Half-asleep and half-awake, Yu Bai seemed to smell the aroma of food.

At first, he thought his sense of smell was playing tricks on him. In the lab, there was only the pungent scent of disinfectant — how could there possibly be something that smelled delicious?

But the fragrance grew stronger and stronger, so tempting that the little mermaid almost started drooling.

He opened his eyes and saw a sky full of stars outside the window, only then remembering that he was no longer in the lab.

The coat covering him slipped off with his movement as he sat up, folding into a heap on his lap.

One side of the little mermaid’s cheek was pressed into a faint red mark. His brows carried the drowsiness of just waking up, and his half-open eyes were misted with a fine layer of moisture, adding a trace of confused vulnerability as if he had something to say but chose not to.

A small tuft of hair at the top of his head stuck up rebelliously, making one want to reach out and ruffle it.

He looked even more well-behaved.

Letting out a small yawn, he instinctively turned his head toward the direction of the desk.

Perhaps having finished handling his official duties and not wanting to wake him, Fu Linyuan was now resting with one hand propping up his temple, leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed.

The surroundings were very quiet. Only the slow, ticking sound of the wall clock could be heard.

Yu Bai also noticed that a few covered dishes had been placed on the coffee table nearby.

The delicious aroma he had smelled earlier had escaped from beneath those lids.

Lifting a lid, he recognized roasted meat.

And noodles.

But perhaps because they had been sitting there for a while, the food had gone cold.

The little mermaid looked at the roast meat, then turned to glance at the still-sleeping Fu Linyuan.

He waved cautiously toward the latter.

…No response.

Fu Linyuan seemed to be asleep as well.

After a moment’s thought, the little mermaid placed the coat aside, got up, and tiptoed behind him.

If he could read, he would have seen that the light screen Fu Linyuan had left on was displaying a long purchase list.

The top few entries were all about renovation services, with an “urgent” label on the right.

Just looking at those, it seemed the Imperial Marshal simply wanted to build a pool at home.

But the rest of the list was entirely filled with children’s early education textbooks—

There was even an expensive companion-learning intelligent robot included in the book list.

However, Yu Bai couldn’t read yet, and he wasn’t interested in whatever was written on the glowing screen anyway.

All his attention was now focused on Fu Linyuan.

More precisely, on Fu Linyuan’s mental sea.

Yu Bai’s own spiritual power hadn’t fully recovered to its peak, and only when the other person was relaxed and resting could he quietly inspect the mental sea without being discovered.

His cool palm gently covered the man’s eyes. The little mermaid closed his own eyes and released his spiritual energy.

－

This was a dim, gray world.

From the black seawater extended a narrow path, its destination unknown. Thick clouds hung very low, and the air was heavy with an oppressive feeling.

Fierce waves crashed against the shore, as though trying to devour the path.

The ground was covered in coarse gravel, rough enough to draw blood from a pair of fair, bare feet.

The pain underfoot was sharp, but Yu Bai seemed completely unaware as he walked forward along the uneven path, glancing around as though searching for something.

He didn’t know how long he walked before he finally found his target at the end of the path.

Or rather—across from it.

Beyond the end of the gravel path, the seawater was slightly lighter in color and appeared clearer.

And not far away, there was a large white rock.

The closer he got to the rock, the more normal the seawater became.

Seeing this, Yu Bai did not hesitate. He dove into the water, sending up a small splash.

The dark seawater caused waves of pain when it came into contact with his silvery-white fish tail, but as he swam into the clearer region, the pain gradually faded away until it disappeared completely.

With agile movements of his beautiful tail, Yu Bai quickly reached the side of the rock.

The little mermaid surfaced, braced his hands against the edge of the rock, and flipped himself up.

At the center of the rock lay another creature, quietly resting.

It was a sickly-looking adult male lion, large in size, its thick mane swaying gently in the sea breeze.

It didn’t seem to notice someone had entered its domain — just lay there silently, eyes closed, as if asleep.

As Yu Bai approached, he could see that the lion’s body was covered in countless fine wounds.

Blood flowed from them, pooling beneath it and staining that patch of rock a dark color.

Hearing its weak breathing, the little mermaid cautiously reached out and gently touched the lion’s forehead.

This place was Fu Linyuan’s mental sea.

And this lion was likely the manifestation of Fu Linyuan’s consciousness within it.

Feeling the dry fur under his palm, Yu Bai thought for a moment, then began channeling his spiritual energy.

His soft pink lips slowly parted.

In this gloomy world filled only with the sounds of waves and wind, a gentle melody suddenly rose.

The lion’s ears twitched reflexively.

It seemed to want to open its eyes, but some invisible force urged it to remain asleep.

As those ancient, beautiful syllables floated through the air, a miraculous scene unfolded—

a gentle light began to gather at the tips of Yu Bai’s pale fingers, and some of the lion’s smaller wounds began to visibly heal, its fur regaining a faint luster.

The thick clouds above the white rock seemed to part slightly, and even the restless waves calmed somewhat.

But soon, the little mermaid’s face paled with the effort.

His lips lost color, and his voice grew weaker and weaker.

The lion’s wounds began to heal more slowly, until finally they stopped altogether.

The light at his fingertips faded.

Yu Bai couldn’t help it anymore—he bowed his head and coughed twice into his hand.

Although his healing ability still remained, Fu Linyuan’s injuries were simply too severe.

His current spiritual power wasn’t enough to heal him.

Not enough.

And because of today’s attempt, he had expended too much spiritual energy.

Once he returned to reality, he might no longer be able to maintain his human form and would need to return to the ocean to recover.

His current mental strength wasn’t enough.

At the same time, the lion lying beside him twitched its eyelids slightly, as if it was about to wake up.

Entering someone else’s spiritual sea while their consciousness was awake was very dangerous, so Yu Bai had no choice but to begin slowly withdrawing his spiritual power.

As his consciousness returned, he opened his eyes and was back in the office.

His hand was still covering Fu Linyuan’s eyes. The other’s eyelashes moved slightly, and a faint ticklish sensation spread across Yu Bai’s palm.

At the same time, he felt an unprecedented fatigue sweep over him.

So, before Fu Linyuan woke up, he quietly lay back on the sofa and curled up again under that coat.

…Where did he get those wounds? The starship?

Closing his eyes, Yu Bai couldn’t help but wonder.

He had seen many humans’ spiritual seas and knew that if they stayed on starships too long, their mental seas would be damaged.

Apparently, there was some substance in deep space that polluted human spiritual power, making them fall into manic states.

And his own spiritual power just happened to have a purifying effect on such pollution.

Hmm… if possible, he wanted to…

But the exhaustion from overusing his spiritual power hit him like a tide, and before he could finish his thoughts, he had already fallen into a deeper sleep.

Fu Linyuan woke up to find that the person on the sofa still seemed to be asleep.

With a mere thought, he sensed something different.

His usually disobedient spiritual power had become unusually gentle, as if…

As if this short nap had somehow allowed his spiritual sea to recover.

Just as he was thinking this, the nearby terminal began to vibrate.

Fu Linyuan answered—it was Professor Xu Yiming.

“Professor Xu,” keeping an eye on the sofa, the man unconsciously lowered his voice, “You haven’t rested yet?”

Xu Yiming adjusted his glasses, seemingly flipping through some documents beside him: “His Majesty asked why you didn’t attend tonight’s regular meeting.”

Fu Linyuan thought for a moment and said, “Sorry, I forgot.”

Xu Yiming: “…”

Xu Yiming: “Be honest with me. Did your mental riot relapse again?”

One obvious symptom of a mental riot was a severe headache. Fu Linyuan had indeed chosen to rest in his chair earlier because of an intense headache.

And then… he seemed to have fallen asleep without even realizing it.

But after waking up, his spiritual power… had actually recovered a bit.

“No,” thinking back on the situation, Fu Linyuan replied, “I really just forgot.”

Xu Yiming knew the temperament of this young Marshal and didn’t push further: “…Alright, I just called to make sure you don’t forget tomorrow’s medical checkup.”

“Mm.” Fu Linyuan responded and couldn’t help glancing again toward the sofa. “I understand. Thank you.”

Xu Yiming paused for a moment and said, “His Majesty seems quite concerned about your health.”

After a brief silence, he continued, “The higher-ups seem to mean… if it really doesn’t work out, you can apply to be transferred to…”

“Professor Xu,” Fu Linyuan interrupted him, voice calm, “I’m well aware of my physical condition. I can hold on until the truth is uncovered.”

Hearing this, Xu Yiming opened his mouth as if to say something but ultimately held back.

The call fell silent for a few seconds.

Then Xu Yiming heard the sound of brief footsteps through the receiver.

Just as the elderly professor was about to remind him to rest early and stop working overtime, he heard the other suddenly say—

“…He has a fever.”

Xu Yiming: “…?”

Xu Yiming instinctively replied, “Who has a fever?”

On this end of the call, Fu Linyuan was standing beside the sofa, leaning down slightly, the back of his hand lightly pressed against Yu Bai’s forehead.

Even while he was still at his desk, Fu Linyuan had sensed something was wrong.

Previously, he could still hear Xiao Bai’s light and steady breathing, but now, he could barely hear anything.

Coming over to check, he found Xiao Bai curled up under the coat, and the half of his face exposed was flushed with an unusual redness.

One touch with the back of his hand, and the burning heat felt like it could scorch skin.

Frowning, he spoke into the communicator, “I’m taking him to the research institute now.”