Chapter Twelve

The second month after the selection ended, the outside world had already classified her performance as a variant. Such an identity was not uncommon in the hunting grounds, yet it still made her a target for multiple organizations, hunted and wanted. The reason given was, “The existence of variants infringes upon the rights of gene warriors.”

On the fourth day of that month, Annie dealt with the third group of desperate bounty hunters. Attacking a Starsea Warrior was an act of utter recklessness, but the few successful attempts had driven many to madness.

She let go, and the corpse with the twisted throat fell with a thud. Annie wiped the blood from her cheek, and suddenly the lights behind her flickered on.

Lin had been roused by the noise. He raised a hand to the corner of his eye, gazing sleepily at her silhouette. Half her body was drenched in blood, dripping steadily to the floor. Annie wiped at her cheek, making it even dirtier, and when she turned to look at him, she managed a somewhat embarrassed smile, looking so ghastly she could be mistaken for a crazed murderer.

Lin took her hand, helping Annie remove her jacket. With a handkerchief made of soft material, he wiped the blood from the tip of her nose. “Let’s leave the Eighth District.”

Annie looked at him and asked, “Why? There’s an ocean here—you can return to the sea to rest whenever you like. You never sleep well, do you? There’s nowhere else with such high-grade oxygen and pure water—”

She counted her arguments on her fingers, while the handkerchief left a faint red mark where it cleaned the blood away.

“You’re too famous,” Lin replied. “There’s always someone disturbing us. I know a place—much quieter.”

Halfway through her reckoning, Annie withdrew her hand. “Alright.”

Annie was nothing if not decisive; according to the teacher, the two set off at once. She rented a small aircraft, and this time she piloted it smoothly and skillfully. The blue ocean of the Eighth District slowly faded from view as the temperature dropped, water froze at a touch, and after crossing one snowy mountain, an even higher range appeared.

The craft landed atop the mountain. The air was thin, and even the signals flickered in and out.

Yet, surprisingly, there were merfolk living here. The teacher seemed well-acquainted with the locals, borrowing lodgings by speaking a tongue Annie could not understand.

She had no other duties. Her sole task was to accompany Lin, staying by his side nearly twenty-four hours a day. While Lin sat at the window reading, Annie listened to starship remodeling cases and fed stones into the special snow-boiling stove unique to the mountains. These transparent stones would burn, radiating light and heat.

They chatted idly. In the midst of memorizing starship modifications, Annie heard the teacher ask, “So...what do you really look like?”

She took his hand, placing his fingers on her cheek. “Like this.”

Lin’s gaze left the screen, which displayed “A Complete Guide to the Fish of the Fran Star.” He squeezed her cheek hard.

Annie’s delicate features scrunched up, her cheeks reddening from the pinch. She looked so adorable, almost easy to bully.

She complained, “That hurts.”

Lin released her. “Where did you get this human body?”

“The junkyard,” Annie answered. “When I first became conscious, on the day I crawled out of the soil of Blue Sea Star, I crawled in secret for a day and a night—it must have been about this time, though I had little sense of time then—and I arrived at a place where an abandoned baby girl had been left, apparently due to albinism or another genetic defect.”

Lin frowned.

“She was dead,” Annie continued. “I covered her body, learned the basics of human mimicry, and took on her appearance. Then I was picked up by the old man... He traded in anything—living or dead, legal or contraband—as long as it sold. He wanted to sell me, but with a genetic disease, no one would buy. When his illness flared up, he decided to raise me to make money for him.”

Lin took a deep breath.

Most humans with extensive cybernetic modifications suffered from mental disorders.

“He knew I was a little off, but I was good at making money, so he didn’t care to ask why.” Annie tossed another white stone into the stove, sparks flaring up. “What about you, Teacher? How do you know about this place?”

“This is my mother’s homeland,” Lin replied.

“Ah, mother...” Annie fell into a silent reverie. “I wonder which planet my mother is on now.”

“Did she just abandon you?”

Annie shook her head. “Mimetic beasts are all female, and their sole purpose in life is to find a suitable mate and continue the species. My mother left me alone on this planet, so she must have had something important to do. There are so few of us; you’ve probably never heard the name—well, let me put it this way: I’m a cosmic starbeast.”

Lin’s relaxed demeanor abruptly stiffened, his pupils constricting as he stared at Annie’s nonchalant face.

Cosmic starbeasts were a group of diverse, powerful species, rare and mighty, with many branches and tangled lineages, but without exception, any mature cosmic starbeast possessed the power to destroy a star.

Annie leaned closer, placing her hand on his abdomen.

It was a gesture she was fond of; at first, Lin had found it uncomfortable, but now he was used to the warmth of her palm. After a moment’s silence, he said, “If you are...a cosmic starbeast, even if you unlock my reproductive seal, it may do no good. The stronger the species, the harder it is to reproduce. That is life’s curse.”

Annie simply stroked his abdomen intently. “Teacher, let’s try again.”

Suddenly, Lin grew agitated.

“It’s impossible from the start. Everything you do with me has always been futile.” He brushed Annie’s hand away irritably. “Enough, it’s more than enough. You have all the research you need—there’s no reason to keep pretending at this love play. Let’s part ways—you go be your Starsea Warrior, and I—”

“Do you think you can still be a good teacher?” Annie asked. “You can only live incognito, far from any merfolk community. Is this the place you chose to spend the rest of your days?”

Usually, she let him have his way, but now Lin hesitated for once. Then he said, “Why go to such lengths with this act? You know you’re acting, you treat me as a task—I know it, too. Haven’t I cooperated long enough? Annie, it’s time you let me go, time to talk of parting... Soon I’ll be rid of you. I never want to see you again.”

Annie looked surprised—not just on her face, but deep within, her true self startled. She forgot to mimic human emotion, staring at him blankly, as though she’d crashed or suffered a disastrous failure in her mission.

Neither spoke again. The stones in the stove nearly burned out. Annie reached in to add a new one, and the firelight illuminated their faces, flickering and uncertain.

“...Annie,” he said as the sparks fell, “you learn so fast, your performance is flawless, your love could fool anyone.”

“But,” Annie replied, “it can’t fool Teacher.”

“It’s not your fault. We met too soon; you hadn’t learned anything yet, and it’s not your doing.” Lin said.

“Teacher still hates me,” Annie murmured, propping her chin in her hand, eyes lowered. “But I like you—I love... I—”

Lin raised a hand to her lips, shaking his head. Then, suddenly, he bent to kiss her brows and eyes. Annie had always appeared to him in her merfolk form; their coral ears brushed and entwined, gently tangled.

Annie turned off the starship modification record in her ears, and shrugged off her fluffy pink coat. Clothes fell one by one to the floor. She murmured, “Let’s try once more, Lin.”

It was as if some soft limb wound around him.

The dwellings of the snow mountain merfolk had many hot springs. In the scalding water, he’d grown accustomed to laying himself completely bare, accepting all of Annie’s advances. The water surged like snow, and the world was empty around them.

The teacher was different from usual.

Annie sensed it; when she tried to withdraw her touch, Lin stopped her. His voice quivered, fragmented. “A little more... like this, is there a chance?”

Annie did not know.

She didn’t know if there was a chance; she could only try to fulfill his wishes. In the end, Lin left her covered in bite marks, as if both delighted and in great pain, only crying, tears turning to pearls that rolled from Annie’s shoulder into the spring.

No one could say which dawn it was when Lin finally broke down and called a halt. He slept for a while by the hot spring, and when he awoke, Annie was already dressed, sitting at his side, watching an eagle fly by in the distance.

She watched in silence, lost in thought. Lin looked over and asked, “Is it confirmed?”

Annie seemed to awake from a dream, turning to him with a reflexive smile. She reached out, but Lin did not take her hand, only turning away, his voice hoarse: “Then let’s break up.”

Annie nodded.

She’d been trying ever since the teacher first unlocked the reproductive seal, and now, after nearly two months, a definite conclusion could be drawn. A merfolk could not bear her child; the eggs she placed in the teacher’s body had remained dormant.

She reached out again, pulling Lin up from the spring. His hair was wet, a robe draped over his shoulders, his body rapidly losing heat.

Annie hugged him; Lin resisted by biting her, but she held on anyway. Eventually he gave up struggling. “When will you leave? I’ve seen the latest discussions about you on the Star Net—the attention is growing. The hunting grounds won’t let you disappear for long.”

“In five days,” Annie answered. “I’m heading to Central District, A2 Star.”

That was the heart of the Free Alliance, where chaos and order, terror and peace existed side by side. Compared to the central region, Blue Sea Star was a mere frontier outpost in the Alliance’s territory.

Of course, the Azure Dragon family’s influence was not limited to Blue Sea Star. Though remote, it was one of the five origin stars, holding unique meaning.

“Alright,” Lin said, closing his eyes. “I’ll take you there.”

“Okay.”

“Annie,” he asked suddenly, “do you have a heart?”

“Yes.”

“Can I touch it?”

Such an absurd request, Lin almost laughed at himself as soon as he said it. He was about to add that he was only joking, but Annie responded without hesitation, “You can.”

You can?

You can...?

Annie drew a knife from the side of her combat boot, took off her coat, and sliced open her chest.

Lin’s pupils trembled in an instant. Annie’s movements were too swift; she opened her chest as easily as removing a garment, revealing a living, beating heart—blood-red, vibrant as the blood that pulsed on the snowy mountain.

She took his hand, guiding his fingers into her warm chest cavity, where flesh pressed against his fingertips. Lin’s breathing grew ragged as he felt the strong heartbeat throb in his palm.

He was holding her heart.

Annie raised her brows. “It hurts,” she said. Lin reluctantly let go, but she seized his wrist again, cheerfully insisting, “Go ahead.” She flashed him a playful look. “A special benefit for Teacher.”

What sort of benefit was this?

But he was indeed breathless, his fingertips tracing the throbbing vessel. Lin looked tense yet fulfilled, and Annie watched him closely, seeing his deep-blue eyes well up with tears.

He was crying again. Annie always felt she hadn’t bullied him, but before she could pull herself from this botched mission, she wiped his tears, catching the little pearls—but Lin’s tears flowed everywhere, and the pearls rolled across their clothes to the floor.

Lin withdrew his hand, and the wound on Annie’s chest began to heal. She hugged him, tightly, and asked, “Teacher, do you still hate me?”

“Yes,” he said. “Let me go... please, let me go.”

“Alright.” Annie pressed her face to his, and again said, “Alright.”