Chapter 32: Love Can Be Made? (Part IV)

The mermaid carried the human into the depths.

In less than two minutes, the human began to struggle violently. The mermaid panicked for a split second before remembering something; it pressed its lips against the human’s, forcing its tongue inside.

It recalled hearing other mermaids say when it was very young that a mermaid’s saliva could allow a human to breathe underwater for a short time.

Li greedily drank the fluid from the mermaid’s mouth.

The medicine had failed, but she no longer needed to test it on herself. This was merely a probe to understand the mermaid; it made her realize that the creature’s affection for her was far deeper than she had imagined.

After swallowing the mermaid’s saliva, Li recovered instantly. Another point from the manual was confirmed: their saliva granted humans the ability to breathe submerged.

Li pushed the beautiful mermaid away, savoring the bizarre experience. Her eyes sparkled with intensity; she thought that next time, she would simply harvest the saliva for testing.

The mermaid did not understand the human’s calculations. It mistook those glowing eyes for love. It slid its tail between the human’s legs. Even the freezing seawater couldn’t dampen its scorching body temperature. In the water, every aspect of its physical power was amplified.

It gripped the human’s waist and brought its head to her chest, using its teeth to snag the small bit of white fabric and tugging it upward. It liked the human’s exterior—soft and warm—but it craved the human’s interior even more.

Li wrapped her arms around the mermaid’s neck, her legs encircling its waist. Seawater rushed in with the mermaid’s movements. The creature’s body was too hot; despite being underwater, its hands and mouth felt feverish.

The interplay of cold water and searing heat made Li restless, but a singular, strange sensation traveled from that small point of contact straight to her brain. In the silence of the water, it felt like a wordless performance.

Her mouth was captured again. Her chest was wet—not just with seawater, but with the mermaid’s saliva.

Eventually, the mermaid brought her back to the edge. Her upper body breached the surface while her lower half remained submerged. Through the pale blue water, one could clearly see the platinum-gold tail gripped tightly by a pair of slender legs.

A moment later, the mermaid pinned Li against the shore, its tail transforming into legs. There was no longer any obstruction between them, save for its seaweed-like long hair.

Li lay by the edge, the ground soaked. Her trousers had long since drifted away underwater. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “No… no more.” She felt as though she were being tortured to death.

But the mermaid didn’t understand. It only thought the human looked breathtakingly beautiful like this. It liked it. And so, its actions became even more excessive.

“Cut! That’s a wrap on this scene!”

The moment the Director’s voice rang out, Shen Xun snapped out of character. Her gaze swept over Zhao Xue, who was lying beneath her. She stood up first, took a towel from the Director, draped it over Zhao Xue, and helped her up.

“Senior, are you alright?”

Zhao Xue looked at Shen Xun silently for a moment before giving a low “Mm.” She didn’t know how to swim, so she had relied entirely on Shen Xun. The underwater kiss had actually been to share air so she could hold out longer. They had filmed this scene three times, all submerged.

Zhao Xue’s body felt feverishly hot. She pressed the towel against her face, trying to rub away the inexplicable heat in her cheeks.

Something is getting more and more wrong with me lately.

She glanced at Shen Xun from the corner of her eye. Shen Xun was already sitting in a chair with another towel, smiling as she discussed the plot with the Director. She looked completely normal.

I’m the only one who’s off.

Zhao Xue bit her lip, feeling a vague discomfort she couldn’t quite name. She could only set the emotion aside for now and focus on the script.

Li spent an entire week accompanying the mermaid through its breeding cycle. The mermaid now fully considered the human its mate. Day after day, it waited for her arrival. The human was its entire world.

However, its body seemed to be growing weaker. The mermaid raised a hand to look at its body, which was becoming increasingly transparent in the water. Its tail, missing many scales, was bloodied and dull, filmed over with an unshakeable haze.

It surfaced and opened its mouth, singing a slow song in the empty space. It was a distant, mournful tune—like the crying of a mermaid. It knew its life was coming to an end. A mermaid’s tail represented its life force; it was dying. What could it leave behind for the human?

Meanwhile, Li frowned as she watched her lover’s vital signs continue to drop. She knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Since the mermaid couldn’t understand her words, she could only use actions to express herself.

A dark glint flashed in Li’s eyes. She called for an assistant and entered the mermaid’s enclosure with them for the first time.

As the mechanical doors hissed shut, Li pinned the assistant against the door, creating a staged, “cheating” kiss—ensuring the mermaid could see it. According to the records, mermaids were creatures with extreme emotional “cleanliness”; they could be driven to collapse by a partner’s betrayal.

After a long moment, Li walked to her usual spot. she lifted her eyelids to look at the mermaid’s wide-open eyes. It stared at them, then slowly closed its eyes and turned its back.

Li looked thoughtful. Is that not enough?

She beckoned the assistant over. Leaning into the assistant’s ear, she whispered, “Crouch down in a moment, understand?” The assistant looked dazed but complied.

Li ignored them and began to remove her clothes, though she kept a small camisole on underneath. As the assistant crouched, Li threw back her head and let out a series of moans.

The mermaid’s ears twitched. It knew that sound all too well. It turned its head stiffly, its eyes flinching as if stung, before quickly turning back and remaining frozen.

After a while, the sounds stopped. The door opened and closed again.

The mermaid turned back to see the human with a flushed face. There were ambiguous red marks on her neck, displayed openly without shame. At that moment, its heart broke. It had actually understood from the beginning: no matter the occasion, the human’s gaze toward it was always rational.

The mermaid swam slowly to the glass and pressed its cheek against it, its eyes filled with infinite sorrow. Deep blue liquid flowed from its eyes, eventually forming crystals that settled at the bottom of the tank.

Li’s eyes lit up instantly. Mermaid tears!

The mermaid looked at the human and emitted a specific frequency: I deceived myself for so long, thinking you liked me too. But I am dying. It hurts to see you with your own kind, but I suppose it is only right. Do you know? You aren’t a very good actor at all.

Li didn’t understand, nor did she have time to look at the mermaid’s expression. She only had eyes for those deep blue crystals.

Until she heard a single word.

“Li.”

Li froze. She snapped her head up, meeting the mermaid’s bitter yet relieved smile. Those tears were never tears of despair; they were a blessing.

I hope you find happiness.

Seeing the human respond, the mermaid called out again: “Li.”

Li was stunned. “How… how do you know my name?”

The mermaid pressed its forehead against the glass, matching Li’s forehead with only the pane between them. It managed a smile, trying to look happy, but its eyes held an unerasable sorrow. It emitted a frequency, then called again: “Li.”

Li opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was inexplicably parched. The sequence the mermaid had just communicated translated to: Love—Li.

Li slowly reached out to touch the glass as she used to, but the mermaid moved away. It turned its back to the human and sank to the bottom.

Li closed her eyes and exhaled. She went up the stairs and dove into the water. This time, the mermaid did not swim over with a joyful smile to nuzzle her. Li gathered the crystals, taking one long look at the mermaid’s scarred back before surfacing and leaving without looking back.

She rushed to the lab, grinding the crystals into powder and mixing them into a nutrient solution. She returned to the lab where her lover lay sleeping.

“Xiao He, just drink this and you’ll be fine.”

Li fed the solution to the patient. But the effect wasn’t instantaneous. Anxious and restless, she refused to leave, keeping watch without eating or drinking. Inexplicably, the mermaid’s final gaze—sorrowful and hopeless—flashed in her mind. She shook her head, trying to banish the thought.

What she didn’t know was that three days after she left, a group of people arrived at the mermaid’s enclosure. They took the mermaid away without ceremony.

The leader of the group remarked, “Dr. Li is useless. After all this time, she researched nothing. Let me and my team handle this.” He glanced at the lifeless mermaid.

The mermaid was placed on the operating table. It didn’t struggle. it simply allowed the sharp instruments to slice into its body.

Goodbye, Li…

“Great! That’s a perfect wrap!” The Director clapped happily, and the rest of the crew cheered.

They had finished ten days ahead of schedule, thanks largely to the two leads. The Director walked over to Shen Xun and Zhao Xue, patting them both on the shoulder. “Good job. Wrap party tonight. Zhao Xue, stay back for a few pick-up shots. Shen Xun, you can head back and get some rest.”

Shen Xun smiled. “Thanks, Director. I’ll go remove my makeup then.”

Once Shen Xun left, the Director looked around before leaning into Zhao Xue’s shoulder and whispering conspiratorially, “Zhao Xue, do you like Shen Xun?”

Zhao Xue’s eyes widened, her gentle facade nearly slipping. “Director Zhao, what on earth are you talking about?!”

The Director squinted. “I’m just saying. Why such a big reaction?” He had spent quite a bit of time with Zhao Xue and found her to be a decent person. Others might not have noticed, but as a director, his eyes were sharp. He had noticed that many times, Zhao Xue couldn’t snap out of character quickly. That was not a good sign.

The Director turned serious. “Falling for a co-star is the most common thing for actors. But this is a GL film. No matter how open the industry gets, fans won’t easily accept their favorite star being gay.”

Zhao Xue put on a smile, though she was clearly distracted. “Director Zhao, your worries are misplaced.”

The Director glanced at her. Shen Xun’s ability to exit a character was absurdly fast, and she maintained a polite yet distant manner with everyone. But Zhao Xue was different. She looked smart, but with those big eyes and soft features, she looked like the type to get “love brain” easily.

The Director didn’t want to dwell on the subject. “Fine. Get ready; let’s film the final pick-up shots.”

Filming for Mermaid A31 was officially over. Before parting, the Director gave the actors red envelopes. Zhao Xue boarded a plane back to B-City.

As soon as she exited the station, her assistant picked her up. Once home and having sent the assistant away, her manager, Lin Fang, called. “Do you want to rest first, or look at scripts and endorsements?”

Zhao Xue replied, “Let’s do the endorsements. Fang-jie, can you help me check Shen Xun’s schedule?”

There was a long pause as Lin Fang seemed to take a deep breath. Finally, she said, “Zhao Xue, sometimes I really wonder if you like Shen Xun.”

Zhao Xue’s eyes widened, her tone turning sharp. “Fang-jie, how can you think that? I hate her to death.”

Lin Fang scoffed. “Better stay that way. People would think you’re Shen Xun’s little tail—whatever she does, you follow.”

Zhao Xue sounded a bit exasperated. “Fang-jie, whose manager are you anyway?!”

On the other end of the line, Lin Fang rolled her eyes. “Fine, I won’t argue. I’ll send over some brands for you to pick from.”

Zhao Xue’s status wasn’t massive, but she still had the right to choose her endorsements.

The call ended. Zhao Xue lay on the sofa with her eyes closed. Following the original host’s personality, she wouldn’t have rested, so Zhao Xue chose to keep working. But work was truly exhausting, no matter what it was.