Heart of the Ocean (16): Hidden danger

Because of this kiss, Wen Yi’s originally transparent and colorless tentacles turned a shy, translucent pink. Paired with the particularly red stomach of the lighthouse jellyfish, it now looked just like a strawberry jelly.  

Wen Yi’s other tentacles also gathered near Tan Xiao’s lips—fair was fair, and they wanted kisses too.  

“Woof woof woof (No more kisses)!” Seeing these two going at it endlessly, the single dog Xiao Bai barked a few times nearby, reminding his owner, “The house is filthy, and the pile of corpses at the door is gone.”  

If the dead were islanders, their bodies would still be there, but since they were players, the bodies had been refreshed in less than half an hour. With the player corpses no longer blocking the way, a large hole could now be seen at the entrance of the yard.  

Outside, the heavy rain continued. The typhoon had knocked over trees across the island, and lightweight plastic bags left outside by people were flying high in the air while trash was scattered everywhere.  

Due to the widespread power outage, the only light in the area came from the small yard. Looking back, there was the cozy bed-and-breakfast-style house, while beyond the yard lay a dark, storm-ravaged world.  

After all, it was a typhoon with pouring rain, and the sky was pitch black. Only the occasional lightning illuminated the heavens, but the flashes brought no comfort—instead, they deepened the fear in everyone’s hearts.  

One bolt of lightning struck a dense tree. Despite the torrential rain, the tree caught fire, and the flames took over half an hour to finally die out, leaving behind nothing but a charred black stump.  

Remembering the expensive ghost-repelling items in the system shop, Tan Xiao braved the storm and stepped out in his bright orange raincoat. Wen Yi’s matching raincoat had already been torn to shreds when it grew larger, the plastic material now scattered in bright fragments.  

But it didn’t matter—a jellyfish didn’t need a raincoat. It simply followed Tan Xiao with the flow of water, sliding along effortlessly. With the darkness everywhere, Wen Yi wasn’t worried about anyone attacking it.  

Typhoon weather was dangerous, but Tan Xiao was cautious. Not only was he steady on his feet, but he also had a thick rope tied around him, the other end secured to a decades-old fruit tree in the yard.  

He dashed out quickly and returned just as fast, now holding a pitch-black piece of lightning-struck wood.  

The system immediately provided an appraisal: Wood directly struck by lightning—an excellent material for repelling ghosts. The shop is willing to buy it at a high price: 5,000 gold coins.  

5,000 gold coins, yet the system shop sold similar items for 50,000.  

Whether in real-life games or infinite flow games, the system was clearly a scammer. Of course, Tan Xiao wasn’t about to sell it at such a low price.  

The system’s buyback offer was too cheap. Even if he had no use for it, he could sell it to other players at a much higher price through the game’s forum.

Come to think of it, Wen Yi had indirectly given him many rare items. Unfortunately, Wen Yi wasn’t a player, and even if they obtained the lightning-struck wood in this instance, there was no guarantee they could take it to the next one.  

Otherwise, the first item he earned through his own efforts would have been perfect as a gift for his lover.  

But a pitch-black piece of wood wasn’t exactly an ideal present. Tan Xiao looked at the irregular chunk in his hand—his first thought had been to carve a small piece from it and make a ring for Wen Yi.  

But then he reconsidered. Wen Yi had been a vengeful spirit twice before, and there might be a next time. Even though he was now a jellyfish and wouldn’t be harmed by supernatural items, what if? What if there was a next time? He didn’t want his gift to become something that could restrain or hurt the other.  

Wen Yi followed Tan Xiao back inside, showing no interest in the blackened wood. After all, to a lighthouse jellyfish, only tasty food could truly capture its attention.  

After safely returning home, under Xiao Bai’s urging, Tan Xiao first covered the gaping hole in the door with a large wooden board, adjusted its position, and then firmly nailed it in place with screws and an electric drill. He even used expansion bolts for extra stability.  

Looking at the muddy floor and the dark bloodstains on the ground, Tan Xiao’s mild OCD flared up, bringing a faint sense of discomfort. But this wasn’t the right weather for cleaning.  

The tall, elegant black-haired young man stepped onto the porch in his rain boots, leaving muddy footprints behind. “The storm’s too strong—my hair’s soaked. Let’s go back and take a bath.”  

Glancing at the lighthouse jellyfish trailing behind him, Tan Xiao asked, “Can you turn back into your human form? The one from before?”  

The jellyfish’s translucent bell turned red again—but this time, not out of shyness. It was a strained, effort-filled red. All the tentacles along its edges drooped limply, lying flat on the ground in dejection.  

Jellyfish don’t have facial features, but clear water trickled down its beautiful body, dripping onto the floor.  

Tan Xiao could easily imagine Wen Yi’s human form bursting into tears.  

Wen Yi’s voice came out in a sob: “I can’t change back! What should I do?!”  

This time was slightly better—even in jellyfish form, he could still speak human language.  

Before, he had been desperate because he couldn’t shift from human to jellyfish. But now, being unable to revert from jellyfish to human was clearly much worse.  

After all, Tan Xiao wasn’t that much of a pervert. He could kiss jellyfish tentacles, but taking things further with Wen Yi in this form was out of the question.  

Though Wen Yi loved his jellyfish form, he could also tell that his previous shape had been far more convenient for being with Tan Xiao.

Tan Xiao comforted him gently, “It’s okay, don’t worry. You’ll figure it out eventually.”  

Wen Yi asked pitifully, “But what if I never change back?”  

He wasn’t an optimistic jellyfish. On the contrary, having witnessed too many terrible things, he often spiraled into negativity, imagining the worst possible outcomes—the more he thought about it, the gloomier he became, his pink hue threatening to dull into a miserable gray.  

Tan Xiao said, “Even if you can’t change back, it’s fine. I can still stay with you just like this.”  

He loved Wen Yi, no matter what form he took. If theirs had to be a platonic relationship, he could accept that. And if Wen Yi wanted more, he was willing to accommodate.  

But lighthouse jellyfish probably didn’t have those kinds of needs. Though they were gonochoric—having distinct male and female sexes—male jellyfish likely weren’t as driven by desire as humans. Platonic love was perfectly fine.  

Besides, he added, “You just protected me in this form. No matter what shape you take, you’re amazing.”  

His eyes were sincere, his tone earnest, and the calm reassurance in his voice quickly soothed Wen Yi back to composure. But then the jellyfish made a request:  

“I want to bathe with you.”  

It wasn’t an unreasonable demand. Tan Xiao agreed without hesitation, “Alright.”  

Fortunately, things didn’t turn out as badly as Wen Yi feared. While bathing together, the overly excited jellyfish transformed back into human form right there in the water.  

Since he had no clothes, he was, naturally, completely bare in the tub.  

And through this, Wen Yi finally uncovered the secret to switching forms: It required reaching an emotional threshold! With a little more practice, he’d soon master the ability to shift freely at will!  

Before that, however, Tan Xiao laid down some ground rules: “You absolutely cannot transform so carelessly in front of others!”  

He had his own possessiveness when it came to his lover and wouldn’t tolerate Wen Yi accidentally exposing himself to others.  

Tan Xiao wasn’t a bloodthirsty or cruel person, but considering that troublemakers might come looking for them, he figured he should prepare extra clothes for Wen Yi—maybe even a portable changing booth for emergencies.  

The storm raged for a long time. Each day began with a downpour, then eased slightly before picking up again within half an hour.  

The once-calm sea seemed to have risen—no, it wasn’t Tan Xiao’s imagination. After three straight days of torrential rain, the seawater had already swallowed the beach and was now creeping onto the island.  

Thankfully, the homestay was built on higher ground with decent drainage. On the first day, the water flooded the trenches they’d dug, washing away all traces of blood from the earlier fights.  

Fortunately, Tan Xiao had the foresight to buy a dryer and a generator in the first few days of the instance. Otherwise, their laundry would’ve taken over every corner of the house.  

On the tenth day since Tan Xiao entered the instance—and the third day of continuous rain—the sky finally cleared. The sun blazed overhead, rapidly evaporating the water. But by then, the rising tide had already submerged the first floor of the homestay.  

The first floor was five meters high. Seawater lapped at the steps, and Tan Xiao and Wen Yi had already moved all their important supplies to the third floor. If the water swallowed all three floors, Wen Yi would shift into his jellyfish form and carry Tan Xiao and Xiao Bai to safety, seeking higher ground.  

The typhoon and flooding brought disaster, claiming the lives of some islanders and even unlucky players. But this was only the beginning, not the end.  

Even as the sunlight bathed the island and the sea showed signs of receding, danger lurked beneath the less-than-five-meter-deep water.  

The ocean carried a message—the monsters created by the research facility had found them.