Chapter 122: It’s Been a While Since You’ve Touched This Tail
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Besides the heartbeat coming through the stethoscope, Lin Xu could also hear the pounding drum of his own heart in his chest. There really was life growing inside—a life that carried both his and Heinrich’s blood.
Lin Xu held one end of the stethoscope firmly in one hand, while tightly gripping Heinrich’s palm with the other. They listened together for five or six minutes before Lin Xu took a deep breath and finally set the stethoscope down.
“Heinrich.” Lin Xu lowered his head and called his name softly.
“I’m here.” Heinrich squeezed Lin Xu’s hand.
“Heinrich.” Lin Xu called again, then a third, fourth, fifth time…
“Mm, I’m here,” Heinrich answered patiently.
After a long silence, Lin Xu looked at him, feeling his thoughts tangled and jumbled. Maybe he should be thinking about something—like the child’s appearance, gender, or name—but his nerves were knotted like a messy spool of thread, unraveling into confusion the more he tried to sort them out.
The room around them was just as chaotic—scattered machine parts littered the floor from the earlier disassembly. Who knew how long it would take to put everything back together?
“Hold me,” Lin Xu finally blurted out, the words lingering in his heavy chest before escaping with a slight rasp.
Heinrich wrapped his arms around Lin Xu’s shoulders and pulled him close. The two who had been sitting on the floor now had Lin Xu sitting securely on Heinrich’s lap.
Lin Xu knelt there, and Heinrich rested his head against Lin Xu’s shoulder. Following the contours of his bones, Heinrich could hear Lin Xu’s heart pounding wildly—and so was his own.
Heinrich’s breathing faltered for a moment, then gradually slowed and synchronized with Lin Xu’s. Their heartbeats matched the rhythm of their breathing, almost merging into one.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Lin Xu’s upper arm was pinned under Heinrich’s weight, unable to move, so he hugged Heinrich’s muscular waist with his free arm, gently rubbing his chin against Heinrich’s silver hair. The faint scent of vetiver was especially crisp now, drifting right beneath his nose.
Heinrich’s lips pressed warm and rough kisses against Lin Xu’s neck. Lin Xu felt his mind clear somewhat—no longer completely wiped out, as if by an antimatter weapon.
“Heinrich,” Lin Xu asked softly, “what kind of life do you think is inside the egg?”
“It probably isn’t humanoid,” he added. After all, it was still an egg.
“Mermaid?” Heinrich suggested.
“I don’t know.” Lin Xu scratched at Heinrich’s closely trimmed hair at the back of his head. The short strands felt prickly. “Could it be a dragon? A dragon-human hybrid?”
He didn’t even know what was inside that egg yet, so all his pronouns were just “it.” Heinrich imagined a creature with a human upper body and dragon tail and claws for legs. Something felt off about that. Maybe it would look more natural without the dragon claws.
“We’ll know once it’s born.”
“We don’t even know how long it’s been there, or when it will hatch,” Lin Xu said. “And does it even need to hatch? Do dragons hatch eggs?”
“No. Only feathered oviparous animals need to hatch eggs.”
Lin Xu repeated Heinrich’s words, “We’ll know once it’s born.”
Heinrich noticed the weariness in Lin Xu’s voice. “I’ll carry you to rest.”
Lin Xu closed his eyes and nodded, letting Heinrich carry him back to the bedroom. Leaning against the soft bed, Lin Xu quickly fell into a deep sleep.
The two rabbit-cats had wanted to jump onto the bed and cuddle with him as he slept, but Heinrich gently grabbed their scruffs and put them down, careful not to let them press against Lin Xu’s belly.
Heinrich sat by the bed for a while, then returned to the medical bay to start reassembling the scattered equipment. They might still need that diagnostic device.
The S297 scout ship was about to arrive at docking point IN16-78. After leaving the dock, the starship would enter a dark zone without StarNet coverage. While repairing the equipment, Heinrich instructed AI297 to query and download various prenatal care courses and guides before the network cut-off.
Lin Xu didn’t sleep peacefully. He was trapped in a dream. In the dream, he was back on the surgical table at the apocalypse base. Cold iron chains and handcuffs bound him tightly. He tried to lift his head but someone pressed down on his throat.
The shadowless surgical lights hung overhead like a terrifying sun, stabbing into his eyes until tears welled up. A blade descended onto his body. The surgeons wore masks and goggles, faceless and expressionless, moving mechanically.
They administered anesthesia, but only locally. Lin Xu remained conscious, painfully aware of the sharp scalpel opening his chest and abdomen. His eyes rolled downward. All he could see were blue rubber gloves smeared with blood moving back and forth, and the silver surgical blade. Those hands extracted a white egg from his belly.
Lin Xu’s breath caught. He realized he was dreaming and desperately tried to move his body—both in the dream and in reality—but it was useless. He consciously felt his limbs, but his brain couldn’t control them.
The black fish tail attached to the surgical table twitched and writhed. The surgeons all turned their faces toward Lin Xu. Behind their goggles were black holes of nothingness. Lin Xu’s heart felt like it was falling off a cliff, weightless in freefall. Darkness like a tidal wave washed over his eyes. In the last moment before the surgical light vanished, he heard a strange but childish hiss.
Gradually, he regained control of his body. Cold water splashed over his face. Lin Xu opened his eyes to see a bleak sky heavy with dark clouds. Storms and lightning tangled and tore at the heavens. Below the thick clouds stood rows of towering skyscrapers. It was the city before the apocalypse—still in the dream.
Lin Xu struggled to stand, but he could’t will his body to move. Somehow, he found himself running forward, faster and faster into the storm, toward the distant roar of thunder.
He was both a spectator and a participant. He dreamed from his own perspective, aware of what his dream-self wanted to do but unable to control it. Without rational madness at work, he couldn’t even tell where his will ended and the dream began.
In the dream, he carried a grenade launcher on his shoulder. As he neared the source of the noise, he saw a massive, menacing beast lurking around the corner of a skyscraper.
The monster towered higher than thirty floors, its body covered in scales with spikes jutting from its spine like a bipedal lizard. Each heavy step shook the city. A flash of memory crossed his mind—refugees from the ruined homeland begged Lin Xu to kill this monster.
But the city was now empty. The monster smashed a skyscraper with a punch, sending dust swirling everywhere. Dream-Lin Xu charged toward the beast, his heart filled with sorrow and fear. Because this was his child. He was going to kill his own child with his own hands. What the hell?!
The real Lin Xu felt himself shatter. What kind of nightmare was this? That was Godzilla, for crying out loud—like a one-to-one movie-accurate CGI model of the monster. How had it turned into his child? Boom!
The grenade launcher fired, improbably crossing tens of kilometers before striking Godzilla. In the fiery blast, Godzilla roared in rage and hurled a skyscraper at Lin Xu. Dust and shadows pressed down on him. The terrifying beast threw Lin Xu into panic, nearly shattering and melting him into the dust and rain.
“Ah—”
Lin Xu’s legs and waist spasmed as if he’d fallen into a bottomless abyss from his bed. The sensation jolted him awake instantly.
“Lin Xu!”
A familiar voice slowly brought Lin Xu back to himself. The real sensation of his body and control over it returned at that moment. He lay in the bedroom of the S297 scout ship. Outside the panoramic window, the galaxy rotated silently. The room temperature was a comfortable 23 degrees Celsius—ideal for human habitation.
But Lin Xu was drenched in cold sweat. His damp hair clung to his cheeks, and he breathed heavily, though his face was pale. Goosebumps rose in patches along his arms. In his frightened dream, his mermaid tail had emerged, trembling and slapping against the bed.
Heinrich sat beside him, holding his hand with concern. After a moment, Lin Xu leaned closer, wrapping his arms around Heinrich’s waist and burying his head against him.
“Had a nightmare? I couldn’t wake you up.”
Lin Xu swallowed and nodded with his eyes closed. Heinrich held a damp cloth, evidently having stayed by Lin Xu’s side. He gently brushed the hair from Lin Xu’s face and softly wiped away the sweat.
“It’s okay now.”
“Heinrich…” Lin Xu buried his head deeper. “I dreamed I gave birth to a monster.”
Though it was an utterly absurd and nonsensical dream, once awake and calm, Lin Xu felt waves of lingering fear.
“It was just a dream.”
“But… but…” When Lin Xu looked up, Heinrich saw a glistening layer of moisture in his eyes. He was truly afraid.
His hand rose to caress Heinrich’s cheek. “Heinrich, you’re wonderful. I’m not worried about you, but what about me? I’m not human. I’m a manufactured monster—assembled with monster genes.”
“Lin Xu, you’re wonderful too.” Heinrich looked deeply into Lin Xu’s eyes and gently wiped away the tears. “You’re unique, but you’re not a monster.”
“The more artificial something is, the easier it is to lose control. I don’t know what I’ll give birth to.”
Lin Xu even feared the human part of himself. At first, people liked his disguise, but the real him always inspired fear and disgust.
Heinrich was silent for a moment, his voice low and hoarse. “Do you not want this child?”
Lin Xu shivered, tears spilling as his voice cracked. “No. I want to see it, but I don’t know what I’ll see.”
An unknown life was coming—both joyous and frightening.
“Then we’ll wait for it to be born. It’s already inside the egg. We just wait for it to come out. If it really is some kind of… monster you fear, we’ll figure it out then, okay?” Heinrich said.
“Lin Xu, no matter what, you are you—not some gene-edited model.”
Lin Xu cried in Heinrich’s arms. Whether he truly heard Heinrich’s words, no one could say, but Heinrich remained silent, waiting patiently. As Lin Xu’s sobs gradually eased, Heinrich suddenly felt a strong fish tail wrap around his leg.
He didn’t know what Lin Xu had been thinking during this brief moment of quiet, but the water began to trickle out from beneath the scales. Heinrich was startled, then heard Lin Xu’s hoarse voice against his chest:
“Help me… you haven’t touched this tail in a long time.”
Not touched it in a long time… was it because the mermaid tail didn’t like the relatively dry environment of the starship and was rarely let out?
Heinrich once again realized just how moody and demanding a pregnant mermaid could be.
Author’s note:
The moody, demanding pregnant mermaid XuXu is back again!
