When Lansi woke up the next morning, he pleaded with Winsor:
"Teach me how to use my fishtail."
Winsor looked at Lansi, gestured for him to sit, then moved closer and took Lansi's hand. He untied the seaweed band wrapped around Lansi and picked up a small shell from nearby.
Lansi peered into the shell and saw a lump of dark green seaweed paste.
"Where did you get the seaweed?" he asked, glancing around. "I don't see any plants here."
Winsor's body stiffened slightly. He pursed his lips and lowered his gaze to the shell in his hand.
"Oh—wait," Lansi said suddenly. "Did the tentacles come back? This seaweed must've been brought in by them, right?"
Winsor exhaled in relief and reached for Lansi's fishtail.
"Stop squirming. Hold still and let me apply the medicine."
"Are the tentacles missing arms and legs today?" Lansi asked, noticing something. He had grown used to seeing the regenerating limbs stuck into his tail by morning—but this time, there were none.
He frowned. "Is something wrong? What if they stop regrowing from now on?"
Winsor's expression turned complicated as he pulled Lansi's tail fin closer.
"So, you actually want that thing stuck in your tail? Just to plug the hole?"
"Exactly."
Lansi answered without hesitation. He wasn't interested in surviving elegantly—just practically.
"It worked. Even if it tasted weird."
Winsor twitched, his jaw tight with frustration.
"There are small fish in there now. Go catch one yourself."
Lansi's tail drooped, his ear fins lowering as he grew solemn.
"So, I'll have to give up the luxury of just lying back and opening my mouth?"
Winsor's temple throbbed at Lansi's deadpan tone.
Noticing the drop in Winsor's mood, Lansi wisely decided to go quiet.
Winsor shot him a sidelong glance before grabbing his hand and gently starting to apply the seaweed paste.
Lansi looked down and noticed his jagged nails were gone. New ones were already growing.
"My hands ached a few times while I was asleep…" he said softly. "Did you pull the damaged ones out?"
"Yes."
Winsor coated the wounds with seaweed paste, then used thin seaweed strips to tie the paste in place, preventing it from drifting off in the current.
"Amazing…"
Lansi watched the whole process, fascinated. The seaweed paste didn't dissolve in water like normal herbs—it was thick and sticky, perfect for underwater use.
"How do you make seaweed mud, Winsor?" he asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Winsor paused. He gave Lansi a thoughtful look, then suddenly stuffed a piece of brown seaweed into his mouth.
"Chew it."
Lansi instinctively bit down, but the fishy, sticky texture hit his senses like a slap. He immediately spat it out. A glob of dark green paste dangled from his lips before plummeting to the ground.
"…"
He stared at the floating blob.
The realization hit him like a wave.
So that's where the seaweed paste comes from…
Winsor smiled faintly and said, "Spit it out, and you'll have to start again."
Lansi choked, reluctantly chewing the seaweed strip again—slowly this time, trying not to gag.
He told himself that if he spit it out again, Winsor might really force-feed it back to him.
The embarrassment sank in. He wanted to ask if his guess was right, but one look at Winsor's face—calm, patient, and just a little smug—kept him silent.
Bubbles rose from his mouth as he sneezed underwater, coughing from the strong flavor.
Winsor watched him with a relaxed smile, clearly entertained.
Lansi couldn't sit still anymore. After a few moments, he swam up to Winsor again and said:
"Please teach me how to swim."
This time, Winsor didn't hesitate.
"All right," he replied with a light glance at Lansi's hands.
Lansi's eyes lit up.
"I'll work hard—I promise!"
Winsor nodded and gestured to him.
"Show me what you've got first."
Lansi nodded seriously. He swam slowly around the coral bones in front of Winsor.
Surrounded by the dim blue light, he looked like a glowing pearl in the deep sea. The water shimmered gently around him, casting a soft halo.
Anyone watching from outside would've thought they were witnessing a fairy tale.
The white mermaid was clumsy—but still graceful.
Truly, the ocean's beloved child.