Chapter 70: Hungry

Chapter 70: Hungry

Though Deng Xi’s resting area was on the periphery of the top floor, not just anyone could enter the upper levels of the government-military complex.

Even if his subordinates came before Deng Xi, no one would dare speak to him like that.

Si Jisheng quickly realized that Deng Xi had only told half the story; his sudden emotional outburst had left his complaints incoherent.

Pressed close, Deng Xi’s soft, warm breath brushed against Si Jisheng’s neck as he mumbled in a muffled voice, “They said a lot more, but I didn’t remember it all.”

“No rush, take your time,” Si Jisheng said, leaning back slightly. His cool mechanical fingers lifted the warm little face buried against his shoulder. His silver eyes glanced at the corners of Deng Xi’s eyes, confirming there were no tears or signs of crying, before adding, “Sit properly first.”

Deng Xi obediently straightened up.

Seizing the moment, Si Jisheng stood to fetch a clean new cup and poured a glass of ice water.

The little mermaid wasn’t accustomed to human hot water.

Deng Xi tilted his head to watch Little Mute, then leaned over to grab the sofa pillow that had been resting against the man’s other side, hugging it tightly against his chest.

*If he won’t let me hug him, then fine,* Deng Xi thought sulkily.

The pillow, initially chilled by the air conditioning, soon warmed in his embrace. Though not as comfortable as the always-cool body of the silver-tailed, it still carried a faint trace of that cool, crisp scent from where Little Mute had leaned against it.

Deng Xi could smell it.

He sniffed, then felt a little odd.

Though merfolk, who lived in the deep sea, were sensitive to heat, he wasn’t so sensitive that he couldn’t handle even a little warmth. But… Deng Xi stole another glance at Little Mute, conflicted. For some reason, holding him felt incredibly comforting.

In fact, compared to the human Little Mute, Deng Xi preferred clinging to the silver-tailed form—especially when the tough silver scales were damp with seawater.

The glass cup made a light tinkling sound as it was set on the table. Deng Xi was jolted from his thoughts, his ears instantly heating up. He buried his face in the pillow, leaving only a pair of clear blue eyes exposed.

*What was I thinking? Can’t think about that anymore.*

Si Jisheng bent down, his mechanical fingers slipping firmly between Deng Xi’s face and the pillow to lift the boy’s chin until his nose was freed from the suffocating fabric, allowing fresh air to flow in. Only then did he withdraw his hand.

Deng Xi was adjusted without explanation.

*No hugs, and now I can’t even hug this?* The little mermaid unhappily picked up the glass of water.

Dew formed on the icy cup, chilling his fingers and slightly cooling his warm body. Yet, for some reason, he instinctively compared the sensation to Little Mute’s touch.

*Still… Little Mute feels nicer.*

Si Jisheng sat back down, guiding Deng Xi to fill in the gaps in their understanding. “Who were they?”

Deng Xi blinked, then shook his head honestly. “I don’t know.”

Si Jisheng rephrased. “Did they say it to your face?”

Deng Xi shook his head again.

Si Jisheng understood.

He pressed a button on the wrist-mounted light brain Deng Xi wore, and a blue screen instantly appeared in the air. “What did you see on the StarNet?”

Following Little Mute’s questions, Deng Xi answered bit by bit. “It was a video… of me singing. So many people saw it.” He fumbled to explain. “That day when I first met Xiao Ye and the others, a little kid suddenly got sick and transformed into an animal. I wanted to see if my song could help.”

“The one I listened to?”

“Mhm!”

“Do you know who filmed it? Or who posted it on the StarNet?”

“Doctor Zhang did.”

Little Mute asked, and Deng Xi answered each question in turn.

He held the ice water, quickly drinking half of it. He’d been thirsty earlier but hadn’t dared to ask for juice, afraid Little Mute would scold him.

Though in the end, the juice had been confiscated anyway.

By the time the glass was empty, Si Jisheng had pieced together what happened. Since Bunny hadn’t sent the video to Deng Xi, a keyword search found nothing on the StarNet.

After sending a message to the Secretary-General, Si Jisheng could only imagine the video’s contents for now.

But that wasn’t the real issue.

Si Jisheng knew that—though Deng Xi was still confused.

He carefully explained the pros and cons in a way Deng Xi could understand. “The people who said they liked you did so because you’re truly special, whether it’s your voice or your appearance.”

“Do you know why those others insulted you?”

Deng Xi shook his head.

Si Jisheng’s voice remained cool and even, but his tone spoke from experience, as if he’d studied this thoroughly. “When hidden behind screens, not sharing the same space, humans find it easier to say things they wouldn’t face-to-face.”

“But whether it’s praise or insults, they’re all letting out their feelings—especially their negativity.”

Deng Xi pondered this for a long moment before slowly summarizing, “So it’s not that I’m bad. *They’re* just mean.”

Si Jisheng gave a slight nod.

Deng Xi was still puzzled. “But humans are advanced beings. Why would they take out their bad moods on strangers?”

“Only animals attack anything around them when they’re angry, without any reason.”

He made a nature comparison.

Si Jisheng paused. “Because some people are still underdeveloped, primitive creatures.”

Deng Xi nodded uncertainly.

Si Jisheng continued, “I can take down the video so no one sees it again. But I won’t choose for you.”

Deng Xi pointed at himself. “*I* get to decide?”

Si Jisheng nodded in confirmation.

Deng Xi frowned in confusion. “But I don’t know, Little Mute. I don’t know.”

In just a few minutes, Si Jisheng had already considered everything thoroughly. If this video remained, the public could easily link it to the recent billion-dollar auction he instigated, and they would learn of Deng Xi’s origins.

Deng Xi being a mermaid was indeed special—he was neither an alien nor human. Yet Si Jisheng had never thought of hiding it. Hiding among humans felt awful.

He much preferred that Deng Xi could live freely in the human world, able to show his mermaid tail freely and sing openly.

Moreover, the existence of the merfolk had always been known to the Empire’s elite. But because of him—because he had brought Deng Xi back—no one dared look toward military territory.

There was only one concern regarding the revelation of Deng Xi’s mermaid identity: his exceptionally unique species traits.

But that didn’t matter. He could control the situation.

He only needed to know one thing—Deng Xi’s wishes.

Si Jisheng analyzed it for Deng Xi, making sure his words weren’t persuasive: “If we don’t delete it, this video will be seen by even more people. Many will see you, know you, and talk about you.”

“Because humans don’t like aliens, you’ll probably get more hate than love.”

“But whether it’s deleted or not, it won’t really affect you. Other than feelings, it won’t bring you anything more, nor will it cause you any tangible harm.”

Deng Xi didn’t quite get it, but he got one thing: “As long as I want to?”

Si Jisheng gave a slight nod.

He saw things differently than Little Mute, Deng Xi thought. Little Mute was considering him, while Deng Xi was thinking, “But if it stays, other sick non-humans like Bunny and Xiao Ye could hear it too.”

Deng Xi put down his water glass, then corrected himself, “Not like them.”

“Like Little Mute.”

Si Jisheng went still.

Hugging a pillow, Deng Xi sank into the couch, his legs dangling above the floor. He looked up at Little Mute beside him and said earnestly, “If in the past, when Little Mute was living alone in the human world, he could have heard the songs I sang in the ocean… that would’ve been nice.”

Then, would Little Mute have had to hide so painfully? Could he have been happier? Would fewer people have hated him?

Would the bullying have been less?

Masking the sadness in his eyes, Deng Xi smiled, eyes crinkling. “I want to keep it.”

“I want to keep every song I’ve sung for Little Mute. And I want Little Mute to hear every song I sing in the future.”

For him. Only for him.

Si Jisheng’s throat closed up. After a long pause, he closed his eyes and rasped out, “Then we’ll keep it.”

The conch earring wasn’t cutting it.

Deng Xi set the pillow aside and suddenly knelt up on the couch, reaching out toward Little Mute. But before he could touch him, his knees buckled, and he tipped forward.

Si Jisheng caught him steadily and asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

It seemed they always found themselves drawn back to each other in unexpected moments. No matter how they restrained or resisted, they couldn’t stop sharing breath.

Deng Xi pushed up on Little Mute’s shoulders, looking down at the man gazing up at him. Then he lifted a finger, clumsily mimicking how Little Mute had wiped his tears, smoothing the frown with his fingertip.

“Little Mute, are you unhappy?”

Si Jisheng let him, denying it. “No.”

Deng Xi whispered, “Then don’t frown, okay? It always makes me think you’re upset.”

Si Jisheng said slowly, “I’m very happy.”

His handsome face showed no emotion even relaxed—completely contradicting the words from his thin lips. Only Deng Xi, so close, could see the warmth in those silver eyes.

Deng Xi gave a soft smile, a cute dimple popping. Si Jisheng stared at it, unable to look away, his voice tight with restraint, carrying something suppressed. “Because I’m too happy, I have to hold back.”

The innocent mermaid tilted his head, not understanding why happiness needed restraint. But his gut told him Little Mute seemed to be in pain now.

Not that kind of hurt.

But something deeper—something held back beneath those indifferent silver eyes, something he didn’t understand.

Dangerous, like it might devour him in the next second.

Yet Deng Xi, who usually trusted his mermaid instincts, didn’t retreat. He wasn’t afraid at all. Instead, he drew closer.

His weak knees couldn’t sustain the kneeling position. He obediently shifted to sit comfortably, perching cross-legged on the man’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and whispering, “Then let’s go eat cake, okay?”

“Happy feelings shouldn’t be suppressed. They should be kept going.” Playing grown-up, he tried to teach back.

Dessert always cheered Deng Xi up.

Si Jisheng’s jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling slowly as he exhaled a cold breath. Then, he turned off the touch sensors on his mechanical glove and slid his fingers between their bodies.

He pressed lightly against Deng Xi’s flat stomach.

Through the cold glove, he felt nothing but the softness beneath his fingertips.

“Really hungry?”

He should have pulled away after that single touch, yet his fingers lingered.

Deng Xi shivered from the cold metal but didn’t pull back. For some reason, he didn’t want to refuse Little Mute’s touch.

“A little.”

Si Jisheng scooped Deng Xi up and stood, heading out. “Only one piece.”

He was indulging—because he was starving too.

Author's Note:

“Hungry” for a long time, huh?