The night in the mountains was far from peaceful. Insect and bird calls filled the air, along with the whisper of pine winds—and, of course, the faint ripple of water.
Under the moonlight, the merfolk emerged from the lake. He hid behind a lotus leaf and glanced toward the shore. It was empty, utterly deserted.
His silver eyes welled up with tears at once, and his eye rims turned red.
It was like this again.
With teardrops hanging precariously from the corners of his eyes, Xinglin slowly swam toward a pool of moonlight shimmering on the lake’s surface.
Moonlight mingled with the water’s glow—the prime material for mersilk.
He gathered some of the moon essence and water essence. Over the course of a single night, he could weave only a small piece of water-repelling mersilk.
He cradled the segment of fabric, its light rippling like flowing hues. Several merpearls plopped down, embedding themselves in the soft material.
“Don’t ignore me…” A faint murmur dissolved into the water.
–
Li Yin had made an appointment with Senior Sister Xia. With days still to go before returning to the sect, she fell back into her routine as the Player.
But things were different now. She had a Little Peacock and a Little Fish to look after.
The Little Fish was angry, so she didn’t force her way close to him.
The Player’s go-to method was to use cheap little trinkets to boost her target’s favorability.
They weren’t worth much.
But they worked.
So every time Li Yin went out, she brought back small gifts and gently left them by the water’s edge.
Sometimes it was a wildflower of a rare color—or one with an especially rich fragrance.
In truth, she always picked two. The other was for a certain Little Peacock to sniff.
Other times, it was a few dainty accessories to serve as decorations for her Little Fish.
The Player settled on a hair ribbon: cloud-water blue with subtle embroidered wave patterns that shimmered faintly. Each end was adorned with a lustrous, snow-white pearl. It suited the merfolk’s seaweed-like long hair perfectly at first glance.
The little gifts by the shore were usually gone the next day. Though Li Yin never stared outright and never caught sight of the merfolk, she could hear the splashing of water in her ears—the sound of a fish tail churning the lake. Even at night, he seemed busy.
Beyond that, the Player would drop by to check on the Little Peacock now and then, always deliberately teasing him.
The wildflower she picked was too fragrant. When the Player made the Little Peacock sniff it, it provoked a sneeze from the Young Master—followed by a peck from him.
Or she’d place the flower atop the Little Peacock’s head, only for the temperamental Young Master to shake it off in one go, then peck her again.
The Player never got angry. With soft words, she coaxed the Little Peacock into transforming into a beautiful youth so he could show her the flower pinned in his hair.
The flower tucked beside the youth’s ear couldn’t outshine the flush of his cheeks. The Young Master had never served anyone with his beauty before, so he naturally shot her a glare.
The Player still wasn’t angry.
She remarked, “You look so good,” then produced a hairpin styled like a peacock tail feather—azure blue—and coaxed him to try it on too.
“I spotted it by chance. The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” She stroked the hairpin as if caressing his feathers. “It matches your colors perfectly. Nothing could suit you better.”
But the Young Master suddenly asked, “Is that all?”
Li Yin had been inspired by her master to bring a hairpin as a gift for the Little Peacock too.
Gifting a hairpin carried special meaning here. She hadn’t tried to guess her master’s intentions but decided to hook this Little Peacock with one first.
The girl’s eyes held puzzlement, her expression calm, as if to say, “What else would it be?”
Qing Yi abruptly grew unhappy and let out a soft hum. His gaze fell on the item in her hand. “The Ancestor likes wearing a tail-feather hairpin too.”
He wore an expression of utter indifference, as if uninterested—as if he didn’t want it.
He brushed it off lightly, but Li Yin’s hand trembled slightly. She kept her composure. “Is that so?”
She had almost forgotten about that.
In her save file, there really was a white tail-feather hairpin.
While tending to the old Feather Clan Young Lord’s daily needs, the Player had suddenly picked one up—a beautiful white peacock tail feather, inexplicably dropped on the ground.
The Player picked it up, intending to return it to its owner, and offered it to the White Peacock.
The former Young Lord’s eyes shifted slightly. He glanced at her and the item in her hand, seemingly indifferent. “Dropped is dropped. Just throw it out.”
He looked away and ignored it. But these peacocks clearly cherished their tail feathers above all—they were beautiful, after all. Throwing one away seemed such a waste.
So the Player asked, “Can I keep it?”
In her memory, his pale red pupils shifted to her again. There was no change in his expression or tone—perfectly flat. “Do as you like.”
The Player took that white peacock tail feather and had it refined into a hairpin, which she wore in her hair.
She did it deliberately to catch her capture target’s eye. He truly ignored it completely, letting her be.
As for what happened to that hairpin later…
Before reloading her save, the Player had thrown it away.
It probably wasn’t the same one.
After all, it was something the White Peacock had discarded. Once he rose from Young Lord to lord of the clan, why would he pick up something thrown away and wear it on his head?
The Player swallowed silently, betraying no unease, and pinned the hairpin onto the Young Master before her.
The azure green gleamed with a layer of blue sheen, perfectly harmonizing with his hair and clothes. Nothing could suit him better.
“Really pretty,” she praised.
The Young Master didn’t seem to care much for gifts from a human cultivator.
No matter how beautiful the hairpin was, it couldn’t compare to his own tail feathers.
He didn’t say whether he’d accept it. Instead, he transformed back into his original form, and the hairpin vanished along with him—leaving only the flower, which dropped beside this Little Peacock.
【Alright! I’m going to cultivate now. I showed you—don’t disturb my cultivation.】
By indirectly keeping the hairpin, the Young Master had accepted it. The Player could roughly estimate that his favorability toward her was quite high.
“Okay, okay.” Li Yin didn’t call out his little scheme. She’d had her fun anyway and considerately withdrew.
Demon cultivators typically transformed along with their clothes—merfolk were the exception.
Merfolk were born with human torsos and fish tails. Their transformation spells weren’t proficient yet; they needed slow practice and mastery. Otherwise, they’d end up disheveled every time.
Besides amusing herself with the Little Peacock, the Player’s routine included proper tasks—like preparing the pills and talismans needed for her upcoming travels.
Occasionally, when she ran into her master emerging from seclusion, the Player would pause to share a cup of tea with him.
The good news was that her master’s eyes had fully healed. Moreover, the Player noticed that he often watched her.
His ink-black pupils always held a gentle smile, yet they vaguely concealed some indescribable emotion.
At first, the Player thought it was her imagination. Later, she realized it wasn’t.
Every time her beautiful master lifted or turned his gaze to her, it seemed laced with unspoken worries.
The Player pondered this seriously.
She had once played the role of a capture target’s master and had taken a capture target as her master—though in unrelated save files, with different targets.
But with her comings and goings, the Player was experienced. She’d tried both roles and had some sense of a master’s mindset versus a disciple’s.
What’s more, she was Elder Yaoguang’s very first disciple.
The Player figured it was because her disciple was about to head out on a training journey, leaving her master worried.
Li Yin nodded to herself and proactively assured her master that she would protect herself and return safely.
Her beautiful master gazed at her, a faintly helpless smile on his lips.
After a long moment, Yao Guanheng nodded slightly and softly replied, “Good.”
–
Before the Player set off, the Little Fish showed up at her door. He left several layers of gauze veil right there in front of the small building.
He set down the gift but didn’t leave. Instead, he found a spot to hide and secretly watch.
The Little Fish disliked walking. He curled his legs together and sat sideways on the ground to rest for a bit.
He had changed into clothes that weren’t too revealing. The sudden shift in attire felt awkward, so he tugged at the hem.
As if by accident, a corner of his garment shook loose.
Anyone paying attention could spot him hiding there with a single glance.
Soon, he heard movement. The Little Fish froze, his silver eyes fixed on the door as it was pushed open.
The human girl’s footsteps—poised to head out—halted abruptly. She spotted the items on the ground at once.
She seemed mildly surprised. Bending down, she picked up the gauze and realized it was a veiled hat.
One look at the color and texture told her exactly whose handiwork it was.
She didn’t try it on. She didn’t even seem to notice the Little Fish lurking in the shadows.
Instead, she simply took the gauze veil veiled hat inside and shut the door behind her.
She had no intention of seeking him out.
The Little Fish in the shadows stewed in frustration, his cheeks flushing red with anger.
His long lashes trembled nonstop, brimming with aggrieved tears. His blurry vision locked onto the firmly shut door, which showed no sign of reopening.
Just as a merpearl was about to roll free, a voice suddenly rang out from behind him.
“Why is there a beached Little Fish here?”
His heart skipped a beat. He whipped his head around to see layers of pale veils cascading down, instantly enclosing the startled Little Fish—and the other person with him.
Her veiled hat wasn’t positioned quite right; it tilted toward him. Layers of the sheerest blue gauze overlapped, taking on a moon-white hue as they draped in a circle.
It was like moonlight arriving belatedly in the daytime—or an exquisite cage that had suddenly locked away this Little Fish, sealing off their tiny shared space.
“Really pretty. Did you make this? Can I take it as a return gift?” Li Yin’s smile was gentle, her tone perfectly natural, as if the two had never quarreled.
Xinglin fidgeted awkwardly. Only after a long pause did he mumble, “…Mm.”
He reached out again to adjust it properly for her. The space shrank as the lightweight fabric draped behind his head, drawing them even closer in an instant.
Li Yin gazed at his flushed face. “Why did you want to give me a veiled hat?”
His still-watery eyes glared at her despite themselves. The Little Fish gritted out, “To cover your face. So you won’t go flirting with people outside.”
The human girl didn’t get angry. Her eyes lowered slightly—whether in relief or sorrow, it was hard to say. “I thought… you hated me. That you didn’t want to see me anymore.”
Her only response was a soft hum.
The Player pressed on. “These past days, I’ve been thinking—I must have hurt you again. Maybe it would be better to dissolve our contract. I always make you cry.”
As she confessed softly, the tears the merfolk had just managed to hold back welled up anew.
“No, don’t.” Xinglin refused, panic rising in him. He suddenly pounced, tumbling straight into her arms.
Li Yin watched the teardrop quivering at the corner of his eye.
The Player’s tone turned low and hesitant. “But what if I make you sad again someday?”
She stated plainly, “This bleeding-heart softie habit of mine… I probably can’t change it.”
A trace of sadness colored her expression, as if she’d given up on herself entirely. She quietly pushed the decision into the merfolk’s hands.
“You—” As his tears swayed, Xinglin’s words caught in his throat.
From the very first moment she arrived at the Celestial Pool, he hadn’t been able to truly hate her.
That was why he never cast a spell to drive her away. He had only splashed water to test her, out of wariness toward human cultivators.
A storm in the Outer Sea had blown him onto the continent, far from his clan, leaving him to suffer alone. Evil cultivators cared nothing for his pain; they inflicted wounds to force tears from him, harvesting merpearls for profit. Those were the scars they left behind.
He had been greatly favored in his clan, with a spoiled and willful temperament that wasn’t exactly endearing to begin with. After his ordeal, it worsened—he could scarcely get along with cultivators of other races.
She had healed those scars for him and tolerated his temper. He had become a pretty, delicate Little Fish once more.
He couldn’t return to his clan’s home in the Outer Sea just yet, but on land, he had found a new family—or rather, a companion he wanted to spend his life with.
This beautiful merfolk finally relented. He bit his pretty lip, unwilling but resigned. “Fine.”
“I-I forgive you, then.” His lashes were soaked, several tiny, crystalline droplets hanging from them.