A Mermaid’s Excursion

8.An Unexpected Bargain

“Heh…”

Ursula finally spoke.

An ambiguous sigh rippled through the seawater.

“In one answer, two whys are hidden. Like a spinning coin with two faces—one gleaming with responsibility, the other glittering with desire.”

“Rescuing refugees? Noble, but dull. That is a reason bathed in sunlight, fit to be told to those naïve seaweeds in the shallows.”

Ursula’s voice drifted closer, like a cold tide.

“But curiosity… what a naïve and radiant reason. It is the nourishment of the deep sea, the hydrothermal vent in the darkness—the most primal and eternal flame that drives a soul to step into the unknown.”

“Purely altruistic sacrifice grows tiresome. That is simple logic for the sunlit shallows. But devotion mixed with private desire—that is far more interesting.”

“Especially when lofty compassion is so unapologetically stirred together with a childlike thirst for adventure…”

“Oh, like stringing the deepest-sea pearl together with the brightest shells from the shallow shore—so mismatched, yet… so adorable. That is worth savoring. That is worthy of my magic.”

“Oh, I agree to trade with you, little mermaid.” Ursula cleared her throat with obvious delight.

“What is the price?”

Bai Mu’s heart remained tightly wound. Dealing with a witch never came cheaply.

She asked carefully, “My voice? Like the predecessor written about in the books?”

“Hahahaha…”

Ursula leaned in, almost pressing her forehead to Bai Mu’s. Her long, pallid fingers gently lifted Bai Mu’s chin.

“Your voice?” Ursula sounded genuinely amused.

“It is indeed like… the first drop of melting ice in the Arctic—clear and pure.”

“But what use is that to me—a being who dwells in an abyss where even light is forgotten?”

Ursula turned and seated herself upon her throne.

“No matter how beautiful a song is, can it dispel ten thousand years of darkness and silence? Can it let me see the world above the sea?”

She paused, then continued excitedly:

“You spoke of the weight of sunlight, the sigh of the wind, the scent of flowers, the warmth of stone, entire forests untouched by water’s distortion.”

She savored each word slowly, as if tasting a rare delicacy she had never known.

“These… are more precious to me than ten thousand songs. No—things beyond any value you could measure.”

She reached into the deepest darkness behind her, stirring it, then slowly withdrew her hand.

In her palm lay a black pearl the size of a dove’s egg, like a solidified piece of deep-sea tar.

“Take this. It is a peculiar kind of night pearl.” Ursula held it out to Bai Mu.

“It looks unremarkable now, doesn’t it? But once you carry it onto land, into the sunlight—it will come alive.”

“It will record everything,” Ursula’s voice trembled with excitement.

“Not in ways you understand. It will record how light truly touches leaves, the subtle pull of wind through hair, every instant from a flower’s bloom to its withering, the patterns of raindrops as they fall—even the invisible cacophony formed by countless emotions within a human city.”

“It will record temperature, humidity, gravity, the texture of time itself—every dimension of land that we sea-dwellers can never truly perceive.”

Bai Mu held the pearl, a strange shiver running through her.

“It will continuously transmit all of this—every sensation—to me.”

Ursula’s twin ghostly flames burned brightly.

“This pearl will experience that dry world on my behalf—the place I can never reach, yet desperately long for.”

She gazed at Bai Mu’s stunned face and added slowly:

“As for legs, I will give you healthy, powerful ones—able to run and leap.”

“Of course,” she smiled faintly, “your skin will retain a hint of your people’s pearlescent sheen. A small aesthetic preference of mine.”

Ursula let out a snort of laughter.

“You won’t suffer like that poor predecessor of yours—each step feeling like dancing on blades, burning in agony.”

Her tentacle waved dismissively.

“Ha! That’s not a bargain—that’s t*****e. A short-sighted and foolish trick.”

There was even a trace of professional pride in her voice.

“My magic is costly, but its quality is unquestionable. After all, you need to complete your rescue… and you need to properly explore the place I can never go.”

“But remember—if the pearl leaves your person for more than twelve hours, or if you attempt to destroy it, the magic will fail. You will revert to a mermaid immediately—which, on land, means drying out and suffocating… or being exposed among humans. You understand the consequences.”

Bai Mu froze, staring at Ursula.

She suddenly felt the witch was not quite as terrible as she had imagined.

Ursula seemed to read her thoughts, her voice returning to its lazy, all-knowing tone.

“I merely want you to record the land world properly. Don’t overthink it.”

Bai Mu nodded.

“I will. I promise.”

Satisfied, Ursula stretched and stood.

“Very well. A deal is struck. Little Bai Mu, you shall be the first mermaid to go ashore for the sake of the land. The sea will remember you forever.”

“Have a pleasant journey.”

She clapped her hands. A powerful surge of water rose from the shadows, gently but firmly enveloping Bai Mu and Bubble.

The pressure eased. Familiar light filtered down from above. Fish swam past, sea grasses swayed. The current carried Bai Mu and Bubble out of the Abyss of Forgetting and back into open waters.

Once outside, Bubble was still shaken. It glanced back several times, making sure the twisted corals and pale, eyeless creatures had not followed. Only then did it release a long stream of trembling bubbles.

Bubble swam up to Bai Mu, its large eyes wide, its sonar pulses warped by shock and disbelief.

“Hey! We—we actually made it out?!”

It flailed its pectoral fins dramatically, pointing back at the absolute darkness that seemed to swallow all light and sound.

“That place from old Turtle Grandpa’s stories—the one you enter and never return from, where you even forget your own name! Ursula! That witch! She just… talked to you, gave you a black stone, and let us go?”

“No scales pulled? No voice taken? Didn’t turn you into sea foam?!”

Bubble circled Bai Mu rapidly, as if checking whether she was missing some invisible part.

“This isn’t right, Bai Mu!”

It gently nudged the black pearl in her hand with its snout. The pearl still looked dull and lifeless.

“Aren’t witches’ bargains supposed to be terrifying? What did she really take? Will this thing bite you at night? Or turn into giant claws and drag you back once you’re on land?”

Seeing Bubble so frantic, Bai Mu finally relaxed a little.

“What she wants…”

She patted Bubble’s head.

“…is more special than a voice or freedom. Perhaps she wants to explore the land world—with me.”

Bubble froze. After grasping the meaning, it shuddered as if the pearl had suddenly turned scalding hot.

“So… wherever you go, whatever you see—she knows?!”

“Yes.” Bai Mu tightened her grip on the pearl, feeling its cold solidity.

“Through this night pearl, she can experience the land.”

After that, Bai Mu returned to bid farewell to her family.

“A mermaid’s life is long,” her mother said as she embraced her,

“but chances to choose are few. You have chosen the harder path.”

“Remember—wherever you go, the sea will always carry you, and moonlight will always guide you home.”

Bai Mu hugged her mother tightly in return.

At last, her family watched as Bai Mu departed.