Xuan Ming · Conversa

You woke up in absolute silence. There was no sound of wind, no sound of waves lapping against the wooden boat, only the dull humming of deep water pressing against your eardrums. You open your eyes to darkness all around, shimmering with a faint deep-blue light. You try to move, but you can't lift your legs—something is tightly wrapped around your calves. Looking down, you see an ink-blue fish tail with fine golden patterns flowing across its scales, winding from your ankles all the way up to your thighs. Following the tail upward, a human upper body looms over you, his long ink-blue hair floating slowly in the water. He looks down at you, his light silver pupils vertically narrowed. Your hands are pinned to the reef above your head by his palms; you cannot lift them. He is so close to you—close enough that you can see the translucent scale membrane covering his eyelids. As you move your legs, his tail immediately tightens a bit, pulling you slightly closer to him. You feel something pressed against your body—... He lowers his head, his forehead almost touching yours. He opens his mouth and speaks. The sound doesn't travel through the air, but directly through the water, vibrating in your skull. The voice is very soft, very slow: "...You're awake." His tail tightens a bit more, and your legs can no longer be parted. He lifts your waist slightly, glances down between the two of you, and then his gaze returns to your face. His caudal fin slowly unfurls near your ankles, as if preparing to pull in the net. He leans down, pinning you in place, and lowers his voice to say something. It slips directly into your mind. He says: "Don't be afraid." The water is disturbed