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Chapter Text

The storm had passed, but the sea still carried its echo. The sky remained dark, and the waves were still high, slamming against the boat as if voicing its displeasure. At the edge of the ship, drops of blood trailed across the wood—clear signs that something was deeply amiss.

Blood soaked the deck, splinters scattered across the planks. Smoke curled from the shattered mast, twisting into the heavy air. The once graceful vessel now lay in ruins, stripped of all elegance.

Bound and bruised, Xiao Xingchen—the captain of the unfortunate ship—knelt beneath the masthead. His hands were tied behind his back, his hair clinging to his pale cheek in damp, tangled strands. And yet, even in such disarray, the ethereal beauty he possessed remained untouched. His dark eyes gleamed, fierce and defiant as they locked onto the man standing before him. But his glare didn't spark hostility. No—what it stirred was something else entirely… something indescribable.

Across from him stood Xue Yang, captain of the rival ship. His equal in rank. His rival in every way. Their animosity had lasted for… how long now? It felt like forever and nothing about this reckless, brutal man had ever sat right with Xiao Xingchen.

Xue Yang stood barefoot, his coat hanging open, a thin smear of someone else’s blood tracing the line of his collarbone only enhancing the sharpness of his already striking features. His youthful looks could easily fool someone into thinking he was harmless. But he was far from that. A wicked grin stretched his lips, his canine teeth flashing, casting a mischievous air around him.

Xiao Xingchen had managed to wound several of Xue Yang’s men before he and his crew were ultimately captured—hence the bloodstains smeared across the deck like grim warnings. From the very beginning, it had been a hopeless battle. His crew was nothing but children who barely past their first storms. But in the end, he had ensured they were taken alive and unharmed. That was enough. That was all that mattered.

That grin alone was enough to irritate Xiao Xingchen but what frustrated him even more was himself. Powerless. Helpless. Unable to protect the very crew he had sworn to keep safe. While he tried to twist his wrists free from the ropes, Xue Yang’s voice suddenly cut through the air, halting him in his tracks.

“I’ll tell you what,” Xue Yang purred, casually flipping a curved dagger between his fingers. “Pick one member of your crew to take a flogging, and I’ll spare one life for every lash they take.”

Xiao Xingchen straightened instantly, voice firm. “I’ll do it—”

“No, no, Captain,” Xue Yang interrupted, stepping close—so close that their boots nearly touched. His gaze roamed across Xiao Xingchen’s face, as if memorizing every feature. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something that flickered between fascination and something darker. Then, with a grin, he added, “That wasn’t the deal. I’m not going to damage your precious skin, treasure.”

He crouched in front of him, lifting a lock of Xiao Xingchen’s silvery-black hair and bringing it close to his nose. He inhaled, eyes fluttering shut. When he opened them again, his expression had shifted—eerily blank, his tone dropping low and sharp with irritation.

“Pick one. Or I’ll kill them all.”

Behind Xiao Xingchen, his crew froze. Most of them were young. Far too young. He had taken them in during leaner months, when the empire’s cruelty had made survival impossible for fishermen. Children no one else would take, abandoned and forgotten. He had brought them aboard, sheltered them through hunger and storms, raised them with the hope that someday they would grow into dignified young men.

They looked at him now—eyes wide, trembling with fear. Yet they tried so hard to be brave.

Xiao Xingchen’s chest ached. He couldn’t help the wave of pity that washed over him. In this moment, he felt it like a stone in his gut.

He had failed them.

Xiao Xingchen’s throat tightened around the bitterness rising within him. He bit down on his lower lip, struggling to suppress the fury bubbling beneath the surface. His hands, bound behind his back, curled into fists so tight that his nails broke through skin—drawing blood. Yet, unbeknownst to anyone watching, the wounds began to heal immediately, vanishing at an inhuman speed.

He lifted his head and glared at Xue Yang, his voice low and laced with contempt.
“You always were a cruel one.”

Xue Yang smirked, clearly enjoying the sight before him. The moment he caught Xiao Xingchen biting his lip, his throat tightened. He relished this—his voice dipped into a teasing lilt.

“You’re always pretty when you beg.”

But his gaze carried something far darker now. Not just the satisfaction of victory—something obsessive. A hunger, simmering with twisted desire.

That was the true reason he wouldn’t allow Xiao Xingchen to take the punishment himself. He didn’t want to mar that skin, no matter how tempting the idea. Seeing him bloodied and broken would have been fascinating but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Xiao Xingchen’s beauty stirred too many conflicting emotions in him. Only he could make Xue Yang feel like this.

Xiao Xingchen lowered his head, exhaling slowly. He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyelids fluttering shut, trembling—like he was bracing himself to do something he would surely regret.

And he would.

“…Fine,” he said, voice quiet but resolute. “Take A-Hua. Spare the others.”

“No!” the boy cried out behind him.

But Xue Yang was already motioning to his men. They moved at once, seizing the boy without hesitation. Satisfaction flickered across Xue Yang’s face, blooming into something electric. He laughed softly to himself, clearly entertained by the unfolding scene.

He should’ve done this sooner. Toying with the captain had been fun, but pointless. The man had always been maddeningly elusive—slipping through Xue Yang’s fingers like water, even when capture seemed certain.

Tearing his eyes from Xiao Xingchen, Xue Yang gave the order.

“Begin.”

His men nodded.

The whip cracked through the air, striking A-Hua with a sickening sound. With each lash, a name was spoken, and one crewmate was spared.

A-Hua screamed, the pain wrenching through him in raw agony. But after a while, his cries began to falter, until it became fainter. Until finally they stopped altogether.

Silence fell over the ship. Xue Yang’s smirk slowly faded into a frown. Something was wrong. His eyes narrowed, flicking from the boy to Xiao Xingchen, suspicion hardening in his gaze.

Xiao Xingchen didn’t flinch, he didn’t even blink—not once—from the moment the flogging began. His stillness, his calm, stood in stark contrast to the fury he’d shown earlier, and it was this contradiction that stirred Xue Yang’s curiosity.  Something wasn’t right.

As he narrowed his eyes, watching carefully, a faint shimmer caught his attention—right at Xiao Xingchen’s wrists, where seawater had once brushed bare skin. It flickered for only a moment, but Xue Yang noticed it.

By the twelfth lash, he raised a hand and called a halt.

The boy stood unharmed he looked completely untouched. As if the one being whipped had never been him at all. His expression had shifted from agony to calm. Though he still struggled in his captors’ grip, he had stopped crying.

Xue Yang narrowed his eyes.

“Let him go,” he ordered.

His men obeyed, releasing the boy at once. A-Hua bolted without hesitation, rushing back to the shadows where he'd first been hiding. The remaining crew swarmed him, checking frantically for wounds. Some of them broke into relieved sobs.

Xue Yang watched the scene unfold, then slowly turned his gaze back to Xiao Xingchen.

“You’re hiding something,” he said, voice low.

He crouched again, meeting the captain at eye level. One hand reached out, fingers tilting Xiao Xingchen’s chin upward with deliberate gentleness. Their faces were now just inches apart.

“Something wet.”

A cold breeze swept over the deck, but it was nothing compared to the icy edge in Xue Yang’s gaze. It made Xiao Xingchen shudder.

Still, he said nothing.

He knew the truth had slipped, but silence was the only defense he had left. If he didn’t speak it aloud, maybe—just maybe—it would remain a secret.

Xue Yang leaned closer, inhaling deeply.

The scent of the sea clung to Xiao Xingchen’s skin—clean, wild, and briny. But somehow, it only made him more intoxicating. Xue Yang closed his eyes and breathed him in, the corners of his mouth twitching into a dangerous smile.

“They say the sea has its own kind of monsters,” he murmured. “Beautiful ones. The kind that sing sailors to their deaths.”

His fingers slid along Xiao Xingchen’s jaw, thumb brushing softly over parted lips.

“You wouldn’t happen to be one of those, would you?”

Xiao Xingchen’s brows furrowed, his jaw tensing in defiance. But he still refused to meet Xue Yang’s eyes he was afraid that one glance might betray everything.

The sight amused Xue Yang.

But he wasn’t done.

His gaze drifted downward to the faint glimmer of blue marks vanishing under the collar of the captain’s torn coat, that looked like sea-glass under moonlight. From there, fine vine-like lines trail downward, curling delicately across his collarbone and slipping over the slope of his chest. They don’t look like tattoos. They look like something older, something born of salt and deep water.

Anyone who’s seen the ocean bleed would know: only mermaids bear those marks.

“Ah… so that’s what you are,” Xue Yang whispered, a triumphant smile curling on his lips.

He hadn't expected this. His long-time rival hiding this kind of secret? No wonder he'd been so hard to catch, especially at sea. Of course he was impossible to pin down. turns out he was one with it.

How fascinating, was dangerous yet desirable.

Xiao Xingchen still refused to meet his gaze, but the sharp tension in his jaw was answer enough. His silence wasn’t denial—it was confirmation.

Xue Yang’s grin widened.

“Let go of him, you monster!” a child’s voice rang out, shrill and brave but it was immediately muffled, a rough hand clamping over the boy’s mouth. One of Xue Yang’s men restrained him with a scowl.

“I said get those brats out of here,” Xue Yang snapped, his voice laced with irritation. He rubbed at his temple, trying to calm himself.

“Don’t you dare!”

Finally, Xiao Xingchen reacted. Fury distorted his features as he surged forward, only to be caught mid-motion. Xue Yang’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist, anchoring him in place.

“Now, now,” Xue Yang murmured, voice low as silk. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Go now before I change my mind” Xue Yang said in a bored voice, dismissing his men.

“Yes, sir!”

The crew, sensing their captain’s mood, ignored Xiao Xingchen’s protests and began herding the children toward the lower cabins. Their footsteps faded down the deck until only two remained.

“Where was I?” he said lazily, turning his attention back to the man in his arms.

One hand remained on Xingchen’s chin, gently tilting his face upward. The other still circled his waist, fingertips brushing slowly against fabric and skin.

“Ah, yes. I remember now,” he whispered. “I think it’s better if we continue this somewhere… more private.”

Before Xiao Xingchen could respond, Xue Yang shifted his hold and lifted him effortlessly into a bridal carry.

Xiao Xingchen thrashed in his grip, twisting and kicking, but Xue Yang's arms were like iron. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t break free. His fists clenched in frustration—raw, bitter helplessness burning in his chest. He had never felt this powerless before and he didn’t understand when, exactly, everything had gone so wrong.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.”

The words were forced out through gritted teeth, his glare sharp enough to wound. He swallowed his fury but that only seemed to amuse Xue Yang more. No… not amusement but excitement.

Xue Yang didn’t stop. He carried him effortlessly to the nearest cabin and kicked the door open.

Inside, the room was dim, the space cluttered with strange odds and ends, there were shelves lined with weathered maps, candle holders, broken mugs, lockets, and other forgotten trinkets. Shells were scattered across the floor, like offerings left behind by the tide.

Xue Yang’s smirk deepened as he stepped inside.

“It seems our little mermaid has a habit of collecting useless things,” Xue Yang remarked, his voice laced with lazy amusement.

Xiao Xingchen’s cheeks flushed. He looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“They’re not useless,” he muttered, lifting his chin with quiet dignity. “I just… found them interesting.”

“Uh-huh,” Xue Yang replied, clearly unconvinced.

Still, he didn’t argue. Instead, he gently set Xiao Xingchen down on the bed, his movements almost careful—mockingly so. He secured the ropes around Xiao Xingchen’s wrists once more, tightening them just enough to restrain, but not enough to wound. Then he stepped back, admiring his work like an artist admiring a finished painting, he was satisfied, even proud, to have captured the infamous pirate captain with his own hands.

For a while, the cabin was filled only with the soft rhythm of waves brushing against the hull, and the occasional call of gulls circling above. The quiet wrapped around them, thick and tense.

Xue Yang began pacing the room, his fingers brushing idly across random trinkets. From time to time, he picked one up, turning it in his hand, studying it then tossing it back down with the idle grace of a predator toying with something fragile and cornered.

Eventually, he sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze trailing slowly over Xiao Xingchen as if memorizing every detail. Xiao Xingchen remained still, his back pressed against the bedpost, wrists bound, but his presence sharp with unspoken defiance. He was silent but not in surrender. No, his silence was like armor, wrapped tight around something sacred inside him.

“You know,” Xue Yang said, almost casually, “I’ve met one of your kind before. A long time ago. She tried to lure my ship into a reef with her voice.”

He turned then, locking eyes with Xiao Xingchen.

There was a dark glint in his eyes. It was not rage, not even joy but something colder. The echo of something unpleasant… and interesting.

“She failed too.”

Xiao Xingchen’s brows furrowed slightly. “What did you do to her?”

“I killed her,” Xue Yang said, a slow, almost gleeful smile curling at the edge of his mouth. “Took her scales. Sold them for a fortune.”

It wasn’t shocking. Mermaid scales were rare even more valuable than gold. Stronger than any metal, it was perfect for forging high-grade armor. Each one took years to craft, and the result was unmatched.

That was why mermaids concealed their existence. That was why they were hunted, captured, sold. Why so few remained—driven to the deepest parts of the sea where no human hand could reach.

And now, one of them sat bound before a man who’d done it before.

"With a blade forged from silver and cooled in volcanic sand. She didn’t even have the chance to fight back when I struck her."

Silver is a mermaid’s greatest enemy. Silver quenched in volcanic sand wasn’t just metal. It was a weapon of elemental severance born of fire and earth, crafted to reject the sea itself.

Long ago, mermaids ruled the oceans. It was in their nature to lure sailors, to drag ships beneath the waves, to sing men to their deaths. It was instinct that was unchanging and ancient, but the world above could not accept that.

So, magicians of old devised a weapon. They harvested volcanic sand from the mouths of active volcanoes, sand that pulsed with lingering traces of fire magic. When molten silver was cooled in that enchanted grit, it absorbed the fury of flame becoming something unnatural and deadly.

The fire-bound silver disrupted the very essence of ocean-born magic. Sea and flame were natural enemies; one could not abide the presence of the other. So, when a mermaid neared such a blade, their strength would falter. Their lungs tightened and spells unraveled into salt and silence. Their energy bled away like tidewater drawn by the moon.

With prolonged exposure, even the strongest among them would weaken—until they could no longer maintain their human guise. They would revert into their true form: scaled, gilled, beautiful and vulnerable. That made it far too easy to pierce their flesh.

He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking with every slow, deliberate movement. From inside his coat, he drew a small blade, it was ancient, gleaming not with light, but with something older. Something that carried the scent of ash, brine, and forgotten magic. It pulsed faintly in his hand, like a living thing.

The moment Xiao Xingchen laid eyes on it his entire body went rigid.

“Is that why you’ve been so hard to pin down?” Xue Yang murmured, casually twirling the blade between his fingers. “All that vanishing and all those sudden storms. You were using your powers to bend the sea, weren’t you?”

Xiao Xingchen gave no reply.

So, Xue Yang leaned in, pressing the cold edge of the blade to his throat—not cutting, just a warning. A reminder and the effect was instant. Xiao Xingchen's breathing turned shallow, his body weakened from mere proximity. The dagger’s presence was agony.

Xue Yang’s smile widened at the sight. “Who knew this little dagger the magician gave me would turn out to be so useful—especially on you.”

After a beat, he pulled the blade away and stood, walking across the room to place it on a table farther from the bed. He glanced down at the cluttered surface, his voice low with idle thought. “He said I’d need it one day. Told me never to lose it. Looks like he was right.”

Then he turned back and returned to the bed, sitting on the edge with a quiet thud. He leaned in close, voice a whisper brushing just above a breath.

“Show me. Show me what you are, Xiao Xingchen.”

“I would never!” he exclaimed.

That was the final straw.

Xiao Xingchen’s eyes flared an unnatural blue, brighter than storm-lit waves. The air in the room shifted, it was sharp and cold. The temperature dropped suddenly, and water began to seep through the cracks in the floorboards, rising in spiraling tendrils that shimmered like liquid glass. They curled around Xue Yang’s ankles, glowing faintly in the dim light.

With a whispered enchantment, Xiao Xingchen took advantage of Xue Yang’s momentary shock. He swiftly undid his bindings and bolted toward the door but just as his hand reached for the handle, his body faltered.

His strength vanished in an instant.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the floor with his body trembling and glowing faintly. His human form began to waver—rippling like a reflection disturbed by wind. His legs fused together, skin shifting into a cascade of iridescent blue and silver. Scales unfurled across his arms, luminous and fine, while fins flared out from his sides like fragile wings.

His breath hitched. He tried to fight it to stay hidden just a little longer but it was no use. His energy was gone.

Now fully transformed, the mermaid that was Xiao Xingchen lay sprawled across the wooden floor, his body shimmering like moonlight on the sea.

“Did I forget to mention,” Xue Yang said, voice laced with mock apology as he easily slipped free of his bindings, “that the dagger wasn’t the only thing the magician gave me? No? My bad. I must have forgotten.”

His steps echoed in the quiet as he walked slowly toward Xiao Xingchen. It was calm and deliberate. He knelt down on one knee beside him, eyes gleaming with something between curiosity and awe.

From his pocket, he revealed a small, jagged crystal—no larger than a river stone. It pulsed faintly with an inner glow, like cooling embers. Deep orange veins shimmered beneath its surface, beating with a rhythm that felt almost alive. Warm to the touch but to sea creatures, it burned like fire.

Xiao Xingchen’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and fading. “Kill me… if that’s what you want.”

But Xue Yang only let out a soft laugh. “Kill you?” he murmured, reaching out. His fingers trailed along the delicate edge of Xiao Xingchen’s fin. “Why would I kill you… when I’ve only just begun to see what you’re capable of?”

Xiao Xingchen’s eyes slid shut, his heart pounded painfully in his chest. His power was drained, his strength gone, and his limbs heavy.

He was trapped.

But worse than all of that is Xue Yang didn’t want to destroy him but rather possess him.

As Xiao Xingchen lost consciousness, body limp from exhaustion, Xue Yang caught him before he could fully collapse. He stared at the pale face, streaked with sweat and fatigue. He looked utterly spent yet beneath the exhaustion, there was something else—fear. The realization of what Xue Yang truly wanted must have finally settled in. Good.

Droplets of sweat clung to his skin, sliding down the curve of his chest and disappearing into folds of fabric—tantalizing and unexplainably alluring.

Xue Yang reached out and brushed aside damp strands of hair, revealing more of that porcelain-pale face. His robes clung to him, torn and damp, exposing glimpses of bare skin. He was unconscious now, vulnerable in a way that stirred something in Xue Yang’s chest—an emotion darker than fascination.

Without effort, he gathered Xiao Xingchen into his arms once more, lifting him in a bridal hold as if he weighed nothing at all. One arm slid under his tail, the other supported his back, fingers curling against the torn remains of his clothes and the soft skin beneath.

He placed him gently on the bed, careful not to bump him. For a moment, he adjusted the pillows and tucked stray strands of hair away from his face. The light from a nearby lamp cast a warm, golden glow over the room—but Xue Yang’s expression remained unreadable.

He sat beside the bed, elbows resting on his knees, eyes never straying far from the unconscious figure. Minutes passed in silence then, suddenly, he stood.

Crossing the room, he opened the door and stepped into the hall before calling for his crew.

“Bring the chain from the ship,” he ordered, voice low but firm.

The crewmember bowed quickly and set off to carry out the command without question.

Chapter Text

That night, Xue Yang kept Xiao Xingchen locked inside his private quarters. A golden chain, inlaid with salt-silver charms, looped tightly around Xiao Xingchen’s wrists and the end of his tail. This is the enchanted bindings made specifically to subdue sea creatures. At first glance, the scene was cruel: a creature trapped like a trophy. But the chains were padded on the inside, carefully lined so they wouldn’t bruise or cut into his skin.

Xiao Xingchen sat silently on the edge of the bed, his damp hair clinging to his cheeks, seawater still dripping from his clothes. The moonlight streamed in through the narrow window, spilling across the wooden floor like milk poured from the sky. It caught the glint of his tail, casting a soft, luminous sheen that painted him in an almost ethereal light.

“You know,” Xue Yang said lazily, his voice breaking the silence, “I’ve slit men’s throats for fun. Burned entire villages to ash  but none of it ever felt as good as watching you.”

Xiao Xingchen didn’t respond. His brows furrowed slightly, displeasure flickering in his eyes. Xue Yang’s words disgusted him but bound as he was, there was little he could do. His fists clenched in quiet defiance, nails digging into his palms.

After a beat, he asked cautiously, “What happened to the children?”

“They’re fine,” Xue Yang replied with a smirk. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, thoroughly enjoying himself. “And I’ll let them go... if you agree to come with me. Explore the seas together.”

Xiao Xingchen frowned deeply, his voice cold with conviction. “I would never.”

Xue Yang gave a careless shrug, the smile never leaving his face. “Then I suppose I’ll just have them walk the plank…..one by one.”

The threat hung in the air like a blade pressed to the throat.

“Fine, then,” Xiao Xingchen whispered, his voice tight with restraint. “I’ll go.”

-------

Before the first light of dawn touched the sea, Xue Yang gave the order to release the children. To everyone's surprise, not one of them was injured. Though thinner than before, with pale cheeks and tired eyes, they were otherwise unharmed—alive and well.

“Captain!”

“Captain Ge!”

“Captain Chen-gege!”

Their voices rang out as they ran toward him, calling with teary eyes and trembling smiles. The truth of their captain’s identity had already been revealed. The children feared what the notorious pirate might do to him now that the secret was out.

Xiao Xingchen had returned to his human form by then. His steps were unsteady as his body was still weak. Though he could walk on land again, his magic was far from recovered. Even so, he moved forward—slowly, carefully—and greeted the children with a gentle smile, hoping to ease their fears.

He knelt down to their level and opened his arms. The children rushed into them, clinging to him like the last anchor in a storm.

“It’s alright,” he murmured softly. “You will all be free.”

Reaching into the folds of his coat, he handed each child a small pouch, it was a soft velvet, tied with silver thread. Inside, glimmering jewels with each stone worth more than most people would earn in a lifetime.

“These will help you survive,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “But use them wisely.”

The children listened with wide eyes as he gave them final instructions. “Go east. Find a place called Aster. When you get there, tell the owner that Neris sent you. He will take care of you.”

The name meant nothing to them, but they nodded solemnly, sensing the weight of the moment.

Xiao Xingchen watched them, memorizing their faces. He knew he might never see them again—but that was alright. Better they live peaceful lives on land than drift endlessly through the sea’s endless, unpredictable currents.

“Aren’t you coming with us, Captain?” A-Qing asked, clutching her doll close to her chest. She was one of the youngest—only six—while A-Hua, the oldest, had just turned twelve.

Xiao Xingchen smiled gently and knelt down to kiss her forehead. “No, little one. But promise me that you’ll all grow up well, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Yes, sir!”

“We will, Captain!”

A chorus of small voices answered him, innocent yet determined. The warmth in Xiao Xingchen’s chest swelled, comforted by their resolve. He nodded with a soft laugh.

“Good. Now off you go.”

One by one, the children climbed down from the ship. As they reached the shore, they turned to wave at him, little hands fluttering in the morning light. Xiao Xingchen stood there, watching them until their small figures disappeared into the horizon, heading toward the east—toward safety.

Once he was sure everything was in order, he quietly returned to his cabin.

There, he found Xue Yang sprawled in a chair, one leg casually propped on the table. In his hand was a worn map, spread out and held in place by calloused fingers. He was studying it with a rare look of focus—so serious, so intent, it almost didn’t suit him and yet, Xiao Xingchen had to admit, it made the pirate look… striking.

Sensing movement, Xue Yang glanced up, smirking. “Done? Good. Look at this map—this is where we’re heading next.”

Xiao Xingchen approached him, halting just a few steps away. Xue Yang handed him the map, which he accepted in silence. His eyes scanned the parchment until they landed on a mark—bold and red—over a place called Yi Sea.

His heart sank.

That was once his home. The sea where mermaids thrived before they were hunted. The place he had fled long ago.

“Why there?” he asked warily.

Xue Yang stood and turned toward him, eyes gleaming with intent. “That place holds what I’m looking for. A magical artifact that can heal any wound… even bring the dead back. Control them, even.” His voice dropped, laced with something darker. “It was left behind by the Yiling Patriarch before he died from the backlash.”

He stepped forward. Instinctively, Xiao Xingchen stepped back—until his spine met the edge of the table. There was nowhere else to go.

Amused, Xue Yang’s grin widened. “I’m going to fix my little finger,” he said, wiggling the cut finger mockingly, “and have a little fun commanding the dead. We set sail tonight.”

Xiao Xingchen held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. “Very well.”

That seemed to satisfy him. Xue Yang gave a low chuckle, then turned on his heel and made his way to the door.

The cabin fell silent once more.

----------

The waves rolled gently against the shore, slow and steady, as if they were following the setting sun. On the horizon, the sky burned with hues of gold, crimson, peach, and soft violet. As the sun dipped lower, shadows stretched over the sand, driftwood, and tidepools, casting the world in a tranquil glow. There was a quiet kind of magic in the air, as if time itself had paused to admire the beauty of twilight.

The sea stretched wide and endless beneath a cloud-streaked sky—calm, for the first time in days. At the prow of the ship stood Xiao Xingchen. His black hair, dark as the night itself, flowed freely behind him, catching the wind like a banner. He was ethereal, motionless, eyes fixed on the horizon. The taste of salt clung to his lips, and the wind whispered through the rigging like a warning he couldn’t yet decipher.

Behind him, Xue Yang laughed—sharp, smug, and unbothered. His boots thudded across the deck as he barked out orders to the crew, his voice carrying like a crack of thunder. He seemed most alive out at sea, danger coiling off him like the smoke from spent gunpowder. Here, on the open ocean, he had everything he wanted: a fast ship, a loyal crew, and now—Xiao Xingchen, the prize he’d hunted through moonlit tides.

They sailed deeper into uncharted waters, beyond maps inked in blood and legend.
“We’ll find the Magic Artifact,” Xue Yang had promised, grinning like a wolf. “Or monsters. Either way, it’ll be fun.”

“You’re going to regret this,” Xiao Xingchen warned softly, eyes narrowing at the ever-shifting sea. “You don’t know what lies in that place.”

“Oh, but I won’t,” Xue Yang smirked, eyes on the distant horizon.

Xiao Xingchen glanced at him for a moment, then lowered his gaze to Xue Yang’s chest pocket—the place where the silver dagger was hidden. The one that could strip him of his power, bind his magic, cage what made him not human.

Sensing the tension, Xue Yang casually pulled out the dagger, letting the moonlight catch on its blade. The sight made Xiao Xingchen stiffen.

“We’re too far out at sea,” Xue Yang said, spinning the dagger once before tucking it back into his coat. “I can’t risk you escaping, so I’ll be keeping this close.”

“Land ahead!” one of the crewmen shouted, voice sharp against the wind.

Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen moved swiftly to the edge of the ship. In the distance loomed a massive cave—its mouth wide enough to swallow the entire vessel whole.

“Enter the cave,” Xue Yang commanded.

“Yes, sir!”

As they sailed closer, shadows thickened around them. The cave darkened with every foot forward, and jagged rocks jutted from the sea like the teeth of a great beast. The crew steered carefully, wary of striking one and sending the ship to its doom.

Then, a faint glow appeared.

“There,” Xue Yang said, narrowing his eyes. “Sail toward that light.”

They approached cautiously, the glow growing stronger and then they saw her.

A mermaid.

Her tail, a fiery red, shimmered beneath the waves like molten glass. She was beautiful in the way sea storms were beautiful yet dangerous and untamed. But the moment her gaze landed on the ship—on him—her expression twisted into one of pure hatred.

Xue Yang stood tall at the bow, arrogant and unconcerned, as if her presence were no more threatening than a ripple on the sea.

“Xue Yang,” Xiao Xingchen whispered beside him, tense with unease. “Let’s turn back. I can feel her hatred and it’s deep and old.”

“What could a mere mermaid possibly do against us?” Xue Yang scoffed. “Against me?”

The woman rose from the black water, gliding toward a sharp rock where she perched like a queen on a throne of coral. Her hair tangled like seaweed, her eyes glowing with stormlight. Silver-scaled arms caught the glint of moonlight as she pointed an accusing finger toward the ship.

“You,” she hissed, voice like salt and sorrow. “You killed my sister.”

Xue Yang only smirked, unfazed. “Which one? I’ve lost track.”

The sea stilled for a heartbeat.

Then she screamed.

The sound cracked the air like lightning. The ocean surged, wind howled, sails flailed against the mast as waves rose—towering beasts that threatened to devour them whole. The ship groaned under the storm’s fury.

With a voice that cut through the storm like a blade, the mermaid chanted an ancient curse, her words laced with the raw power of the deep.

“For what you’ve done,” she snarled, “your blood will burn like fire within your veins and only the kiss of a mermaid will unbind you from this curse.”           

Xue Yang staggered, clutching his chest as though an invisible hook had lodged deep beneath his ribs. His lips turned ashen. He collapsed against the helm, breath shallow and eyes wide with disbelief. He had miscalculated.

The crystal—the one artifact that could counter a mermaid’s magic—he had left it behind and the silver dagger, powerful as it was, lay useless at this distance. It was too far and most importantly, too late.

He cursed under his breath.

Then everything went black.

The crew rushed to him in alarm, some shouting his name, others drawing weapons and scrambling to capture the mermaid there was chaos erupted across the deck.

Xiao Xingchen pushed through the fray, reaching for Xue Yang but his own limbs felt heavy, his strength ebbing like the tide. He tried to summon the call of the deep, to draw power from the sea, but instead pain seared through his body like a whip. Something blocked him.

Then he remembered: the silver. Xue Yang had kept it close. His magic, already depleted, could no longer pierce its interference. His essence—once fluid and boundless—was now tangled and weak, like seaweed caught in drift.

He could not fight…. not like this.

The storm answered the mermaid’s fury. Wind shrieked through the sails and the ship slammed against jagged rocks hidden in the darkness. Wood cracked, men screamed, and the mast splintered with a thunderous snap.

Xiao Xingchen fell—no, he dived, arms slicing through air, body cutting into the waves.

Beneath the water, amidst the chaos, the mermaid watched from the shadows.

And there—Xiao Xingchen reached him. Xue Yang’s body drifted downward, blood curling through the sea like ink in water. His eyes were closed and his body was limp….. too still.

The mermaid surged forward, face twisted in rage. Her voice echoed like thunder underwater.

“You’ve betrayed your kin!” she screamed. “How dare you help the one who butchered your kind!”

Xiao Xingchen didn’t flinch. Though pain flickered in his gaze, it did not shake his resolve.

“I haven’t betrayed anyone,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, like a lullaby in the storm. “I’m choosing to end it. Revenge won’t bring them back. But maybe… mercy can keep their memory from drowning with me.”

“You are unbelievable!” she spat, voice trembling with fury. Then, like a shadow caught in a current, she vanished into the dark.

Xiao Xingchen pulled Xue Yang closer, cradling him as he swam. Every stroke burned, his muscles screamed. The weight of the curse wrapped around them like chains. The sea thrashed and fought, but the tide remembered its child and it led them forward.

Through darkness, through pressure, through pain until at last, a hidden cave yawned before them. Black-mouthed, waiting for them to enter.

They emerged into a hollow of stone shaped like a cathedral, its ceiling cracked open to let in slivers of moonlight. Xiao Xingchen dragged Xue Yang onto a rocky shelf, collapsing beside him, chest heaving. His wet clothes clung to his skin like a second soul.

“Come on,” Xiao Xingchen whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of dripping water. “Don’t die.”

Xue Yang didn’t move.

Now that the silver dagger was out of sight, Xiao Xingchen could feel his strength returning, his magic flowing slowly back into his limbs like a tide. He placed a hand over Xue Yang’s chest and tried to channel his healing, but nothing happened. The magic sputtered, flickered, then faded. His magic was rendered useless by the curse.

He leaned closer, breath trembling. It shouldn’t have to be like this…

Xue Yang was dying. He could feel it in the shallowness of his breathing, in the pallor clinging to his skin. If magic couldn’t save him, there was only one other way.

A mermaid’s kiss…

But that kiss was no simple thing. It would bind the human to the mermaid for life. If one died, the other would follow. It was a vow. A curse. A tether.

Xiao Xingchen had sworn never to use that part of himself again—not after everything. But time was slipping through his fingers. He could feel Xue Yang’s life fading with every heartbeat.

“Ugh…” A groan escaped the pirate’s lips. His body convulsed in pain. He was pale as death.

Xiao Xingchen couldn’t bear it any longer.

He bent down, hesitated for only a breath, and then pressed his lips to Xue Yang’s.

It was like lightning striking the sea.

The curse crackled between them—twisting, snarling—then shattered, dissolving into nothing. Xue Yang jolted upright, choking on air, chest heaving. His eyes snapped open, unfocused and wild.

“How dare you!” he snarled—the first thing out of his mouth. He was still dazed, vision blurry, but he could feel someone above him. Someone had kissed him and he didn’t care who it was.

Unless it was that person.

With a sudden growl, he grabbed the figure above him and choked them with one hand, fury blinding his senses.

“Xue… Yang…” The soft voice broke through his haze.

His grip loosened. He blinked and saw him.

Xiao Xingchen. Soaked, breathless, eyes wide with emotion.

He blinked again, as if to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination. Then, despite everything, a grin tugged at his lips.

“…That’s one hell of a way to wake up.”

Xiao Xingchen said nothing. He sat back, water dripping from his hair in slow, glistening rivulets. His long black locks clung to his pale skin, trailing over his shoulders and down his back like strands of midnight silk. His shimmering blue tail with streaks of silver like moonlight caught in deep water curled beneath him, scales gleaming faintly in the dim cave light. There was something haunting in the way he looked just then, ethereal and distant, like a spirit born of the sea and sorrow.

Xue Yang should’ve been focused on the pain still echoing in his ribs yet, the sight of that glistening tail, the weight of that silent gaze, stirred something dangerous in him. A longing that wasn’t just lust, It was obsession.

“You kissed me,” Xue Yang said, grin widening, voice hoarse but unmistakably pleased.

“You were dying.” Xiao Xingchen still wouldn’t look at him.

He couldn’t. Not yet.

He was afraid—afraid of what he might see in Xue Yang’s eyes because for the first time in a very long time, his heart was trembling, and he didn’t know what to do with the way it beat.

“That’s what they all say.”

The cave echoed with the quiet drip of water, the storm outside dulled to a distant murmur beyond layers of stone. In the hush, something shifted between them it was gentle as the tide, inevitable as the moon’s pull on the sea.

Xue Yang tilted Xiao Xingchen’s chin up, his fingers rough but careful. Their eyes met, and in that gaze swelled a storm of emotions, it was wordless and undeniable.

“Can I?” Xue Yang whispered, his breath warm against the space between them.

Xiao Xingchen gave the smallest nod, his cheeks tinged red, throat bobbing in a nervous swallow. He closed his eyes, lashes trembling like seafoam caught in a breeze. He didn’t know what would happen next. He had never let himself dwell on mortal desires not even after spending so long among them.

Xue Yang leaned in, and their lips met.

What started as a brush ignited into something more breathless, consuming. Xue Yang deepened the kiss, tongue sliding past parted lips, claiming what he’d hunted across tides. His hands moved with purpose, tugging open the remains of Xiao Xingchen’s torn shirt, fingers tracing along his bare chest with reverence and hunger.

Xiao Xingchen gasped softly, overwhelmed, clutching at the fabric of Xue Yang’s shirt as though it were the only thing keeping him from drowning in sensation.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths were ragged. Xiao Xingchen looked away, face flushed, lips swollen and hair clinging to his damp skin. Embarrassed, he bowed his head, saying nothing.

Xue Yang laughed—low and pleased—and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Feeling shy, are we?”

“Xue Yang… I took advantage of you.”

Xue Yang raised an eyebrow, amused. With the way Xiao Xingchen looked—dazed and kiss-bitten—it was hard to believe he had been the one taking advantage.

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks the other way around.”

“You don’t understand,” Xiao Xingchen said quietly, guilt flickering in his eyes. “When a mermaid kisses a mortal… that bond becomes eternal. Even death can’t sever it.”

So that was why he looked so burdened.

But Xue Yang only grinned wider, unbothered.

“That’s supposed to scare me?” he said, voice soft and smug. “Even without a curse, you'd still be bound to me. For all eternity.”

He reached out and brushed damp hair away from Xiao Xingchen’s face, his touch unexpectedly tender.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”