Of Herbs and Tides

by Quadratic

Summary:

The water whispered over his fingers, light catching every iridescent scale. Maomao thought she knew myths—but Jinshi, the siren, was something far stranger, and far more alive.

 

Or, Siren Jinshi and Human Maomao

Chapter 1

Notes:

Hi guys, I had a dream about siren Jinshi, and now it’s my life mission to spread the siren Jinshi concept to people

Maomao adjusted the straps of her satchel and stepped back, surveying her neat rows of jars and bundles. Everything had its place—her small apothecary was orderly.

Only days had passed since she left her hometown, parting from her father with a fleeting bye—never a final goodbye. Now, in this unfamiliar town, she had settled into her new home as its apothecary. The place lay under the dominion of the local lord, though Maomao could only hope their paths—and those of his wives—would never cross.

After finishing her arrangements, Maomao rose and retrieved her purse from her coat pocket.

“Enough to last a week,” she murmured to herself, tucking it back before leaving the cottage. She locked the door behind her and stepped onto the narrow, sunlit street.

The town was quiet, almost eerily so, the air carrying the faint scent of herbs and smoke. Market stalls were beginning to stir in the distance, their colors and chatter coming to life.

Maomao made her way into the market, her eyes drifting over the stalls and their wares. For a town market, the goods were decent enough—she would give them that. As she pressed forward through the growing crowd, she nearly collided with a girl a little shorter than herself.

“Ah—I’m so sorry!” the girl exclaimed, bowing quickly. Maomao noticed her brown hair and the bundle of herbs clutched tightly in her arms.

“It’s alright,” Maomao said. Though she was curious about the herbs, she decided to mind her own business.

At that moment, a passerby brushed against the brown-haired girl, sending her bundle of herbs scattering across the ground. Feet trampled over them without pause, the crowd giving hardly a glance.

“No—no, no!” the girl cried, her face draining of color.

“Those were for Lady Lihua!” She looked as though she might faint.

Maomao’s eyes followed the passerby until he disappeared into the crowd. She crouched beside the scattered herbs, brushing off the dirt with careful fingers. Despite her promise, curiosity tugged at her—what was she doing with these herbs?

“What did you need the herbs for?” Maomao asked quietly.

The girl looked dazed, voice trembling. “It was for Lady Lihua. What do I do now?” Tears slipped down her cheeks as she turned to Maomao.

“First, calm yourself,” Maomao said, guiding her away from the swelling crowd. “Lady Lihua—as in one of the lord’s wives?”

The girl nodded, pressing her hands against her face in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

“What do I do now?” she repeated, voice breaking.
Maomao’s eyes lingered on the trampled herbs. They had been of fine quality—far beyond what a servant’s wages could cover. A mistake like this would not be forgiven easily.

“Follow me,” Maomao said. She stepped ahead briskly. Xiaolan stumbled to keep up, clutching her skirt.

Inside, Maomao learned the girl’s name was Xiaolan—a servant of the lord’s household. Lady Lihua, one of the lord’s wives, and Lady Gyokuyou’s children had recently fallen ill, and tension had grown heavy in the household.

The herbs Xiaolan carried—now crushed beneath careless feet—had been meant for Lady Lihua’s son’s care. At the mention of them, Xiaolan’s eyes brimmed with tears.
Maomao moved quietly around her small kitchen, retrieving a clay teapot and a pair of simple, worn cups. She rinsed the pot with hot water, letting the steam rise in thin spirals, then measured the tea leaves with careful fingers, inhaling their faint, earthy aroma. Pouring the hot water over the leaves, she swirled the pot gently, watching them unfurl and release their color. Once the tea had steeped, she poured it into the cups and carried one over to Xiaolan.

“Did you see the children?” she asked as Xiaolan accepted the cup, warmth radiating through her palms.

“No, not really,” Xiaolan murmured, eyes fixed on the tea.

“But I heard they’ve lost weight, vomiting a lot… and eating unusual things. That’s why they sent me for herbs.”

Maomao sipped the bitter brew, letting it sharpen her thoughts. The symptoms sounded familiar, though she could not be certain.

“Do any of the ladies use power?” she asked, sliding another cup across to Xiaolan.

“Yes,” Xiaolan admitted, voice low. “The powder’s popular in the capital, I heard. Those who use it—their skin becomes unnaturally pale.”

Maomao paused, considering. Then she rose and retrieved a sheet of paper, her brush moving quickly across it.

“Lady Lihua doesn’t know about the herbs, right?” she asked, picking up another sheet and writing as she spoke.

Xiaolan nodded, eyes following Maomao’s every movement. Once finished, Maomao tied each paper to a small flower and handed them to the girl.

“Then give these to the ladies,” she instructed. “Tell them it’s from the doctor.”

Xiaolan hesitated, gripping the flowers. “Will this keep me out of trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Maomao admitted. “But it’s better than going empty-handed.”

A few days passed. Maomao went about her work—helping the townspeople, checking herbs, dispensing remedies. She hadn’t heard from Xiaolan, but there was nothing more she could do for now.

The knock at the door made Maomao straighten instantly. Xiaolan’s bright voice rang through the hallway. “Doctor! Doctor!!”

Before Maomao could react, the girl burst into the room, throwing herself at her in a tight hug. Maomao stumbled, barely keeping her balance. “I’m not a doctor,” she murmured, pushing gently.

“They’re okay! The children—they’re fine!” Xiaolan’s eyes sparkled. “Your notes worked!”

“I see,” Maomao said, her thoughts confirmed. Xiaolan’s fidgeting told her the girl wasn’t here just to deliver good news.

“Spit it out,” Maomao said. Xiaolan let out an awkward chuckle.

“The lord… has requested you,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“…”

“Nothing bad! Only good!” Xiaolan hurried to explain. “I told him about the doctor who saved the children’s lives… and he wants to meet you!”

Maomao could already feel the headache coming.

Kneeling before the lord, Maomao could see the babies resting safely on their mothers’ laps. Both healthy now.

“Maomao, right? A servant told us you’re the doctor who saved my children’s lives,” the lord said, chuckling.

“Yes, my lord,” Maomao replied, careful not to overstate her role. “Though it was more a lucky guess than skill.”

“And humble, too,” the lord said, his gaze sharpening.

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind doing a favor for a lord?”

“How could I ever refuse nobleman’s request?” Maomao thought , already feeling a headache forming.

“There is a tale here, of a creature called a siren,” he began.

Maomao’s mind flicked through possibilities, trying to gauge where this was heading, but she simply nodded.

“Medicine made from a siren’s scalp is said to bring someone back to life,” the lord continued. “I am not demanding that you produce it, but I would have you attempt it. My people will provide you with a seaside dwelling—enough to work there for a season.”

Maomao kept her posture straight, hands clasped lightly before her.

“Understood.”

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed the read!! (=^ ◡ ^=) I got the powder(lead) poisoning symptoms from mayoclinic, and I wanted Lihua’s son to live. So he lived. Babies are my weak spot; I adore them. See you soon in the next chapter, have a lovely day ♡ Please pardon any mistakes, English is not my first language

Chapter 2: Into the Depths

Summary:

Blood laced the water, scales shimmered in the moonlight, and Maomao realized some myths are far more alive than she ever imagined.

Notes:

Maomao and Jinshi first meeting

Now she stands before the house the lord has set aside for her, uncertain if the creature even truly exists. She remembers only the tales her father told—of beauty that beguiles, of allure that ensnares, of violence that stains like ink. Still, it is but a single season. Afterward, she will return to the town, and all of this will be nothing more than a story she once lived.

“Will that be all, Maomao?” Xiaolan called up to her. She had volunteered to help Maomao settle in. Maomao supposes the girl feels guilty.

“Yes. Thank you, Xiaolan,” Maomao replied.

The brown-haired girl lingered, worry written plainly across her face.

“Maomao, I’m really sorry about what happened. I’ll visit you, so you won’t be lonely!” she added quickly, almost tripping over the words.

It was easy to see why Xiaolan felt guilty. A house by the seashore, hemmed in by jagged rocks, with nothing but rare sea life for company and the occasional servant delivering the lord’s supplies—it did sound lonely. Yet to Maomao, it was perfect solitude—time she could devote entirely to her studies.

Maomao only nodded at Xiaolan’s words before turning her gaze to the sea. One season here, was it? Not bad.

---

That night, Maomao couldn’t sleep. It had been three days since she’d settled here. The lord’s only order was that she report once every fourteen days; beyond that, she was free to do as she pleased. And so far, she had filled her days with experiments.

Since sleep refused to come, Maomao decided to step outside. She slipped into her outer robe, and bound it with the sash in practiced motions. Her hair, left loose for bed, she decides to let it that way.

She slid the cottage door shut behind her, fastening the wooden bolt. The sun had long vanished; in its place, the moon stretched silver across the world. The seashore she had been sent to was no gentle retreat but a harsh expanse of jagged rock and coarse sand, the kind where the waves struck hard and unyielding.

She walked toward the sea when her eyes caught the dark mouth of a cave. The path leading to it was marked with blood. Maomao hadn’t been outside often enough to know if it had been there before, but a closer look told her—the stains were fresh.

Normally, she would have turned back, blood stains are always bad sign. But this time, something glimmered against the stone. A scale.

She had seen drawings of the ocean’s children before. And this was unmistakably one of theirs.

Maomao walks to the cave. If the scale was real, it could be used in countless medicines. There was no way she would let the chance slip past her.

Stepping into the cave, Maomao found a pool of water glimmering in the dim light. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the surface was tinged with red—the water laced with blood. She held herself still, not daring another step, carefully assessing the shadows and stone around her. Then, from the water, something stirred.

Then, slowly, strands of long, dark-purple hair surfaced, catching the moonlight as they spread across the water. Maomao narrowed gaze. From the depths rose a face pale as sea foam, with eyes that gleamed like polished jade beneath heavy lashes. At first glance, it looked like a woman. A beauty so rare, so devastating, kingdoms might bleed for it.

Water clung to the form in slow rivulets, tracing the contours of a body honed by the currents, each movement fluid as if the waves themselves obeyed. Moonlight danced across damp hair and glinting scales peeking along the arms and shoulders, hinting at something not entirely human.

No.

As the figure broke the surface fully, Maomao realized—the siren was not a woman at all, but a man.

Maomao remembered the blood. Sure enough, it seemed to be seeping from beneath the water, where she assumed the siren’s tail lay. Unsure of what to say, she and the siren simply stared at each other in silence.

After what seemed like an eternity, the siren let his tail break the surface and rest on a nearby stone—close enough for Maomao to see and examine.

The tail was a marvel—long, sleek, and tapering gracefully, its purple scales shifting in a subtle gradient from deep violet at the base to soft lavender at the tip. The fin at the end fanned out like delicate silk, split into two small lobes, one of which had been cruelly severed.

The first wound lay at the tip, where that delicate lobe was cut in half. The second, deeper, was further up the tail but more closer to the tip than the base, gaping and still bleeding. Judging by the streaks of blood on the stone and in the water, the injury had been oozing for some time.

Maomao tore a handful of her clothes and stepped forward, pressing the strips against the wound to slow the bleeding before tying them around the siren’s tail. The siren barely reacted, seemingly indifferent—probably dizzy from blood loss, Maomao guessed.

After tying the cloth, Maomao ran back to the cottage for a needle and other supplies before hurrying back to the cave. The creature was still where she had left it. She approached the stone it rested on and quickly set up her equipment, preparing to treat the wound.

With careful, deliberate movements, she cleaned the wound, applied the salves to slow the bleeding, and stitched the torn fin as best she could. Her hands were steady, precise—every motion measured. The siren did not resist, though a low groan escaped him, and Maomao guessed the blood loss had left him too weak to do so.

After the procedure, the creature seemed to have passed out, the wound no longer bleeding. Maomao stood for a moment, studying the still form, the faint rise and fall of its chest. Now Maomao wasn’t sure what to do with the severed fin. She decided it could wait until tomorrow; tonight, the critical danger was over.
On her way back to the cottage, she didn’t forget to collect the scales the siren had left behind.

---

Maomao hadn’t slept a wink that night. After returning to the cottage with the scales she had collected, she couldn’t rest until she examined them. Each one gleamed with subtle shifts of color, delicate patterns tracing across their surfaces like tiny, perfect maps. She spent the rest of the night studying them, turning them over, comparing shapes, and noting every unusual detail, completely absorbed.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, Maomao stretched and tied her hair into its usual bun. Glancing down, she noticed she was still wearing the torn clothes from the night before. With a small sigh, she changed into fresh garments.

Her thoughts drifted back to the siren. She wondered if he was still there. With the fin damaged, Maomao assumed he couldn’t have gone far. Stepping outside, she closed the door behind her and made her way toward the cave.

Inside the cave, the water lay still, and the stone where the creature had rested the night before was empty—the blood and all traces of the siren’s presence vanished, as if nothing had ever been there. Maomao stepped closer to inspect. The siren seemed to be gone. Well, she supposed it was fine—she still had a few of his scales to study.

At that moment, the water erupted around her, and Maomao was pulled under with a force she could not resist. The cave seemed to stretch downward into shadow, twisting beyond sight, and she realized—this must be how the siren had vanished from her eyes.

The tail wrapped around her with overwhelming strength, sinuous and unyielding, dragging her deeper into the cold embrace of the cavern. The world above—the air, the light—vanished in an instant. She thrashed and kicked, but the grip was absolute, every movement only drawing her further into the silent, glimmering depths.

Around her, the water pressed and rippled, carrying the faint gleam of scales that glinted like starlight. The cold seeped into her bones.

Just as consciousness began to slip from her, the siren halted, his gaze lingering on her garments—the ones still pressed against his wound. Then, without warning, Maomao was flung from the water. She gasped for air, coughing and spitting out the water she had swallowed during the sudden plunge.

Maomao looked at the siren, who lingered in the water, watching her. Not even a week here, and already this.

Notes:

Jinshi and MaoMao met!!! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!! I tried to be accurate on the medical aspect(my search history is questionable now), and character thoughts (⇀‸↼‶) Next chapter proper Maomao Jinshi interaction!! See you soon, have a lovely day ♡ Please pardon any mistakes, English is not my first language

Chapter 3: Stay a While

Summary:

Pearls fall into her hands, questions rise in her mind. The more Maomao learns, the more Jinshi remains a riddle—like the sea itself, pulling her in with quiet promises

Notes:

Maomao accidentally courts Jinshi, and very flustered siren courts her back

The siren had started giving her scales. Not a gift Maomao had ever asked for, but after the incident he pressed them into her hands anyway—stripped down to the base of his tail, each glimmering piece offered with a look she doesn’t know how to decipher it yet.

That only meant more material to study—a good thing, in Maomao’s book. Another step closer to the medicine that could bring one back from the brink of death.

As the siren had started handing her more scales after the morning’s incident. Guilt, perhaps? She wondered idly if his tears would turn into pearls. That was for later. For now, she would observe. With his fin still swerved, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Sleep wouldn’t come just yet—her thoughts were entirely on the siren. Rising from her desk, where she had been studying medicinal texts and examining the scales, Maomao stretched and blew out the candle. The moonlight spilling through the window was enough; the seashore bathed in silver, soft and still.

Every living creature needed sustenance, and the siren was no exception. Being a sea creature, she guessed he would enjoy some kind of fish. Glancing around the cottage, she remembered the supplies the lord had sent. Deliveries were scheduled weekly, and it had been four days—soon, someone would come.

She stepped into the storage room and, as expected, found a fish waiting. She packed three, judging it enough for now, then rose and readied herself to leave the cottage.

Walking past the jagged rocks that dotted the seashore, Maomao spotted the cave. She was still wary after the morning’s incident, but the chance to study him up close was too tempting to resist.

She stepped into the cave and found the siren perched on the stone, upper body exposed while his tail lingered beneath the water. When his eyes met hers, he didn’t move—just studied her, every muscle coiled with careful restraint.

Maomao knelt and unpacked her bag, retrieving the three fish. At the sight, the siren tensed, a faint shift in his posture betraying him. She placed the fish before him and stepped back. A slight pink hue crept across his pale skin. The light caught it softly, tracing the curve of his cheekbones and the slope of his shoulders, lending a warmth that seemed almost borrowed from the moonlit water around him.

He must have been truly hungry, Maomao thought, as the siren lifted a fish to his mouth with deliberate grace. His teeth were sharp, like a shark’s—perhaps the tales of sirens devouring sailors weren’t entirely fiction. She found herself imagining the beautiful creature before her, not with flushed skin and shy eyes, but with deadly intent.

Perhaps he was shy about being watched while eating. Maomao averted her gaze, letting her eyes drift elsewhere, giving him a small measure of privacy as he carefully took the fish to his mouth.

“Jinshi,” the siren said after finishing the first fish and reaching for the second. His voice—it was beautiful, soft and smooth, carrying a timbre that could easily lure sailors to their doom. She imagined his voice as a song—soft, exquisite, and fatal, able to ensnare anyone who heard it. It seemed the old stories of sirens definitely had some truth woven into them after all.

“Maomao,” she replied, her voice flat. She hoped that by revealing her name, she hadn’t granted the siren any power over her.

The siren—no Jinshi reached for the third fish with the same deliberate care, eyes flicking to hers only occasionally, as if checking the space between them without breaking the rhythm of his meal. Maomao stayed still, hands folded loosely in her lap, letting the silence stretch. The cave smelled faintly of salt and wet stone, and the faint moonlight made the scales at the edge of the water shimmer like spilled ink.

She wondered how she could study him and mend his severed fin. She remembered reading a story about a dragon and a boy—a tale from a faraway land, where mountains scraped the sky and rivers ran like molten silver, where dragons existed. In it, the dragon’s tail had been damaged, but the boy, with skilled hands and careful craft, recreated the missing part, enabling the dragon to fly again.

When the last fish was gone, Jinshi lowered his head slightly, water dripping from his hair, tail coiled beneath him. There was no hurry in his movements, no sudden motion that might startle. Maomao shook herself from her thoughts and turned, heading back towards her cottage.

With the gentle chirping of birds drifting through the morning air, Maomao stirred from her sleep. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms above her head as the first light of dawn spilled across the cottage floor, painting the room in soft gold. She tied her hair into its usual bun, smoothing the loose strands carefully, and adjusted her robes until they lay just so—comfortable, yet neat.

She washed her face with cool water, the faint scent of salt carried from the seashore drifting through the open window. Folding her bedding neatly, she moved to the small table in the corner. Today, breakfast was simple: a bowl of millet porridge, a few pickled vegetables, and a cup of warm tea. She ate slowly, savoring each bite, letting her mind wander to the siren in the cave. Creature of myth, yet impossibly real—she could hardly believe he existed, and yet the scales in her hands proved it. The prospect of studying him, of recording his movements and perhaps even understanding his injuries, filled her with quiet excitement.

Finishing her meal, Maomao gathered her notebook and writing implements, tucking them carefully into her bag along with a small bundle of fish for Jinshi. She sat for a moment, letting the soft light of morning spill over the room, and then rose, ready to continue her observations.

Stepping into the cave, Maomao found the stone empty—Jinshi was nowhere in sight, presumably lingering deep beneath the water. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, tinged with an unsettling sense of deja vu.

Maomao unpacked her bag, arranging the fish for Jinshi. As she bent to set them down, the siren emerged from the water, his presence smooth and fluid. He held something in his hands, and a faint flush crept across his pale cheeks at the sight of the fish. This time Maomao concludes that yesterday’s offering hadn’t satisfied him—he was still hungry.

Stepping closer, she saw him open his palms—and there they were: pearls. Perfect, luminous, and unmistakably formed from tears. So it was true—Jinshi’s tears could indeed turn into pearls. What next? That his voice lure sailors to their deaths, as the old stories warned?

Now that she had a proper moment to observe him, the purple-haired siren revealed a beauty that was almost cruel in its elegance. The sunlight caught in the glaze of his wet hair, highlighting the smooth sweep of his shoulders and the faint curve of his jaw. There was impatience in his eyes, a frown forming—a sigh from him could make kingdoms go to war. His palms remained outstretched, holding the gift as if waiting for her to take it.

Maomao understood. The pearls were for her. She placed the fish on the stone and opened her hands, imagining how Jinshi’s tears, under the glow of moonlight, had hardened into these perfect drops.

As Maomao accepted the gift, Jinshi seemed pleased with himself before he retrieved the fish for himself.

The pearls were flawless, each one replicating the shape of a teardrop with exquisite symmetry. Maomao carefully tucked them into her inner pocket, the faint weight of them a reminder of the strange, living myth now intertwined with her days.

Maomao’s eyes lingered on Jinshi’s tail—the smooth gradient of purple, shifting like polished amethyst, fading into the delicate lavender of the tip. The severed fin at the end tugged at her thoughts, a reminder of the work she intended to do. She retrieved her notebook, and spoke aloud.

“Would you mind showing your tail to me?”

At her words, Jinshi’s cheeks flamed a deep pink. He opened his mouth as if to reply, but no sound came. After a brief pause, he lowered his gaze and, almost reluctantly, laid his tail across the stone for her to examine.

Maomao’s eyes traced the delicate, damaged fin as she sketched it carefully in her notebook. She wasn’t drawing for beauty or style—just accuracy. Her sketches were plain, precise, each line meant to record exactly what she saw. As her pencil moved, Jinshi inched closer, curiosity in his eyes, trying to glimpse the contents of her notebook. Maomao, however, seemed utterly absorbed, her gaze fixed on the tail and her notebook.

Gears turned in her mind, forming ideas on how to mend Jinshi’s tail. While he could swim short distances without issue, the severed fin would make bursts of speed difficult. Even a creature as formidable as a siren must face threats. Maomao’s thoughts drifted to other legendary sea monsters—like the kraken from the northern seas, described in the stories from far away land. If such creatures existed, she reasoned, Jinshi could not afford to be slow.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she looked up to find Jinshi staring at her. She sighed, rising to her feet—deciding that today’s observations were enough—until Jinshi held her arms back and said,

“Will you stay for a moment?”

If someone caught not his voice but only his face, they might swear Jinshi was a woman.

Maomao’s eyes drifted down to the siren, damp hair clinging to his shoulders, water streaming from his waist after the sudden movement that he made to reach for Maomao.

Maomao said nothing, settling onto the stone floor beside the water. At that, Jinshi relaxed, resting his weight on one arm, his gaze drifting lazily over her. From this angle, he could see her clearly, while she faced the cave entrance, both of them watching the outside world.

Slowly, his tail emerged from the water, curling around Maomao’s torso with surprising gentleness—an unspoken apology lingering in the soft pressure. The tail was long, stretching nearly seven feet, its purple gradient shimmering faintly in the sunlight. To think this is the same one had nearly dragged her to the bottom of the pool.

Both of them remained still for a long while, the cave filled with complete silence. Maomao’s mind wandered to the task ahead—repairing Jinshi’s tail. The lord’s people would arrive in a few days; she could request the materials then, and they would bring them on their next visit.

Maomao looked up at Jinshi, and in response, the siren turned his eyes toward her.

---

It’s about time the lord’s people would bring the supplies. In the meantime, Maomao had spent the days observing Jinshi. Occasionally, he offered her pearls and scales. Naturally, she did not neglect studying them—the scales seemed to wither after a few days, a trait Maomao suspected was a way for sirens to erase proof of their existence.

During the other hours, she focused on repairing his tail. Jinshi had begun speaking with her more frequently, as he did now.

“I was caught in the storm—how inconvenient,” he sighed. “The sea here is filled with sharp rocks, and I got injured while being tossed by the waves.”

Maomao wondered if there was some reason he wouldn’t recover in the sea unless—no she wasn’t certain.

As if reading her thoughts, Jinshi spoke.

“There are people chasing me. I got separated from my own in the storm.”

That answered Maomao’s question.

“Now I’m just waiting for my fin to heal,” Jinshi sighed once more.

“Heal?” Maomao echoed, the word slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

“Yes, heal.” Jinshi lifted his tail from the water and gave it a deliberate shake, as if to emphasize his point.

No wonder Jinshi never seemed worried—the fin could heal on its own. Maomao exhaled, her eyes lingering on the damaged tail.

“That’s good,” she replies, though a sigh escaped her lips. But then, a spark lit in her mind. If she could uncover how Jinshi’s severed fin could regenerate, perhaps she could apply the same knowledge to humans. Perhaps lost limbs could grow anew. Perhaps—her father could run again.

Jinshi, on the other hand, seemed to take that sigh as something else entirely.

“It won’t be that soon,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “I’ll be here for a while.”

Maomao only nodded, already drafting questions in her mind about his regeneration. But the siren looked increasingly worried, he slumped forward, his hand circling gently around her waist.

“I’ll stay as long as I can. I promise,” he murmured, almost as if trying to reassure himself as much as her.

“You—” Maomao began, but the words stuck. She exhaled instead, choosing silence, and turned her attention back to the apothecary book lent from the lord.

Notes:

Hi chat! I’ve had this fanfic draft since May, but I’ve been really shy about it—revisiting, fixing, or even rereading. English isn’t my first language, so I’ve been nervous about making mistakes. Still, I wanted to finally share my Maomao and Jinshi fic—I love them so much!!!! My dream about Jinshi the siren really inspired me, and I finally mustered the courage to post it. I hope you enjoy the read!!

Did anyone catch my HTTYD reference? Either way, I hope you have a lovely day! <3

Chapter 4: Tides of Discovery

Summary:

By the shore, Maomao studies the miraculous scales, tending to Jinshi as secrets of life and regeneration quietly unfold

With the lord’s people finally arriving, Xiaolan was among them. The girl’s anxious expression made it clear she had been worried about Maomao.

“Maomao, how have you been managing?” Xiaolan asked, her voice soft with concern. “I promised I’d visit often, but the seashore is so far from the town…” She let out a small, helpless sigh.

Maomao nodded, remembering what she had heard about this stretch of coast. Back when the town was first settling, the sea had been wild—storms frequent, the waves treacherous. It was no wonder people had avoided the shoreline. Over time, the storms lessened, and the once-feared tsunamis became almost a memory.

The townspeople had chosen to stay inland, away from the shore despite the water source. Maomao supposed it hardly mattered—there was a reliable underground supply of water now, so proximity to the sea was unnecessary.

The rest of the servants who had come with Xiaolan were nearly finished stocking the storage when she spoke up.

“Before I forget, the ladies asked me to deliver these to you, Maomao!”

She held out a set of exquisite hairpins. Maomao’s first thought was of their likely high value in the markets, a fleeting plan to sell them forming before Xiaolan continued.

“These are their family symbols. Here!” Xiaolan pointed at the delicate emblems engraved on the hairpins.

Ah. Maomao understood. By giving her these hairpins, the ladies were offering her a form of welcome—not just to the town, but to the home they had left behind. Selling them now was out of the question.

If the hairpins somehow found their way back to the ladies, Maomao could get into trouble. She simply nodded to Xiaolan and carefully put the hairpins away.

“Maomao, let’s spend the afternoon together. Not the whole afternoon—just a few hours. The trip back to town takes a while,” Xiaolan suggested eagerly.

“You don’t need to feel guilty,” Maomao replied, her voice even, trying to reassure the girl.

“No, that’s not it!” Xiaolan shook her head. “Then let’s at least play a few games together. The others can wait, right?”

The men gave their approval—promising to wait—, with the condition that it wouldn’t take too long. With that, Maomao and Xiaolan settled on the bed, the latter already pulling out a deck of cards.

Playing cards was a common pastime in this region, familiar enough to ease the atmosphere. As Xiaolan shuffled, her eyes flicked up to Maomao, curiosity brimming.

“Have you ever seen the sirens?” she asked at last, lowering her voice to a whisper as though the sea might overhear. “No one truly has. But in the stories… they’re monsters. They sing until sailors forget themselves, steering their ships straight into the rocks. Their eyes glow in the dark, sharp as knives, and their nails are said to peel the skin off anyone who dares touch them. They don’t just drown you—they tear you apart, piece by piece, and drag you into the deep.”

“At least that’s what the townspeople say,” Xiaolan added, fanning out her cards with a flick. She set one down, then leaned closer as if sharing a secret.

“They say the reason the seashore used to have so many storms… was because of sirens. When they’re restless, the sea grows wild. And when they’re hungry—” she lowered her voice, almost scared someone might spy on them, “—people vanish. Fishermen, travelers, even whole boats, gone without a trace.”

Her voice softened at the end, almost as if she regretted speaking the words aloud. “That’s just what the old ladies say, anyway.”

Maomao thought back to Jinshi. Could he really be the kind of creature the townspeople feared? He had said others were pursuing him—perhaps it was they who carried the guilt of those stories.

The two girls played five rounds of cards. Four ended in Maomao’s victories, and the one Xiaolan won was because Maomao had let her. When the game finally wound down, they exchanged their goodbyes. Xiaolan promised, with a hopeful smile, that she would bring something more entertaining on her next visit.

Maomao waved her off and turned her thoughts toward food. When absorbed in her studies, she often forgot to eat; back home, her father had always been the one to remind her of such things. Now, she had to ensure on her own that she was properly fed.

She supposed she would bring more than just three fish to Jinshi next time, considering how he always lights up when he sees them.

She rinsed a handful of millet, letting it soak briefly before setting it over the fire. While it simmered, she chopped a few pickled vegetables, their tangy scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the cooking grain. Once ready, she ladled the warm millet into a bowl, topping it with the vegetables.

After finishing her dinner, Maomao cleaned the bowl and utensils, then packed the fish for Jinshi. Stepping outside, she paused, watching the sun sink slowly into the horizon, as if the sea itself were swallowing the light. The sky bled shades of amber and rose, reflecting faintly on the waves.
Her studies on the medicine had barely progressed today. She let her gaze drift over the darkening waters, thinking of Jinshi. If only she could unravel the secret of his regeneration—how his fin healed itself, how life returned to what seemed broken—perhaps she could advance the medical field by years.

Her fingers pressed the fish carefully into her bag, securing them with precise folds. The breeze from the sea tousled her hair as she stepped outside from the cottage, eyes drifting to the cave.

She made her way toward the cave, night settling around her like a soft cloak. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sea in shadow. Jagged rocks scraped her path, their edges glinting faintly in the moon light. Then something caught her eyes—

scales

—scattered across the sand.

A pink scale tinged with blue, a dark purple one with a whisper of sea green, and amber streaked with violet. It couldn’t be Jinshi’s—the remaining scales he’d left were all withered, and their colors wrong. Yet all these led straight into the cave.

Maomao runs to the cave, thought lingering in her mind, perhaps these are from ones who were pursuing Jinshi.

Maomao dashed toward the cave, thoughts racing—perhaps these scales belonged to those pursuing Jinshi.

Inside, she catches her breath, and sets eyes at the sight of the pool to see three figures circling him.

Her sudden arrival drew their attention. One, with eyes the color of sea green, turned to her and smirked.

“You smell of the sea, dear girl, you smell like one of us” she said.

Another, with purple hair reminiscent of Jinshi’s, smiled faintly at Maomao, while the third remained impassive, her gaze fixed and unreadable.

Jinshi appeared unfazed, even almost enjoying the scene.

“Maomao, these are my sisters,” he began. “The one who spoke is Meimei, the purple-haired one is Pairin, and the other is Joka.”

Siblings, huh? They certainly shared the same beauty. These must be the ones Jinshi had mentioned being separated from.

And what did Meimei mean earlier, that she smelled of the sea? Perhaps it came from spending time close to Jinshi, Maomao reasoned.

“Sisters, she is my… umm—” Jinshi’s face flamed as he stammered, but Maomao didn’t pay him any attention, her gaze fixed on the new sirens.

Before Jinshi could finish, Maomao interrupted, saying,

“Pardon my intrusion I did not mean to startle you. I’m nursing Jinshi back to health.”

Jinshi looks at her, and mumbles something about that would work too.

The two sisters drifted like liquid shadows to the edge of the pool, their movements weaving through the moonlight.

“Pleased to meet you, Maomao,” Pairin said, her hand lifting in a graceful wave. She inhaled the air with a pause. “Ah… might you have fish? Our hunger has grown long in the currents, after swimming to find our little brother.”

Meimei’s purple hair fanned across the water, catching moonlight like spilled ink. Her eyes flicked to Jinshi, a faint, playful curl of her lips betraying a secret amusement.

“Fish? Yes, I have.” Maomao set her bag down, reaching for the offering, when Jinshi’s voice cut through the quiet like a startled wave.

“No!!! Maomao, don’t give fish to anyone but me. Sisters!!” His tone trembled on the edge of a whine, sharp and plaintive.

Pairin and Meimei lingered at the water’s edge, their laughter curling through the cave like playful currents, while Joka remained still, eyes steady and unreadable.

“Now that we’ve glimpsed your safety, little brother,” Pairin murmured, her hand brushing his head in a ripple of reassurance, “we’ll vanish back to the deep and sweep away every trace that leads to you. Recover well, as the tides demand.”

Joka’s voice rose:
“Spend your time with the human as much as possible now”

At her words, the sisters’ gazes softened, and the cave seemed to hold its breath.

“Stay safe,” they whispered in unison, then waddled out of the water, flopping across the rocks before diving back into the sea with a splash.

Jinshi sank back into the water, clearly affected by Joka’s words.

Maomao approached him.
“The lord’s people brought supplies today. We have plenty of fish now.”

She set the fish on the stone.

Jinshi surfaced again, eyes narrowing, almost in pouting manner, but sirens don’t pout.

“Maomao, promise me you won’t give fish to anyone else but me.”

“What if someone else is really hungry?” Maomao countered.

“No! Let them starve. Don’t give them any fish!”

“Why this little…” Maomao thought, frowning.

“Alright,” she said instead, “I won’t feed fish to anyone else—even if they were starving.”

The siren’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He scooped up the fish from the stone and began eating, each bite punctuated by a quiet, pleased hum.

---

So far, Maomao has observed the following about Jinshi and his scales:

Regeneration: Jinshi’s tail heals naturally, even from severe injury, without apparent external aid. The process is rapid, localized, and leaves no scar. She notes subtle energy pulses from the wound during recovery.

Scales: The scales he sheds are temporary—most wither and lose color within a few days, as if erasing proof of his existence. Freshly shed scales retain vibrant hues: deep purples with hints of green, pink with blue undertones, amber streaked with violet.

Properties: When combined with certain herbs, small fragments of the scales stimulate cellular activity. Preliminary tests indicate accelerated tissue regeneration and heightened resilience in sample tissues.

Limitations: Despite their potential, the scales’ effects are inconsistent; the proper combination, dosage, and preparation method remain unknown. She also notes that overhandling may reduce their efficacy.

Maomao feels she is on the verge of a discovery—perhaps even two. One, the rumored medicine that could draw someone back from the death. The other, a method to regenerate even what was thought irretrievable, like shattered ribs.

Nearly two weeks have passed since she settled by the seashore. In that time, Jinshi’s wounds have almost fully closed. However, she has a suspicion that he deliberately slowed his recovery from what she has observed. His true healing is far swifter than he lets on.

A sudden splash, soft and deliberate, broke the stillness of the water and drew Maomao out of her thoughts.

“How long will you remain here?” Jinshi asked, his eyes fixed on her as he lingered in the shallows, waiting for her reply.

“For one season,” Maomao replied, her gaze shifting from her notebook to Jinshi. Writing while keeping the siren company had quietly become part of her daily rhythm.

“One season, hm?” The purple-haired siren propped his chin on his wrist.

The supplies from the lord arrived today. As Xiaolan promised before, she brought a jianzi with her. The two of them played for a while on the shore, the jianzi bouncing between them until their legs grew tired.

When it was time for them to leave, Maomao gathered the notes she had written so far. She sent them with Xiaolan, though she made sure not to mention Jinshi directly. Only the records of the scales, the progress with tinctures, and her thoughts on the medicine were included.

As usual, with the storage full Maomao packed some fish and walked to the cave, to Jinshi.

When she entered, Jinshi was not visible. Strange. Normally he sensed her steps and rose from the water before she could call.

She set the fish on the stone, waited a moment, then turned to leave.

She shouldn’t pry too much.

The next morning, as part of her routine, Maomao went up to the cave first thing.

Upon entering, she saw the fish she had left yesterday still lay on the stone, untouched. That bothered her. Had something happened?

She stepped closer to the water and peered down. No subtle movement. No shadow. No glint of scales under sunlight. Nothing.

Jinshi was gone.

Notes:

Your comments truly motivate me to keep writing <3 Thank you to everyone who left such kind words. I hope you enjoyed the story! Wishing you a lovely day!!

Jianzi — A traditional Chinese sport in which players aim to keep a heavily weighted shuttlecock in the air using their bodies apart from the hands