Chapter 846: Su (Swimsuit!)

Perspective shift.

Sunlight filters through the gaps in the coconut palm leaves, shaken by the sea breeze into fragments of gold that stick to the skin piece by piece, warm and a little salty and briny.

The girl nudges her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, her red eyes hidden behind the dark lenses, lazily squinting into a thin slit.

The sunshade above her head is woven from the massive leaves of an unidentified plant; when the sea breeze passes, it rustles like an old cat purring.

Su— a term the girl is still getting used to— sinks entirely into the canvas beach chair, her back against the striped fabric warmed slightly by the sun, her long legs crossed and extended, flat sandals with peacock‑blue thin straps tied at the ankles wobbling on her toes, teetering on the edge of falling.

"Good thing there are no acquaintances."

The girl takes a sip of coconut juice; the cool liquid slides down her throat, soothing the parched throat the sea breeze has dried.

Su looks down at themselves, their gaze traveling from the collarbone downward: a two‑piece swimsuit of soft white and misty black, the left arm covered by a semi‑transparent black mesh short sleeve, the right arm bare and resting on the armrest, a dark‑purple and light‑blue binding strap at the waist cinching a tight waistline, and a tiny gilded tassel on the side fluttering in the wind.

The lower part is a short swimsuit of the same color scheme, a thin black‑and‑white strap wound around one thigh, and a small gilded ring that glints in the sunlight.

The visual effect of this body, in Ailixiya's own words, is "extremely eye‑pleasing."

The girl fell silent for a while after hearing that, then decided not to press for any details.

After all, probing Ailixiya would only make herself the unlucky one in the end.

This principle has been repeatedly verified countless times over the long ages of Past World Paradise.

How did things come to develop like this?

Su takes another sip of coconut juice, letting the memory drift slowly around in their mind.

Probably Ailixiya suddenly popped up, patting her shoulder— back then Su was still "he," saying, "Su, you're too tired, you should take a vacation."

Su opens their mouth to say they don't need a vacation, but Ailixiya has already pressed them down, her crescent‑shaped eyes blinking.

Then there is a burst of pink light.

After that, Su finds themselves standing on the island's beach, their uniform vanished, replaced by this extremely frugal swimsuit.

Looking down, the new curve at the chest causes Su's mental processor to crash for about three seconds.

Looking up, there is azure sea and blue sky, coconut‑tree shadows, no trace of a ghost on the sand, only a hermit crab strolling slowly past their feet.

And a slip of paper.

Ailixiya's handwriting, in pink ink, ends with a crooked heart:

"Enjoy your vacation, dear Su~ There will absolutely be no one else here~ Consider it a little token from me~ Remember to apply sunscreen~"

The back of the note adds a line of smaller, messier script, apparently added on the spot after the front was finished:

"By the way, I think you look much better this way than Kaiwen."

Su folds the note and places it on the beach table beneath the sunshade, under a cup of untouched pineapple juice.

Su's mental activity at the time can be divided into three phases: First Stage is silence, Second Stage is deep silence, the third is resignation.

Anyway, it's not the first time Ailixiya has tormented her.

Compared to those, becoming a woman sunbathing on the island is even a relatively gentle prank.

And to be honest, the sunshine is nice, the sea breeze is nice, and the coconut juice is quite tasty.

Su lies on the beach chair, letting the shoulders sink into the canvas, feeling the sea breeze flow from the neck to the collarbone and into the swimsuit neckline, a refreshing sensation.

Gray‑brown long hair drapes over the back of the chair, the tips nearly touching the sand, and when lifted by the wind it looks like a soft cloud.

She lifts a hand to brush aside the slanted, wind‑tossed fringe.

"Hope Ailixiya doesn't go overboard."

Su mutters to the coconut shell, the tone of helplessness far outweighing Rage.

The claim "There will absolutely be no one else" coming from Ailixiya's mouth has a credibility somewhere between zero and negative.

Every time Ailixiya says "just once" in Past World Paradise, it ends up becoming "play a hundred million times".

When she says "a little surprise," it usually means Su won't dare leave the house for at least three days.

But for now, the island does seem quite quiet.

Su turns their head, scanning the surroundings through the sunglasses; the beach sand is so fine and white it reflects, sinking to the ankle with each step.

The sea water shifts from light blue to deep blue, its clarity allowing the outlines of coral reefs on the seabed to be seen, occasionally a few colorful tropical fish darting out of the reef crevices.

In the distant horizon, a few gulls circle, their calls thinned by distance into faint accents.

Behind, dense coconut groves with crooked trunks stretch toward the sky, leaves rustling loudly in the wind.

No one.

No boat.

Only the sound of waves, wind, and the gurgle of Su swallowing coconut juice.

Su places the coconut shell into the armrest groove, closes the eyes again, and lets themselves fully relax.

Su adjusts their lying posture, spreading their legs more fully, feeling the sunlight licking from their toes up to their knees and then to the small of their back, a steady, lazy warmth.

At the moment the pose freezes, the sea breeze suddenly strengthens.

The sunshade's leaves flap loudly, and the canvas chair's armrest trembles slightly.

Su doesn't open their eyes, just pushes the sunglasses back into place, then casually picks up the pineapple juice on the table and takes a sip.

The sweet‑sour liquid erupts on the tongue, the icy sensation sliding down the esophagus, creating a pleasant temperature contrast with the heat on the skin.

"Indeed... it's quite comfortable."

When this thought surfaced in Su's mind, the corner of their mouth involuntarily curved.

Then she heard a gull's cry.

It was rapid, drifting ever closer overhead.

Su furrows their brow, opens their eyes, and looks up at the sky through the sunglasses.

The gull wasn't circling; it was flying straight toward the sea, its diving posture exuding a panic as if it had seen a ghost.

Su follows the gull's flight path, moving their gaze downward, past the nearby foamy shallow shoal, past the starfish perched on the reef, past the sea surface steaming with vapor under the sun—

In the distance there is a black dot.

Su pushes the sunglasses up to the forehead, the red pupils slightly narrow.

That black dot floated and sank in the sea‑level reflection, its outline vague, but in shape it was round and plump, yellowish, and it was cutting through the waves toward her in a way that defied fluid dynamics.

"Duck?"

Su's voice was dry.

A huge yellow duck.