Archive of Our Own

Something in the air, as dank and musty as it was below deck, alerted Luo Binghe of danger long before the storm struck. It was a sense she had developed sometime as a girl. Living in a coastal village, storms were a regular hazard, so often on her errands to market she would be heralded to determine whether it was safe for the fishermen to go out that night. Often this meant a discount on fish, so she had never paid it much mind.

But the village was further away than the eye could see now, an unfathomable distance to Luo Binghe, and she was the one at sea.

On the afternoon of the day she felt the storm approach, a sailor caught her stealing food. There were few places to hide, as a stowaway, so it shouldn’t have surprised her that she was caught after only a week. No matter how careful she had been, they would have noticed the discrepancies in supplies at some point.

As the sun set, a furious captain bid her bound to the mast. The sea was calm then, the skies clear. Luo Binghe had not watched the sunset since she’d left her home town and that, at least, was comforting against the threat of death by exposure.

As the sun began to slip away, bright red fading to dusty purple, and her sense of impending doom grew greater, she tried to warn the men on board.

“Please, a storm is coming, you must get below deck!” she cried, thrashing weakly in her bonds.

What sailor listens to a stowaway, let alone a little girl? Let alone a little girl telling them the skies were lying. The ones that lived would rue ignoring her advice.

The storm that whipped the ocean and tore the sails fell upon them unexpectedly. In only seconds, a faint, shadowy whisp lit from behind by a full moon became a storm that drenched the ship, and Luo Binghe, to the bone— turning waters violent.

Luo Binghe found herself untied, not out of kindness but out of need for every length of rope available, and immediately found herself unstable. Her legs felt weak and the violent rocking of the ship sent her careening into the railing on the starboard side of the ship.

She braced her back against the carved wood as the ship leaned dangerously to her side, looking up in horror as a wave the size of a mountain began to rise and tilt the ship further and further.

If she was on the ship when it crashed down, she would be killed by the falling mast. Her legs had all but ceased working, be it fear or lack of use, and she was directly in its line of impact. Debris sliding around the ship was already hurtling towards her, heavy barrels filled with brined fish or gunpowder or both, threatening to crush her with every swell.

Perhaps if she dove into the water she could wait out the wave beneath the surge?

Yes, she would have to try.

With all her strength, Luo Binghe hurled herself overboard and dove headfirst into the receding sea, the fall seeming further as the wave behind her climbed higher.

Right before her head hit the water, Luo Binghe remembered something important.

She couldn’t swim.

Oh well.

The impact of the water hurt worse than she thought it would. She flailed frantically with her arms, her legs still unreceptive, her hair coming undone and blinding her more than the darkness. She experienced a brief burst of clarity, opening her eyes for a second in time to see the ship she had called home for seven days and seven nights arc over her head, carried in churning waters, silhouetted by the bright, bright moon. Then something else, driftwood or debris, struck the back of her head and her waterlogged skirts began to drag her down into blackness.

She sank into unconsciousness before she realised she was sinking in reality.

…

Luo Binghe had not really considered that she wouldn’t wake up again after being shipwrecked, but now that she had, she realised what a miracle it was. Though the blackness that surrounded her was the darkest she had experienced yet, she knew by the feel of her hands against her face that she was, at least, still conscious and in one piece. She was not in pain anywhere, her head injury either healed or not serious, and she was having no difficulty breathing.

And yet, when she tried to sit up, she found once more that she could not feel her legs.

“I am well,” she whispered, a little desperately, as she felt about her, “I am well.”

As she became more and more aware, more and more things began to feel wrong.

Her dress and pastebodies were gone, all she was wearing was the remnants of her chemise.

The surface she had been lying on was soft, though slimy, with the distinct texture of seaweed.

It was tolerably cold, though only just, and that cold was bone deep.

Perhaps most damningly, her hair was floating up into the air, weightless until she moved her head and felt it drag behind her.

She hadn’t dared feel her legs, lest they were missing.

Her thoughts began to drift, ‘Has a shark—no. Don’t think. All is well Luo Binghe.’

“All is well,” she repeated aloud.

Perhaps she was in some sort of afterlife? Some ocean themed afterlife? Then the drag on her limbs and her hair must be what water feels like when it’s all around you.

She knew during the summer it was popular for children to spend time swimming to escape the heat, and that the young master of the house her mother had worked at often requested bathes, but Luo Binghe had never experienced either of these. The first was something her mother forbade that she obediently obeyed, to do with monsters out to snatch pretty girls she’d told her. The second was a luxury reserved for those a great deal wealthier than the daughters of scullery maids.

Just as she began to wonder whether, if this was the afterlife, she ought to stop breathing, a flicker of light burst in the corner of her eye.

‘A hallucination?’ she thought, whipping around to face its source.

And then the most beautiful humming began to fill her empty, invisible world with warmth. She found herself melting into the seaweed bed she must be on as the otherworldly tune grew louder and more and more sparks of light began to pop in the water around her.

And then, like daybreak (or perhaps moonrise?) the world she’d found herself in lit up with a consistent, pale light, emitted from a bizarre sphere the size of a head. Like a candle, you could read by it if you were close enough, but the cave, for it was a cave now that she could see, was hardly awash with light. The shadows were deep and scary and the seaweed floating up the cave walls and the spikes jutting from the roof cast horrid shapes that made Luo Binghe feel less alone than she was in a decidedly unpleasant fashion.

She realised she was, quite alarmingly, underwater.

Apparently, she was breathing just fine too.

And then the beautiful music reached a peak and an angel peered around an opening in the cave wall. Her skin was pale, cast in the light of whatever orb was lighting the cave, and her hair seemed to melt into the darkness behind her. Her hands which rested on the edge of the opening faded to invisible black at the finger tips, but the soft tap they made as they landed there suggested nails. Claws maybe. The whites of her eyes seemed to glow and light bounced off strange, crystalline patches on her arms.

The humming stopped and the woman opened her mouth.

“Hello,” she smiled warmly, teeth just a little sharp, “It’s good to see you awake so soon. You had a nasty lump on the back of your head.”

Her voice was beautiful, even in speech. Luo Binghe felt overwhelmed just looking at her. She was ethereal. Even the water around her glinted as if filled with tiny diamonds.

‘I really am dead then,’ she considered.

She was about to make her reply when the woman pushed herself into the room, gliding effortlessly through the water, hair streaming behind her, long, long tail still not at its end by the time she’d reached Luo Binghe.

“Oh,” Luo Binghe stared. “Are you a mermaid?”

The woman gave her an odd look, “You seem surprised. Though I suppose I am a little unkempt…”

“No, no, you’re beautiful,”

The woman laughed, “Perhaps the blow to your head rattled your mind... But yes, I am a mermaid. My name is Shen Qingqiu.”

“I’m Luo Binghe,” she replied weakly, “I’ve… never met a mermaid before. Are you using some kind of magic so that I don’t drown?”

“Drown?” Shen Qingqiu looked her over carefully then moved closer. She wrapped her arms around Luo Binghe’s neck and gently felt the back of her head. Luo Binghe tried not to blush at the proximity.

“Well, your head feels fine at least,” she tilted her head, scrutinising the girl carefully before finally reaching forward again and fingering the material of her chemise. Twisting gracefully she moved to another corner of the cave, the end of her tail finally entering the room. She retrieved a small bundle and brought it over for Luo Binghe to look at.

“Those are my clothes,” Luo Binghe reached forward and touched the tatters of her old apron, “Did you… Did you undress me?”

She was torn between embarrassment and flickers of pleased expectation.

“Undress? Oh, yes. They were hurting your dorsal fins and dragging you down. It isn’t safe for little mermaids like you to go so deep without an escort or a heat source. You could get very sick,” Shen Qingqiu stroked her forehead, “You seem to have avoid that, however. Were you with your family? Is there somewhere I can take you?”

“I’m not a mermaid,” Luo Binghe protested, “I have legs, see!”

Forgetting her fear that they had been bitten off by a shark, Luo Binghe looked down and gestured to her legs.

“Oh,” she said.

“Is this… new?” Shen Qingqiu asked slowly.

“I… Yes. I…” her mind was blank. She reached for the dark, splotchy grey tail that hung from her hips and felt her fingers poking her. She drew back sharply before curiosity got the better of her. Distracted, she ran her hands up and down her new tail in wonder.

“I’m… a mermaid?”

“Yes, Luo Binghe, you are a mermaid,” Shen Qingqiu sat beside her on the bed, for it must be a bed.

This wasn’t the adventure she’d been hoping for when she snuck on-board a ship in the dead of the night, her mother’s last words to her ringing in her ears.

“Head to the sea, my child, you will find a home there.”

‘Did she know?’ Luo Binghe thought idly.

“Um,” she said quietly after a minute’s contemplation, “No. I don’t think you can take me anywhere. I… I don’t even know how to swim, actually.”

Shen Qingqiu was silent for a while and hesitant when she spoke.

“I’m a researcher, down here. I’m from a place called Cang Qiong Reef, though I’m currently a long way from home. I’ve always loved learning about the creatures we share the ocean with, which is why I’m here. It’s too deep for most, but with time you can adjust. You must have some Deep Sea blood in you to acclimate so quickly down here. There are a lot of creatures that live in these waters that I have devoted my life thus far to studying, so living close to them is most convenient. I haven’t visited home in nearly ten years, though I send messages from time to time. I haven’t spoken to another mermaid in a while,” she said.

Luo Binghe became more entranced with every word, her voice dripping honey into her ears.

“That sounds lonely.” she managed.

“A little,” Shen Qingqiu allowed, “I have my pets, but they aren’t very good conversationalists. I suppose you’ve never tried to hold a debate with a shark, have you?”

Luo Binghe giggled, covering her mouth, “No, but I’m sure they’d have some interesting points,”

“Not really,”

She giggled again, tension bleeding out of her.

“I suppose what I’m saying is, there’s more than enough room for two down here. You can stay if you like. It’s dark and cold, but it’s home. And there are so many fascinating creatures to document! I’ll show you my notes if you like! And I can introduce you to Xiu Ya, she’s just the cutest and should be getting back from feeding soon, and—” she cut herself off abruptly, looking down sheepishly.

“That sounds nice,” Luo Binghe offered.

“I’m sorry,” Shen Qingqiu smiled, flicking away some of the glimmering flecks in the water. “The deep isn’t for everyone. If you’d prefer you can stay here until it’s time for me to head over to Cang Qiong.”

“No!” Luo Binghe realised she’d shouted the word, the taken aback look on her companion’s face making her flush, “No, I mean. Um. Who’s Xiu Ya?”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

“She’s been my faithful companion down here for years! She’s really just the sweetest little thing. Would you like to come meet her?”

“I… don’t know how to swim,” Luo Binghe grimaced.

“Oh, it’s easy. You just raise your hips and let the movement ripple all the way down to your tail fin,” she demonstrated, “Then do the same lowering your hips, see?”

Luo Binghe slipped off the bed, floating briefly in the water, before attempting the motion, flapping back and forth like a beached fish.

Pure euphoria filled the cave with a suddenness that almost had her gasping. She realised Shen Qingqiu was laughing. Not just polite giggles but full belly laughter that had her twisting upside down and making all sorts of undignified noises. She couldn’t even feel ashamed at her failure, only pleased wonder at managing to coax this sound, however unintentionally, from her rescuer.

Which reminded her.

“How… how did you find me anyhow?” she asked, going still and using her arms to try righting herself. It appears in her flailing she had lost orientation.

Laughter dying down with a happy sigh Shen Qingqiu answered her.

“Oh I was out a few tides ago when Xiu Ya smelt mermaid blood in the water. You were bleeding, however lightly, from that head wound. So I asked her to lead me to the source and I found you, sinking slowly like a sleepy jellyfish. I realised you were injured and must have been sinking for a good long while, because you were very deep down, and brought you back here. Xiu Ya carried you actually. I had collected too many samples so my arms were full…” she looked a little ashamed to admit it, “The salt lake nearby collapsed one of its walls, so I wanted to gather some of the casualties and see if I could… well. It doesn’t matter.”

“Thank you,” Luo Binghe said earnestly. She reached out carefully to clasp one of her saviours hands, “I am in your debt.”

“It… It was nothing,” Shen Qingqiu said bashfully, “You’re so small, so I felt obligated,”

“I was the tallest girl my age at the village. I’m not that small!”

Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow.

Luo Binghe huffed. The other woman was right, however. Shen Qingqiu absolutely dwarfed her. Her tail went on seemingly forever and her body was just slightly too big to be human.

“Of course, Binghe is very big and scary,” Shen Qingqiu spoke indulgently.

Deciding to be petty, Luo Binghe crossed her arms.

“Yes, yes I am,” she nodded.

“Here, I’ll show you the way out of the caves and we’ll see if you don’t pick up swimming automatically,” Shen Qingqiu took her hand and swam slowly to the exit. The light began to follow her once she was out the hole, lighting up the next stage of the cave.

Sure enough, though a little awkward at first, the movements quickly became natural and Luo Binghe no longer needed a hand to tug her along.

That does not mean she let go.

The glowing orb that lit their way, significantly fainter now they’d left the cave, still gave hints to the various creatures sharing Shen Qingqiu’s cave.

Feeling the need to whisper as she tried to keep as flat and straight as possible so as not to touch any of the strange, eyeless things that floated beneath her, Luo Binghe asked, “So where are we? Does this place have a name?”

Whispering back, Shen Qingqiu replied, “Qing Jing Trench. Why are you whispering?”

“Wont we disturb… those things?” Luo Binghe nodded discretely to a colony of nearly motionless white fish, fluttering faintly in a cluster.

“Oh, they can’t see or hear much, so we won’t disturb them. But some other creatures are incredibly sensitive to light so I keep my lamp quite dim most of the time. I hum a little sometimes, but they seem to enjoy that.” she explained.

Luo Binghe nodded, understanding very well indeed.

“Here,” Shen Qingqiu pointed to a spot where light stopped bouncing off the cave walls and instead was sucked into an empty abyss.

They made it out and Luo Binghe instantly wanted to go back inside. She clung very close to Shen Qingqiu, eyes darting around in panic.

Shen Qingqiu stroked her back gently, “It’s alright, it’s a little intimidating at first but try to remember one thing.”

“What?” Luo Binghe gazed out into an empty world. There was nothing there, only empty space and darkness that could hide anything. She felt something brush against her arm and shrieked.

She swiped at where she’d felt it and realised quickly it was her own hair.

Shen Qingqiu chucked softly and the sound instantly relaxed her.

“Just try to remember, the scariest thing out here is us,” she paused and looked Luo Binghe up and down before smiling slyly, “Well, me.”

That did the trick.

Luo Binghe smiled and asked, “What makes us so scary?”

“Our brains. And our knacks of course,” Shen Qingqiu tilted her head before her eyes widened in understanding, “Oh. You wouldn’t know what those are, would you?”

Luo Binghe shook her head.

Shen Qingqiu guided her to sit on an outcrop above the cave before swimming back a short distance. The light brightened significantly, casting a good circle with its eerie glow. Luo Binghe saw a few fish swam out of its radius from the corner of her eye, certain those fish had not been there a second ago.

“Just watch this,” Shen Qingqiu recaptured her attention and raised her hands.

All at once, water seemed to draw towards her, fighting for space around her hands and condensing as more of the little, sparkling flakes that seemed to surround her burst into life and swirled in her hands. They seemed to grow and clump, and in seconds, a small, crystalline chunk appeared in her hands. It matched the substance that coated part of her skin.

“This is my knack. I can produce and manipulate salt, which the ocean thankfully has in high quantities. It’s pretty useless altogether, I can’t make anything too pretty. I have a brother in Cang Qiong whose knack is pearls. They shine so prettily and are always perfectly smooth and spherical, but I know his secret,” Shen Qingqiu gave her a conspiratorial look, “Between you and me, he’s a total cry-baby, that’s where his tears come from!”

Luo Binghe smiled, not sure if she was allowed to laugh.

“But yes, as you can see, salt,” the chunk in her hand seemed to melt away, back into the water. “You probably have a knack too. It’s usually inherited from a parent or ancestor.”

“I don’t know. My mother found me as a baby, but apparently I’m not as human as I thought. Perhaps my knack is that? Changing my form?”

“That’s definitely possible. I’m sure you’ll find out with time,” Shen Qingqiu smiled.

Luo Binghe’s eyes suddenly drifted from hers and grew wide as saucers. She half froze, grasping blindly for something, anything, a weapon of some kind, and whispered, “Shark.”

Shen Qingqiu glanced, carelessly, over her shoulder before smiling.

“Xiu Ya! You’re back,” she swam to the shark and began scratching it like one would a dog.

Luo Binghe stared.

“Xiu Ya, as you can see, my guest is awake and doing well. Her name is Luo Binghe. Binghe, me Xiu Ya,” she held out her hand.

Shakily, Luo Binghe took it and allowed herself to be tugged forward.

“Xiu Ya is a Bluntnose Sixgill, and though she’s still a baby in terms of development, she’s the best companion one could ask for,” she draped an arm over the shark and guided Luo Binghe’s hand to touch it.

Xiu Ya was rougher than she looked, and firmer. She was sleek and long but, as she soon realised, not as long as Shen Qingqiu. The shark raised its head to show Luo Binghe her mouth.

“She’s smiling,” Luo Binghe realised.

“That’s more or less just her mouth, but yes. She’s happy to meet you,” she paused for a second, watching the shark, “And she would like her belly scratched. Here.”

Shen Qingqiu held out a brush she’d pulled from the worn looking net at her hips.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

Hesitantly at first, Luo Binghe sank a little below the shark and began to rub the bristles against its underside.

“Little to the left,” Shen Qingqiu advised, rubbing at the shark’s nose. Xiu Ya was wiggling happily.

Luo Binghe found herself smiling and scratching more enthusiastically.

“And that, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said as they both slowed and moved back, “Is how to befriend a shark. Mind, I wouldn’t try it on just any shark, though domesticated ones are fine. They’re just the sweetest little things, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t say little… but yeah,” she seemed surprised at herself. “I always thought they were scary and liked to eat people, but Xiu Ya at least seems really nice.”

“Well…” Shen Qingqiu looked upwards with a slightly concerned look, “We often keep them as pets, though some species are too aggressive. They are excellent guards and quite cuddly, some are even bioluminescent! There are these really small sharks that live just a bit higher up from here called Lantern sharks and they’re tiny enough to fit into the palm of your hand! Oh I can’t wait to show you,”

“They sound really cute!” Luo Binghe smiled brightly. For once that promise, ‘I can’t wait to show you’, didn’t fill her stomach with dread. Good grief, it had only been an hour too.

With their dim white sun illuminating a small rocky plain, the two mermaids spent what felt like an afternoon playing with Xiu Ya, who apparently could play surprisingly gentle tug-of-war with a length of rope Luo Binghe was reliably informed was made from seaweed. Luo Binghe spent that time learning to move a little more gracefully and naturally than before, realising the motions were more full bodied than she’d first attempted. Eventually, she was swimming laps around the perimeter of their circle of light while Shen Qingqiu cheered her on.

Sensing her apprehension of further exploration of the world outside the cave, Shen Qingqiu spent the next week teaching Luo Binghe, in the dim and occasionally pitch black world of their cave and on the small circle of rocks she was familiar with, to read the tides for the time of day, what plants were edible and what were not. How to keep your hair out of the way when you’re swimming without breaking your neck.

Normal mermaid things, apparently.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe asked once, lying in the seaweed and staring into the dark. Their light source had to be reserved to prolong use it seems.

“I told you not to call me that,” Shen Qingqiu said from beside her. They’d both collapsed in a soft part of the cave after Xiu Ya ran them ragged taking turns chasing each other.

Luo Binghe never thought she’d have such fun being chased in circles by a shark.

“But you’re instructing me in the ways of mermaids. Doesn’t that make you my teacher?”

“Well yes, but I’d much rather you use my name Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu admonished.

“Fine then. Jiejie, what’s it like living on a reef with lots of other mermaids? Are there mermen? Do you live in caves still?” Luo Binghe stayed staring into nothingness. It was brighter when she closed her eyes.

“Did you change your mind?” Shen Qingqiu asked neutrally.

“No, definitely not! I just wondered if it’s as dark in reefs as it is here. How would you all avoid banging into each other! There’s only two of us and I struggle with just that.”

“Well, it’s a lot louder. You can hear the waves at low tide and there are lots more creatures around. Colourful fish, frilly anemones, coral that stretches as far as you can see in each direction, which is a great deal further than you can see down here. Did you know that the deeper down you go, the less colour you can see? A shell that looks grey at the bottom of a reef might be orange when you take it to the surface!” her voice gained that bubbly spark it always did when she rambled about topics she enjoyed. “When my brother and I were little, we made a friend who lived at the bottom of the reef. We thought he was mostly a dark blue but imagine our surprise when he moved to the upper levels and turned out to be bright purple! Even he didn’t know, hah.”

“I forgot you mentioned you had a brother. Are you all just called mermaids then? Not Mermen?”

“Mermen? Wouldn’t that be, say… half mermaid half human? What a funny concept,” Shen Qingqiu laughed and yet, a thought she couldn’t quite grasp seemed to nibble at her. “We are all mermaids. But yes, in reefs we live in shelfs and caves, some find tunnels in coral to sleep in, others may rest in fields of grass and some carve homes out of stone. The royal family, for instance, live in a cave and coral system under a spire, so any who need their aid may find them with ease,”

Again, that feeling that she should be realising something flitted about her mind.

“A carved spire, huh? That must be hard to make.”

“With the right knacks, many a task can be made simple. Have you given much thought to what yours may be?”

Luo Binghe was quiet for a while.

“Well,” she began, “It could be changing forms, but no matter how hard I try I can’t change back to human.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best while we’re still underwater.” The smile was audible in her voice.

“Hah. I haven’t felt anything else strange, like you said. I don’t think I feel drawn to anything, and the only talent I had on land was a good sense for when a storm would hit, but any sailor with experience could tell that.”

Shen Qingqiu considered this.

“That could easily be your knack,” she said, “But if you say it can be learned…”

“It doesn’t bother me, either way. Growing legs or predicting storms, neither are particularly helpful down here,” Luo Binghe pouted. She crossed her arms and rolled to one side.

“One might argue neither is salt.”

“What? No! Salt is amazing! You can make pretty shapes and direct the flow of water and just recently you showed me how you were preserving fish from rot by crystallising them!”

They shared a moment of quiet.

Shen Qingqiu reached over to the other girl and hugged her, tail tentatively coiling up so that her tailfin might overlap hers.

“Thank you, Luo Binghe.”

Less than three days later, Shen Qingqiu finally coaxed Luo Binghe out of their safe, relatively soothing cave and down the rock walls, deeper into Qing Jing Trench.

They angled straight down, swimming leisurely parallel to each other, guided by their gentle light source. Luo Binghe fit well within the small patch of illuminated rocks while Shen Qingqiu was only cast in white light partway, most of her tail fading into the darkness, only silhouetted behind them.

They used their hands to pull themselves along the rocks, conserving some energy, occasionally passing by pockets of ghostly white coral and strange, tangled plants that Shen Qingqiu called tube worms.

From the corner of her eye, Luo Binghe spotted a glow. Peeking out from the rock wall a light not unlike the one they shared bobbed gently in currents.

“Jiejie, look. Is that another mermaid with a light like yours?” she began to swim towards it only for Shen Qingqiu to yank her back by the tail.

Reaching down to rub at her fins she whined, “What was that for?”

“I erred. I apologise. I have yet to teach you some of the practical advice for traversing the deepest parts of the ocean. But!” she righted herself and clapped her hands, “This is an excellent learning experience.”

Slowly, dimming their light, the two crept up slowly on the second light.

“That, Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu explained quietly, though not whispering, “Is an Anglerfish. It hides in the dark while it uses its lure, that light, to draw in prey before snatching it up. While fish are susceptible to this, always remember one of the first rules of the deep: Don’t go towards the light. Especially if you don’t know what it is.”

“What… what does the rest of it look like?” Luo Binghe asked. She was genuinely curious in part, but more so she felt like she needed Shen Qingqiu’s voice to fill up the silence and reassure her.

“Oh, very cool, would you like to see?” she fiddled with her pouch, removing a small dead fish, “Second rule, or rather, piece of advice. A good way to avoid hungry creatures is to provide them with a meal before they see you as one. I’m too big to eat, but you…”

Luo Binghe closed her eyes.

“I’m bite-sized.”

“And I’m sure delicious,” Shen Qingqiu consoled her. “I’m going to toss this fish in front of the anglerfish and when it moves from its spot, I’ll shine the light so you can get a better look. I know this light is poor at revealing colours, but you should know they’re a warm reddish-brown.”

“How do you know?”

“When I first came down I took samples and made a chart. Most things are just shades of black, white and clear however,” Shen Qingqiu, fearless and unhesitant in the face of a potentially dangerous fish, tossed her bait to the anglerfish and moved back.

It drifted down by the light and then suddenly, illuminated both by their light and its own, the anglerfish jolted into view. Its teeth were wicked and curved and many, its mouth disproportionate to its body. Its head was bulbous and bony while it’s body, small and misshapen looked more like a neck than a whole rest of a creature.

Luo Binghe pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming, whimpering only softly and pushing herself backwards along the rocks. She was twice her body length from the fish but still she thought if she turned her tail might get too close to the thing and then…

“Amazing, isn’t she? Despite her small body she managed to evolve such an enormous head and ingenious system of luring prey. One would think fishermen had learned their trade from anglerfish but I’m certain they’ve never so much as heard of them. Every so often I send my findings to be published and archived. My brother reads them and my sketch of the anglerfish disgusted him so much he…” she trailed off, noticing how shaky Luo Binghe had grown.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently, moving to touch her shoulder.

When she found her voice, Luo Binghe replied unsteadily, “It’s… really, really scary.”

“Oh.”

“It could fit my entire body in its mouth,” she continued, “It’s monstrous.”

“Yes, well. I suppose she is.” Shen Qingqiu looked away from her towards the still glowing lure.

“Can…” Luo Binghe hesitated, eyes not leaving the lure, “Can I try feeding her?”

Shen Qingqiu looked at her sharply, inspecting her face carefully.

“You’re scared. Do you really want to?”

“I am. Can you feel my heart causing ripples in the water?”

“Yes.”

“I was scared of Xiu Ya too. But,” her words were wobbly but earnest, “I still want to understand her. The anglerfish. I don’t think I saw where her eyes were. Can she see?”

“Not well, but enough to know when food is in front of her.” Shen Qingqiu said, smile breaking slowly across her face. “Her eyes are in line with the base of her lure. Here, drop it down from above.”

She handed her a fish.

Luo Binghe cautiously did as she was told. This time when the fish lurched out to snatch up its prey she saw the two hazy, round eyes. She darted back to her Shizun, quick as a whip as soon as she was done. Her heart was racing with fear and adrenaline.

Shen Qingqiu was beaming at her with open adoration when she looked up for approval.

“Isn’t she cool?” she asked once more.

“She’s terrifying,” Luo Binghe breathed, calming herself, “But still. Cool.”

Perhaps it was morbid fascination, perhaps it was the high of facing a fear head-on, but she meant it.

“Are anglerfish dangerous?” Luo Binghe asked once they were swimming away.

“Only the females,” Shen Qingqiu answered.

‘Wonderful,’ Luo Binghe thought to herself and shuddered.

“Well, if you thought the anglerfish was clever, wait until you see a Bigfin Squid!” Shen Qingqiu exclaimed.

‘The scariest thing out here is us,’ the words became a mantra in her head and she mumbled them aloud, “The scariest thing out there is us.”

Shen Qingqiu hid her giggle as the words drifted over to her. How cute her new companion was! There was something to be admired in the bravery that comes with showing your fear yet facing it.

Sure enough, in the months that followed, the bigfin squid that appeared out of nowhere, directly above Luo Binghe’s head so that Shen Qingqiu had to tug her down out of the tentacle’s reach, quickly rose to the top of the list of creatures she would be happy to never see again.

And yet, Luo Binghe did grow more and more accustomed to the dark. She learned to put out of mind what she could not see. The darkness around her became a wall, a barrier, rather than an endless unknown.

Only peripherally aware of time passing, Luo Binghe could not say with certainty when it was that Shen Qingqiu deemed her sufficiently acclimatised to the especially deep levels of the sea to take her down to the sea floor. She knew it had been months at least, and she knew that now her head felt fine whereas at first going too deep gave her headaches. The biting cold, however, was something she was yet to grow used to.

The day Shen Qingqiu introduced Luo Binghe to her paradise, the Qing Jing brine pool, Luo Binghe realised that however long it had been had nothing on the future she would spend there beneath the waves.

It began with the bizarre experiments that ran often through the night, occurring mostly when Shen Qingqiu thought Luo Binghe was asleep and in the pitch black of the lightless cave. Though Luo Binghe didn’t know what she was doing, she knew it had something to do with the stack of dead clams she kept preserved under her desk. That day, she had run out of test subjects and so at long last it was time for her to take Luo Binghe to the promised brine pool.

Drawing upon the sea floor, the light seemed as if it shone brighter than usual, perhaps because it had more surfaces to illuminate. The floor was a smooth sea of pale sand and animal tracks. As they approached their destination, clam shells began to appear in swarms – colonies of tubeworms shrunk into their homes as they passed.

Eventually the clams piled up into a great crater that held, bizarrely, what looked to be water.

“Shizun, is this the brine pool?” Luo Binghe asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes, and what did I say about that name?”

“This is a teaching moment. Why does it look like water underwater? Or rather, as if the water we’re in is air and what’s in the pool is the real water.”

“The salt,” Shen Qingqiu replied, adopting her most scholarly posture, “It makes the water thicker. The salt is highly concentrated in this one spot, so much so that it makes the water heavier than what surrounds us, so much so that it stays sunken at the bottom, forming a lake or brine pool.”

“It’s… actually really pretty. Could you move the light over it so I can see a bit better?” Luo Binghe requested.

Shen Qingqiu obliged.

“Brine pools are my favourite natural monument. I’ve popped my head above the water many a times as a girl and to realise what you see here is much like what humans see looking at the ocean is simply fascinating to consider!” she enthused, closely inspecting parts of the lake wall, eyes trailing over the living clams and searching for breaks.

“Shizun, what are those white shapes at the bottom of the pool?”

“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu replied distractedly, “Crabs.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“They can’t hurt you,”

Shen Qingqiu paused at the sudden and unexpected silence. She straightened and looked for the girl.

“Binghe, are you—”

Screaming split the silence. The power of it almost pushed her back.

“Binghe!”

Shen Qingqiu frantically looked into the pool, only to see Luo Binghe stuck suspended in the brine, writhing in agony and screaming, roaring in pain as her arms contorted and her tail twisted forward and back.

Unthinking Shen Qingqiu dove into the pool and dragged her out, letting the water hold her as she wrapped as much of her tail around Luo Binghe as she could.

Behind the mindless pain, Luo Binghe registered the touch that kept her from breaking her bones in her thrashing and felt a soft tugging at her mouth and gills. In seconds her agony was over and her body went limp from exhaustion.

“Jiejie,” she coughed, blinking tiredly, “What… was that?”

“Toxic shock, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu panted as her adrenaline wore off, cradling her companion in her arms, tail still employed as a vice. “I can’t believe I didn’t warn you. You must never submerge anything higher than your shoulders in a brine pool, the saline levels are high enough to kill you in only a short time.”

“But the crabs—”

“Are dead, Binghe. They aren’t moving. I clear them out from time to time but it’s safe to say anything you see in a brine pool is dead or dying.”

“Oh. I’m- I’m sorry,” she said, lips beginning to tremble.

“It’s okay, shh, it’s alright. You’ve actually helped prove a theory of mine,” Shen Qingqiu consoled her, holding her close, arms around her back with one hand cradling her head. despite that, she could feel Shen Qingqiu’s heart racing. “Those clams I’ve been running tests on died of toxic shock too. Whenever the walls of the pool break, the clams in the way of the flow of water are killed. I’ve been trying to extract the salt from their bodies to see if I could find a way of curing toxic shock in its late stages. You just proved I could.”

Luo Binghe only sniffed and buried herself further into her neck, eyes shut against her skin.

Shen Qingqiu had saved her life. She was holding her. She felt so safe.

Even if the wildlife scared her even if the thought of an endless landscape scared her, even if she almost died, Luo Binghe wanted nothing more than to stay here with Shen Qingqiu forever.

Especially as she was now, held and thoroughly encased in a perfect embrace.

“Huh,” she said after a moment.

Shen Qingqiu made an inquisitive noise that wasn’t quite human.

“Your dorsal fin. It looks soft and thin but it’s…”

Hard, strong, powerful. Each ripple kept them from sinking or moving with the currents. Luo Binghe had never noticed how Shen Qingqiu always kept perfectly still in the water.

“Now that my experiment has proven a success, we can head home. You can have a closer look there,” Shen Qingqiu offered.

Words kept like a promise, in their cave, light still on, Shen Qingqiu stretched out as much as she could and kept obligingly still. Noting her hesitance, she spoke gently, “You’re allowed to touch.”

Nervous but opportunistic, Luo Binghe gently began to run her fingers along the frills of her tail fin. The appendage looked ineffectual, not solid enough to swim, designed to float like a jellyfish. And yet like her dorsal fin, it would not move when she applied pressure. Despite being translucent, appearing no more than structured water, it was strong. Similarly, the body of her tail was powerful and muscular. She must be incredibly heavy with her size and density and yet, the way she moved through water, effortlessly, dripped enviable grace.

The skin on her stomach, though human in appearance, felt softer. Almost coated in the same silky oil as her tail and dotted in places with fine scales. The frills on her arms met her skin in a strange, almost abrupt transition, the dark edges only furthering the appearance of melting into shadows. In the dim light, the salt that encrusted her shone like jewellery.

Her hands too were strong, oddly rough with work. Gripping rocks, hunting, writing. Luo Binghe wondered if they would be webbed but no, aside from the slightly clawed nails, her hands were quite human.

When she reached her face she paused, a little pink.

“It’s alright Binghe. I’m made of a little different stuff to you. Your skin is so different from mine, warmer. Tender. And you have such little ears.”

“Aren’t they normal sized?” she asked, hands carefully roaming her neck to skirt her gills before coming up to her jaw.

“They’re particularly small actually.”

Luo Binghe reached her ears and sure enough, the large fans that framed her face blended to her head quite smoothly. She felt her own ears briefly. They still felt human, despite the added scaly points.

“They’re very cute,” Shen Qingqiu smiled.

Luo Binghe grinned.

She gently brushed the top of her head. Shen Qingqiu’s hair was straight and soft, almost as if she were touching nothing, kept neat at the tail end with a small tie. Her own curls, on the other hand, perpetually wrangled into a ponytail and tied with a bow, did not fare so majestically in the water.

As if sensing her thoughts, Shen Qingqiu reached out and tugged gently on her hair.

“Even the water does not straighten this,” she said fondly, “I wonder what it’s like dry.”

“Do mermaids spend much time on land?”

“Not at all, but we warm ourselves on rocks at times. Though I have not personally done so in years,” she grimaced, “My brother greatly enjoys the activity, however, the salt that accumulates on my skin dries in a shell on my body and streaks my hair with white. It is quite uncomfortable and stiff. I would crunch when I moved.”

Luo Binghe cackled, breaking the intimacy as she pictured it.

Hopefully she’d get to see it one day.

“Hey, Shizun,” she said, almost abruptly.

Shen Qingqiu gave her an amused look.

“What is it my silly disciple?” she countered.

Luo Binghe fished into her borrowed pouch briefly before handing over what she found.

“I noticed this at the bottom of the brine pool. That’s why I went down to get it,” she explained.

“A pearl,” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened in amazement. “Whatever was it doing in my brine pool?”

“Perhaps it came from the same shipwreck I did. I imagine there was detritus.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu smiled. Even in the cold and the dark, their shared spot of light slowly fading, it felt as if the sun was shining.

She was then promptly scolded for reckless endangerment.

As punishment for diving headfirst into an unfamiliar environment, Luo Binghe was left at home for the rest of the week. Shen Qingqiu left her with the light while she was out researching or playing with Xiu Ya but Luo Binghe felt as if she’d been put in the naughty corner. To pass the time she began to re-read the books Shen Qingqiu kept with her in her cave, many of which she’d written herself on pages made of thin but stiff shells, writing carved delicately in neat lines.

While she had read most of them while Shen Qingqiu taught her to read the mermaid’s script, something that quickly came naturally to her, she had neglected the volumes on natural sea formations – paranoid about the creatures and neglecting the possibility that the inorganic matter may be equally as dangerous.

Unfortunately, the constant use wore out the sphere of light quite thoroughly, and by the end of Luo Binghe’s punishment, it had dimmed to a meagre reflectiveness. One could see it in the dark, but it did not illuminate anything.

Finally it sunk to the floor of the cave and refused to move as directed.

Shen Qingqiu sighed deeply as if horrendously inconvenienced and lay on her bed with a huff.

“What’s wrong?” Luo Binghe asked, snuggling in beside her. She had been milking the brine pool incident for all it was worth, falsifying continued nightmares, and thus their separate bunks had become a double bed.

“Light’s dead,” she muttered.

“Doesn’t it just need to absorb a bit of light?” Luo Binghe asked, “We live at the top of the trench so it isn’t a long swim and it’s easier going up then down. We can leave tomorrow, bright and early, and be back for dinner. You said it only needs a few hours to accumulate sunlight.”

“I don’t want to go. The siphonophore that I’ve been tracking is in the middle of splitting off and I don’t want to miss a second of it but… you need the light, so...”

Feeling guilty Luo Binghe offered, “We can do without for a little while. Your book said that the process of new polyps reaching maturity doesn’t take long, and you’ve been watching it for two weeks so far. I can last another week.”

“You can’t leave the cave without a guide or a light. Your eyes have adapted well to the constant dark but the cave’s layout isn’t as second nature to you as it is to me. We can go tomorrow as you said.”

“No, I don’t want you to miss out. I can go by myself.”

“Binghe.”

“I’ll bring Xiu Ya. I’ll go with her when she goes to feed, she goes up into the sunlight zone, right? So I’ll be able to see my way to the surface from there and she can guide me home as well.” Luo Binghe folded her arms. She knew Shen Qingqiu would feel the stubborn gesture and see it’s silhouette against the light – her eyes adapted to extreme light sensitivity that Luo Binghe couldn’t imagine.

“I… the ocean is a lot bigger than it looks from outside the cave. We’re in a Trench after all it… it isn’t safe. You’re so…”

“Young?”

“Little.”

“I am smaller than you, but I’m not little. Besides,” Luo Binghe turned and gave her a beaming, entirely unseen smile, “I’m the scariest thing out there. Followed closely by Xiu Ya.”

“I’m the scariest, you mean.”

“No. You’re too nice to be scary.”

“And you’re just the sweetest fry to ever exist,” Shen Qingqiu reached over and patted her cheek gently before giving it an annoyed squeeze.

“Fine,” she said at last, “You and Xiu Ya can go. But you will stay with her until she goes to feed and then she will find you and you will stay together until the light is full, you understand?”

“Yes Shizun,” she agreed cheerfully.

Shen Qingqiu pinched both of her cheeks hard.

“Fine, yes jiejie,” she grumbled.

“Better,” Shen Qingqiu said, but she could tell she was smiling.

The next day as planned, Luo Binghe made the trip. Shen Qingqiu, ever attentive, had woken early to prepare her food and a book for entertainment packed neatly in a pouch alongside the light. She ensured she was equipped with a borrowed spear and that she remembered the steps – rather simply, let it float and keep watch – to renewing the light.

With a tight, full body hug and plenty of reassurances and well-wishes, she was on her way.

Xiu Ya, her silent but constant companion, swam close by her. As time went on, the prickly feelings of agitation and fear that usually had her twitching from being alone so long out in the abyss without Shen Qingqiu began to abate and she found herself chatting a little with the shark.

In all the months of living with Shen Qingqiu, she never managed to figure out how literal she was about Xiu Ya understanding her. She’d often relay things the shark had ‘said’, but was it really a different sort of language or was it merely an eccentricity? The way her mother used to speak with the neighbourhood cats.

But still, filling the silence was quite reassuring.

As they passed through beautiful fields of bioluminescent microscopic creatures, even spotting a tiny lantern shark that came over to say hello (apparently, as she read, not only very cute but intentionally friendly towards mermaids), an encounter that Luo Binghe would excitedly relay to Shen Qingqiu, she began to babble at Xiu Ya.

“I don’t even know what she looks like properly I mean, I’ve felt her all over… innocently of course, but I’ve never seen her fully. But of course she’s still beautiful. Even in the dark when I cannot see her at all I think she’s beautiful. Her voice, her skin, her scales, her hair… her hair is so soft, nicer than the silk at my mother’s old workplace, honest.” Luo Binghe sighed, “Even if I never see her properly, even if I couldn’t see the bits of her that I can, the way she acts is beautiful in itself, you know? Do you know? Do sharks understand passion that moves your whole body and raises your voice uncontrollably and loosens your tongue to an endless eloquence about the things you love? I wish one day Shen Qingqiu would speak of me like she speaks of fish.”

She was quiet as she mulled in the idea.

“Has she ever hugged you like she hugs me? Ever since the brine pool she’s been wrapping her entire tail around me. I’ve never been held so thoroughly before. Did you know she grabs at me in her sleep? I mean, she did try to chew on my shoulder once and her teeth are quite sharp but it was more nibble than bite and usually she just holds my arm and migrates ever closer—”

Xiu Ya nudged her with her snout.

“Right, sorry. I’ll…” she trailed off as Xiu Ya nudged her again and directed her up.

“Oh.”

Light. A world. She wasn’t quite at the surface yet, but she was exiting the twilight zone. She hadn’t even realised she could see shapes again.

There was a school of fish in the distance, now that she was looking, and when she looked down… Nothingness.

How would she get home? Aside from the odd ominous movement, there was nothing around her. Now she could see it, the fear came roiling back.

“I’m the scariest thing out here, I’m the scariest thing out here,” she murmured to herself. She straightened her shoulders, held her head high and just kept swimming.

She focused on swimming up and on the friendly presence by her side and in no time at all could see clearly the shimmering surface. She only had vague memories of baths in a small basin when she was little, submerging her head and looking upward. She had forgotten what the surface looked like from below. It was bizarrely like looking from above – the sky and clouds watery and shifting. The lack of glare cast odd shadows on the undersides of the little waves.

Xiu Ya nudged her back and signalled that it was time for her to go hunt. Luo Binghe managed to keep a brave face until the shark was out of sight.

She removed the light sphere from her pouch, keeping it secure in a cage of her fingers, before finally, after months and months, making the final stretch to the surface.

As she swam up she saw colour return to her arms. The white they had been cast in the light in the cave and the sickly blue-grey they’d appeared only minutes before faded quickly.

‘So this is what she meant when she mentioned colour fading the deeper one goes. Does the colour itself disappear or is it just that there isn’t enough light to see it?’ she wondered.

It was to brief disorientation that she broke the surface of the water. She spluttered, gasping for air as she reacclimatised to the lack of pressure. She had felt a slight dizziness as she ascended and something about suddenly breathing air again made it worse. She groped blindly for a snack to settle her stomach.

After a few minutes it did the trick and Luo Binghe found herself staring at the early morning sun. She’d just missed sunrise it seems. The sky was still weak shades of green and white, blue not yet settled.

“I want to watch the sunrise with Jiejie one day. And the sunset. And the rest of the day. Who am I kidding, I’ll just watch her. I’m sure she’d look so pretty in red,” she mumbled idly to herself. She let the sphere bob in the water. The water wasn’t still but nor was it particularly rocky, so it felt safe to let it loose for a while.

She looked about, swimming up higher in the water for a better view, rising up for a few seconds before sinking down again.

There were no ships in sight, only a few wispy clouds, and not so much as a hint of land.

Shen Qingqiu had made her promise she’d only stay up for as long as she felt comfortable, even if it was only until Xiu Ya returned.

Luo Binghe was pleased to realise that much of her fear dissipated now she could no longer see clearly beneath the surface. The glare made it difficult to gauge how deep the water was and months of living in the dark firmly entrenched the adage ‘out of sight, out of mind’.

Oddly, looking down, she saw a flash of red.

Ducking her head underwater she looked down at herself in awe.

She had guessed by the way light bounced off her tail and the way it faded easily into the dark that her scales were probably a dark colour. She was giddy to note the bright slash of red, pooling down her front and dripping like blood down to a short distance above her fins, spatters and flecks dotting her hips blending the red into the pure black that covered the rest of her. In the monochrome world of the abyss, the equally monochromatic ocean, and painfully matching sky, Luo Binghe was all but starved for colour.

Even though she looked a little plain, not so ethereal as Shen Qingqiu by far, she found herself grinning at her colour.

For a little while, she was able to put aside all inhibitions entirely.

With a contented sigh, she lay back and let herself float, grabbing the light and balancing it on her belly button so it wouldn’t drift off. She gazed at the sky and watched the clouds, at times closing her eyes and basking in the growing warmth.

As she lazed about in the water, she began to dry off.

‘How odd,’ she thought to herself, ‘I haven’t been dry in quite some time.’

It itched strangely.

Considering the possibility of salt flakes, Luo Binghe glanced down to flick them off only to see the scales beneath her stomach, exposed completely to the air, were beginning to recede into her skin. Her stomach, which had lost all its fine hairs, had seemingly regrown them and sure enough her sharp teeth had flattened back out.

“Oh.”

Luo Binghe stared blankly up at the sky.

‘So that’s how it happened. I’m human when I’m dry but if you just add water – no, it must be salt water – then I become a mermaid. Shizun will be fascinated.’

And thus she put the whole affair out of mind. If it was something that would please Shen Qingqiu, then she wouldn’t worry too much about it. She simply made sure to keep herself wet to avoid the itchy discomfort of drying out.

When the sun was shining brightly and the sky was a strong blue, Luo Binghe began to grow bored. She fiddled with the light, throwing and catching it, balancing it on her head.

Finally she felt a nudge on her back and rolled over to greet Xiu Ya.

‘Huh,’ she thought to herself ‘Xiu Ya wasn’t a hammerhead this morning.’

She glanced around.

“Oh dear.” She said quietly. “There’s quite a lot of you.”

She reached for the spear and fumbled with the ties, giving up when she realised she’d have to look away to undo them.

“Oh my, I’m trembling like a leaf,” she laughed a little hysterically.

The shark immediately in front of her seemed to be waiting for something.

She thought back to the countless volumes she’d read on marine life. As far as she could recall, hammerheads were not aggressive towards large animals including mermaids and humans, so it most likely wouldn’t attack her. If they’re all congregating like they are, swimming lazily and randomly, they likely aren’t actively hunting.

With her left hand, the one she relied less upon, she reached out and gave the shark a good rub on the nose. Nose place.

Between the eyes.

The shark immediately pushed into her hand.

“Hah,” Luo Binghe felt high with relief, “That’s what you wanted. You know mermaids give good pats so you couldn’t help coming over to say hello.”

Suddenly confident, though not as relaxed as with Xiu Ya, she began to distribute affection liberally throughout the school of sharks surrounding her. They didn’t usually swim in such deep waters so it was odd they were here, but Luo Binghe supposed there must have been a good amount of prey relatively nearby that they had followed.

Suddenly, among the flat snouts of eager hammerheads was a more familiar nose.

“Xiu Ya, you’re back. Are these your friends?” Luo Binghe asked, hugging her friend and giving her an affectionate rub.

Xiu Ya, being a shark, didn’t reply, but she seemed happy enough.

Luo Binghe found herself happily distracted for a long while playing with her new friends, careful to watch the light didn’t bob out of sight. She was sorry to see them go when they decided to return to safer waters.

By then the sun was glaringly hot, the water warming albeit minutely, and Luo Binghe felt her skin begin to burn a little. Xiu Ya obligingly offered shade and so the two spent the rest of the afternoon swimming lazy circles around the light.

Eventually the sun began to set, an achingly familiar sight that Luo Binghe did her best not to dwell upon and, light source successfully rejuvenated and secured, shark and mermaid made their descent once more.

Going down was a lot scarier than going up. It brought back flashes of the shipwreck, of sinking endlessly, thinking she was dead. Watching bright waters fade to nothingness as her eyes slowly adjusted to seeing nothing once more was not comforting at all.

She found herself drifting into an odd state of semi-consciousness and was vaguely aware of Xiu Ya nudging her along.

The next thing she was aware of was warmth and safety and pressure on all sides from Shen Qingqiu’s endless coils of tail wrapped around her.

“Good morning,” Shen Qingqiu whispered, realising quickly she was awake.

“Hello.”

“You must have been exhausted. You haven’t had to swim for that long before. Xiu Ya ended up dragging you most of the way home.”

A little embarrassed, and not willing to share her odd experience of feeling like she was fading from her own mind, Luo Binghe buried her face in the neck in front of her.

“Mn, very. I met a cute little lantern shark on the way up,” she said.

Shen Qingqiu gasped, “Oh goodness, I’m quite jealous! How small was it?”

Luo Binghe smiled into skin.

“It fit in my hand,” she replied.

Shen Qingqiu squealed, “How sweet! Oh I told you didn’t I? Lantern sharks are one of the cutest, littlest things out there!”

“You were right,” Luo Binghe laughed, “And while I was waiting for Xiu Ya, I made some friends.”

“Is that so? I didn’t think many mermaids would travel out here…”

“Not mermaids, a school of hammerhead sharks,” Luo Binghe corrected.

Shen Qingqiu froze, pulling back to look at her. Luo Binghe couldn’t see much, but according to Shen Qingqiu she could more or less make out her features in this level of light. The sphere was over by the desk and glowing softly.

“You did?” her voice was wobbly.

“Yes. They wanted to be pet.”

Bursting into loud laughter Shen Qingqiu shook her head, “Of course they did. Now I wish I had accompanied you. The Siphonophore didn’t do much today. Tell me, these sharks, did they look well?”

“Yes. I think they had followed a school of fish into deep waters because they were quite relaxed and passive. We played for a while when Xiu Ya came back from feeding. Maybe they noticed me on their way home and decided to say hello?”

“Most likely,” Shen Qingqiu agreed.

“Oh, and and and!” Luo Binghe felt excited recounting her tales to eager ears, “I don’t know if it’s my knack or not but I was floating on my back watching the clouds when all of a sudden I felt an itching on my stomach – I have a red patch Jiejie! – and I realised the scales that were drying out were receding into my skin. I think if I dried out completely I’d be human again.”

“That’s…” Shen Qingqiu’s voice trembled, “That’s fascinating! Oh let me fetch my writing tools, we must document this!”

She drew away, tip of her tail still holding onto Binghe easily as she darted to her desk to retrieve her implements.

“Speak slowly and start from the beginning. Describe it all in as much detail as you can – oh and red! I haven’t seen red in years! Oh how beautiful Binghe.”

Smiling as wide as she could, bubbling with excitement, Luo Binghe was about to recount her tale in greater detail when she decided there was one thing to do first.

“I forgot, Jiejie,” she reached into her wrap, “One of the hammerheads shed a tooth. I caught it for you,”

In the dark she couldn’t see the painful fondness on Shen Qingqiu’s face but she could see the way her outline held the tooth to her chest and tilted her head appreciatively.

“Thank you, Binghe,”

The next few hours were filled with excruciatingly detailed questions and theorising, but Luo Binghe felt it worth it for the excitement in Shen Qingqiu’s voice.

Even when she was woken up twice in the middle of the night by an insistent tapping on her shoulder and a new, bizarre question.

Even then.

Luckily the siphonophore did something interesting the following day to distract Shen Qingqiu from asking any more intrusive but well-meaning questions.

By the end of the week the siphonophore had finished splitting off and Shen Qingqiu bid it a tearful farewell, thanking the creature for its contributions to her books, and so the pair – Luo Binghe having accompanied her for the final day of observations – were relaxing around the well-lit brine pool. Shen Qingqiu ‘cooled off’ from her strenuous note-taking by sitting half submerged in the brine while Luo Binghe poked around the clams.

Much as she wanted to join her Jiejie in the pool, imagining an intimate feeling like bathing together, she was a little hesitant to go in again. Instead Luo Binghe swam about in circles, by now mostly comfortable leaving the ring of light if she spotted something interesting, looking for a pretty shell or rock to give to Shen Qingqiu.

From the corner of her eye she spotted movement.

She turned and saw a creature akin to a cat-sized pillbug, wallowing miserably. It was mostly a greyish white, though most things were in the white light, but according to Shen Qingqiu’s notes, the giant isopod was naturally the colour it appeared. All but for the black wire wrapped around its legs, inhibiting its movement. It dragged itself along, swimming up a little to move faster when it needed to.

“Oh you poor thing!” Luo Binghe exclaimed, immediately drawing her knife and swimming over.

Shen Qingqiu turned her head in interest to watch the scene.

An overpowering fuzziness filled her heart as she watched the girl gingerly cut the human debris from the isopod and pat its segments. She didn’t so much as flinch when it crawled up her tail and clung to her stomach in a parasitic hug.

Shen Qingqiu bit her lip at the sight, struggling to stay quiet and still.

“Oh you’re friendly!” Luo Binghe sounded delighted, “You look just like the woodlice on the surface that hide under bricks. I wonder if you can also curl up into a ball?”

It crawled up her chest.

“You have such a horrifying face! I wonder how you eat. It’s so cute!” she was babbling. As it curled into her shoulder, Luo Binghe giving it many affectionate pats, she made her decision.

“Shizun!” she called.

Shen Qingqiu raised a brow.

“Giant Isopods filter detritus from the sea floor to eat, right? Like some sort of… sucking broom. Well, the floor of our cave is filled with detritus, right? It could use cleaning, couldn’t it?”

“Are you asking if we can take that one home with us?”

“Shizun it was injured, caught in wire! It needs to recover and our home is perfect for it.” Luo Binghe struggled for a moment before looking down at the creature, “How do you like the name Zheng Yang?”

Looking back up she folded her arms, isopod still balanced on her neck.

“I’ve named it. I’m attached now!” she declared.

Of course, she’d abandon the thing if Shen Qingqiu really said no but… she would be distraught to do so.

Shen Qingqiu had an odd look in her eyes when she tilted her head, considering.

“Very well then. Zheng Yang can stay.”

As if she’d ever say no.

Cheerfully Luo Binghe swam over, isopod apparently content to find a place on her and rest, to introduce the critter to her favourite person.

“Oh she is cute,” Shen Qingqiu gushed, patting the creature gently.

“She?”

“You can tell by the underside and the shape of its pleopods, the things it swims with.”

“That wasn’t in your notes,” Luo Binghe noted.

“Not in the bestiary ones, it was under crustaceans in the volume on mating habits.”

Luo Binghe turned pink, not that Shen Qingqiu could tell “Oh, of course. The text did mention isopods but it was in a footnote under crabs.”

“Ah. You’ve read my books so thoroughly.”

“Of course. You wrote them. It’s incredible to me that you manage to research and write so many volumes. You must be the expert on all things deep-sea,” Luo Binghe managed.

Shen Qingqiu laughed, “I think I might be at this point. Maybe one day I’ll bring my books over to Cang Qiong reef and have them copied and archived. There wasn’t much information on deep sea creatures when I was growing up.”

When they made it back to the cave, and Zheng Yang was settled in comfortably, Shen Qingqiu brightened the light a smidge more than usual and curled next to Luo Binghe, leaning on her shoulder.

“I found you something Jiejie,” Luo Binghe announced, drawing something from her pouch, “There was this pretty rock with lots of stripes in it, but when I turned it over, look.”

“Oh!” Shen Qingqiu cried, eyes wide, “A petrified isopod! I’ve seen a few petrified creatures in stone before, but never so clear. Where was this?”

“It had fallen from a shelf in the rocks I think, because when I swam up to investigate, there was an imprint of the thing in the underside of the outcrop. It’s almost like the creature was trapped in rock. It’s like a little stone Zheng Yang,” she grinned.

“It is indeed.”

“I thought it would make nice decoration,” she added.

Shen Qingqiu gave her a searching look before taking the rock and moving over to her desk. She placed it beside some of her books and withdrew a small chest from one of the holes in the wall they used as shelves. She opened it and pulled out a crystalline white coral branch.

She paused, facing away and steeling herself.

“Here,” she said, re-joining Luo Binghe. “I made it for you.”

Luo Binghe accepted it with slightly shaking hands.

“It’s salt,” she informed her.

“Does this…” Luo Binghe asked hesitantly, fingers curling delicately around the trinket, “Does this mean you accept?”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes went wide before she warmed and looked away.

“You kept bringing me little gifts. I didn’t think you understood what you were doing, but you read the volume on mating habits.”

“I… didn’t tell you on purpose. I wanted you to think I didn’t know so that, if you didn’t accept, I could keep bringing you things anyway,” Luo Binghe admitted shakily, “But I did know. And I meant it. So.”

“This is me accepting then,” Shen Qingqiu said quietly, fingers fluttering nervously.

Luo Binghe carefully set aside the salt coral and raised her hands to cup her face, forcing their eyes to meet. Shen Qingqiu leaned into the gesture easily.

“In that case, I formally declare my intent to court and bond Shen Qingqiu of Cang Qiong Reef and Qing Jing Trench,” she announced firmly.

Shen Qingqiu smiled a small but eager smile and returned, “I too formally declare my acceptance of these intentions and my intent to reciprocate such gestures in the courting and bonding of Luo Binghe of Qing Jing Trench.”

Luo Binghe felt like she was soaring through water without resistance, bubbling with joy and elation and unable to contain her joy as she began to spin around and dart about the cave.

“She accepted she accepted she accepted!” she cried, going for the exit, “Xiu Ya!”

Shen Qingqiu followed the ecstatic mermaid hurriedly out of the cave system. The silly girl had forgotten something.

“Xiu Ya!” Luo Binghe cried, spotting the shark and whizzing towards her, “Xiu Ya Xiu Ya! She accepted! I’m going to marry Shizun!”

Xiu Ya, silent as always, gave her a happy smile and nudged their noses together.

“Huh, you’ve never done that before,” she said.

“She’s happy for us.”

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe squealed, zooming back over and fluttering her hands all about Shen Qingqiu’s face and torso, having too much energy but no idea what to do with it. Eventually she just made a happy noise and hugged her tight.

Unsurprised and fond, Shen Qingqiu stroked her back. Her dorsal fin was tensed and rigid with the excitement.

“Binghe.”

“Mn?”

“Let me go for a second.”

“Can’t.”

“Try.”

“Don’t want to.”

“But Binghe, we didn’t complete the ritual.”

“What?” flushed with horror Luo Binghe drew back, holding Shen Qingqiu at arm’s length, or rather, trying to.

As soon as she could see her face, Shen Qingqiu burst forth, Grabbing Luo Binghe’s face and kissing her as well as she was able.

Eyes immediately fluttering shut with pleasure, Luo Binghe reciprocated the kiss. It was a little awkward, sharp toothed and inexperienced, but none-the-less both girls felt as if they were melting into each other.

After ages, no need to separate for air when you have gills, they pulled apart. Luo Binghe’s eyes wide with astonishment, Shen Qingqiu’s loving and hazy, they stared at each other.

“That wasn’t in mating habits,” Luo Binghe murmured at last.

“‘Unlike mermaids who begin courting with an exchange of small, pretty or interesting gifts, followed by a statement of official intent for continued relationship and so forth…’” she quoted. “The sealing of the vow, a kiss, was under ‘so forth’.”

“Oh. I don’t know what comes under ‘so forth’. I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Luo Binghe looked down at their joined hands, smiling softly.

“I’ll teach you,” Shen Qingqiu smiled, kissing her forehead.

Grinning mischievously Luo Binghe pecked her cheek in reply.

“Please, Shizun.”

…

Under ‘so forth’, a category yet to be put to writing, are the few steps that precede official bonding.

Firstly, moving to shared dwellings, a task already completed.

Secondly, selecting an agreed upon time for the remainder of the courting to last. Luo Binghe begged for a week but, with much persuasion, Shen Qingqiu had her agree to the remaining six months to her year anniversary of meeting – remarkably short for mermaids but the two of them were certain.

Finally, the hand-fasting ceremony.

Then the two mermaids may entwine and bond their souls to each other, sharing the blood of their hearts.

And so, on the anniversary of Luo Binghe’s descent into the abyss, she and Shen Qingqiu drew matching cuts over each other’s hearts and drank from the blood that flowed and mixed in the water around them, the wounds healing to identical scars that would forever mark them as mates.

Married life was bliss between the two, an endless flow of endless nights filled with laughter and exploration and horrifying sea-creatures and love. Luo Binghe, well accustomed to the task, took on the chore of visiting the surface once every few months to re-charge the light in perhaps the only time they were so far apart.

Years passed and Zheng Yang grew, as did Xiu Ya, as did Luo Binghe, until one day, the little light that filled the dark world of Qing Jing Trench sputtered out and died for good.

It was in the third year of Luo Binghe being under the sea and in all that time she hadn’t considered the death of their companion.

“Oh my dear,” Shen Qingqiu consoled, stroking a morose Luo Binghe as she cradled the broken sphere in her lap, “That light was ten years old, it was at the end of its lifecycle. It served us well and was well loved.”

Luo Binghe nodded shakily.

“It does, however, pose a problem.”

“How will we see?” Luo Binghe intoned.

“Indeed. It is less of a problem for me, but this is not a home if you are not comfortable in it.”

“How will we find another one?”

“Did I never tell you how the first was made?”

“I don’t think I asked.”

“My brother made the pearl at its centre and his husband bent the light inside it so that it would draw and store light from the sun to use where its dark.”

“That’s his knack?”

“Mn. Salt. Pearls. Light. We made quite a trio when we were young. It’s why Qi-ge moved to the upper reef, he discovered his knack when visiting us there. Those two were always so beautiful, purple and white, rich and shimmery. The envy of the reef, one might say. I… well, I was considered a beauty myself for my hair and the black on my extremities but my tail has always been plain and compared to them, especially with my knack, I was always a little overlooked.”

“Ridiculous. My wife is the most beautiful mermaid in all the sea. Her tail is ethereal!” Luo Binghe declared, placing the broken light carefully on the desk in the dark and twirling round to embrace her wife.

“Mn, though my wife is incredibly gorgeous, I think she might have yours beat. She’s so cute and perfect, I don’t know what could top her.”

They laughed and cuddled the sadness away.

“So then, does this mean the dreaded return is upon us?” Luo Binghe joked.

“Ugh. Indeed it does. It is time to beg my brothers construct a second light. You know we’ve written over the years but I told you we didn’t part on good terms. It’s been a decade since I’ve seen him in person. I wonder how he’s changed. My, I was only sixteen when I left, so he must have been nearly eighteen,” she laughed lightly, “He glared at me even when he gave me the light.”

“I’m worried about meeting them. I know you wrote about me, but what if they decide I’m not up to standard?” Luo Binghe worried, “It’s silly I know, but I can’t help but think it.”

“Think to other things,” Shen Qingqiu advised, then straightened, “You know, in all these years, I’ve never accompanied you high enough to see you in colour.”

“Oh!” Luo Binghe gasped, “Nor have I seen you in your true glory!”

“You flatter me so dear,”

“It isn’t flattery, merely observation.”

“Expectation.”

“Anticipation.”

Shen Qingqiu bit her neck gently to make her quiet.

“You’re nervous, huh?” she said after a while.

“You worry my brothers will not accept you, I worry about seeing them again, seeing colour, you seeing mine. We are both silly.”

“Indeed. When should we leave?”

“Tomorrow. Zheng Yang will mind the cave for us, Xiu Ya will come part-way but return to guard Zheng Yang. She’s a dear little isopod but she’s not very smart.”

Luo Binghe chuckled. If sharks were to mermaids what dogs were to humans, perhaps isopods were as cats. Then she paused.

“No, the day after is best. There will be a storm tomorrow,” she said, the familiar feeling working its way around the back of her head.

“I still think that’s your knack,” Shen Qingqiu commented, “But in that case, the day after.”

True as she couldn’t see shit, Luo Binghe left the cave two days later, guided by her wife and accompanied by their shark, until she could see once more.

They travelled in the lower sunlight zone for a while, a mixed pod. Though acclimatised to the open ocean, the thought of leaving home and entering unfamiliar waters brought back old jitters in Luo Binghe.

But she was a married woman now, so as she was swimming along, tense and a little uncomfortable, Shen Qingqiu pulled her under her stomach, wrapping arms around her chest and pulling her flush so that they may move as one.

Silhouetted from above, Shark, then mermaid then smaller mermaid, travelled together like that until Xiu Ya made for her hunting grounds and the mermaids were alone.

“Oh!” Luo Binghe remarked, “I can see sand!”

“Yes, we’re nearing shallow waters. Cang Qiong is still a good quarter-tide away, but you’ll start to see coral structures soon.” Shen Qingqiu said with a smile in her voice, “I’m glad you’re getting to see all this at last.”

“Oh wow,” Luo Binghe gasped, “I’ve never seen so many fish in my life!”

Shen Qingqiu released her and she broke away, rising close to the surface to chase the school a short way before looking back, “Sorry, this is all just so… new.”

Shen Qingqiu had followed her up to the surface, now close enough to sunlight to be seen in her entirety.

Sure enough her tail seemed to go on forever, trailing gracefully behind her like an oarfish, shimmery and translucent in her fins with stunning seafoam scale and skin. The white salt-crystals glinted in the sun off her shoulders and the flecks floating around her and her hair, a pool of ink, spilled about her head.

Luo Binghe couldn’t think. All she could do was watch in awe as a few of the little fish she had chased swam over to nibble at her wife’s fingers before darting back off again.

She had to kiss her, and so she did, quite passionately at that.

“You think I’m beautiful don’t you?” Shen Qingqiu smiled, “I don’t know why I worried. I could look like an angler fish and you’d still insist I was a goddess of the sea.”

Luo Binghe nodded wordlessly, taking in her wife fully for the first time.

“There are times in Qing Jing where I hear you laugh or hum or say my name when I cannot fathom how you are real, and times when you hold me and I cannot believe that you gave me your love and now I find I have no words to describe how you look, only that it is unfair for such a creature to exist and cast every other wonder of the world in shadow. That you are my wife is my greatest of many joys in life, many of which you bring,” Luo Binghe spoke sincerely.

Shen Qingqiu’s breath became a little ragged.

“Well then. What can I say following that? That when you turned to face me in the light that I could not help but follow you? Bright colours are signs of danger but your scales bring only warmth, a truer red than any coral. Your skin, your hair, your eyes, even in the darkness bring me warmth and now in light I know why. I fill with love at the thought of you,” she smiled, “You’re even cuter in colour Binghe.”

Her cheeks flushed.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened in astonishment, “What did you just do? Your face changed colours!”

Luo Binghe buried her face in her hands.

“No…” she whined and tried to swim off.

“Binghe! You changed colours! Is it a sign of danger? Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu chased her, questions, as ever, ceaseless.

The endeavour, as always, resulted in some good, firm kissing and a reluctant return to the journey.

Time, in the company of those you most cherish, passes in the blink of an eye. Though Luo Binghe had never swum so far before, nay even walked so far on land, swimming as she was around her wife, darting down to investigate new species of coral she had yet to see in person, chattering about whatever crossed her mind, the journey felt disappointingly short. She was strangely saddened to arrive at the outskirts of Cang Qiong reef.

“Here,” Shen Qingqiu guided her to an alcove beneath a deeper tabular coral that overshadowed a decent field of undisturbed sand.

“This is incredible, it’s like the coral forms a roof!”

“This kind of coral spreads itself out like this to absorb as much sunlight as it can, conveniently creating shady spots for us. This place seems appropriate to settle I think. Drop your things by the rock.”

“How can you tell this is a good spot?”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes lit up and Luo Binghe eagerly prepared herself for another cute rant.

“Well!” she began, as she often did. “There aren’t any shells of crabs or clams meaning there aren’t any octopi living here, and the sand is undisturbed even though it’s shielded somewhat from the currents. It’s too low for sharks and if you look very closely you can see on the rocks at the back is the Cang Qiong Reef insignia, showing that this is a safe place for travellers.”

As she spoke she lowered herself into the space to begin unpacking her own things, including the few books she’d brought for the palace library. Luo Binghe, despite being married for two years to the woman, had not realised that ‘researcher’ had the prefix ‘royal’ and that her research was actually carried out on behalf of a benevolent empress.

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Shen Qingqiu had said when questioned why she never mentioned her royal prerogative.

They both had to lower themselves onto their bellies to enter the space under the coral, enough room for both to sleep comfortably, but not particularly spacious enough to turn around, and definitely not sit up. Further, Shen Qingqiu found to her dismay that her tail did not entirely fit under the shelter.

“Do we not have to worry about theft?” Luo Binghe asked when they were done unpacking and were about to head out.

“Theft? What does that mean?”

“When people take things that don’t belong to them without permission,” Luo Binghe explained, “Do mermaids not steal?”

“You worry someone will come and take our belongings? What an odd thought. Whyever would someone do such a thing?” Shen Qingqiu frowned.

“Huh,” Luo Binghe smiled, “Must be a silly human thing.”

“As always you confound and astound Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu sighed, though it was affectionate as she bumped shoulders with her wife.

They left the shelter and made their way to the top of the reef where colour lit up coral structures, grasses and anemones for as far as the eye could see.

“Oh.” Luo Binghe blinked in astonishment.

Shen Qingqiu winced and rubbed her eyes.

“Are you alright?” Luo Binghe asked.

“Fine, my eyes ache is all. Perhaps I have spent too long too deep, the light and the colour is a bit much right now.”

“You can close your eyes and I can guide you?”

“To where?”

“I’d find a place.”

“I’m sure you would,” Shen Qingqiu kissed her cheek quickly before glancing around and squinting off into the distance. She pointed, “That way is where most of them live. Most mermaids are shoal-oriented, you see.”

“Where the reef separates into alleys?” Luo Binghe looked to where she directed.

“Yes.”

Luo Binghe helpfully swum above Shen Qingqiu to provide shade on the way there.

Once they came across the start of the coral streets they ducked down to the sandy road between the structures, Shen Qingqiu struggling to move without bumping the coral due to her length.

“Ugh,” she groaned, “This place was far bigger when I was a fry. None of the adults had this much difficulty turning corners.”

Her tail, several times Luo Binghe’s entire body length, trailed like a snake behind them, occasionally breaking a branch of coral. Soon though, she found a rhythm and was able to move a tad more gracefully.

And then, quite abruptly, Luo Binghe was met with her first non-wife mermaid. Several, actually. They’d ducked under a stone arch that opened up into a veritable colosseum, a hole at least a hundred meters deep with layers upon layers of coral then stone, swarming with hundreds of mermaids happily going about business. Schools of colourful fish darted in and out of crevices and crags and children chased them happily. Reef sharks, significantly smaller than Xiu Ya (why they ever sounded scary in stories astounded her), followed some mermaids, others swarming near the floor.

“Welcome to Qiong Ding, the gathering place. Most mermaids tend to live amongst the coral here or nearby and spend their time here. Those of us who perform work such as artisanry go to the palace during the day, my brothers for example, but as I sent word I was coming, they should be at home,” Shen Qingqiu explained, looking around with mixed fondness and distaste and only a little confusion.

Noting this, Luo Binghe tried to see what was wrong before the answer became startlingly obvious.

“Beloved?”

“Yes?”

“It appears that I am not small.”

“It seems not.”

“And that it is you, in fact, who is big,” Luo Binghe giggled, “Shizun I think I’m actually quite average!”

“Oh shush!” Shen Qingqiu puffed out her cheeks in annoyance, “I… I hadn’t realised I’d…”

She stayed quiet for a moment, both of them only poking their torsos into the pit.

“Deep sea gigantism,” she said at last, “A phenomena that occurs in some deep sea creatures where they grow to great sizes. Perhaps to deal with the cold, perhaps for greater reach when hunting. It’s one of the things I aim to discover. Mermaids, we adapt to our surroundings very fast, compared to most species. What takes hundreds of years of evolution for some can be achieved in a lifetime for us. My eyesight, for instance, had adapted to the deep sea. Even with only trace amounts of light I could see well enough. The cold I grew used to, the pressure and the density of the water. There are cases like me, I was not unaware of what was happening. But this sort of evolution is… undocumented.”

She looked back at herself, tail trailing off, dorsal fin fluttering gently.

“How lucky I am that my wife has so much for me to love,” Luo Binghe said gently, “How lucky I am that you are one of a kind. I would be distraught to learn that there were more of you that I did not have, but since you are only one, I can have all of you to myself.”

“Of course you wouldn’t look at a sea of normal mermaids and see the exception as the strange one. It is hard to doubt myself when I have you beside me,” Shen Qingqiu hugged her tight, “I never much liked being stared at until it was you staring.”

“If they see you they will stare as well.”

“I will try to only feel your eyes.”

“Careful, I may feel jealous if you don’t.”

“It’s not my fault if people stare!” she protested, loving the hints of possessiveness her wife was known to show but unfortunately not in a position to act upon it. Yet another reason to miss the isolation of Qing Jing.

“Who else can I blame for your beauty?” Luo Binghe laughed. In truth she too was afraid of entering a new space. No fear of depth or unknown here where the spaces were defined and the life aplenty. This time it was her who was unknown.

“I’m not going to be attacked for being a newcomer or interloper or anything, right?” Luo Binghe asked, taking her wife’s hand.

“No. If you were a visitor you may be questioned at most but you are my wife so you share the blood of Cang Qiong,” Shen Qingqiu kissed the back of her hand, “My brother lives on this level somewhere. It’s been so long though I think his dwelling is marked by a purple tipped staghorn coral…”

She squinted out and around.

“There,” Luo Binghe spotted, “A gap in the coral littered with white shells?”

“Your eyes work far better than mine do at this level,” Shen Qingqiu praised.

The home was almost directly across Qiong Ding.

“Come along,” Shen Qingqiu instructed and pushed out into open waters.

Sure enough, though her wife studiously ignored them, Luo Binghe noticed a ripple of eyes turning up to watch her stream through the water. Apprehension and a hint of fear, and yet as a testament to an inherently peaceful top predator, no immediate panic. After a moment, though many still stared, most returned to their play or chatter.

‘One day,’ Luo Binghe aspired, ‘Everyone who sees you will sink to the floor for grief that you passed them by and my mere presence will turn any look too fervent away from you.’

When they got to the open entrance, Shen Qingqiu struck a small pallet hanging from the coral with the accompanying hammer to announce their presence.

After a moment of waiting, a little girl with a pink tail came to the door.

“Hello,” she smiled at them both. She looked no more than twelve, though that was by human standards. Then she blinked hard and stared at Shen Qingqiu.

She tilted her head.

Frowned.

Blinked once more.

And then:

“AUNTIE!” she screamed, launching herself at Shen Qingqiu who caught her effortlessly and twirled her around, “AUNTIE YOU’RE HERE!”

“Yingying oh look at you, you’ve grown so big! You look almost ready to go on your first hunt!” Shen Qingqiu fawned over the girl.

“Baba thinks so too, but diedie thinks I’m too small,” the girl sighed, still clinging to her.

“Nonsense!” Shen Qingqiu admonished hypocritically, her sense of size officially skewed.

“You look plenty vicious to me,” Luo Binghe smiled at the girl. Her wife looked lovely with a child…

“Oh!” the little girl looked over, finally noticing her, and grinned, “You must be my new auntie! I’m Shen Yingying!”

“My name is Luo Binghe,” she greeted holding out her hands, palms up, as her wife had instructed.

Giggling Shen Yingying let go of Shen Qingqiu and swam over. She hovered her hands, palm down, over Luo Binghe's delightedly. Shen Qingqiu gave them both an approving smile.

“Can I call you auntie Luo?” she asked cutely.

Heart melting slightly Luo Binghe nodded.

“Of course you can,” she smiled, “It’s wonderful to meet my new niece. I think Qingqiu might have brought you something…”

Gasping in pure, childish excitement, she moved back over to Shen Qingqiu who gave a deep, exaggerated sigh.

“Well, you see, Binghe and I were on an adventure deep down at the very bottom of Qing Jing Trench when we found,” pausing for effect and reaching into her pouch Shen Qingqiu withdrew a golden compact mirror they’d found, debris from a shipwreck, and polished into working order.

“This!” she presented the gift to the girl.

“What is it?” she asked, turning the small gold disk over in her hand.

“Do you see the little groove on the edge? It opens like a clam.”

Shen Yingying opened it and gasped in delight.

“Oh wow! This must be human treasure! Oh it’s so glittery and shines and shimmers and I can see myself so clearly!” she hugged it close to her chest before hugging both her aunts, “I love it! I love it!”

Luo Binghe felt unexpectedly warm from the gesture.

“Yingying?” a voice called from behind the bend in the coral, “Is it your auntie?”

“Yes diedie!”

“Let her in then!”

“Okay!”

Shen Yingying grinned, “Come on then—oh. Auntie, you’re so long.”

“Indeed I am.”

“Will I be that long one day?” she looked up, eyes wide with expectation.

“Only if you eat all your dinner,” Shen Qingqiu smiled softly.

“Hooray!” she cheered, “Don’t worry, our home is really big on the inside, I’m sure you’ll fit.”

The three entered the gap in the coral then rounded the bend that allowed for privacy before coming out into a coral and stone cave with clear sandy floors and an almost complete coral roof, allowing dappled sunlight to stream through the gaps and cause the oranges and reds of it to glow.

“Qingqiu,” a gentle voice greeted, the same as what called out before.

Shen Qingqiu smiled brilliantly and flung herself, much like her niece, at the man waiting for her with open arms.

“Qi-ge!” she exclaimed, “Oh wow you sure grew. Look at that tail! You must be the envy of Qiong Ding with a tail that vibrant,”

Yue Qi matched the descriptions Shen Qingqiu had given to the letter. Broad and muscular with a brilliant purple tail, a colour Luo Binghe had never seen before. Warm tanned skin, an odd contrast to Shen Qingqiu’s analogous greens. He looked more human in that respect, and Luo Binghe really couldn’t see the appeal. Sure he was handsome, but her WIFE—

“And you must be Luo Binghe. My new sister. A-Qiu wrote fondly of you in her sparse correspondence,” at the final words he poked Shen Qingqiu harshly in the forearm.

“I’m sorry!” she cried, “I tried to write often!”

“Often is not every day and entirely not good enough!” he mock-glared at her then turned back to Luo Binghe, “I hope you will help me enforce more frequent correspondence. And visits! It’s been ten years since I’ve seen you A-Qiu and look at you, you’re…”

He trailed off, eyeing her tail.

“Finally longer than our Xiao Jiu,” he finished.

She laughed, “I hope he will be furious. I hadn’t realised I’d changed so much until I returned.”

“Not even upon meeting your wife?”

“I thought she was small.”

“I told you I was average sized!” Luo Binghe protested, finally speaking. “And yes, new brother, we will absolutely be visiting more often at the very least! I just met my new niece after all.”

“Please, call me Qi-ge, or if that makes you uncomfortable, Yue Qi,” he moved towards her and held both hands out, palms facing her. She reciprocated the gesture gladly.

“In that case, call me A-Luo.”

“I can’t believe you two, a fraction of a tide and you’re already ganging up on me,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, tail coiling about herself as Shen Yingying subtly investigated it.

“If you wrote more than once per month perhaps it wouldn’t be quite so necessary,” a new voice said.

Luo Binghe turned to face the newcomer, Shen Jiu. His tail was pure white and glimmered like pearl dust. His human-toned skin prompted the question of whether her completely green colouring was another facet in which her wife was superior. Reluctantly, however, Luo Binghe could see enough similarities in their features and their posture to admit he was pretty in passing.

Shen Jiu, haughtily and a little rudely, swam over to greet them.

“Sister,” he began, giving her a short but fierce hug, betraying his aloofness. “I missed you greatly. If you do not begin visiting at least once per year I will do something you will regret.”

Fondly, Shen Qingqiu butted their heads together, “Yeah yeah, I promise I won’t hide myself away for quite so long again,”

“You truly mustn’t. I feel resentment that you did, but I am working on it.”

Luo Binghe noticed in Yue Qi the barely restrained urge to surge forward and embrace his husband in the clenching of his fists and felt an odd kinship in that moment.

“And you,” Shen Jiu started, turning to Luo Binghe.

She felt a sharp fear.

“You must be the wife,” he held out both hands, one palm up, one palm down, a more formal greeting of Yue Qi’s friendlier one.

She returned the gesture.

“Yes. I am Luo Binghe,” she greeted politely.

He gave her a once-over and raised a brow, “Hmm.”

She had never felt so judged in her life.

“New sister,” he said at last, “I am glad to have you. Qingqiu was never social as a fry, though she longed for it more than I. Through whatever providence landed you in Qing Jing Trench of all places, I am glad for it.”

“It is good to meet you new brother, Qingqiu speaks of you often. One would think her excitement over your correspondence would urge her to reply more frequently but creatures excite her so,” Shen Qingqiu groaned and flung herself into the sand in a fit.

The corner of Shen Jiu’s mouth turned upwards.

“You shall do,” he stated.

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu complained, “I thought you were MY wife, why must you expose me so!”

“Because I love you,” she replied.

“And I love you too,” the other sing-songed prettily, “But you have to take my side.”

Shen Jiu raised a brow at this and Yue Qi looked a little alarmed.

“My beloved wife, I did.” Luo Binghe smiled, nudging their arms together.

“I suppose, but you don’t have to say it.” she grumbled.

“Baba I’m hungry,” Shen Yingying interrupted.

“Oh, we brought some salted fish,” Luo Binghe remembered, fetching a bag from her waist.

“Can you cook?”

“Well enough.”

“Come help in the kitchen,” Shen Jiu decided, “I will test your skills with a blade.”

After a moment he added, “When applied to food.”

Luo Binghe quickly discovered that was a lie, but all was well.

“I’m helping too!” Shen Yingying followed them to an adjacent room.

Yue Qi guided Shen Qingqiu to a sitting area and sat close to her.

“I see you’ve come into your voice,” he began carefully.

“Pardon?”

“Your voice. Though ambiguous, you issued a command earlier to A-Luo,” he said, “‘I love you too but you have to take my side’. You sang it.”

“I didn’t… surely variegations in speech patterns don’t… I can’t use the Song!” she protested.

“You can.” Yue Qi spoke gently, “Does your wife know what that means?”

“I mentioned the Song in passing though I’m sure she remembers. But even if I’ve been using it accidentally, it doesn’t mean anything. She’s so disobedient sometimes, she wouldn’t be if I was… if I was controlling her,” she was becoming distraught, “I would never.”

“I know, and I’m sure you haven’t. Do you sing often?”

“No, definitely not.” Shen Qingqiu assured him.

Only sometimes before bed, occasionally when she was happy, upon her wife’s request, and when she was writing from time to time! It was barely ever.

“Then you probably have nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d let you know that you’d come into it.” he placated, “It was a little… uncontrolled, is all.”

“I’ll… now that I’m aware of it, I’ll put a stopper on it.”

He smiled and nodded.

“So,” he said, leaning back, “While our lovely spouses prepare us a meal, tell me; how is that dear little shark you found?”

“Well!”

She tried to put from her mind the possibility of having seduced her wife with the Song. But it was a persistent thought.

Soon their spouses returned with food and they ate.

“So dear sisters, have you need of residence?” Shen Jiu asked eventually, gnawing on the salted fish and looking for all the world unaffected by it but for the melted quality of his posture.

“Binghe and I found a safe nook to spend a few nights in so we should be fine for our stay,” Shen Qingqiu shared, “We intend to stay a week or two to begin with, and we don’t want to hurry you with fixing our light.”

“Ah yes,” Yue Qi, “That little experiment of ours. I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.”

“I took care of it well.”

“Too well,” Shen Jiu muttered, “If you had mistreated it perhaps you would have visited sooner.”

“I would never mistreat your lovechild,” Shen Qingqiu snarked back.

“What’s a lovechild?” Shen Yingying asked.

“A child born of love of course,” Luo Binghe interjected, “Just like you.”

Shen Yingying giggled.

Shen Jiu gave Luo Binghe perhaps the most approving expression of the evening for her efforts.

“I’m planning to meet up with Shang Qinghua tomorrow, apparently our returns have coincided. Would it be okay if we stop by tomorrow morning and drop off the light on the way?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

“Sure, sure. Say hi to the little seal for us then,” Shen Jiu waved off the request.

“You know, there was a time when I really thought you two would end up mated, if only to… what’s a nice way of putting it? More effectively get at each other’s throats,” Yue Qi commented.

“Oh ew,” Shen Qingqiu was instantly disgusted and Luo Binghe, who had begun to feel a strange, foreign heat rising in her chest, instantly cooled. “That’s… no, definitely not. Apparently he’s bringing his own mate with him to visit however, and I think they intend on staying for a few months.”

“Why not stay that whole duration then, and follow them when they return to the Arctic? I’m sure A-Luo would love to spend longer in the light and many of the creatures there are undocumented. Not to mention the possible species crossover due to temperature…” Yue Qi trailed off, effortlessly attracting her attention.

“Well…” Shen Qingqiu worried her lip.

Shen Jiu glared meaningfully at Luo Binghe who piped up, “Besides, Xiu Ya can survive in arctic waters, and Zheng Yang would be perfectly comfortable there, and we can go back to Qing Jing every few weeks in the interim to check on them both. Oh! We may even get to see polar bears!”

Shen Qingqiu, who was slowly being convinced, paused.

“Polar bears? What are they?”

“Yeah, what are they?” Shen Yingying asked.

Luo Binghe gasped dramatically, “Even my beloved wife hasn’t heard of a polar bear? How sparse is the Arctic mermaid population?”

“Aside from Shang Qinghua, no reef mermaids at least. The Northern mermaid tribe is aggressive but they hold great respect both for our king and for territory boundaries. There hasn’t been an expansion attempt since Tianlang-jun was… but this also means there is little interaction between them and us. I’m more familiar with Antarctic life, though I’ve never been there either…” Shen Qingqiu informed her.

“Well! A polar bear is a type of bear that lives in the arctic. My mother worked for a woman who had a polar bear skin decorating her home, so I know they’re real. They’re huge, four legged, warm blooded creatures with large claws and extremely dangerous teeth, covered completely in white fur.” Luo Binghe explained, “They’re very dangerous and highly aggressive however.”

She said this not to deter her wife…

“Oh.”

…but to entice her.

“I’ve never even heard of such a thing before. Is it a land animal?”

“Yes.”

“Like a bird?”

“Not even remotely.”

Shen Qingqiu made a cute hum of consideration but Luo Binghe knew her. She’d won the battle ages ago.

“Well then, maybe… if you want to.” Shen Qingqiu gave her wife a shy look and behind her both her brothers and her niece were nodding aggressively.

“It sounds exciting, don’t you think?”

“In that case, I’ll talk to Shang Qinghua about it tomorrow.”

The evening wore on well into night and Shen Yingying was well on her way to sleep before Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe left.

The next morning, after having spent the night entwined tightly together in their small sleeping space, they made their way back to Qiong Ding to drop of the light.

“But I want to play with you!” Shen Yingying whined as they made to leave after a quick breakfast.

“I’m sorry, but we’re going to An Ding outcrop and you know you’re not allowed up there until you’ve completed your first hunt,” Shen Qingqiu consoled her.

“But I wanted to show you my favourite hiding spots and show you around,” her bottom lip began to wobble. Shen Jiu was watching her with an anxious expression.

“How about this then,” Luo Binghe interjected, “You see, I’ve never been to An Ding outcrop and Qingqiu… my wife completely forgot the way! While it’s too dangerous for you to go atop the outcrop, oh my, do you think you could show us the way there?”

Instantly restored to bubbly happiness, Shen Yingying turned to her father with pleading eyes and begged, “Please, please, please, please, please?”

Shen Jiu affected a put-upon sigh then nodded.

“Very well,” he said, “But you will take your spear with you. It’s your job to keep your aunties safe.”

Delighted she swam off to fetch her spear from her room.

“You’re… remarkably good with her,” Shen Jiu commented.

“She’s cute,” Luo Binghe shrugged, “My mother used to tell me I would make a good grandmother, though I’ve never wanted children of my own. They’re fun though, they make up good games.”

Shen Qingqiu grabbed her arm, yanked her harshly towards her and kissed her quickly but passionately on the lips.

Shen Jiu only smiled at this.

“I’m back!” Shen Yingying announced. “Are you ready?”

“We’re ready!” Luo Binghe grinned.

“Then follow me!” she declared.

“Goodbye brother,” Shen Qingqiu laughed.

“Goodbye brother,” Luo Binghe echoed.

“Goodbye sisters,” he rolled his eyes. With that, the two were dragged away by his overly excitable daughter.

Shen Yingying was familiar with the route and landmarks and unafraid of showing off her knowledge every time they came across a distinctive rock.

“See that rock? From here you have to go in the direction of the crack along its side,” she explained.

“Aha,” Shen Qingqiu smacked her forehead, “Of course, now I remember. But then where do we go?”

And so it would go on.

Eventually they were dropped off at a small rock formation that rose out of the water and was surrounded by long grasses. They were the only ones there – it wasn’t a popular spot as opposed to Xian Shu outcrop in the opposite direction – but it was the childhood playground of Shen Qingqiu and her brother and the sight of it brought strong feelings of nostalgia.

Reluctantly Ning Yingying bid them farewell with a hug each before scurrying off to find her friends.

“Come,” Shen Qingqiu said once she was gone, “There’s a secret tunnel into the centre of the outcrop, a secluded cove that A-Hua and I always used to meet in to play.”

She led her wife through a crack hidden by grasses and shadows that wound in dappled sunlight in what felt like circles for a short distance before the water opened up once more into a shallow, almost empty basin of water, only a few meters deep with rocks of varying heights creating walls on all sides and plenty of shade. It was safe from wind and waves and had an oddly mystical feeling to it, as if time had simply paused there when Shen Qingqiu left it the last time.

“This is An Ding outcrop as I know it. As kids we used to play here and when we were old enough, sit up on the rocks and watch the sunset or throw rocks at sea birds,” she explained.

“It’s… peaceful,” Luo Binghe said, gazing around at the clear waters and the largely undisturbed sand, only a few whiting skimming the shallowest areas.

“Let’s go up. We can sit and wait on the rocks. It’s been a decade since I last basked in the sun,” Shen Qingqiu complained as if it weren’t her own fault.

Popping their heads above water, it was the first time either had seen the other through air.

“You look cute with your hair all floppy like that, but I don’t think you can see,” Luo Binghe giggled, trying to brush back her wife’s hair.

“Brat,” she scolded, ducking down briefly before resurfacing at a better angle, hair flattening atop her head instead of on her face. “You look… warm, in the sunlight.”

“And you look cold. We ought to cuddle. Which rocks are the comfiest?”

Shen Qingqiu pointed then guided her over to a few low, smooth and flat brown rocks. Shen Qingqiu, being significantly stronger, hoisted herself up first before dragging up Luo Binghe and helping her arrange herself.

Shuffling back so that her entire tail was exposed to the air and the warm sunlight, Luo Binghe removed her wrap entirely and lay back, fanning out her hair in the hopes of drying faster. Her wife soon joined her and, understanding her intentions, rested her head on her shoulder and entwined their hands but kept her tail clear of Luo Binghe’s own.

They stayed like that for ages, staring up at the early morning clouds, just being content with each other, and progressively growing more and more itchy.

“Urgh, this is why I prefer deep ocean waters,” Shen Qingqiu complained, scratching sheets of salt off her arm in chunks, raining flakes with every bend of her joints. Her hair, sticky and plastered along Luo Binghe’s arm had white streaks and deposits all throughout it.

Likewise, Luo Binghe’s tail itched like mad and she knew it wasn’t long before her legs would be fully returned to her.

Sure enough, within the hour, Shen Qingqiu had become a veritable statue of salt and Luo Binghe human once more.

Noticing first that her hypothesis was correct, Luo Binghe made a show of stretching then sitting up, carefully nudging her wife from her spot on her shoulder. She drew her knees up to her chest and, for the first time in years, spread her legs apart. The ache was incredibly satisfying.

“Goodness, I’d quite forgotten what knees looked like,” she commented as her wife slowly sat, blinking blearily as she’d almost fallen asleep.

Gingerly, supporting herself on the rock wall, Luo Binghe stood. The pressure on her feet and ankles and shins and knees and thighs and hips was altogether foreign at this point. She wondered how long it would take for the novelty of the sensation of gravity returned to her to wear off.

“Huh, I think I got taller,” she commented idly, nudging her wife with her foot. Her legs were still strong and stable, miraculously.

“…knees?” Shen Qingqiu murmured before her eyes went wide and she looked up at her wife.

“Oh.”

Luo Binghe grinned at her before bending down and taking her chin in hand and giving her a slow, deep kiss. Shen Qingqiu’s hand came up to cup her cheek as she leaned into the kiss, following her with a daze when she pulled back for air.

‘Note to self,’ Luo Binghe thought, ‘Kissing is better underwater when you don’t need to break apart for oxygen.’

Shen Qingqiu, a little dumbfounded, could only stare at her as she towered above her.

“Wow,” she managed, “Can I…?”

“Always.”

Shen Qingqiu reached out a trembling hand and gently stroked along her thigh. As she reached lower she felt behind her knees before encircling her ankles and marvelling at the separation between limbs.

“Turn around please.”

Luo Binghe obliged then squeaked as a firm hand came to rest on each of her buttocks, giving them a firm squeeze.

“This flesh is soft,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, trailing down once more to her heels before nudging her to turn around once more.

She rose up as high as she could from her angle and even then could only hug her thighs and rest her cheek against her hip bone. She nuzzled into the skin there before placing a gentle kiss on the joint.

Luo Binghe, filled with heat and desire, sat on a raised rock shelf before her legs could tremble too hard. Shen Qingqiu, snakelike, turned around fully and rose level with her, gently running her hands along her hips and marvelling at the lack of scales. She leaned down to kiss her marriage scar and nuzzle her chest.

“You’re covered with hair,” she whispered quietly.

“Mn, they disappear when I’m in water,” Luo Binghe smiled.

“You’re soft,”

“You’re crunchy,”

For that, Shen Qingqiu sprinkled salt from her palms in Luo Binghe’s hair.

“You’re still beautiful,” she added, gently parting her knees to move between them. Then she lowered her head and they did the things that married folk are wont to do.

When they once more returned to their lounging, Shen Qingqiu idly tracing her wife’s legs, her wife naming each body part as best she could, it wasn’t long before a newcomer interrupted their bliss.

“Yo! Sea Cucumber!” a man’s voice called out and Shen Qingqiu was up in a heartbeat.

Luo Binghe only had a second to process that, even on land, her wife could make herself taller than her, before her wife had launched herself off the rocks and directly at the newcomer.

“YOU.” was all she heard before a scream, a splash, and silence.

Doused with water anyway, Luo Binghe dove after her, finding the saturation process significantly faster than the reverse and quickly acclimatising to her tail once more.

“I told you if you ever called me a sea cucumber again I’d bring back the dugong insults you son of a dogfish!” Shen Qingqiu screeched, a conflicting note of fondness in her voice, as she shook a mermaid with teal scales and light brown hair by the shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it! I spent the past week debating what nickname would annoy you the most—” he was cut off by a tight hug. After a seconds pause he returned the embrace and the two friends rocked back and forth in a long-overdue cuddle.

“I didn’t miss you at all. Why are you even here?” Shen Qingqiu muttered.

“Why am I here? Why aren’t you in a dark cave somewhere drooling over creepy fish?”

“Sometimes its isopods,” she grumbled. When she finally pulled back, she was smiling wide.

“A-Hua, meet my beloved wife, Luo Binghe. Binghe, meet the bane of my existence, Shang Qinghua,” Shen Qingqiu said, at last introducing them.

Luo Binghe swam forward and met Shang Qinghua with forward facing palms. Once the gesture was returned, she smiled brightly.

“It’s wonderful to meet a friend of my wife’s. She’s mentioned you in passing, usually with a measure of aggravation, so I’m glad to meet the one who makes her nose screw up so cutely,” she said.

“A backhanded compliment from a black-hearted woman, but I’ll take it,” Shang Qinghua smiled easily, “I can’t wait to get to know the one whose dogged persistence finally got through to my friend.”

“What are you talking about?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

“Six months were worth a lifetime.”

“Great, already talking in code. I knew you two troublemakers would get along—”

“I’m not the one who nearly destroyed the entire reef by taking a crown of thorns—”

“But I don’t see your husband anywhere?” Shen Qingqiu finished, glancing about the water.

“He’s too big to fit through the passageway.”

Luo Binghe choked on a laugh.

“Maybe Shizun could help?” she offered, mostly innocently.

Shang Qinghua blinked before a sly grin spread across his lips, “Shizun, eh?”

“Shut up.”

“Kinky.”

“I will—”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe helpfully brought her wife back to the present.

“Yeah sure, there are plenty of rocks that can be moved safely. I’ll be back in a moment,” she replied then swam back toward the entrance.

Luo Binghe watched as Shang Qinghua’s eyes grew wider and wider as he watched her wife’s tail fail to disappear completely through the passageway, tailfins sticking out and twitching as she supposedly spoke with the mermaid waiting outside.

“Holy mother of pearl she grew,” he breathed, staring hard.

“Apparently she adapted a little too well to the depths she was living in to the point of evolving deep sea gigantism,” Luo Binghe explained fondly, “She’s so beautiful.”

“Have you made her admit to it yet?” Shang Qinghua asked idly, just as Shen Qingqiu’s tail disappeared completely from sight.

“I think she gets it now, especially after I met Shen Jiu.”

“Oh?”

“He looks okay.”

Shang Qinghua burst out laughing.

“I’m starting to understand the six months. You’re pretty blunt,” he noted.

“I find the more blunt I am, the more she takes my honesty at face-value,” she replied.

“I think my husband would agree with you.”

A sudden cracking sound shook the water followed by several quieter cracks and then silence. Then, Shen Qingqiu emerged, long tail taking a few seconds, followed swiftly by the biggest and buffest mermaid Luo Binghe had ever seen. Not that she’d seen many mermaids.

“Right,” Shang Qinghua began as the two joined them, “Mobei, this is Shen Qingqiu, the friend I’ve been telling you about, and this is Luo Binghe her wife. A-Qiu, Luo Binghe, this is my husband, Mobei of the Northern Desert.”

‘Desert?’ Luo Binghe thought but nonetheless held out both hands, one palm up the other palm down, the same as her wife.

He met the greeting with each of them, expression blank but posture friendly.

“Qinghua speaks often of you Shen Qingqiu. He values you greatly, despite not seeing you for ten years. I hope you will have a continued presence in his life as he—” Shang Qinghua slapped a hand over his husband’s mouth. Mobei looked nothing but fond.

Shen Qingqiu raised a brow.

“Oh ew, ew!” he quickly withdrew his hand as his husband licked it and wiped it against his hip, “What are you, a seal?”

“Your strength when aiding me with those rocks was admirable, and I must confess I have never met a mermaid of your size. You will make a wonderful teacher to our—”

“NO!” Shang Qinghua shouted, “LALALALALA.”

“Oh my stars,” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened.

“Oh brilliant,” Shang Qinghua moaned, “I wanted to wait a bit Mobei!”

“Why not be forthright? She is your friend.”

“Oh. My. Stars.”

“Surprise,” Shang Qinghua said, exasperated but with a sudden warmth. He placed a hand to his stomach.

“I’m gonna be an aunt.”

“You’re already an aunt.”

“Yeah but I’m gonna be an aunt again.”

“Oh,” Luo Binghe clapped, catching on, “Congratulations Shang Qinghua!”

‘But you’re a man,’ she was thinking, but she refused to let it bother her.

“I’m pregnant,” he confirmed.

“That’s why you’re here. Oh my stars that’s why you’re in warm waters again.”

“Yes.”

“Oh my stars. Congratulations man!” Shen Qingqiu squealed and hugged her friend once more. They tumbled through the water together laughing as Shang Qinghua returned the hug once more.

Luo Binghe noticed Mobei giving the two a look of consideration.

“Hi, I know we introduced ourselves but uh, I’m Luo Binghe,” she said, a little awkward but unwilling to let it show.

“Mobei. Your wife is incredibly long.”

“She’s lived between six and ten thousand meters deep for the past ten years. She grew.”

“Mermaids don’t tend to adapt so drastically or so quickly, nor always in one generation.”

“She’s perfect.”

“Qinghua is perfect.”

Silence fell.

“They look like they’re going to be a while catching up. Would you like to go up and sit on the rocks?”

Taking one last lingering look at his husband, a small smile playing about his lips, Mobei nodded and followed her to the surface. She led him to a shelf a good distance from the one she and her wife had christened. They both hoisted themselves up onto a decently sized rock and this time Luo Binghe was careful to stay moisturised.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Luo Binghe built up the courage to start a conversation.

“So—”

“So—”

“Oh, you go first—”

“Please you—”

Silence descended.

“You and your husband are well matched,” Luo Binghe managed.

“As are you and your wife.”

“It’s oddly coincidental how we both share a size difference with our partners. You are a great deal larger than Shang Qinghua and I am a great deal smaller than Shen Qingqiu,” she began, “What’s it like, cuddling someone smaller than you?”

“You… are very forward.”

It hadn’t occurred to her that the intimate details of the embraces shared between other couples might not be an appropriate topic for a first time acquaintance. Luo Binghe slowly felt her soul begin to die. Before she could apologise, Mobei continued.

“I appreciate that. I wish to foster closeness between us to gain the favour of your wife and my husband by proxy,” he said.

“For the sake of transparency, I admit my goal is the same. I hope to make genuine friends, however. I am not sure if my wife sent in her letters or if your husband shared this, but until yesterday, the only other mermaid I had met was my wife. It was also the first time I had left the midnight zone for an extended period of time and my introduction to mermaid society was controlled, limited to her family so as not to be overwhelming. I would like to make a friend, I think,” she admitted slowly, idly tracing grooves in the rocks.

“That would be agreeable. I sense our spouses are prone to… going off into their own little worlds to which we are not privy. It would be nice to commiserate.”

“I miss her already.”

“I miss him too.”

They both stared forlornly at the water, sharing a moment of silence.

“It feels like you’re holding the entire world in your hands, like you can fit everything precious to you inside your body where you can keep it safe, and yet you rest upon it as it supports you,” Mobei said eventually.

It took a moment for Luo Binghe to retrace their conversation, then she smiled.

“For me to be embraced by my wife is the safest, happiest, most comfortable place in the sea. It’s an all-encompassing warmth, the feeling and knowing both that she’s real and tangible and surrounding me. I feel such an intense love from her, you can just feel it. When she squeezes tightly and I press close in turn I know without words that she loves me, would do anything for me. And in return I hold her up, because she isn’t alone.”

Mobei smiled.

“I’m glad he can tell then, how I feel.”

Luo Binghe nodded. The stone beneath her hand, weathered and smooth, felt sharp in some places. She glanced down and saw a small pictograph carved crudely into the surface beneath her hand. A flower, or what looked like one, with upwards floating whisps.

‘How odd that the image of a flower would appear here… it is probably some form of coral then,’ she thought.

“I’m sure we will discuss these things more in-depth later when all are present, but my wife and I were tentatively considering accompanying you and your husband to the Northern Desert to stay for a potentially extended period of time. Qingqiu wishes to document the life there and hopefully see a polar bear,” she began.

Mobei raised a brow.

“A polar bear?”

“Big, white, four legs, furry,” Luo Binghe described abstractly.

“I know them. I have hunted them in fact. They are very dangerous, even to mermaids,” he commented.

At that moment, Shen Qingqiu’s tail made an appearance, arching like a sea-monster from a fairytale out of the water as she swam about excitedly.

“I doubt my wife is in any danger,” Luo Binghe replied, not in arrogance but from experience.

“She possesses claws, I noticed. And her size, as I said, is formidable. I am inclined, therefore, to agree with you.”

She laughed, more than a little pleased.

“I would be pleased to have you both join us on our return to my… home, you would be welcome to research. Qinghua would be pleased as well. He intends to ask Shen Qingqiu to become a tutor for our child when they’re old enough,” Mobei gazed up at the sky, “The clouds are the same in any realm then. I wonder if it will rain?”

“Only a little, I think. But it won’t storm today,” Luo Binghe confirmed absently, “My wife makes a wonderful teacher. She has taught me much about deep-ocean life, both through recounts and practical encounters. How long have you and Shang Qinghua been married?”

“I courted him for nine years, since we were both adolescents. From the same year he arrived, in fact. I am a year younger, so perhaps that was why, at first, he did not realise it. He has no excuse for misunderstanding later and into our adult years,” Mobei frowned hard at the water, discontent over this grievance rising, “After nine years he began to court me in return, which is when I learned about the southern reef’s tradition of a declaration of intent.”

“Northern mermaids don’t do that?”

“We hunt prizes. Qinghua interpreted my gifts as threats. It was flattering.”

Luo Binghe struggled not to giggle.

“In truth we had been living as if we were married for that entire time, so we were both content. The only thing marriage changed was that the small gestures of love we were used to were now accompanied with verbal declarations of meaning.”

He finished his story looking painfully fond, if a little exasperated.

“I’d imaging your own courting experience went much smoother if you managed to be wed within so few years?”

“Miraculously yes. I was young when I met Shen Qingqiu, I think she’s six years older than me. I courted her, made my declaration, and we were married within a year. I fell in love very quickly.”

“As did I.”

Hesitantly, Luo Binghe raised a hand, palm facing out.

“And thus we shall stay,” she said.

A small but genuine smile was directed at her and she felt like she’d won a battle. He met her gesture with his own and returned, “And thus we shall stay.”

With all the preamble of a surprise, Shang Qinghua poked his head out of the water by Mobei’s tail.

“It’s noon, we should head to the palace and make our presence known,” he said.

“Mn,” Mobei dove directly atop his husband, ensconcing him in a hug.

“My Ki—nd and loving husband, what prompted this?”

“I missed you.”

Above the water Shen Qingqiu poked out her head.

“Binghe?”

Luo Binghe likewise dove at her and they cuddled amid the bubbles.

The four travelled in their makeshift school to the palace, a little ways off from the cove and marked above water by a discrete raft covered with clumps of seaweed anchored to the spire of the palace. The spire itself was only visible at low tide. Underwater, however, the strangely blue tinted rock formation that twisted upward with jagged grace at the very edge of the reef and stretched down the cut-off to the ocean floor, looking out on one side to Cang Qiong, and the other to the endless abyss of uninterrupted sand flats. The reef was difficult to ambush because of this, any movement as clear as day in the abrupt lifelessness of the abyss.

Difficult, but not impossible.

As the four approached the gates, chatting amicably amongst themselves, they were met by three lightly armoured guards led by a fourth with a notably shinier helmet.

“Please state your name and business,” the shiniest of them requested politely. There was little hostility in her voice, but not an absence of wariness at such a plethora of new faces.

“Qingqi!” Shen Qingqiu beamed, “I didn’t recognise you in that uniform. That’s the captain’s pin, isn’t it? Congratulations!”

The captain gave her a look of astonishment before squinting and giving her a once-over.

“By the stars Shen Qingqiu what have you done to yourself?” she crossed her arms, unimpressed, all formality lost. To the contrary, the three guards stationed behind her straightened their posture and bowed deeply.

“Shen Qingqiu? She’s really back?” they whispered between themselves.

“Oh hush. You aren’t any better. Hole-cutter shark take a bite out of your stomach?”

“And my tail. There was a bizarre swarm of them a few years back. Got my promotion for killing them all.”

The captain of the guard was beautiful, Luo Binghe realised. She had been initially distracted by her shiny armour and not noticed, but now that she had she was automatically forming comparisons. Obviously Shen Qingqiu was more beautiful, that wasn’t the issue this time.

‘Objectively,’ Luo Binghe thought to herself, examining the woman, ‘The muscles, the tan, the violet tail, are all very pretty. But violet is such a plain colour. Surely vibrant colours like black and red are preferable—’

“So who are these three?” Qingqi asked.

“This is my wife, Luo Binghe. This is Mobei, and this is Shang Qinghua, whom you met before he quit basic training, if I recall correctly,” Shen Qingqiu introduced them with a smile, “Binghe, Mobei, this is my old friend and now captain of the royal guard, Qi Qingqi.”

“Ah, squirrelfish, I remember you. And Mobei, that’s a northern name, correct?” she gave him a suspicious look.

“It is,” Shang Qinghua answered with a pleasant smile, “I met him while on duty as an emissary. He’s my husband.”

He wrapped an arm around his husband’s own and subconsciously placed a hand on his own stomach, looking up adoringly at Mobei.

Catching the gesture, Qi Qingqi relaxed her gaze and gave them both a small smile.

“And what is your business at the palace?” she asked.

“Both of us are here for marriage registry, Binghe specifically to declare herself as a member of the southern waters. We’ll probably visit my brother on the way out. He’s in today, isn’t he? I wanted to show Binghe what he does here.”

“Ah yes, your brothers’ lights have been a blessing these past years. Without the magma running to keep the halls lit, we rely entirely on the things to see inside the palace,” Qi Qingqi sighed, “Right, well, go along then. And you, Qingqiu. Welcome back. We’ve missed you.”

With a warm smile and a full heart, Shen Qingqiu took her wife in hand, gave her friend a nod, and headed inside.

The first chamber was huge, leading up and down in a spiral of passageways that looked like the surface of a sponge. Lining the walls were neat rows of lights, a different shape and hue to their old one, shining like pearls in sunlight.

“Shen Qingqiu,” Mobei began.

“Mn? What is it?”

“Those guards seemed familiar with you. You were friends with the captain but the other three seemed to hold respect for you.”

“You’re asking why?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Qingqi has been training in the Xian Shu guard since she was fry, so she all but grew up in the palace. She’s Cang Qiong’s fiercest warrior and fought in the attack on the palace nearly twenty years ago now when she was only an initiate. My brothers both work here intermittently, using their knacks for the betterment of the reef, so I was often around as well,” she explained, “So I’ve known her for a while.”

When she spoke no further, Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes and filled in the gaps.

“Qingqiu was in that cove the day of the attack on the palace and saw the boats carrying the mermaids in time to warn the guard. She’s the reason the royal family isn’t dead. Not only that, but she brought a swarm of hole-cutter sharks out of nowhere and led them to the attackers. Saved a few people,” he described.

“That explains the ambush. If they came on boats, they would be mistaken for sailors and not seen as a threat. I wondered when I saw the abyss how the palace could have been made vulnerable to attack,” Mobei seemed deep in thought, “A tragedy I will endeavour to learn from.”

“You never told me any of this,” Luo Binghe murmured as they continued down.

“It wasn’t important,” Shen Qingqiu replied.

“I suppose you also never mentioned your personal rooms here then?” Shang Qinghua prompted.

“Again,” she said, a little sharply, “Not important.”

Shang Qinghua mimed latching his lips shut. Mobei gave her a long look before going back to looking at his husband and smiling fondly. A past-time he seemed to share with Luo Binghe, for in the gentle shadows cast by ripple water around the lights, Shen Qingqiu fairly glowed – salt flecks glistening on her skin and in the water around her. She brushed a crystal from her hair and received another of those perfect smiles and felt her soul complete.

“In any case, we’ll be going to the archives first,” Shen Qingqiu cleared her throat and instructed them both, “I’ll put us down as spouses. Qinghua, do you think you could show Binghe around as well while I do? It shouldn’t take too long, then I’ll take us up to the audience chamber for the declaration and, presumably, whatever you really came here for.”

“Bro—”

“Which of us is the dumb one?”

“Well arguably—”

“Not me.”

“Hah. I’m pretty easy to see through huh.”

Shang Qinghua sighed before realising his husband was flashing white and blue all over, skin and scales shifting in warning patterns.

“Mobei, it’s fine. I keep telling you these waters are safe and, be honest, Qingqiu is big enough to eat your uncle so even if they weren’t we would be fine,” he said, calming his husband and trying to lighten the mood, “Plus, you saw Qingqi. Two hole-cutter scars and she took down a whole score of them. The palace is safe.”

Completely lost but unwilling to admit it, Luo Binghe clapped her hands and smiled, “Oh wow, I didn’t know mermaids could do that! Are you descended from a cuttlefish?”

Disbelieving, Mobei shook his head, “No. What— no. It’s a… No.”

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu scolded, “That was very rude!”

“Well, I assumed that if mermaids were descended from fish, then—” she cut herself off when Shen Qingqiu’s expression filled with horror and betrayal.

“Are… are we not?” she asked hesitantly.

“Luo Binghe. We are marine biologists. Are you telling me you think it’s at all feasible that we are descended. From fish.”

“None of your books had much on history. Remember the end of our courting ritual?” Luo Binghe argued.

Aggressively calming herself, realising she was being unreasonable, Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath and apologised, “I’m sorry, Binghe. I think I’m just a little tetchy all of a sudden. We are descended from sirens. Hence our voices.”

“I’ve heard you mention that a few times. The Song is a kind of common compulsion knack, right? That most mermaids can use.”

“Yes.”

“What does it sound like?”

Shen Qingqiu blinked.

“Show her.” Shang Qinghua suggested. A glance at Mobei provided no resistance.

A little hesitantly, Shen Qingqiu nodded.

“It’s stronger in verse, but can be injected into regular speech so long as it’s sung,” she explained, singing her words, “I didn’t know I could use it until yesterday. Its full effect is more tangible in verse however, as I said, or when giving instructions.”

“Oh?”

“M-mn.”

Shen Qingqiu steadied herself before quietly singing a short set of lines.

“Promise me,
if you see,
a white pearl
you’ll think of me
I love you so,
never let go—”

She broke off quickly as Luo Binghe swam closer and clasped her hand.

“You sound like you usually do,” she commented lightly, “Is there meant to be a difference?”

“There is,” Mobei said.

Luo Binghe turned to see him blinking and lightly disoriented, Shang Qinghua clinging to his arm.

“It is a powerful compulsion that most refrain from using lightly, or at all. However, it is less common in the northern waters. Selkies are unable to use the song, and they make up enough of the population that it becomes a less common skill. As you can see, however, it is highly effective,” he gestured to her own hand. “Her voice took on a quality indescribably to those who haven’t heard it, making it nearly impossible to resist. You have a strong voice, Qingqiu.”

“I…”

“My wife has a beautiful voice, of course, but I had already been thinking about holding her hand. I was reaching out before she began. Is the compulsion that powerful?”

He gave her a long look.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Is this the archives?”

They had come to a room at the very bottom of the palace, filled with thousands of stacks of fine shell pages. Dozens of merfolk in shades of white and grey from the lack of light darted between the shelves. Some were cozied up in alcoves with bright lights and snacks, reading or researching, others were organising, one in particular was wrangling with an octopus. Coral shelves filled the space like white ghosts, preceded by a stone plateau used as a desk by, presumably, the head archivist.

“Ah, Qingqiu, I haven’t seen you in some time. You’ve grown.”

“Mu Qingfang. It is good to see you well.”

They greeted each other with a palm up and a palm down.

“I take it you brought gifts?” he inquired, brow raised.

“As promised, the culmination of ten years’ research, a compendium of nearly every deep sea creature and life-form, for public access,” Shen Qingqiu announced, gaining the attention of a few passing mermaids who paused to listen. She removed the large pack from her person and it sank quickly to the desk.

Mu Qingfang opened it and was delighted to find an entire shelf’s worth of pages.

“You have done incredible work Qingqiu. I expect these will be quite detailed. Tell me, did you learn as much as it seems about deep-sea gigantism?”

“Firsthand experience is surprisingly uninformative, but common factors and theories are thoroughly explored.”

“You know,” Mu Qingfang moved back a distance to see all of her, but for the tail still winding out the door. “While I may not seem shocked, I can assure you it is entirely the lack of sleep. This is quite unusual, you are aware of that?”

Something in Luo Binghe sparked to life as Shen Qingqiu looked away, a little embarrassed, “Yes, well, now that you mention it, I do look a little…”

“I have no idea what sort of diet you should be partaking of at this size, let alone the changed musculature and organ structure. I will be requesting your presence in the infirmary as soon as possible for a thorough examination. Your medical chart will need a complete overhaul,” he continued, ignoring her.

Shen Qingqiu looked down and smiled, “Right. I need to register two official bondings, are the registers in the same place?”

“Yes, I’ll take you,” Mu Qingfang nodded and gestured for another mermaid to take care of the new material.

“Binghe, be careful but have a good explore. I’ll find you once I’m done.”

With that instruction, Shen Qingqiu followed after Mu Qingfang, tail graceful in avoiding shelves and the mermaids who swarmed to her new work at once.

“Come on Binghe,” Shang Qinghua smiled, open and friendly, “I’ll show you both all the fun places! I’m not much of an academic if I can help it. I have archive work back up north, no way am I engaging in more during recreation.”

“Qinghua doesn’t have to engage at all.”

“Yes but none of your employees do it correctly and your… associates would riot.”

“You are the salt that floats the icebergs Qinghua,” Mobei kissed his husband on the corner of the lips.

Smiling from ear to ear Shang Qinghua leaned into Mobei and began leading the way out of the long passage they had taken down. Luo Binghe followed them, awkward but doing her best.

“I’ve never been in a palace before,” she starts, conversationally, “Are they always… open to the public?”

“Yes and no,” Shang Qinghua answers, “The northern palace, for example, is considered royal territory. It’s not like anyone will tell you that you can’t enter, but the only people who try are either ambassadors or assassins. It’s different down here, in part due to housing the archives and medical facilities that make the palace a public building by necessity, and in part due to the royal family. Well, the direct line. Their knacks are so powerful they have little need for guards and the only mermaids who would pose a threat to them are doing so out of foolishness rather than true danger. After the attack twenty years ago, Empress Su Xiyan decided to implement a heavier personal guard but otherwise kept the building open for morale.”

“And anyone can just… visit? Read a book, visit a doctor?”

“Doctor?”

“Medic.”

“Huh. Yeah, of course.”

“In the Northern waters, our archives and medical facilities are in separate holdings closer to the people. I find it strange that medical facilities would be so far from the main dwellings in Cang Qiong,” Mobei commented.

“Once you see more of the reef you’ll understand. The crowded and sharp coral and the colours can make it difficult to find your way around. Better the place be clearly visible and distinct,” Shang Qinghua reasoned.

A few quiet moments passed before Luo Binghe spoke up again.

“I noticed earlier, you all speak so vaguely about the royal family and the previous emperor, Tianlang-jun. I understand that the princess was taken by the pirates that captained the ships during the attack, but what happened to him?”

“He’s alive and in a, supposedly, secure space,” Mobei answered, then noticing his husband’s pointed look asked, “It’s hardly a secret. Heavenly mermaids are difficult to kill at their best, but the official word that I received on the matter was that he was rendered comatose and trapped somewhere out of reach.”

“That sounds…”

“And guarded by two sea monsters,” Shang Qinghua added, previous hesitance lost.

“Ah.”

How odd. Now that she finally heard the story, she couldn’t help but think that, perhaps, she could help. Somewhere out of reach for mermaids was not necessarily out of reach for her. Then Shang Qinghua announced they had arrived at their destination and Luo Binghe became swept up in the whirlwind that was his idea of a tour.

An hour passed before Shen Qingqiu found them. Mobei and Shang Qinghua went first up the spire for audience with the empress. Luo Binghe immediately noticed her wife’s mood.

“That’s it,” she announced, plopping herself in her lap and making a general nuisance out of herself, “What’s wrong beloved? Is it about your voice? I didn’t mean to insult you when I said you sounded the same as you always do—”

“I wasn’t insulted,” Shen Qingqiu was a little stiff but otherwise helpless to her wife. She tangled one hand in her loose hair and pulled her closer with the other in a show of public intimacy that comes from years of living in the dark, away from eyes that might embarrass.

“Then what?”

“The song is, at its core, a form of predation. Our ancestors developed it to lure in human prey or to draw fish from their homes in rocks or reefs. The danger is that the song works on fellow mermaids. In groups, with every member singing, this does not pose an issue. Our voices are ineffective on ourselves so when we sing together we are not affected, or if we are singing in opposition, the individual with the strongest voice is the victor.”

Shen Qingqiu watched her wife carefully as she spoke, waiting for a hint of understanding. When none came, she sighed and continued.

“It is manipulation. Not even strong minds can resist a strong voice,” she said, “I didn’t know I was using the song until brother made me aware. You said, when I demonstrated earlier, that you couldn’t hear a difference between then and when I’ve sung for you in the past.”

“You worry you’ve bespelled me?” Luo Binghe asked, eyes a little wide but expression firmly neutral.

“…Yes,” she shuddered, sinking into her wife’s neck. She pressed her eyes under her gills and breathed slowly.

“Well of course you have, the second I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful being I’d ever seen, but it’s not as if I fell in love right away. There was a, albeit short, grace period before then when I got to learn your personality was as beautiful as your body,” Luo Binghe was cheerful in her explanation, teasing lightly as she stroked Shen Qingqiu’s hair.

“You caught me when you fed that angler fish.”

“That early? I guessed closer to the brine pool incident.”

Shen Qingqiu shrugged half-heartedly and they both fell quiet.

“I don’t think you’ve ever manipulated me,” Luo Binghe said eventually.

“Yeah?”

“Mn. Otherwise I’d be a lot more obedient.”

For emphasis, Luo Binghe tugged harshly on her hair and laughed at the following squawk of indignation. Soon she was joined in quiet giggles and some levity was restored between the two.

“I love you Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu whispered, caressing her wife’s cheek.

“I love you too.”

“Aww, bro! You’re gonna make me cry seeing you all sweet and vulnerable like that.”

In a second, the gentleness left Shen Qingqiu and a spark of fury was lit within her. She tore a large stone from its place in their resting spot and shot after Shang Qinghua like a harpoon.

Squealing in fear and delight, Shang Qinghua likewise bolted, hiding behind his husband and wailing dramatically.

“My King! Save me!”

“Shen Qingqiu, I’m afraid if you kill my husband you would be starting a war with the northern waters,” Mobei acknowledged, familiar with this game.

Blinking then looking around the room, Shen Qingqiu took in the guards who had quietly surrounded them. Noticing her gaze, Shang Qinghua gave a brief explanation.

“Su Xiyan assured us that these eight were trustworthy and capable. Liu Qingge has been issued to our protection too, though he’s a hunter. Once he returns, that is. Which will be… fun.”

“Having said that,” Mobei smiled slightly, taking issue with Shang Qinghua’s apparent interest in another man, “Some light injury is acceptable between friends.”

Shang Qinghua shot him a betrayed look before Shen Qingqiu took up her rock again and continued chasing him around the room. The guards, presumably respectful of both their positions, did nothing to aid him. Mobei, taking in Luo Binghe’s utter confusion, sat beside her and watched.

“I’m the king of the Northern waters, is what this is about,” he explained quietly.

“So we can stop pretending Shang Qinghua called you ‘My King’, what, twice earlier? That wasn’t a secret but why were you trying to hide it?”

“My uncle wants the throne. We did not want my presence or Qinghua’s presence here to be made public knowledge, at the very least until we had protection.”

“Oh.”

“Su Xiyan has granted us rooms here to stay for the next few weeks and we accepted, though we may move to that An Ding outcrop instead for a while. It’s remarkably secluded,” Mobei smiled as he watched Shang Qinghua attempt to squash himself into a tiny alcove behind one of the guards.

“I wouldn’t. There’s going to be a storm tomorrow,” Luo Binghe said idly.

Mobei was quiet.

“How remarkable,” he said eventually, “Su Xiyan said the exact same thing just minutes ago. Do you share a knack?”

“Perhaps.”

A young mermaid with a dark blue tail swam up to a guard and whispered to them before darting out of sight.

“Empress Su is ready to receive Shen Qingqiu and spouse,” the guard announced.

Dropping her rock, to the relief of her friend, Shen Qingqiu joined Luo Binghe once more.

“Alright, we’ll see you sometime tomorrow,” she said, “A-Hua, Mobei-Jun.”

“Mobei.”

Smiling earnestly, Shen Qingqiu nodded. That smile faltered once they had both left.

“Qingqiu?” Luo Binghe whispered as they made their way to the entrance. Her wife’s expression was uncomfortable. Reluctant. Not nervous or afraid, but… hesitant.

“It’s nothing. It has been a very long time since I’ve seen her highness, is all.”

Luo Binghe let the lie go and followed her through the short passage to a well-lit chamber, void of anything but lights and an enormous clamshell. A woman was seated in this bizarre throne, tail covered with a seaweed blanket, a pearl necklace about her throat, and long, inky black hair that floated upwards in gentle swirls. She was beautiful. Her skin was youthful and without wrinkles, a pale flesh tone. Her posture was effortlessly regal and, though she sat with her eyes partially lidded, her presence was imposing.

“Qingqiu. You have returned. At last.”

The empress spoke in a resigned tone, voice oddly without resonance.

“I have, your highness.”

“You still insist on calling me that.”

Shen Qingqiu stayed quiet.

Eventually, the empress sighed.

“I am sorry, Qingqiu,” she said, “I relied upon you too much back then. I was not well, and it became your burden. I am sorry.”

Luo Binghe watched the miracle that was her wife’s smile slowly spreading across her lips. It was small and quiet, but it was there.

“You are forgiven,” she said softly, and then, when a moment had passed, she took a breath. “This is my wife, Luo Binghe. She is from neither Northern nor Southern waters so she is here to make her declarations.”

Su Xiyan nodded for her to begin.

“Greetings your highness, Empress Su. My name is Luo Binghe, wife of Shen Qingqiu. I hail from a western coast and arrived via storm to Qing Jing crevasse where I have lived for three years. I mean no harm to Southern waters and intend to love amongst Southern merfolk as a member of Cang Qiong reef, alongside my wife,” she stated clearly, projecting her voice somewhat.

“Greetings, Luo Binghe. We welcome you among us. The western coast you say?”

“Luo Village.”

“That is a human village,” Su Xiyan observed.

Startled, Luo Binghe nodded.

“Yes, your highness. My mother found me abandoned there as a newborn.”

Su Xiyan’s expression was inscrutable. Eventually she tilted her head and moved on.

“It makes me glad to see Qingqiu married. Ten years ago the girl swore off the idea, devoted in her entirety to her bestiaries. Has that changed?” she posed rhetorically. “Luo Binghe, come closer. I cannot see very well, but I would like to receive an impression of you.”

Luo Binghe did as instructed, moving forth. She felt herself scrutinised by hazy eyes before a calloused hand reached out to trail down her forehead and brow.

“How remarkably you resemble my husband,” she mused.

“I do?”

“Greatly. More so than Qingqiu resembles my nephew, do not think I did not notice that tail of yours. How you have grown from that little girl I knew you as. You resemble a sea serpent.”

“From anyone but you that would be an insult.”

Su Xiyan cackled.

Luo Binghe felt a strange feeling, gazing upon this woman. There was something odd about her. Her skin, her hair, her eyes, her ears. Nothing was quite right. Perhaps it was simply that, behind the strange squint, her eyes were a mirror to her own. She wanted to ask, in that instant, about her knack, but instead was tempted with dinner and a convincing argument to remain in the palace and use Shen Qingqiu’s rooms for at least the night.

As she lay entwined with her wife that night, she whispered quietly to her, her suspicions.

“Is the empress human?” she asked in barely a breath.

Shen Qingqiu was quiet for a very long time before tucking her head down and pressing her lips to Luo Binghe’s ear.

“Yes,” she answered.

Somehow, they both found sleep quickly, and in the morning they found their strength in each other and started the day anew.

They took breakfast in Qiong Ding gathering place with Shen Jiu and Yue Qingyuan.

“We didn’t see you at the palace yesterday brother,” Shen Qingqiu remarked, “We were looking forward to your display.”

“Don’t you even try it sister,” he commanded, then paused, considering her words, “Yingying decided to drag me out to forage for shells. How long were you there?”

“We stayed the night,” Luo Binghe answered.

Shen Jiu looked at her sharply.

“Brother it’s fine. I was perfectly safe, I felt perfectly safe.”

“Oh so you won’t end up chased to the deepest darkest crack in the earth you can find by the end of the week? Maybe you’ll let it go on, subject your wife to that woman for a year before she begs for mercy and you—” Shen Jiu spoke with cruel anger before catching his words and the horrified look on his sister’s face and stopping himself. “My apologies sister. That was too much. I worry, perhaps in excess, but with due cause.”

“Yes, I… perhaps I deserved that.”

“You didn’t.”

There was quiet before Yue Qi spoke up.

“You didn’t, sister. Though we are right to worry. For the sake of little ears, we didn’t bring it up, but—”

“We should continue not bringing it up. She… apologised. She meant it. I have forgiven her. Let that be the end of it. Please.”

Once more, quiet.

“We’re going to take lunch with the empress today,” Luo Binghe said suddenly, “Why not accompany us? Shang Qinghua and his husband will both be in attendance as well, everyone will be together. Would that not be agreeable?”

“We will attend,” Shen Jiu decided.

“Xiao Jiu—”

Shen Jiu levelled Luo Binghe with a strangely secretive look before turning to his husband with quivering lips and a wavering voice and simpering, “I know A-Qiu can take care of herself, I do, I simply… need to see for myself. I’m her older brother, it’s my job, isn’t it?”

A small, perfect, shimmering pearl appeared at the corner of one eye and he brushed it aside, ignoring it.

‘Masterful,’ Luo Binghe wondered, taking mental notes. Immediately swayed, Yue Qi caved and agreed.

As soon as he did, Shen Jiu was removing a small toolkit from a pouch on his belt, grasping the stray pearl, and beginning to drill a small hole through the centre. He moved with expert precision, making the act as simple as breathing, before moving behind his husband and weaving the new bead into his hair.

Yue Qi sighed as he did so.

“Another battle lost,” he remarked pleasantly and Shen Qingqiu laughed.

“Waste not, want not,” Shen Jiu reasoned, “I’m allowed to make you pretty.”

“You and I both know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Piffle.”

Luo Binghe loved her mother dearly, the poor human who had taken her in with no promise of reward, who had in turn adored her and raised her. She would forever be nestled beside her wife in Luo Binghe’s heart as family. But spending the morning playing with her new brothers and her new niece amongst the corals, a few nearby children joining once they spotted Shen Yingying, she felt the entirely foreign feeling of being surrounded in a safety net of family.

When the time came at last for lunch, Yue Qi sent off his daughter with a two of her best friends, the pale blue Ming Fan and the dark pink Liu Mingyan, with whom Luo Binghe had spent the last hour playing catch the coral with. She may have thought it strange once for a married woman of nineteen to play with children not her own, but here even the eldest Yue Qi was laughing along with the children and bending light spectacularly to cheat in hide and seek.

“Mermaids are quite playful,” she realised on their way to the palace.

“In comparison to what?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

“The people in my old home. Once you were old enough to perform work, you stopped playing.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah. It… it is.”

Strangely melancholic, Luo Binghe held her wife’s hand a little tighter and kept swimming.

“Qingqiu! Back already I see,” Qi Qingqi greeted them, “Luo Binghe, Shen Jiu, Yue Qi. How lucky that you’ve caught me on shift for the second time.”

“It has been a while Qi Qingqi. Since your promotion I believe,” Shen Jiu said smoothly. “Why are you out here?”

“Empress wanted our best face forward for our special guests. A northern ambassador is visiting.”

The answer seemed to pacify Shen Jiu and they were all let through.

“Bro!” Shang Qinghua greeted, “You brought bro-bro and bro-bro-bro!”

“Yes, hello Shang Qinghua,” Shen Jiu did his best not to show distaste.

“Shang Qinghua,” Yue Qi nodded respectfully.

“Shen family, meet my husband, Mobei,” he introduced excitedly. Sure enough, his husband was close behind him.

Shen Jiu took one look at him, raised a brow, then turned back to Shang Qinghua. Immediately he sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry my King but I told you those two are unfortunately perceptive,” he apologised to his husband, looking a little fed up.

Mobei gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder before greeting Shen Jiu and Yue Qi.

“It is good to meet you,” he said, performing the customary greeting.

Once returned, the six headed towards a dining hall, as directed by the guards.

As they headed along the corridor, Luo Binghe felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. A young girl with a dark blue tail was nervously waiting for her. She tugged on her wife’s hand until she turned around and Shen Qingqiu nodded. Seeing the girl’s distressed expression, hiding behind her wife, she smiled.

“What’s the matter?” she asked kindly.

“Please, I’ll only be a minute. I need help,” the little girl whispered, voice uncertain, “I dropped my shell down a corridor but it’s too dark for me and I’m—I’m…”

Expression softening, Shen Qingqiu pet the girl’s hair gently.

“Well you’re in luck. My wife is an expert at retrieving shells from dark places,” she said encouragingly. She smiled once more at her wife before swishing off to join the party, now of five. The little girl stared at the long tail, still in sight after Shen Qingqiu herself had rounded the bend.

“Why don’t you show me where this shell is?” Luo Binghe said.

“This way,” the girl said, turning and briskly swimming to a slightly higher area of the palace.

Once they had gone further than Luo Binghe felt comfortable with, she began to feel a prickling of doubt.

“You’re the empress’s attendant, aren’t you?”

“…Yes. I am. You must have seen me yesterday,” the girl looked over her shoulder, “We’re here.”

“It isn’t very…”

She was going to say dark before the girl darted into another passageway and out of sight.

‘Hmm.’

“Luo Binghe,” a woman’s voice greeted.

“Your highness,” Luo Binghe responded, turning around slowly.

“Forgive me for the smoke and mirrors,” Su Xiyan said, “I wished to speak with you in private.”

“About my wife?” she asked.

“No, this has little to do with her,” the empress waved off her concern, “No, this is not something involving her. This is something involving you. Tell me, what can you observe about the weather?”

“The weather?” Luo Binghe frowned.

“Are you obtuse?” Su Xiyan asked, flippantly.

A little shocked, Luo Binghe shook her head and answered, “Fine and sunny, but it’s going to storm later tonight.”

“That it is. Even underwater, you can just feel it. That shift in the way you feel your surroundings against your skin.”

“Yes. That’s exactly it,” Luo Binghe realised, “We really must have the same knack!”

She tried to smile but she already felt her words were wrong somehow.

“Oh no. Not by far,” Su Xiyan corrected.

‘Of course, she’s human. She doesn’t have a knack.’

All of a sudden, the Empress’s posture seemed to shift. She grew just a fraction tense, though her eyes remained locked with Luo Binghe’s.

“I am sorry—”

“Oh no.”

“—about this.”

Even before she felt the sharp sting to her tail, Luo Binghe knew she had fallen into a trap. As the guards around her closed in she could feel her limbs begin to fail to respond to her. She looked around desperately, quickly losing more and more feeling, until she saw it. A small, glimmering orange sea snake, covered with sharp spines.

“Take her to Zhuzhi-lang,” Su Xiyan commanded, “Do not harm her.”

It was seconds, in total, between being stung and losing consciousness. The image of the empress still staring impassively into her eyes was the last thing before darkness.

Darkness stopped scaring her years ago, but there’s a difference between opening your eyes and being unable to see and opening your eyes and being unable to see but this time without the comforting warmth of your soulmate’s hand in yours. Or feel anything at all.

But slowly feeling returned. First the tips of her tail began to respond to her, twitching and feeling out the surface she was lying upon. Smooth, stone-like. Cold.

Then her fingertips. She discretely felt out more of her surroundings. Perhaps a bed of strange seaweed.

Then her eyes opened and she realised her mistake.

‘I’m the scariest thing out there,’ she thought, clinging desperately to the thought. She repeated it, firmer, ‘I’m the scariest thing out there.’

She took a deep breath and proceeded to do as her wife would do.

“Hello there,” she said.

The giant sea serpent who nestled had her nestled in its coils seemed to smile. It bent its huge head down to her, revealing a small, red mark on its head, pulsing lightly.

Absurdly, she thought of Xiu Ya begging for pets, so she placed her hand on the mark and stroked the scales there gently.

“Hello cousin,” a voice echoed inside her head.

She breathed deeply and repeated her mantra.

“My name is Zhuzhi-Lang,” the voice said again.

The marine biologist in her observed that it was likely a mental connection, formed by the mark on the sea serpent’s head, and that it was likely indeed the sea serpent speaking to her.

“I am Luo Binghe. The mermaid Empress appears to have had me poisoned and brought to you,” she said aloud. Remembering the orange snake, she added on respectfully, “Though I suspect you had something to do with that.”

Ever conscious of her position, she discretely scanned her surroundings for a method of escape.

“Yes. I am sorry, it was a crude way for us to meet but we were desperate. We need your help. Your father is trapped, and we need you to release him,” Zhuzhi-lang told her, doing her the kindness of speaking plainly.

“Tianlang-jun,” Luo Binghe guessed. She was always a clever girl.

“Yes. We all thought you lost, cousin,” the serpent spoke mournfully, nudging her affectionately.

The same voice as the marine biologist, sounding distinctly like her wife, wanted to coo at the creature.

“Why all this?” she asked, “I would have helped if you’d asked.”

“Not once you see what guards your father.”

“My wife is coming for me.”

“Xiyan is holding her off.”
“Why kidnap me?” she asked finally, “I would have come willingly. I’m a marine biologist. Sea monsters don’t scare me. And you’re a sea serpent in any case, you’re even bigger than my wife, surely whatever’s guarding him would—”

“Your father is guarded by a mutated giant squid. An effect of one of his attacker’s knacks. It heals faster than I can attack. My size is not an advantage. It must be killed all at once, an I cannot do that. And Xiyan quickly assessed that Shen Qingqiu would never let you near it,” Zhuzhi-lang explained, but it was a weak excuse.

Luo Binghe sighed. Desperate people take desperate measures, it seems.

“Fine. I know my way well enough around a spear by now. Show me the way then.”

Zhushi-lang moved his head back and released her from his coils. He was even larger than she realised.

He moved a portion of his body aside to reveal the exit to the cave they were in. The first thing she saw was warm light, a huge network of enormous hydrothermal vents. Huge, glowing geysers that were very clearly not natural formations, judging by the magma flowing unhardened through slivers of the sea floor.

The second thing she saw was the massive red tentacle reaching towards the entrance of the cave before Zhuzhi-lang blocked it off.

“Well,” Luo Binghe remarked.

“The hydrothermal vents,” Zhuzhi-lang began, pushing his head beneath her hand, “Were Tianlang-jun’s last attempt to kill the squid before he fell. He formed them quickly from the rocks of the earth to boil the thing to death. Now that you’re here, you can do the same from in here.”

“I can what?”

“With your knack.”

“I don’t have a knack yet.”

“Of course you do. It’s what you were born with. The mark on your forehead, a symbol of the Heavenly merfolk line, the descendants of the old gods who formed the very seas themselves. Your ancestors who created heat and life and passed that ability on to you. When you were only a few weeks old your father would carry you down to a vent to keep you warm in your sleep and give Xiyan a break,” Zhuzhi-lang recalled.

“I don’t have a mark on my forehead.”

“You do. It’s just hidden. The one who took you, the old master of the Huan Hua graveyard, could cancel another’s knack with a touch. Your knack dormant, but there,” here he paused for a moment. “The squid is distracted, now is your chance. Go out and try.”

“Try what?”

“Opening a vent and directing the heat towards the squid. If you catch it unawares, you won’t be harmed.”

And then he shoved her out the opening to the cave. In passing, she noticed the scarring that covered his scales, the portion blocking the cave entrance freshly torn and scorched. The thought fell to the back of her mind as she panicked.

She absolutely could not control hydrothermal vents, let alone magma or heat or rocks. In fact, she was overheating a little just for proximity. She scanned her surroundings, on the lookout for the squid. It was nowhere in sight.

Gingerly avoiding the boiling water and ashy mounds, Luo Binghe tried to look for her apparent father. The vents, she realised quickly, were arranged in a ring around a bed of ash, and yet, the centre of that ring was icy cold. The layer of ash too had a strange texture to it.

Reaching out, she carefully scooped away a layer of the grey-brown dust. Beneath lay a lake of water. Dense, cold, salty water. A brine pool. And there, meters and meters below its surface, encased in a glowing bubble, looking small and frozen in time, a mermaid who could be a mirror image to herself.

A sudden and terrible screech made her teeth ache. She looked up and saw in the distance the squid writhing against a black backdrop, limbs thrashing wildly.

Then she saw her wife slicing one of its tentacles off with a spear.

‘She’s here,’ was her first thought. ‘She shouldn’t be here,’ was her second.

Instinct sent her cutting through the water towards her wife. She shot up behind her just in time to slip the small foraging knife from Shen Qingqiu’s belt and carve a gash in an approaching tentacle.

“Binghe! We have to go!” Shen Qingqiu cried, immediately grabbing her arm and swimming upwards.

“I can’t!” Luo Binghe replied, “Tianlang-jun is down there and…”

“Your father, yes, A-Jiu made Su Xiyan confess once he realised you were missing,” she panted.

“He’s in a brine pool. Please, let me distract the squid for just a moment and go down for him. The ash layer is hiding him, SHIZUN!” Luo Binghe screamed as the squid’s arm grabbed ahold of Shen Qingqiu’s unguarded tail. Shen Qingqiu cried out in pain as its claws tore at her scales.

“Come back with me!” she begged, desperately singing the words and slicing her tail free before jerking away from the sudden beak aimed for her midsection.

“Give me the spear and just go!” Luo Binghe begged, snatching the spear instead. Defenceless, Shen Qingqiu.

It was terrible timing, but her assertive tone awoke something in Shen Qingqiu.

“Fine!” she shouted, frustrated, before starting down. The squid, ignoring Luo Binghe, made to go after her.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Luo Binghe murmured. As Shen Qingqiu dove into the brine pool, clawed tentacles mere breaths away from her tail, Luo Binghe snapped. It was all well and good when she herself had been endangered, because she was the scariest thing out there. Because her wife would come rescue her at any second.

But her wife had always been the biggest thing around and this squid dwarfed her.

With all the righteous fury of a married woman, Luo Binghe shot faster than a cannon at the squid, wrapping her arms as best she could around its body and looking into its one, enormous eye, bigger than her torso. Her impact forced it through the weak walls of the largest of the hydrothermal vents. Her skin felt like it was burning off but her mind was utterly clear. All she could think was that this monster had hurt her wife, was trying to kill her wife, and peripherally that it had also hurt her cousin and father, though she wasn’t sure yet why they seemed to matter.

It burned.

But it burned the squid more. So she kept pushing deeper and deeper until something in her broke.

Watching in horror as debris fell into the vent and the squid’s screams echoed out of it, Shen Qingqiu realised what her wife had done.

She had burst straight through the ash layer and down further and further into a brine pool deeper than she was long. She saw immediately the glowing bubble protecting Tianlang-Jun. She hesitated only briefly, but when she heard the crash of something above, she pulled herself together. She thrust her hands through the bubble, popping it instantly, and wrapped her hands around Tianlang-jun’s throat, immediately drawing salt out of them.

Then, with the aid of her tail to push then propel her off the sandy floor, she dragged him as quickly as she could to safer waters.

Then she saw what her wife had done. She almost let the emperor of the southern waters fall back into the brine pool, mindlessly flicking the salt from her hands as she stared at the broken vent. The blast of hot water it emitted was only growing stronger by the second. It was becoming dangerous to remain in its proximity.

Tianlang-jun slipped from her fingers and was caught by a sea serpent.

She didn’t notice.

An eternity could have passed before reality caught up to her. It was the sudden silence of the squid that did it.

“Binghe!” her wail split the air more harshly than the squid had and she lunged for the vent, only for an icy hand to encircle her wrist. She turned her head to see Tianlang-jun’s eyes were closed but one hand rested on the serpents head and the other was outstretched.

“Don’t,” the weak emperor coughed, “Boiling.”

“That is my wife and you will LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!” she snatched her wrist away, screaming at him, only to freeze as warm, familiar arms encircled her waist.

“I’m never letting you go Qingqiu.”

Shen Qingqiu shuddered. A sob escaped her lips before she whipped around to suffocate her wife in her embrace. Her tail came up instantly to wrap around her, dorsal fins fluttering lightly to keep them in place.

“Oh,” she said.

Her heart had slowed its frantic beating. She felt far from calm and yet, at ease.

“Oh,” she said again.

They moved mindlessly, mostly guided by Zhuzhi-lang to a safe patch of sand where they stayed for a long time.

“You glow now,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, brushing the new mark on Luo Binghe’s forehead.

“I bioluminesce.”

Shen Qingqiu bit her cheek in protest.

“You know full well this is glowing, not bioluminescence,” she corrected.

Luo Binghe laughed softly. She was echoed by a voice that was deeper and rougher, but still warm and gentle.

Managing to peel herself from her wife enough to look at Tianlang-jun.

She didn’t know what to say. He didn’t either, but he was smiling softly, sadly, at her. She returned the expression hesitantly.

“Um. Hello. Your name is Luo Binghe now, is it not?” he asked gently, “Zhuzhi-lang told me a little of what happened. I’m, well, I’m Tianlang-jun. Your father. You used to call me baby noises and yank my hair, but you can pick a different name if you like.”

‘Hi dad, I’ve always wanted to meet you, are you alright?’ or something like that, is what she wanted to say.

“Your wife poisoned and kidnapped me in order to rescue you,” is what she said instead.

Tianlang-jun grinned fondly.

“Atta girl.”

Shen Qingqiu giggled.

“It isn’t funny my beloved. I was looking forward to having a proper family lunch with you and your brothers and Shang Qinghua and Mobei and instead I get paralysed by a lion snake and dragged down to a veritable colosseum of hydrothermal vents to kill a squid. I was looking forward to that! I was promised fishcakes!” Luo Binghe protested.

Shen Qingqiu giggled harder and kissed her on the lips.

“Oh yes, you did say wife didn’t you. I must say, you are a great deal bigger than my hand now, which is quite alarming. How… how long did I miss?”

“I’m turning twenty this year,” Luo Binghe told him carefully.

“Oh.”

They were quiet.

Mustering up a smile, Tianlang-jun said, “Well, seems like I skipped the annoying toddler stage right into the grandbabies stage.”

Zhuzhi-lang whacked him (gently) with his tail.

“I am currently processing a lot Zhuzhi-lang, you keep your tail to yourself,” he scolded, stroking his scales affectionately.

“I’m, ah, your daughter in law,” Shen Qingqiu began, “Shen Qingqiu.”

“Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu. Were you the one with the hole-cutter sharks?” Tianlang-jun asked.

Perking up, Zhuzhi-lang turned his focus on her.

“Yes. That was me,” Shen Qingqiu answered, a little shy, “I’m… sorry.”

“For what? That little fry you saved was my nephew,” Tianlang-jun told her.

Zhuzhi-lang loomed ever closer to her, eyes shining and forehead mark pulsing.

Shen Qingqiu blinked at him.

“Oh my. What a handsome sea serpent you’ve grown up to be.”

In typical fashion, Shen Qingqiu forgot her wife and unfurled to examine her new victim.

“How beautiful your scales are, you’re even greener than I am. And what sharp teeth…”

Exasperated and in love, Luo Binghe watched as her cousin was thoroughly flustered by Shen Qingqiu’s examination.

Dragging himself across the sea floor, tail not quite working yet, Tianlang-jun moved closer to her. A little afraid, Luo Binghe moved closer to him in turn.

“So is this an open relationship, or…?” he asked.

“Marine biologist,” she answered.

“Ah. My Xiyan was a pearl fisher. I tried so hard to woo her with my voice, but you know how that goes,” he smiled a little wistfully. “Us Heavenly merfolk are very much tone deaf.”

Shen Qingqiu’s head whipped around.

“You’re what?” she asked sharply.

“Tone deaf,” he responded, a little amused.

She closed her eyes in exhaustion and let herself sink back into her wife.

“You know Binghe, sometimes I hate marine biology.”

Luo Binghe laughed and kissed her.

Tianlang-jun stifled a giggle.

Glancing at him, Shen Qingqiu leaned up to whisper to her wife. In turn, Luo Binghe looked over to her father consideringly.

“Right,” he interpreted, “We should probably head to Cang Qiong. I imagine Xiyan has started—”

“Would you like a hug?” Luo Binghe offered.

Tianlang-jun was silent. He stared at her with wide eyes and a broken expression until he nodded.

Slowly and gently, Luo Binghe moved forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly and let him sob into her hair.

“You’ve grown up so much,” he whispered hoarsely. “And I didn’t get to see. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I… can’t wait to love you too.”

It was the best she could manage. For some reason, her throat felt tight.

Abruptly, he pulled back and smiled weakly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

“You too.”

Zhuzhi-lang carried Tianlang-jun to Cang Qiong and Shen Qingqiu more or less did the same with her wife.

“Are you okay,” she whispered quietly, arms wrapped under Luo Binghe’s arms and pressing her to her stomach, much like they had mere days ago on their journey from Qing Jing.

“You were right, you know,” Luo Binghe said in place of answering.

“Usually, but specify.”

“I’m the scariest thing out there,” she said, “A whole heavenly mermaid.”

“Hmm, a small heavenly mermaid.”

“Wife I think it’s time you admit that I’m actually average sized.”

“Never.”

Their reception back into Cang Qiong was wild. Shen Jiu had taken command of the palace and, apparently, imprisoned Su Xiyan and her guards, Shang Qinghua preparing to use his knack to raise an army, and their respective husbands were desperately restraining them.

So the victorious return of Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe, and new family was very warmly welcomed. Screaming, crying, accusations, tearful reunions, and clinical apologies were exchanged and it would be several stressful weeks of story-telling, apologising and bonding before Luo Binghe forgave her mother and Shen Qingqiu could be allowed in the same room as her.

But they were wives and so they worked through it together and so every day they spent together was blissful.

The end.