3.Happy Times
1365 Words
From that night on, Bai Mu rose to the surface every evening to meet Allen. They talked about countless fascinating things.
Allen told her about his homeland.
“There’s no sea there,” he began. “Only slow-moving rivers. On both banks grow rows of plane trees. When the autumn wind blows, golden leaves cover the river’s surface like…” He paused.
“Like a flowing dusk.”
Bai Mu, in turn, shared stories of her own world.
“The finest banquet in the merfolk kingdom,” she declared enthusiastically, “is blind shrimp freshly harvested from hydrothermal vents! The flesh still carries the warmth of the earth’s core—sweet and tender, bursting with flavor.”
She was on a roll. “Oh! And during festivals, we release spores of luminous algae together. It looks like green starlight raining upward—like the sky falling into the sea! Hahaha!”
Allen listened quietly, watching her animated expressions as she painted a dazzling, otherworldly realm.
Suddenly he asked, his tone unreadable, “Aren’t you afraid?”
“Afraid?” Bai Mu blinked.
“Of telling me all this,” Allen said, his gaze resting on her smiling face. “Your customs. Your celebrations. Aren’t those secrets of your kind? And you’re revealing them to a… land-dweller.”
She stared at him for a moment—then burst into laughter.
“Humans on land,” she said, sitting up straighter and spreading her hands, “aside from children who read fairy tales—who would actually believe mermaids are real?”
She laughed so hard her shoulders shook, looking entirely justified—perhaps even a little smug.
Allen clicked his tongue lightly, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“You’re quite something, you fish.”
It was a joyful stretch of time.
Like tonight.
The sea shimmered softly as the moon rose from the horizon. Allen stood on the deck, watching it climb.
Bai Mu had already arrived, hiding beneath the ship. He hadn’t noticed her yet. Her bright blue eyes darted playfully—she was planning how to tease him this time.
Suddenly, a steward approached Allen. Bai Mu overheard their conversation.
“Your Highness,” the steward said respectfully, “there is a grand ball tonight. Princess Sylvia has invited you to dance…”
“I have other matters to attend to,” Allen replied calmly. “I won’t be joining the ball.”
Bai Mu’s eyes widened. Her tail flicked, stirring a splash. *Your Highness?* He was a prince? He had never mentioned that.
After the steward left, Bai Mu swirled her tail, sending bubbles floating up before Allen’s face.
Within the bubbles shimmered three wavering reflections of him—one scratching his head, one standing with hands on hips, another mimicking the exact frown he had worn moments ago. It was absurdly comical.
Hidden behind a giant sea anemone, Bai Mu giggled, her tail stirring fine sand into a hazy mist.
“Again…” Allen narrowed his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips.
He reached toward the nearest reflection. His fingers passed through it, scattering light. The bubbles burst into tiny pearls that rained down. He instinctively tried to catch them—but they dissolved into cool seawater between his fingers.
“Hey,” he said, raising a brow. “Mischievous little mermaid. I know it’s you.”
Bai Mu leaped up onto the deck with a grin. “Your Highness of the land—your reflections are livelier than you~”
Before he could fully react, she was close. Her head tilted slightly, strands of glowing seaweed woven into her silver hair flickering softly. Her eyes sparkled with victorious mischief.
“Got you,” she teased, brushing his wrist lightly with the tip of her tail. “Distracted prince.”
But the instant her tail touched his skin, something in Allen’s eyes shifted—a sudden, focused intensity she had never seen before. Not playful. Something sharper.
“This time,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the waves, “I’ll be the one who catches you.”
He moved faster than she expected.
His fingers closed firmly around her wrist. His hand was warm—shockingly warm against her cool skin. A strange current shot through her—not magic, but something more primal.
“What are you—” she didn’t finish.
He gave her no time to react. With a precise pull, strong yet controlled, he drew her off balance. Her silver-blue tail arced through the air in startled motion.
The next instant, her back met the deck.
The grain of oak pressed through her thin clothing—dry, sun-warmed, scented faintly of salt and wind. So different from the yielding sea.
She lay beneath him.
Allen leaned over her, one knee braced near the railing. His other hand rested beside her head, enclosing her fully in his shadow.
Too close.
Bai Mu collided with the light in his eyes.
Up close, human eyes were layered—emerald depths like polished gemstones, threads of warm brown like autumn branches, flecks of starlight scattered in the pupil.
*Wait—what am I thinking?*
“You! …Rogue,” she managed, struggling. His hold was steady but careful—firm without hurting her.
The sea churned uneasily around her tail, but no wave rose to rescue her.
“What?” Allen arched a brow, a victorious glint in his smile. He leaned closer, their breaths nearly touching. “You’re allowed to tease me, but I can’t retaliate?”
Bai Mu fell speechless. Heat flooded her cheeks like a crimson sunset. She turned her face away.
After teasing her enough, Allen finally released her. Then he lay down beside her.
They rested side by side, gazing at the stars. The sea hummed gently below. Moonlight flowed between them like an endless summer game.
After a while, Bai Mu asked softly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were a prince?”
Allen folded his arms behind his head lazily. “What was there to say? You want to hear about tedious state affairs? Or lectures from etiquette tutors?”
She laughed. Then she sat up abruptly. “And what about that princess? Refusing her invitation to dance—how unchivalrous.”
Allen sat up too, brushing wind-tousled hair from his forehead. “Yes,” he said lazily, voice steeped in night air, “I turned down a pearl-wearing princess to spend the evening with a fish who doesn’t even have legs.”
He paused deliberately, a teasing smile curving his lips.
“Don’t you think you should… feel honored?”
“Oh—” Bai Mu made an exaggerated face, the tiny shells woven into her hair clinking softly.
“I’m so touched~” she sang dramatically. “Should I bow to you, Your Poor Highness Who Rejected a Princess?”
Her tail flicked, splashing a little water onto his nose.
Allen only laughed, wiping it away.
“No need to bow. But—” he leaned back on his hands, “you have to stay and watch the stars with me.”
He gazed northward and pointed to the brightest star in the sky—the North Star.
“If you sail straight north from this sea, you’ll reach my country.” His finger traced an invisible route across the sky. “The ship would travel many days and nights. The water would change from deep blue to gray-green, then to muddy yellow. You’d see land—but you’d have to keep going. Cross a mountain, pass through a forest. Then you’d arrive.”
Bai Mu followed his gesture. Silver fragments of light spilled across the velvet sky and into the dark sea below. The band of starlight was so clear it seemed one could reach out and touch ancient radiance frozen in time.
The night breeze carried a distant sweetness—perhaps dew-kissed roses from the ship’s gardens.
Without realizing it, Bai Mu had drawn her tail close, curling beside him quietly.
On the damp deck, their shadows faded into the moon-washed wood, edges melting together.
The night said nothing.
And yet, it seemed to say everything.
- Writer
