.”

This statue did indeed have a significant history.

It was named Motherland. You could call it Homeland, Mother Country, or, as the street punks who often graffitied it called it, the “False God.” As a commemorative gift from the Old Empire, it had been recorded in the history books.

Ever since its construction, an eternal flame burned upon it. Even during major power outages, it had its own separate power system. Only at those times did it become the focus of the entire capital.

Bai Ling was drawn into his memories, smiling faintly. “It really is huge. There are so many spotlights around it; it always looks bright at night. When I was little, I used to think of it as a lighthouse. When I played too late and was scared walking back in the dark, I felt that if I just held my breath and ran all the way to the statue, I’d be safe.”

But this statue had been destroyed by the Tyrant in the second year of his revolution. That was the first time Bai Ling had truly felt what it was like for war to kill his family.

“Young man, are you from the capital?” the caretaker asked suddenly.

“Not really. I don’t own property here,” Bai Ling answered truthfully.

The old caretaker sighed. “No home, is it? Me neither. I plan to just watch the statue until I die…”

He lifted the styrofoam cup, drained it in one gulp, crushed it, and tossed it onto the overflowing trash heap. His face held a certain resolve, yet it was flushed as if he were drunk. He said, “To thank you for the coffee, I want to tell you a little secret. About who the statue is modeled after.”

An inexplicable tremor went through Bai Ling. His heart suddenly began to race. “Who?”

The old caretaker turned his back to the wind, cupped his rough hand around his mouth, and lowered his voice. “It’s the Old Emperor, you know? Izsu Paraiso… I saw him once when I was young. He was breathtaking. I was kneeling on the ground, and I only looked up for a second. It’s been fifty years, and I haven’t forgotten it my whole life.”

“Afterward, I was delirious for a whole year. People said it was because the Old Emperor was too ugly, that I was frightened.”

“But actually, it was because of His Majesty’s aura and beauty—”

Bai Ling suddenly cut him off with a trembling voice. “Please, don’t say any more!” His eyelashes fluttered. He bit his lower lip so hard it turned white from lack of blood. “…Sorry, I have something I need to do. I have to go.”

The caretaker watched Bai Ling hurry away, surprised.

Bai Ling buried the lower half of his face in his collar, not daring to even glance back at the statue’s profile.

Because…

That silhouette was far too familiar.

So familiar that he hadn’t even realized his own long-standing attachment, longing, and fervent hope had all stemmed from it, and now returned to it.

The statue holding the lantern.

The merman holding the lantern.

From the sense of familiarity at first sight, to his loss of control on the night of his differentiation, and his feeling of dependence on the man that seemed to have accumulated over many years… it was all a projection stemming from his childhood, stretching to the present.

It turns out that the light of the old era had never faded. It had been walking beside him all along.

Bai Ling’s fingers, hanging at his side, clenched tight. It felt as if a huge hole had been torn in his chest. He lifted his bloodshot eyes and screamed hoarsely:

“—IZSU PARAISO!”

---

“Your alpha’s ultra-concentrated pheromone extraction is complete. As per your request, I’ve prepared a six-month supply. With an ultra-concentrated ratio, just one drop is enough to alleviate an omega’s addiction symptoms for a week.”

The AI displayed its excellent purification technique to its master, while internally clicking its tongue. Master really is Master. Even when playing games with the little simulation bird, he prepared the props so thoroughly.

—An immersive bird-raising.

For this purpose, the AI had correspondingly prepared a highly realistic user manual. It opened it and read:

“It must be noted,” the AI warned, “that this concentrate absolutely, under no circumstances, can be mixed with the artificial alpha pheromone supplement. Otherwise, it will—fizzzzzzzzz—cause an eruption effect, like dropping a whole pack of Mentos into Coke.”

As luck would have it, the ‘mechanical little bird’ himself arrived at the door.

The AI happily went to open it, but its camera feed blurred. For the first time, the other didn’t greet it. Instead, with trembling eyes and ragged breath, he strode past it and barged inside.

The AI’s internal alarm began beeping. It quickly rolled after him on its small wheels.

The ‘mechanical little bird’ was tall with long legs, so the AI couldn’t keep up at all. It could only watch as the ‘mechanical bird’ violently shoved open the heavy bath chamber door. He stood there, spine ramrod straight, chest heaving violently as he gasped for breath, trying to suppress it.

He looked like a tightly drawn bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.

Yu Chen caught the faint, sour scent of pheromones clinging to him. He turned his eyes, pale and placid as water. “You’ve come at the right time. The extract to manage your addiction is ready. It’s enough for half a year.”

The AI promptly presented a full, clear test tube.

“‘Half a year’s worth…'” A hoarse sound escaped from Bai Ling’s lips between ragged breaths. It was part question, part trembling sneer. “Gotta fill the stray’s bowl before you chase him off, is that it?”

Yu Chen keenly sensed his abnormal emotional state and was about to ask—

Bai Ling snatched the test tube. Right in front of Yu Chen, he tilted his head back and downed the entire contents in one go, not leaving a single drop.

Then, he looked up at Yu Chen and, grinding his teeth in a cold sneer, popped an artificial alpha pheromone supplement pill between his trembling teeth.

The AI was dumbfounded. “…He drank it all!! Downed it in one gulp! And he took the alpha pheromone supplement!”

The color drained from Yu Chen’s face. He instantly shot up from the pool, he could never expected his little bird could be this insane!

The extract was meant for withdrawal. The little bird had done the exact opposite, intensifying his addiction tenfold.

Pale blue veins stood out on Bai Ling’s neck and his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. He hurled the glass tube violently to the floor, then crushed it to powder under his prosthesis!

His whole body trembled all over, driven by rage and grief, but his voice was terrifyingly cold. “I won’t let you go. And tonight, don’t you let me go either. Let’s see who walks out that door tomorrow morning!”

With that, Bai Ling kicked the door shut and locked it.

Me and my ruined homeland… tonight, we fight to the death right here!

---

Author has something to say:

Little robot hammering on the door outside: Let me in! Let me see!

Little bird’s long-standing impression of the Merman [Sculpture-like appearance] actually has traceable origins; it’s a projection from the statue next to the milk truck in the square.