Into The Sea

“Chunhan.”

The woman turned her head, her gaze indifferent as she looked at the tall figure approaching her.

“Look, these are our children.”

“I never conceived them.”

“Even so, they carry your blood. They are your own flesh and blood.” The man smiled. “Don’t you want to see them?”

She clenched her fists and turned her attention back to the book in front of her. “Don’t waste your time. I won’t love them.”

Time passed, flowers bloomed and withered, and she remained seated in the empty, desolate courtyard at the bottom of the sea. Until one day, a faint cry of pain came from outside the door.

“Ouch…”

She turned and saw a girl lying beneath the pear tree. The girl looked up, her short, round fish tail flicking behind her, her blue eyes fixed on her.

The moment their eyes met, she knew the child’s identity, yet she still asked, “Who are you?”

“I…” The girl clumsily got up, trying to sound composed. “I am Lan Wu, the Third Princess of the Merfolk. Why aren’t you bowing to me?”

“Lan Wu.”

“Ah!” The girl gasped, her eyes widening. “How dare you call me by my name?!”

“Lan Wu, this is not a place for you.”

With a gentle flick of her sleeve, she swept the little fish away. “Don’t come back.”

Unfortunately, the child was stubborn and curious, sneaking back time and again, slowly approaching her, cautiously testing her boundaries. Eventually, she even dared to sit beside her, using questions about her books as an excuse to strike up a conversation.

As time passed, she occasionally pondered a question.

Is a mother naturally supposed to love her child?

Is a mother’s love born from the connection of nine months of pregnancy, or is it built through daily interactions and time spent together?

She couldn’t understand.

Moreover, these two children were not what she wanted. They were merely created by combining her and Lan ZhiChuan’s essence with a flower pearl obtained from Guanyin Mountain, from which they were born.

These two young lives were shackles Lan Zhichuan used to bind her. She understood their purpose and knew that as long as she didn’t develop feelings for them, as long as she didn’t love them, the shackles would be meaningless.

But when she heard the threatening words, she still stopped.

“You can’t go!” The woman before her was as white as paper, her voice hoarse. “I finally escaped and finally saved you. You can’t go back!”

“But…”

“No buts!” The woman’s eyes were bloodshot, her bony hands gripping her tightly, almost bruising her. “Please, Chunhan, let’s go! We’ll… we’ll be able to leave here soon…”

The mermaid’s long lashes trembled, and the tears that fell dissolved into the water, disappearing without a trace.

She stared at the emaciated woman before her, “I’m sorry. I’ve made you like this.”

“This has nothing to do with you…”

“I shouldn’t have brought you back to Penglai.”

“I told you, this has nothing to do with…”

Before she could finish, she suddenly struck the mermaid’s collarbone, rendering her immobile. She then cast a protective spell and pushed her toward the sunlit surface.

Her lover was already battered and bruised, and even this simple magic spell was too difficult for her to break.

The mermaid recovered from her shock, her teeth grinding together. “Chu Chunhan!” she screamed, struggling against the edge of the magic circle, her eyes bloodshot. “Are you going to abandon me for her? Chu Chunhan! Chu Chunhan! Do you love her that much?!”

Chu Chunhan whispered, “I don’t love her.”

She had always thought love was a shackle, but now she realized that her sense of justice and kindness were the real chains.

She couldn’t take advantage of others, she couldn’t be disloyal or unfilial, she couldn’t let innocent people suffer because of her.

Because that had always been her way of life.

Would life have been easier if I had been more selfish?

“Chu Chunhan…”

The voice grew fainter, almost indistinct. She looked at her lover, watching as she opened her mouth and uttered her final words.

“I hate you.”

Chu Chunhan’s lashes trembled, and she turned, diving into the endless depths of the sea.

In the dead of night, Chu Chunhan quietly opened her eyes.

She couldn’t remember what she had dreamed, but finding the bed beside her empty, she threw on a robe and slowly walked out.

A familiar figure lay quietly in the rocking chair under the eaves, long lashes casting a fan-like shadow.

She quietly approached, stopping beside Lan Yueyao, realizing she was asleep.

So, Chu Chunhan looked around, brought a stool, and sat down obediently. The flowers in the courtyard were fragrant, crickets chirped, and she spaced out for a while, unable to resist looking at the woman beside her.

The dim moonlight fell on Lan Yueyao’s gentle features, making her skin look delicate as porcelain.

Chu Chunhan reached out, carefully lifting her sleeve, revealing the earthworm-like scars twisting across her arm.

“Mmm…”

Perhaps startled by her movement, Lan Yueyao frowned and sleepily opened her eyes. “Chunhan?” she asked, her voice slightly hoarse, yawning. “Why are you out here? Can’t you sleep?”

“You weren’t there.”

“Ah,” she smiled, her voice soft. “It was too hot inside, so I came out.”

Chu Chunhan nodded. After a while, she asked, “Does it hurt?”

“What?”

Chu Chunhan pointed to her arm. “There, scars.”

Lan Yueyao froze, pulling her sleeve down with some annoyance. “Why are you looking at that? I covered it up so well.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I…” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Of course not. These are from a long time ago. If I had known my soul would keep the scars from when I died, I would’ve found some medicine to remove them first.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re ugly,” Lan Yueyao said awkwardly. “They’re scary.”

“Not scary.”

Lan Yueyao scoffed. “That’s because you haven’t seen the ones on my…”

She immediately stopped talking, looking at Chu Chunhan with surprise and uncertainty. Sure enough, the woman was staring at her with wide, bright eyes, like a curious child. “On your body?”

Oh no…

She gave a dry laugh, curling up. “Nothing, I was just joking.”

To change the subject, she reached out and pulled Chu Chunhan closer, wrapping her arms around her waist from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Ji Xing is coming to visit tomorrow. Do you want to cook?”

Chu Chunhan nodded. “Fish.”

“How?”

“Stir-fried.”

“Anything else?”

“Braised.”

Lan Yueyao chuckled. “She doesn’t just eat fish, you know.”

Chu Chunhan thought for a moment, then placed her hand on Lan Yueyao’s. “I like it.”

“…” Although she knew Chu Chunhan was simply stating a fact, sometimes she wondered if she was flirting with her.

Probably… not.

While she was lost in thought, Chu Chunhan suddenly called out, “Yueyao.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you hate me?”

Lan Yueyao froze, looking down at her pale face. After a long moment, she asked softly, “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” Chu Chunhan replied, seemingly lost. “I care.”

Lan Yueyao pursed her lips, turning Chu Chunhan to face her. Chu Chunhan let herself be moved, her delicate brows and clear eyes lacking the calm and gentleness they once had, now only pure and untainted.

She sighed inwardly, murmuring, “Some things… it’s better you don’t remember.”

“What things?”

“Things I regret.” She gently took Chu Chunhan’s hand. “It’s good you don’t remember the things I said to you back then.”

Chu Chunhan looked at her quietly, her expression gentle, like autumn water that could encompass everything.

“I used to wish you could be more selfish, but if you were selfish, I wouldn’t have met you, and I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” She smiled, “It took me so long to understand something so simple, something even Lan Wu understood better than I did.”

Chu Chunhan was silent for a moment. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.”

Lan Yueyao raised an eyebrow, smiling helplessly. “You always make me guess. You’re so annoying.”

“Sorry.”

“Alright, alright. If you want to make me happy, just say you like me.”

“I like you.” Seeing Lan Yueyao’s surprise, Chu Chunhan placed her hand on her chest. “Your body.”

“Hmm?”

“Scars.”

Lan Yueyao sighed. “You’re so persistent. Do you really need to see them?”

Chu Chunhan nodded.

Lan Yueyao bit her lip, her face gradually flushing. “If you weren’t so innocent right now, I’d really think you had ulterior motives.” She sat up, pulling Chu Chunhan with her, so the woman was now looking down at her.

Lan Yuan cleared her throat. “Alright, but after you see them, you can’t look again.”