Heart of the Ocean (6): His name

Tan Xiao was in a highly emotional state, his handsome face pressed against the glass wall of the fish tank, his breathing growing rapid.  

He called out his beloved’s name, his voice thick with affection: “Wen Yi.”  

Xiao Bai’s ears perked up. Wen Yi? Wasn’t that the name of that detestable robot?  

Xiao Bai didn’t like Wen Yi. The latter, relying on his status as an advanced robot, always bullied him. Worse, Wen Yi loved doing bad things to his master—locking the door tightly, refusing to let Xiao Bai into the bedroom.  

Though Wen Yi had contributed greatly to the establishment of the hope base and even built shelters for awakened robots like Xiao Bai, Xiao Bai still didn’t admire him.  

Because Xiao Bai knew Wen Yi didn’t do these things out of some noble sense of justice or greatness. In truth, Wen Yi’s temperament was just as vile as Abyss’s.  

The only reason Wen Yi acted like some savior was because of Tan Xiao’s existence. Xiao Bai had even worried—if his master were to grow old and die, or meet with some accident, would Wen Yi descend into even more deranged behavior?  

But that fear never came to pass. With the end of the game instance, Xiao Bai learned the truth of the world and became Tan Xiao’s loyal pet.  

Actually, pets bound through the game had a hidden affection mechanic. If a player treated their pet poorly, or if the pet had strong rebellious tendencies—difficult to tame and unwilling to be bound by contract—then the pet might betray or even kill its master.  

But Xiao Bai adored Tan Xiao. If affection were measured numerically, his would be maxed out. Tan Xiao would never have to worry about Xiao Bai’s betrayal.  

Xiao Bai simply disliked Wen Yi. Normally, he only maintained peace with him for Tan Xiao’s sake. After all, whenever Tan Xiao wasn’t looking, Wen Yi showed Xiao Bai a completely different face.  

Though Xiao Bai was a friendly little dog, he was also a one-master dog—loyal only to Tan Xiao.  

He had thought changing instances would mean escaping Wen Yi, but here he was again—this time, as an immortal jellyfish.  

Yes, it sounded absurd. But if Tan Xiao believed the jellyfish was Wen Yi, then Xiao Bai would believe it too.  

Wen Yi had previously taken the form of a companion robot, but in truth, he was just a string of data—an artificial intelligence, not a physical human. If Xiao Bai could become a real dog, then of course Wen Yi could become a deep-sea jellyfish.  

And the two weren’t entirely without similarities. Whenever Wen Yi appeared, Tan Xiao would show favoritism.  

Moreover, upon hearing the name “Wen Yi,” the previously motionless, death-feigning, cunning little jellyfish immediately pressed close, reacting strongly to Tan Xiao’s voice and name.  

“Wen Yi… is that you?”  

Tan Xiao stared intently at the immortal jellyfish before him, his voice trembling with excitement and sorrow.  

After all, his lover couldn’t speak, couldn’t respond in time. There was no telling if he would remain in this form forever.  

Hearing that familiar name, the jellyfish felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. It couldn’t help but spin in place, circling excitedly.

“I thought immortal jellyfish didn’t have brains?!” Xiao Bai was convinced this jellyfish absolutely did have one!  

No doubt about it—this jellyfish had to be Wen Yi. It pressed itself against the glass wall, “kissing” Tan Xiao through the cold barrier.  

Tan Xiao placed his palm against the glass, and the jellyfish mimicked him, pressing its tentacles to the same spot. It had many of them—slender, floating appendages that effortlessly formed a perfect heart in the water.  

Xiao Bai watched, cheeks puffed in irritation, tail flicking unhappily.  

Even as a jellyfish, he was still trying to flirt! What future could a human and a jellyfish possibly have?!  

The little dog glared at Wen Yi with round, disapproving eyes. “Pathetic. Of all things, why did you have to turn into a brainless, pretty-faced jellyfish?”  

In the last instance, Wen Yi had at least been competent. But now? Just a dumb, tentacled blob. Seeing Tan Xiao’s awestruck, lovestruck expression as he gazed at the jellyfish, Xiao Bai sighed deeply. He might not like Wen Yi, but his master did.  

According to the common knowledge Xiao Bai had gained through the system, clearing this mission would be tough. It looked like, for the foreseeable future, he would be the one holding this household together!  

———  

In truth, Tan Xiao wasn’t as lovestruck as Xiao Bai assumed.  

He had spotted Wen Yi’s wedding ring on the jellyfish. Calling Wen Yi’s name had elicited a reaction. The jellyfish could even grow and shrink, displaying clear intelligence—even forming a heart with its tentacles. Combined with that inexplicable feeling, Tan Xiao was tentatively convinced this was Wen Yi.  

But without stronger evidence, he couldn’t be certain. Maybe this jellyfish was just Wen Yi’s pet, separated from him for some reason.  

Tan Xiao was human; the jellyfish was just a jellyfish. As much as he loved Wen Yi, he wasn’t a pervert. He wouldn’t… do anything to a jellyfish.  

Still, as long as there was a chance this jellyfish was connected to Wen Yi, Tan Xiao would take care of it. Even if it wasn’t Wen Yi, it had to be closely tied to him—his lover would never casually give their wedding ring to some random sea creature.  

If the ring had ended up with this jellyfish by accident, then it was still a vital clue to finding Wen Yi.  

———  

“Xiao Bai, bring over the dried shrimp we bought earlier.”  

Tan Xiao remembered jellyfish ate plankton—and krill counted as plankton.  

He tossed a handful of moist shrimp into the tank. The pink fragments scattered like rain, drifting down through the water.  

Now that its true identity was exposed, the jellyfish wasn’t just spared from expulsion—it had won Tan Xiao’s affection. Seemingly emboldened, it unleashed all 99 tentacles, swiftly and decisively snatching every falling morsel.  

The scattered shrimp vanished instantly. The jellyfish tapped the glass lightly with a tentacle, signaling for more.  

This ravenous appetite reminded Tan Xiao of Wen Yi as a Parasite—back when he could dissolve into mist or liquid. Even as a jellyfish, he was just as gluttonous.  

The corners of Tan Xiao’s lips lifted in a faint smile—more beautiful than the jellyfish itself.  

He fed it handful after handful. The jellyfish devoured everything, and soon, the once-full sack of krill was half-empty.  

Jellyfish had no facial expressions, but Tan Xiao could feel its insistence: “More. More.”  

After an hour of nonstop feeding, Tan Xiao finally stopped. This was too much. Jellyfish operated on instinct—if he kept going, would it eat itself to death?  

In previous instances, his lover had always been a genius—whether as Dr. Wen, a top student, or a wealthy CEO. Even as a robot, Wen Yi had possessed formidable computational abilities. But immortal jellyfish had no brains. This idiot jellyfish might genuinely overeat until it burst.  

“Alright, that’s enough for today.”  

Tan Xiao tied the shrimp sack shut. “Xiao Bai, you’ve worked hard. Go rest.”  

Now that the “fish thief” had been identified as their own jellyfish, there was no need for paranoia.  

Besides, today Tan Xiao had installed not just cameras but also alarms and anti-theft devices. Compared to yesterday, this three-story house was now much more secure.  

Xiao Bai wagged his tail and barked twice: “Should I still keep watch over him?”  

Tan Xiao shook his head. “No need. Sleep in your doghouse. Call me if anything happens.”  

Xiao Bai was alert. Under normal circumstances, unless other players used special items, their movements would definitely wake him.

And the first time the immortal jellyfish stole fish, Xiao Bai had sensed something with his instincts—though at the time, he had no solid proof and never imagined such a tiny jellyfish could grow large enough to snatch fish.  

Xiao Bai nodded. “Goodnight, Master. Rest well—I’ll guard our home!”  

Tan Xiao had worked hard today—shopping for supplies, installing security devices, returning home to catch a thief, then feeding the very culprit that stole his fish. He was exhausted.  

Before Tan Xiao left, Xiao Bai asked, “If it steals fish again, should I stop it?”  

“No need. If it wants to eat, let it.”  

He refrained from feeding it more out of fear the jellyfish would overindulge with food right in front of it. But everything else was outside the tank—if it was truly full, it probably wouldn’t go through the effort of stealing.  

If it got hungry and hunted for food on its own, Tan Xiao wouldn’t interfere. After all, everything in the house had been bought with the card Wen Yi gave him. The jellyfish had every right to it.  

With a final glance at the well-fed jellyfish, Tan Xiao didn’t linger for sentimental words. He turned and headed upstairs to rest.  

———  

Night fell.  

The jellyfish pushed open the glass lid again. Ever since hearing the name “Wen Yi,” it had felt a strange craving—  

A hunger for richer energy. A desire to transform into another state.  

That beautiful young man had been generous, gazing at it with tender, sorrowful eyes—nothing like those detestable white-coated humans in the lab.  

The jellyfish didn’t like humans. But it did like this one—the young man who kept a little white dog.  

“Wen Yi, Wen Yi…” That’s what the man called it.  

In the lab, the jellyfish had no name—only a number: Test Subject 1036.  

But now, 1036 had a name.  

It happily decided: “Wen Yi” was good. This name belonged to it now.  

———  

The jellyfish expanded several times its size and began feasting voraciously.  

It ate and ate—devouring live seafood silently. Occasionally, a faint sound escaped, but the little dog guarding outside didn’t rush in to stop it.  

“Wen Yi” consumed entire tanks of seafood, yet still felt energy wasn’t enough. It finished the remaining half-sack of krill.  

Maintaining this enlarged form, it climbed out of the tank. Translucent, waterlogged tentacles left glistening trails across the tiled floor.  

It opened the fridge, retrieving frozen meats, seafood, kelp, seaweed—anything oceanic.  

Jellyfish ate plankton, small fish, shrimp, and algae. As long as it came from the sea, it was edible.  

The land-grown foods—chicken, beef, eggs, vegetables—it ignored entirely.  

After clearing out Tan Xiao’s stockpile, “Wen Yi” still felt slightly short.  

The first floor had no more food.  

It turned its gaze toward the stairs—then began crawling up to the second floor, where Tan Xiao slept.