When Winsor woke up the next day, he found himself back in the cabin.
His consciousness… felt like it had been invaded.
Sitting up, Winsor rubbed his temples and tried to recall what the other body had been doing before he blacked out.
As he expected, the assimilation had nearly occurred all at once.
He let out a quiet sigh.
That other body of his held a sensitive and potentially useful identity. Since Winsor was mainly staying with Lansi now, he had decided—after some deliberation—not to completely assimilate and absorb the second body.
He had a feeling it would come in handy someday.
But because he hadn't fully assimilated it, certain reactions from that side still affected this one.
Especially mentally—this wasn't the first time his consciousness had been invaded by the other self.
The previous times were negligible, but this time the intrusion had been far stronger. It caught Winsor off guard, created a rift in his awareness, and caused his body to collapse into sudden unconsciousness.
Humans really were bold.
The thought made Winsor let out a faint, sarcastic laugh.
After all these years, they were still just as arrogant.
"Winsor? You're awake?"
A white mermaid swam through the window of the old cabin. Lansi entered with a fish fillet in his hand.
Seeing Winsor awake, Lansi's eyes brightened with joy.
"Good, I thought you'd be out another day."
He approached, handed over the fillet, and then turned to leave in a rush, calling back over his shoulder:
"Lie down, I'll go hunt something better for you."
Before Winsor could say anything, Lansi had already swum off.
Stunned, Winsor stared at the fillet in his hand. He took a bite—surprisingly good.
It must have taken Lansi some effort to find this kind of fish.
For so long, Winsor had been the one feeding Lansi. Now, the roles were reversed.
As he chewed the translucent fillet, a faint melancholy crept in.
Just as Winsor had guessed, the fish he was eating wasn't easy to catch.
It was quite a while before Lansi returned, carrying a dark blue fish.
He looked frustrated.
"Sorry, I could only catch one."
The fish was about as long as Lansi's forearm, but in the vast ocean, it was notoriously difficult to catch.
Lansi had searched across five miles to find just two, nearly exhausting himself.
He had caught a few common fish on the way to fill his stomach, then rushed back to Winsor's cabin with the dark blue one.
He didn't want to be away from Winsor for too long.
Lansi had spent so much time finding this fish because he saw Winsor as a patient who needed nourishing food.
To that end, he had gone to Quirrell for advice and learned that this type of fish tasted good.
And indeed, it did—but it was incredibly hard to catch.
While looking for it, Lansi stumbled upon something unexpected—
The hermit crab had actually come to visit Quirrell.
He had witnessed the birth of a strange friendship.
The hermit crab Li Yunlong's brazen attitude mixed with Quirrell's chaotic, rock-and-roll drumming created an odd kind of spark.
Quirrell: [How's that for drumming?]
Hermit Crab: [Sounds like someone smacking a feather. My claw could knock out better rhythms than that. You've got no taste.]
Quirrell: [Nonsense. You wouldn't know good music if it slapped you.]
Hermit Crab: [You think hitting a shell counts as a musical instrument? Do you even know what music is?]
Quirrell turned red in anger: [Say that again, I dare you!]
Hermit Crab: [If I weren't too big to move smoothly, I'd show you right now!]
Quirrell: [Come at me then!]
Hermit Crab: [You're on. I'll teach you what rhythm really means!]
With that, the hermit crab slammed its claw down on its shell. The resulting beat was twice as rhythmic as Quirrell's.
Quirrell: […]
The hermit crab adjusted the angle and location of each strike, creating a variety of sounds—a natural percussionist.
Even Lansi, watching quietly from the side, had to admit: hermit crabs were born to wield pincers.
Of course, he could only offer silent sympathy for the devastated Quirrell before heading off to continue his fish hunt.
They seemed to be playing just fine.
Lansi had no interest in babysitting two squabbling children.
So, after learning from Quirrell that the dark blue fish tasted good, Lansi swam off, ignoring the escalating tension between Quirrell and the crab.
"They probably won't actually fight," he muttered.
Back in the present, Lansi told Winsor about what happened and ended with:
"I think they're getting along pretty well."
Winsor's gaze softened. He reached out and gently touched Lansi's face.
"I'm full. You eat the fish."
"Who are you trying to fool? Those fillets earlier weren't even enough to get stuck between your teeth."
Lansi scoffed. He tore the dark blue fish into slices and shoved them into Winsor's mouth.
"I already ate. This one's for you. Come on—open up."
Winsor had no choice but to accept the food.
"Winsor, seriously, what's going on with you?"
Lansi crossed his arms, giving Winsor the look of someone ready to interrogate a criminal.
"It's complicated," Winsor replied, exasperated. "I just need some time to recover."
He couldn't tell Lansi about the connection between his two bodies, about the mental resonance, or how he was trying to adapt to existing in both simultaneously.
If he explained it outright, Lansi would likely bombard him with strange questions and wild assumptions.
After hearing Winsor's vague explanation, Lansi was clearly unimpressed.
That wasn't an explanation—it was an evasion.
But Winsor was right. Lansi knew very little about merfolk biology. He couldn't even swim properly without Winsor's help.
So in the end, it was better to just trust him.
"Alright. Since you said so... I'll believe you."
Lansi looked worried. "When will you be okay again?"
"Give me a week," Winsor said softly, taking Lansi's cheek in his hand.
"In a week, I'll take care of everything."
Lansi blinked, stunned by how close Winsor was. For a moment, Winsor's face overlapped with Wen Yu's in his mind. He couldn't tell whether he was looking at Winsor or Wen Yu.
Without thinking, he blurted out:
"Wen Yu..."
Winsor froze.
Lansi realized what he'd said and quickly broke free, flustered and panicking.
"I just got your name wrong! Your surname is Wen, and... I mean, there's another fish called Wen Yu, right? Haha..."
He rambled, his cheeks red, voice trembling.
"Lansi."
Winsor gently stopped him before he could get more carried away.
Lansi looked up nervously. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
Winsor didn't mind being mistaken for Wen Yu. If anything, he felt strangely happy about it. He just didn't show it.
Instead, he calmly gave instructions.
"Lansi, I'll need to rest for a while. I'll be sleeping here—just for a week."
"Don't be afraid. I'm only asleep, not gone."
"You don't have to stay with me the whole time. If you want to explore, just stay close by. And if anything happens, go find Quirrell."
Winsor lay back in the nest they had carefully built together. Though simple, it was the best they could manage underwater.
While Lansi smiled and held Winsor's hand, Winsor could see the panic in his eyes.
"Don't be afraid, little fish," Winsor whispered, stroking Lansi's hair. "Even if you end up at the ends of the sea, I'll find you."
Winsor had briefly considered locking Lansi up while he slept. It would have been easy—there were plenty of cabins. He could trap Lansi in one and seal it shut with his tentacles. Quirrell could even do it for him.
But he couldn't bring himself to do it.
He knew Lansi couldn't be contained. If so, he might as well let him swim freely.
As long as Winsor opened his eyes in a week and saw Lansi again, that would be enough.
"You'll really be okay in a week?"
"Yes. And when I wake up, we'll go see the ocean together. I won't leave you behind."
Lansi smiled. "Deal."
Winsor smiled back. He wanted to etch the sight of Lansi into his memory.
His white little fish—bringing light into his dark dreams.