Picked Up an Amnesiac Little Mermaid - Chapter 9

Finally, the infinity pool was no longer dry, its surface rippling with blue waves.

Though the water had been filled, the fish remained unappeased.

The butler asked with concern, “Miss Yu, would you like the servants to assist you in taking a few laps?”

Yu Huai stared unblinkingly at the empty fish tank. “Why are there no fish?”

The butler was momentarily at a loss for words. “After the incident five years ago, we stopped keeping fish altogether.”

Yu Huai’s eyes were red and swollen. She didn’t even want to soak in the water anymore and turned to head straight for her room.

“I know President Gu doesn’t like fish. Who would like those slippery, furless creatures anyway?”

The butler looked puzzled. “?”

The butler quickly pushed Yu Huai’s wheelchair after her. “Miss, you’re going the wrong way. You’re supposed to share a room with President Gu.”

Yu Huai immediately wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, revealing a round pearl in the palm of her hand.

The young woman with long, light-blue hair cried until her eyes turned red, her nose sniffling faintly.

How could this human be like this? There wasn’t a single place in this house suitable for fish to live.

And she didn’t even like fish.

Why didn’t she say so earlier?

Seeing Yu Huai cry harder, the butler tried to hand her a tissue, only to watch as she covered her face with her hands, wheeled herself into the guest room, and slammed the door shut.

Muffled sobs seeped through the thick door—it was clear she was utterly heartbroken.

Pearls large and small scattered like jade beads on a plate.

The clattering of pearls hitting the floor accompanied Yu Huai’s uncontrollable weeping.

Struggling to get out of her wheelchair, she painstakingly gathered each fallen pearl one by one.

Crying while picking up her own tears—this was more than the little mermaid could bear.

Yu Huai hiccupped, curling up on the bed, her long hair cascading over her delicate shoulders. Her usually crystal-clear eyes, like sapphires, now swirled with stormy seawater, heartbreaking to behold.

By the end, even Yu Huai didn’t know why she was crying anymore.

Far from home, her tail incomplete, she had saved a drowning human only to lose her own tail in the process. Now she was stuck in an inland city with no sea, where humans disliked water and fish.

Gu Yunyue, such a beautiful human… yet she didn’t like fish.

Little Fish was utterly devastated.

…

Gu Yunyue set down her documents and gave the butler a puzzled look. “The courtyard pond and the infinity pool on the third floor are both filled. Yu Huai still isn’t happy?”

What’s her problem?

The butler nodded, equally troubled. “Miss Yu Huai cried very hard and didn’t even go for a swim.”

After finishing her last email, Gu Yunyue asked, “And the reason for the crying?”

The butler replied, “Because you don’t like fish.”

Gu Yunyue frowned, lit a cigarette, and once again questioned if her mental health issues were causing auditory hallucinations.

“What does my dislike of fish have to do with Yu Huai?”

The butler hesitated before offering a guess. “Perhaps because Miss Yu’s surname is ‘Yu’? In certain superstitions and feudal beliefs, if a partner dislikes the other’s zodiac sign or homophones in their name, it brings misfortune to the marriage.”

Gu Yunyue tapped her cigarette, the golden bracelets on her wrist clinking with the motion.

Gu Yunyue said, “…”

Fine.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. This wasn’t taking in a lover—it was inviting an ancestor home.

“Call the landscaping company to deliver some fish,” Gu Yunyue exhaled smoke, then quickly stopped the butler as he turned to leave. “Wait—let me ask Yu Huai what kind of fish she likes first.”

If they ended up buying fish that didn’t suit her taste, the little princess might throw another tantrum about jumping into the river…

The butler smiled easily. “Since Miss Yu Huai came along, President Gu has become much more lively.”

Gu Yunyue said, “.”

She didn’t consider this a good thing at all.

After finishing all her work, Gu Yunyue pushed open the bedroom door only to find the master bedroom completely empty, devoid of any human presence.

The bedsheets were neatly arranged, untouched, with only a faint trace of sandalwood lingering in the air.

There was none of the distinctive aquatic scent Yu Huai carried, nor her pleasant feminine fragrance.

Nothing at all—just emptiness, as if Yu Huai had never existed.

Gu Yunyue glanced at the contract tucked in the drawer, where a clause had been added in fountain pen, “Gu Yunyue must sleep with Yu Huai every day.”

The black ink stood out starkly against the white paper.

So where was Yu Huai now?

Too irritated to knock on the guest room door, Gu Yunyue pulled a blanket over herself and turned off the light.

In the darkness, she blinked slowly. “Such an insatiable little creature.”

The moment the contract was signed, Yu Huai had started making demands—filling the pool and pond with water, keeping fish at home, crying when she wasn’t satisfied.

It was as if she was testing Gu Yunyue’s limits.

A flicker of resignation and disappointment crossed Gu Yunyue’s eyes. “It’s just headaches and insomnia. I’ve lived like this every day for the past five years.”

She swallowed a sleeping pill and closed her eyes, drifting into a restless sleep.

Unbeknownst to her, just a wall away in the guest room, Yu Huai was tossing and turning.

“So dry… so dry…” Yu Huai lay on the bed, her long nails scratching at her arms and legs, leaving red marks on her already delicate, pale skin.

Beneath the surface, faint scales shimmered.

“It hurts…”

Her skin felt taut, as if on the verge of cracking. Struggling to sit up, her legs weak, she collapsed onto the floor.

Her knees hit the ground, bruising instantly.

Tears welled up from the pain, rolling down her cheeks and transforming into pearls that scattered across her skirt.

Her short nightgown hung loosely on her frame, making her seem even more fragile and endearing than if she were naked. Her long, smooth legs, unused to walking, lay limp on the floor.

With great effort, she crawled to her wheelchair and carefully collected the pearls formed from her tears.

Yu Huai gulped down a large glass of water, her throat parched and scratchy. “This is unbearable… unbearable…”

No fish should suffer like this.

Her entire body burned, desperate for something cool.

Ever since her tail had transformed into legs and she’d started staying with Gu Yunyue, Yu Huai had never slept alone.

Whenever she grew too warm, pressing against Gu Yunyue’s cool skin would instantly soothe her.

The hallway at night was silent. The door to the master bedroom creaked open slightly.

Yu Huai peeked in, her face flushed deep red, her lips even more vivid than if she’d applied lipstick. Each exhale came out as a puff of heat.

The overheated little fish slipped silently into Gu Yunyue’s bed.

She wrapped her arms around Gu Yunyue from behind, pressing her burning forehead against the other woman’s shoulder blades.

Coolness spread through her, and Yu Huai let out a satisfied sigh.

The feverish little fish clung tightly to Gu Yunyue, her long eyelashes brushing against the nape of Gu Yunyue’s neck.

Her already loose nightgown had slipped even further, barely hanging on. Yu Huai draped a leg over Gu Yunyue’s waist, sprawled out in sleep.

Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, “Miss Gu… do you really hate fish?”

“Would you hate me… this little ugly fish?”

Yu Huai murmured to herself, her legs unconsciously rubbing against Gu Yunyue’s waist.

“My tail is injured for some reason and doesn’t look as good as when it’s whole. Would you stop liking me just because my tail isn’t pretty?”

Only soft breathing answered Yu Huai.

…

Deep in her dreams, Gu Yunyue suddenly felt immersed in icy water, her mouth and nose completely enveloped by suffocating seawater.

It squeezed out the last bit of air from her lungs.

The agony of drowning was etched in her DNA—a torment Gu Yunyue would never forget, replaying countless times in her nightmares.

The light grew dimmer, surrounded by the gurgling sounds of water currents, eerily resembling the whispers of demons from hell.

Gu Yunyue struggled frantically in terror, yet her body sank deeper.

At the deepest recesses of her memory, a flash of metallic blue scales appeared—and she jolted awake.

Drenched in sweat, Gu Yunyue stared blankly at the ceiling, her skin sticky and clammy.

Her wristband showed her heart rate had spiked to over 130.

“Mmm… don’t… don’t go.”

Suddenly, Gu Yunyue heard a faint, kitten-like whimper behind her. Turning, she found Yu Huai had somehow slipped into her bed unnoticed.

Like a little animal, she curled up tightly, fingers clutching Gu Yunyue’s clothes.

Gu Yunyue watched the sleeping Yu Huai quietly, who then rolled over comfortably, exposing her belly.

Gu Yunyue said, “…”

While she suffered through nightmares, this little one slept soundly beside her.

Silently, Gu Yunyue removed her clothes without disturbing the sleeping Yu Huai and padded barefoot to the bathroom for a shower.

The sound of running water seeped through the bathroom door, reaching Yu Huai’s ears.

Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up like a startled rabbit.

The air was faintly humid, and Yu Huai’s pale blue eyes fixed on the bathroom where the water sounds came from.

Her voice was groggy with sleep. “Miss Gu… are you showering?”

A moment later, a reply came from the bathroom. “Yes. Why are you here all of a sudden?”

Throwing a tantrum during the day, sneaking into bed at night—this little beauty was full of whims.

Yu Huai hugged Gu Yunyue’s pajamas, still warm and carrying the soothing scent of peonies, and buried her face in them.

“I… missed you. I couldn’t sleep without you.”

Only the sound of water answered from the bathroom.

Yu Huai hugged the pajamas tighter, hesitating. “I heard you hate fish… is that true?”

Gu Yunyue toweled herself dry, her expression odd as she recalled the butler’s superstition about homophonic names. A dull ache throbbed at the back of her head.

Her words took a detour. “The butler was mistaken. I don’t hate fish.”

Wrapped in a bathrobe, her skin flushed from the warm water, Gu Yunyue looked softer than usual—her usual elegance and laziness replaced by a delicate clarity.

As she pushed the door open, she found Yu Huai sitting in her wheelchair, smiling at her.

“Miss Gu really doesn’t hate fish?”

Gu Yunyue took half a step back in surprise. “No, I don’t.”

“If there’s any fish you like, make a list. I’ll have someone bring them tomorrow.”

Yu Huai shook her head and threw herself at Gu Yunyue. “I don’t like other fish. Miss Gu is only allowed to keep me as your fish.”

Gu Yunyue looked puzzled.

After mustering all her resolve to allow fishkeeping, now she didn’t want any?

This little beauty changed her mind faster than flipping a page.

Such a difficult little princess to please.

The surprise caused faint, icy-blue scales to emerge on Yu Huai’s legs. She shyly turned her head away.

“Miss Gu, may I borrow your bathroom?”

Gu Yunyue’s senses were filled with the uniquely pleasant aquatic scent and fragrance emanating from Yu Huai, making her feel dizzy with intoxication as her headache quietly dissipated.

“Alright.”

Yu Huai nuzzled her cheek against Gu Yunyue. “My legs aren’t working well. Could Miss Gu help wash me?”

Only then did Gu Yunyue notice that the loose pajamas hanging off Yu Huai’s body were actually the ones she had just taken off.

Yu Huai’s petite frame made the collar hang loosely, revealing collarbones and smooth shoulders that appeared even fairer and more lustrous than pearls under the soft light.

Gu Yunyue’s voice came out hoarse with heat. “Alright.”