More or less—that’s it. My memories are fogged like dawn mist; the last thing I saw was her mouth opening like a dark crescent. Then I woke here.

…

When Qingyu Mengyin finally woke, I had no idea how long had flowed by like tidewater. I even dozed in her arms—well, she actually woke before me.

Now the room is empty again, a shell with just me inside. Isn’t this supposed to be the sea? Yet it looks like a land house, all walls and quiet air. What happened to me? If anything had gone wrong, shouldn’t she have eaten me like a shark snaps a fish?

But now… I glance back at a mirror distant as a calm pool. In it, a blue‑haired, gold‑eyed little girl blinks, light glinting like sun on wave. Not an infant—more like three.

Did I reincarnate as her daughter? What kind of twist is that? Am I supposed to call an enemy “mom”? Enemy’s too much, honestly; I kinda dug my own grave.

But to wake and immediately call the person who just beat me “mom”? Who can swallow that storm?

“Ying‑ying…” After a nap my throat feels better, and a sound finally bubbles up like a spring.

On the far side of the house, Dreamsound busies herself cooking tonics, steam coiling like pale serpents.

“…Forcing it clearly caused an accident. …Shengsheng took three years to break shell. If I couldn’t see her breath still flowing, I wouldn’t know what to do—sob.”

“So weird… According to the book, this formula repairs bodily flaws. It should be pale yellow. Why did it turn green like moss?”

“Did I forget something… Huh? Little Shengsheng woke up? I’ll check first.” She drops the uncovered pot and dashes out like wind over grass.

“Little Shengsheng, awake? Mommy was just brewing medicine. You’re weak as a fledgling, so no getting off the bed. It’s fine—Mommy will care for you!”

The girl on the bed stares, a question mark hanging over her like a drifting kite. Dreamsound’s smile freezes like ice.

“Um… Little Shengsheng, are you mad at Mommy? I’m sorry… I didn’t leave on purpose. I just wanted you to wake and taste something good…” Her voice trembles like a plucked string.

I don’t understand a word she’s saying.

Nope—what’s with this lady? Auntie, our languages don’t match, hello! And how do you start crying mid‑sentence like rain on a clear day!

I want to speak, but everything comes out as ah‑woo and ying. Every time I open my mouth, my throat itches like nettles. So we shout across a canyon in different tongues—until a thunderclap booms from next door.

The kitchen exploded.

Dreamsound stands silent, guessing the storm’s center. Instinct surges to rush in and fix it with magic, but a thread of reason tugs: don’t leave Little Shengsheng alone, or I’ll be coaxing her till moonrise.

She finally walks over and gently scoops me up, carrying me to the kitchen like a gull bearing a chick.

… (Switching perspective)

Wait—what just happened? Earthquake? No, that’s an explosion. Aren’t we under the sea? Hey—what are you doing? Don’t pick me up!

As the girl drew close, Qingsheng Tangxue’s little potato of a brain finally caught up, rolling along like a slow tuber.

You’re off—where’s your fish tail? Ah, it’s on me now? Okay then.

“…”

“Ahhhhhhh!”

“…Shengsheng? Don’t fuss. Mommy has to tidy the kitchen, or we’ll go hungry again today.”

Just when I finally caught up, the supernatural twists snapped my mind like a bowstring. First, I died. Then I got reborn as the mermaid queen’s daughter.

Then I found out she’s not a mermaid—but I am. Emmmm.

Words sprinted through my head like flashing ads: top‑up bonus, fast‑forward, take the fall, take the reins. The potato brain overheated and shut down; I fainted.

“Huh? Fell asleep? Fine, that’s good too. I’ll start with a good impression. Best not let her know Mommy can blow up a pot while brewing medicine…”

“This…” Faced with a floor coated in green unknown slurry, Dreamsound is struck speechless, tongue knotted like kelp.

“Luckily Little Shengsheng didn’t see. Phew.”

Clean it fast.

Her eyes sharpen like blades. The green slime clinging to every surface lifts and floats like drifting algae, then gathers back into the pot.

She peeks in at the indescribable thing, flinching as if it stared back. “Better dump it. What a waste—so many precious herbs… Where did it go wrong? Hm. I’ll try again…”

…

“Where is this? Wait, why am I still like this… Frostwhisper, you’re here too?”

Frostwhisper smiles, warmth soft as snowlight. “Master, I may not be able to help you for a while. My memories are returning like thaw. I might sleep for a long time. Please take care of yourself… Don’t be so reckless. And eat breakfast—if you skip meals, you won’t grow tall.”

“I’m not a kid anymore! …Frostwhisper, did you say… you’re leaving? No—don’t…”

“It’s only sleep. When Master grows strong, and my memories finish mending, I’ll wake. So don’t wear that I’m‑about‑to‑die look, okay?” Frostwhisper smiles at me, but there’s a shadow in that smile, a crescent of night.

“Please take care. Remember to care for yourself, Master…”

“…Frostwhisper. Frostwhisper!”

“…Hey, Little Shengsheng, you’re awake?”

“…?” Speak human, please.

Frostwhisper… No answer. But I can still feel her like a steady ember. She didn’t vanish.

…So hungry. My stomach burns like a brazier, a hollow furnace. Hungry—so hungry… I want a braised chicken leg, sweet soy with a whisper of spice, that melt‑in‑the‑mouth bite—hehe—slurp.

“Awuu! Mmf—mru—” I bite the “drumstick” that appears before me without a flicker of doubt, teeth like tiny shells.

“…Honestly. So you were hungry?” Dreamsound’s sigh is a soft wave. “Hold on—the soup’s not done.” Little Shengsheng shouldn’t eat anything too hard. Probably.

Oh, come on. The way she offers her finger for sucking is illegal levels of cute. Dreamsound can’t bring herself to pull away; with her other hand she pinches my round cheeks, plump as steamed buns.

“Gurgle—gurgle—” Another pot simmers a fish soup she’s carefully crafting. But the look is… ominous. The broth’s dark as stormwater, a half‑boned fish floats like a pale log, and a fish head bobs like a skull.

“It should be edible…” Dreamsound tastes, lips pursed like petals. “See? I’m actually good at cooking! (｡>∀<｡)”

“Okay, time to eat. Heave‑ho. Little Shengsheng, wait up here.” She gently slides her finger from my mouth, slow as moonrise, pinches my cheek again—can’t resist—and releases the arm holding me. I don’t fall; I hover in the air, floating like a jellyfish.

Huh? The chicken leg ran off on its own? No. Don’t go. I haven’t—uh—why am I flying? Where is this? Am I floating? Wait—that woman…

…Dreamsound. What’s she doing? Alchemy? Huh—she tossed fish in—what even is that? She’s pouring that black‑yellow stuff into a bowl? Don’t tell me that’s—

I clamp my tiny hands over my mouth on instinct, as the imagined drumstick turns to ash. My stomach writhes like a hooked eel, something clawing up.

Dreamsound finishes plating the dark cuisine, then looks up and smiles at her Little Shengsheng, sunshine after rain. She scoops a small spoonful, then blows to cool like a spring breeze.

No! Don’t come closer! That stuff isn’t food! It’s poison! People die from that! Aaaa—wuuu!

Bitterness erupts in my mouth like ink, tangled with sour, salt, and fishy mud.

How much soy did you pour? Is salt free here? Are you boiling fish in vinegar? Hrrk—hrrk!

In the end, the meal ends with me vomiting and fainting, storm breaking into blackout.

…

Ah, that familiar blue ceiling again, a sky over the sea. How many times have I blacked out? My belly twists into knots like rope; my stomach feels wrung dry. How could anyone eat that? Seriously, how clumsy do you have to be to turn fish soup into that darkness?

An hour passes like a slow current. She hasn’t returned. Probably still tinkering with her food. I’m starving. I’m a mermaid now, technically, but below the waist I’ve got a salty fish tail with no feeling. Even my upper body is limp, winded as a dying candle. My head swims; I hallucinated from hunger earlier. At this rate I might actually die…

How many days can a child survive without water or food? My constitution’s weird. Eating eggshell once made me feel full, but one sleep later I felt like I hadn’t eaten in days.

So sleepy. Awoo… If I sleep, I won’t feel hunger. Really… can’t hold on…

Huh? That woman came back? Why is she crying again? Didn’t she say she’s like a centuries‑old granny? Why does she cry like spring rain?

No—what is she doing?

The last flicker of my mind says the thing nearing my cheek is the very thing Xuewei dreamt of—the 36D twin peaks, mountains under silk. Not the point! Stop! What are you doing! Don’t—

In the end, the little potato was served warm.