The afternoon sun was beautiful, casting its bright light into the room through the transparent glass. It wasn’t scorching, making it unbearable; instead, the light gently fell into their palms, much like the sweet scent of orange juice in their cups, carrying a sense of lively vitality. Ryan, Connor, and Fan Lanting sat around a small white round table near the window. Fan Lanting nervously stared at the large potted fern placed on the windowsill. Vines hanging down were adorned with lush green leaves, and the sunlight smoothly moved across the leaves, seemingly reflecting the vitality of life.
“Fan Lanting, which part of the Stormwind Starfield are you from? Is it far away?” Ryan, feeling the need for some conversation to fill the silence, inquired about Fan Lanting’s hometown. Upon learning that Fan Lanting was from the Stormwind Starfield, he found it quite coincidental. When away from home, everyone from the same region felt like fellow villagers.
“My home is Beland.”
Beland is a second-tier planet in the northeast direction of the Stormwind Starfield’s first planet, Neunus. It’s a week’s journey from Newnes. The weather in the Stormwind Starfield is generally cold, with few planets like E69 having four distinct seasons. Beland is one of the exceptions; it’s comparatively cold. As far as Ryan knows, they are famous for their ice sculpture exhibitions and have produced several renowned sculptors known throughout the entire empire.
Fan Lanting, who is usually reserved, offered brief responses, and the conversation remained quite dry for about ten minutes. Ryan took a sip of his orange juice, feeling parched, and asked, “Do your parents not mind you not being at home during the holidays?”
“My brother has children now, so they are busy taking care of them. They don’t have time to think about me…” Before he could finish his complaint, he suddenly stopped, closed his mouth, and looked at Ryan with a pleading look in his eyes. He was on the verge of losing the carefully cultivated image of being calm and mature. Seeing Ryan and Connor both looking at him, as if waiting for more, he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He forced himself to continue with a stiff, composed tone, “I’m already 28 years old. My parents think it’s time for me to get married. If I don’t want to marry someone I don’t know just for genetic compatibility, I need to find someone I like as soon as possible.”
Connor nodded, “Genetic compatibility in marriage is too restrictive. While it ensures eugenics, it treats free citizens as tools for the Empire’s reproduction. We are people, not livestock. and they even encourage random mating.” He lightly gestured toward Ryan with his chin. “Not everyone is as lucky as this guy here.”
Most genetic matches are just haphazard unions, similar to the blind dates people used to have on ancient Earth, marrying just because it was time to do so.
The people in Ryan’s family were all well-matched. His aunt found happiness through genetic matching with her husband. Ryan found happiness with Auston. Connor didn’t consider himself particularly lucky; his own mother hadn’t found a good match.
“It’s important to find someone you love before genetic matching comes into play. Don’t waste the opportunity,” Connor said sincerely.
Fan Lanting nodded earnestly. “Yes, the Great Sage is right.”
“Don’t call me the Great Sage,” Connor chuckled. “That’s a bit too much praise. Just call me Connor, that’ll do.”
Fan Lanting blushed a bit, quickly lowering his head to conceal his emotions. He reached down to his suitcase, adopting a grave and solemn expression that momentarily made Connor feel like he was dealing with a door-to-door salesman about to unveil his company’s products. Fan Lanting opened the suitcase, pulled out a book, and pushed it toward Connor. “I really love this book. Could you please sign it for me?”
The book was titled “Heavenly Birds.” Its pages were slightly curled, the cover worn but exceptionally well-preserved, clearly cherished by its reader. Ryan knew this was the beginning of his cousin Connor’s fame. It told the story of two young people searching for love, inadvertently reaching the age of genetic matching. They met for the first time in the Adaptation Center, but it wasn’t the beginning of love; instead, it marked a bitter starting point.
Genetic adaptation couldn’t perfectly align with the people one might fancy; they were destined to miss out.
In their marriages, which were either mundane or unhappy, they took a brave step, secretly started dating, made love, and eventually eloped to a distant place.
When the police showed up at the doorstep of E69, Ryan realized how daring his cousin was—publishing such a novel openly challenging the genetic matching system.
Connor was taken away for questioning, but he didn’t face any torture. He was not prohibited from continuing to write novels but was forbidden from publishing anything that challenged the contemporary system. Despite this, “Heavenly Birds” made his cousin widely known, gaining more and more fans.
“So it’s this book.” Connor stroked the matte cover, his expression slightly changing as if reminiscing. “It’s hard to find it in bookstores or online nowadays.”
“I got it early.” Fan Lanting had found it at a second-hand bookstore. Since then, he couldn’t stop himself from falling in love with Connor’s words, becoming a devoted fan.
Connor picked up a pen and opened the cover, ready to sign on the title page. Before he put the pen down, he asked, “Do you want me to write something?”
“Just write, ‘To the best fan, Fan Lanting.'” He wanted to be more extravagant, like dear, beloved… even cute, but in the end, for the sake of his public image, he had to reluctantly choose ‘the best’. T^T
Watching the interaction between Connor and Fan Lanting, Ryan felt redundant sitting there. He thought that just bringing tea upstairs was too plain to entertain guests. How about bringing some juice? Paired with his mom’s slightly bitter almond finger biscuits, it would be a nice afternoon tea.
Without further ado, Ryan stood up and went to the kitchen to prepare another large orange. His departure didn’t catch Connor and Fan Lanting’s attention; they were already engrossed in discussing the plot of the novel, creating their own world.
With the orange ready, he stirred it into juice, poured it into a glass with crushed ice. Next to the glass was a small basket with a bamboo tray, containing cute and delicate finger cookies. The caramel-colored cookies were adorned with almond slices.
Upstairs in the study, General Tolkien and Auston got along reasonably well. After all, Auston’s dad had known General Tolkien for many years, and the general regarded Auston as his own child. His gaze fell on Auston’s fingers, and a simple-styled ring caught his eye. “Is that the ring made of mithril?” Mithril only appeared extraordinary under sunlight; without it, it looked like an inconspicuous piece of metal.
Auston replied, “No, this ring has some history to it.”
Tolkien suddenly realized, “He gave it to you, so you’re getting mithril to make a ring for him. I was a bit worried when I heard you got married, but seeing you doing well now, I’m relieved.” Given Auston’s personality, he wouldn’t bother if the marriage wasn’t going well.
Auston replied, “Thanks for your concern, Uncle. He’s great, and I feel fortunate to be with him.”
Tolkien chuckled and shook his head, “You, as usual, don’t know how to express emotions. Your injuries…” Bringing up this topic made his heart sink a bit. During the military exercise at Alpha Base, Auston was ambushed and injured. The wound was on his waist, and others thought it was just a minor injury. However, he later found out that the dagger used had the toxin of a Zerg Queen. Against the constantly evolving toxins of the Zerg, the Empire currently had only basic inhibitors but no antidote. After being injured, one either died immediately or endured until death.
Seeing Auston’s complexion, healthy and radiant, Tolkien felt a mix of incredulity and a hint of joy as he exclaimed, “Is your injury healed?!”
With the care of the elder, Auston tried to present himself in a softer manner, drawing on his experience of interacting with Ryan’s family. Nodding gently, Auston said, “Thanks to Ryan, I found an antidote synthesis potion, and my injury has healed.”
Upon hearing this, General Tolkien, sitting across from Auston, gripped the armrest of his chair, visibly moved and tempted to stand up. After a moment of slightly erratic breathing, he regained composure and said, “Good, good, that’s wonderful. As long as you’re well, I can be at ease.” He and Auston’s father were comrades in the same year in the military, and after his friend’s passing, he felt a sense of responsibility to look after the younger generation. However, due to their personalities, he couldn’t quite warm up to Auston. Watching Auston, with his young shoulders, step by step to his current position, building an armor of indifference to forge ahead, Tolkien felt a mix of helplessness and pride, but also deep self-blame. He had failed in the duty entrusted to him by his old friend, not fulfilling the responsibilities of an elder.
“Uncle, don’t worry, everything is fine with me.” Auston pursed his lips and, after a brief silence, added, “Uncle, please keep this matter confidential.”
“I understand.” Tolkien returned to his usual demeanor, his mouth curved into a slightly ferocious smile. Stripping away the refined facade, this was the true appearance of a general stationed at the border. “Did the person behind the soldier who attacked you, thinking they could rest easy after the suicide in prison, believe it would be that simple? Hah, too naive! We’ll give them a taste of their own medicine. Let those despicable individuals laugh for a couple of days; soon, they’ll be the ones in tears. They want to shuffle the cards of power, but the final victor won’t be decided by them.”
Auston’s eyes were slightly cold. Soon, he would leave the peaceful planting star and return to the deceitful capital. It was time to clean up those individuals within the family who colluded with outsiders and recklessly caused trouble. With a stable rear, they could present a united front to the outside world.
Knock, knock—
The door was knocked twice, and Ryan’s voice came from outside, “I brought afternoon tea.”
Upon hearing the familiar voice, the coldness that enveloped Auston suddenly dissipated. He couldn’t help but stand up and greet Ryan at the door, saying, “Ryan, come in.” Although it was a simple gesture of inviting someone inside, he personally walked to the door to open it for the person outside.
Ryan turned the doorknob and saw Auston. He was momentarily surprised but then smiled with joy. “Juice, finger cookies. Let’s fill our stomachs a bit.”
“Sure.” Auston didn’t realize how charming his smile was at that moment.
Tolkien observed the interaction between the two, and his critical gaze softened when he looked at Ryan. As his eyes scanned Ryan’s hand, he indeed noticed a ring. Once he set aside his preconceptions, he found this young man to be quite impressive, both in appearance and demeanor, radiating a comfortable vibe. While outsiders might judge based on looks, insiders looked for subtleties. Ryan moved with stability, his breath maintained a consistent rhythm, and his gaze was firm and composed. In short, he was a skilled individual.
Without asking Ryan to leave, Tolkien had him sit down. He wanted to explore Ryan’s character, manners, upbringing, and knowledge. After taking a sip of orange juice to set the stage, General Tolkien, who initially intended to merely be courteous, took another sip. His eyes subtly shifted, retracting the probing questions and replacing them with genuine appreciation for the juice. “It has the taste of sunlight. Tasting it brings a sense of joy to the heart, quite suitable for soldiers stationed at the border. Is it for sale?”
The expression on Tolkien’s face was all too familiar to Ryan. It was easy to discern the scrutiny and criticism beneath his refined demeanor. Ryan was on the verge of asking if Tolkien’s idol was Qin Feng Anderson, as their nitpicking habits seemed eerily similar. Prepared for the encounter, Ryan felt like he was on a fast-paced road that suddenly led to a cliff. He quickly applied the brakes and followed the general’s line of thought, “There are a total of 226 orange trees in the orchard. I’ve already sold the fruits from twenty trees, and the remaining ones are intended for the Golden Crusade Legion. General, you should taste them first. Would you buy without considering the growth environment and conditions of these fruits?”
If Ryan didn’t want to sell, he wouldn’t have gone into such detail, showing a bit of thoughtfulness.
“No need to be so formal. You’re married to Auston, so just call me Uncle, like he does. Are you saying all 206 trees are for the Golden Crusade Legion?” Tolkien shook his head disapprovingly. “Set aside some for Uncle, at least half.”
His concern for Ryan’s business wasn’t solely due to Auston’s relationship. It was driven by his own interests. Soldiers, especially those stationed at the Empire’s borders, faced the monotony of metal walls and the routine of garrison life every day. The psychological pressure was significant. As the legion commander, Tolkien sought ways to improve the lives of his soldiers, not only in terms of material conditions but also addressing their mental well-being. Emperor Anderson once said, “The physical and mental health of soldiers is crucial to a nation’s combat capability and stability.” Therefore, logistics procurement was a matter of great importance.
Supplementing vitamins, using nutritional and trace element supplements can meet the basic needs, but it only makes life more oppressive. The sudden introduction of fresh fruits into a monotonous life is like seeing the sun after weeks of rainy days, bringing forth a radiant joy from the depths of the soul.
Moreover, Tolkien swirled his cup. This orange probably underwent a growth process filled with rain, dew, and sunlight. Whether it was the vibrant color or the rich, sweet taste, it exuded vitality, making it impossible for someone to put the cup down.
Understanding Tolkien’s thoughts from his position, Auston nodded towards Ryan and said, “Uncle Buck, we can’t make decisions about the oranges. You’ll need to discuss it with Dad.”
Upon hearing Auston call him “Dad,” Tolkien experienced a moment of dizziness, as if that person were still there. He chuckled in resignation, realizing how many years had passed, yet he still struggled to fully accept reality. “Alright, let’s talk to Mr. Smith now?”
“I’ll call Dad.” Ryan, still feeling somewhat uneasy with the situation, wondered how they suddenly shifted to discussing business. It was like preparing for a full game, but the opponent unexpectedly surrendered. He felt a bit lost and confused.
While waiting for Dad to arrive, General Tolkien engaged in conversation with Ryan. Ryan picked up the preparations for the discussion, feeling an excitement that truly something was happening. Eager and energized, not just for victory but for affirmation, especially from Auston’s elder. Tolkien had read many books and, while not claiming to be all-knowing, could be considered knowledgeable. Yet, in his conversation with Ryan, he felt a sense of finding a worthy opponent. No matter the topic, Ryan seamlessly continued the discussion, delving into deeper insights. Tolkien rarely felt the urge to chat endlessly, but it was truly remarkable how Ryan’s thoughts resonated with his own.
The conversation continued for a delightful half an hour, leaving General Tolkien with a sense of wanting more. Ryan’s gaze had completely transformed, giving off the feeling of establishing a friendship that transcended age.
In his heart, Ryan confirmed his speculation. General Tolkien was an admirer of Qin Feng Anderson. Unlike Auston’s admiration for Anderson’s youth, Tolkien regarded Anderson as a spiritual mentor, a behavioral role model, and a beacon in life.
Seeing General Tolkien’s intense gaze, Ryan felt a bit awkward. Had he just activated the “cheat code” to gain a middle-aged friend?
Listening to the conversation between Ryan and General Tolkien, Auston unexpectedly felt like a spectator engaging in high-level speculation. His gaze towards Ryan held a hint of contemplation but was mostly filled with pride, almost happier than achieving his own accomplishments.
The study door was knocked once again, and this time, it was Mr. Smith, Ryan’s father. Seeing General Tolkien, Mr. Smith was pleased but didn’t show the typical awe and excitement a commoner might display when meeting an imperial general. Maybe Auston had prepared him for it? In any case, General Tolkien felt somewhat defeated, yet that defeat brought a surprising joy. He enjoyed this feeling of not being treated as a general but as an ordinary person.
Tolkien and Mr. Smith preliminarily discussed the purchase intentions. Such a significant transaction wasn’t a decision he could unilaterally make; the Glory Legion wasn’t a one-man show. Mr. Smith was asked to prepare a detailed brochure about the large oranges, which would be forwarded to the Legion’s procurement department. Tolkien would also take some samples with him when he left.
“These large oranges are outstanding, and they have great potential. This deal is sure to be successful,” General Tolkien remarked. “Please make sure to nurture them well. Expanding the cultivation area would be even better.”
Mr. Smith nodded with a smile. While he valued the large oranges, he wouldn’t hastily decide to expand the cultivation area based on a few words. As a farm owner with over a thousand employees, success in business came not only from honesty and providing genuine value but also from careful consideration, bold decisions, and a keen market sense.
Observing a family’s children could reveal much about the family’s upbringing and heritage. Tolkien couldn’t help but feel moved. To raise such an outstanding son like Ryan, Mr. Smith was undoubtedly not a simple farm owner.
Moreover, the fact that this son was skilled at playing Mahjong!
As General Tolkien continued playing Mahjong with Ryan, he became more satisfied with the young man. He sincerely believed that his old friend could rest easy in another world, knowing that Auston had found such an excellent companion.
“Pong.”
“Chow.”
“Kong.”
“Win!”
It had been a while since Tolkien found a worthy opponent in the Mahjong world. Now, facing Ryan, who was equally skilled, a burning desire to claim the title of Mahjong God ignited within him. Every tile he played carried a decisive and strategic intent.
After dinner, entertainment and leisure activities included a Mahjong session. In Ryan’s family, they didn’t play every day, but when the mood struck, they gathered for a few rounds.
Who was Tolkien? He was a nationally renowned Mahjong enthusiast, someone who could extract military theories from the game since the era of interstellar travel, besides Emperor Qin Feng Anderson, Tolkien was the one. Unlike the Emperor, whose interest was a hobby in his leisure time, often chastising himself in his diary for wasting a day playing Mahjong, Tolkien treated Mahjong as a sand table exercise. He derived diverse military tactics from the game, and he had written more books on Mahjong than most people had played the game. Tolkien had a following, or rather, a shared admiration with the Emperor. They believed that the Emperor’s immersion in Mahjong allowed him to comprehend the true essence of life. Otherwise, how could the Emperor be so outstanding?
After playing Mahjong for over forty minutes, Ryan and Tolkien were evenly matched, and both felt a sense of finally having a good time. The person accompanying them in the game was now questioning life, feeling dizzy and disoriented, finding it hard to believe that they had been playing for so long.
Fellow Mahjong enthusiasts: So, Ryan has been hiding his true skills. Playing with them was just child’s play.
As they left the table, Tolkien’s gaze towards Ryan had completely changed. They even started addressing each other as brothers, while Auston found himself relegated to a sideline companion.
“Young man, you’re extraordinary. Ryan, you’re impressive. Keep it up; you must maintain this level, don’t lose your touch,” Tolkien said mysteriously. “In Mahjong, there’s a way to elevate oneself, there are laws of the heavens, there’s an entire universe. We believe the Emperor didn’t die from self-explosion; he simply left our space after reaching complete enlightenment.”
Ryan: “…No, no, he loves the mortal world.”
Tolkien patted Ryan on the shoulder. “With you like this, I can rest assured. Auston will surely be happy with you.”
Ryan was at a loss for words. “…” If he had known that playing Mahjong could easily handle the tough Tolkien, why did he waste brain cells engaging in a scholarly discussion earlier? The one who truly felt defeated should be him.
“The future world belongs to you!” Tolkien sighed with nostalgia. “I really want to live a life of farming and herding, a life where I can play Mahjong whenever I want.”
Sitting in the cozy but not extravagant living room, Tolkien looked around and found the place warm and inviting. He felt a sense of peace and tranquility in his heart. No wonder it could nurture someone like Ryan with such a gentle and refined temperament. Tolkien knew his own story; his refinement was cultivated through effort, unlike Ryan’s innate gentleness that permeated from within. The mild and serene nature had become an integral part of him, naturally ingrained. With Auston’s calm and somewhat cold personality, having someone like Ryan by his side was fitting.
“Uncle Buck can stay a few more days,” Auston suggested.
Tolkien shook his head, “No, it’s not my vacation time yet. In two months, I’ll be embarking on a patrol mission. I’ll take a good rest after the patrol is over. I won’t be able to attend the National Day parade and the parliamentary meeting this time. Auston, pay extra attention.”
Auston nodded, “Uncle, rest assured. I’m not alone.”
“Right, there are many people in the military fighting on the same front as you.”
Auston didn’t feel the need to explain. With Ryan by his side, he was no longer fighting alone. He took Ryan’s hand, and with him around, Auston felt that he was no longer a solitary warrior.
…
General Tolkien left the next day. On the third day after his departure, the deputy head of logistics procurement from the Glory Legion arrived with a team to conduct on-site inspections of the orange orchard. They candidly expressed their findings, stating that upon returning, they had conducted extensive tests on the oranges. The results showed excellent values in various aspects. As General Tolkien mentioned, drinking orange juice gave a sense of sunlight and vitality, soothing inner darkness and restlessness. They considered it an excellent fruit worthy of promotion.
Their visit brought millions of military procurement orders to the planting star. The results exceeded the expectations of Qin Yi, Ryan’s dad. The sales from this orchard alone equaled the annual income of the planting star.
Representatives from the procurement department of the Golden Cross Legion were scheduled to arrive in a couple of days. With the high-quality product, they were sure to strike a lucrative deal.
Everyone praised Auston as the lucky star of E69, and the compliments made him a bit bashful.
This evening, the weather outside was unusually overcast.
Leaning on the balcony, Ryan said, “The next three or four days will be like this. After the overcast and rainy days pass, the temperature will rise, and you’ll suddenly experience the heat of early summer.”
“I thought it’s like spring here all year round.”
“More or less. It’s just about five or six degrees higher than it is now, a comfortable temperature for late spring and early summer.”
Auston leaned on the balcony, watching the distant horizon with his arms resting on the railing. The wind was brisk on this overcast and rainy day, rustling the leaves of the palm trees and coconut trees along the Love Shore. Waves surged, continuously crashing onto the shore, erasing any traces of small creatures on the beach. Birds struggled to fly against the wind in the sky, their strained cries breaking into fragmented sounds on the ground. He brushed aside the strands of hair lifted by the wind on his forehead, observing the world stirred by the wind in the dimming sky. Despite the changing weather, his heart remained remarkably calm. When was the last time he observed weather changes so peacefully? There was a moment of blankness in his gaze, realizing that it might have been in his childhood. Later on, monitoring the weather became a routine for work and training.
A warm body embraced him from behind, his back against a broad and warm chest. Auston allowed himself to be held.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The wind carried the voices from the second floor, where Fan Lanting and Connor were talking.
Fan Lanting had been there for several days, and his composed and reserved demeanor finally gave way. Being a talkative person, he could only hold back for three days before reaching his limit.
“I disguised myself not to deceive you,” Fan Lanting’s voice sounded somewhat regretful and sad. Being discovered in his deception by his idol made him feel lost and anxious. He just wanted to apologize to Connor.
Connor responded, “You should be yourself; your natural personality is great.”
“Really?” Brightening up at the praise from his idol, Fan Lanting asked eagerly, “You’re not angry?”
“Haha, why would I be angry? I noticed it on the first day you came,” Connor chuckled.
Fan Lanting was astonished. As an excellent reconnaissance soldier, how could he be so easily exposed by Connor’s discerning eyes?
Suppressing his amusement, Connor said, “The soundproofing in the bathroom on the first floor isn’t that great.”
Fan Lanting: “…” He felt like dying. Was his loud scream not heard loud and clear by Connor?
Connor continued with a smile, “You don’t need to hide yourself. A composed, reserved, and dependable image is good for a gentleman, but it doesn’t suit you.”
Fan Lanting said, “I remember in one of your interviews, you mentioned that you appreciate this kind of personality. I just wanted you to look at me a bit more…”
Connor shook his head with a smile, seemingly oblivious to Fan Lanting’s unspoken intentions. “Who doesn’t like and appreciate themselves?”
Ryan, not intentionally eavesdropping: “…”
Whispering to Auston, Ryan said, “Connor is becoming self-absorbed.”
Auston, pointing out the essence of the conversation: “He doesn’t accept Fan Lanting’s feelings.”
Connor has φ3 element deficiency syndrome, eliminating him from the gene adaptation category, preventing him from marrying a normal person. Even if he receives synthetic drug injections and enters the adaptation phase, he still cannot adapt to Fan Lanting. The Empire has strict legal regulations for young people in the adaptation phase and those who have not entered it yet, limiting their ability to date and marry. To be together, they must obtain approval from all relatives, get the signature of the soon-to-be adapted partner, and submit it to the court for approval. Only after approval can they smoothly get married.
After all, the law assumes that having a partner is implicit once you enter adaptation. Leaving your current partner (even if it’s a future form and not yet acquainted) to marry someone else is considered infidelity and bigamy.
Ryan said, “My cousin appears cheerful, but his inner world is quite heavy. His childhood experiences have deeply affected him.” He has always suspected that his cousin voluntarily exposed himself to radiation, leading to φ3 element deficiency syndrome. This is his cousin’s secret, and he doesn’t inquire about it or disclose it to others until his cousin willingly reveals it. Apologetically, he kissed Auston on the back of his neck, which Auston couldn’t reciprocate.
The conversation on the second floor continues. Fan Lanting doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what Connor said. He nods vigorously, “You’re right! Your writing is full of personality charm, especially appealing to me. Sometimes I find it very positive, motivating, and sometimes I feel a bit sad, wanting to… comfort you.” He really wants to say, “hug…”
“It’s rare for someone to say this. Why do you think so?” Connor is surprised. The comments under his articles, the editors’ critiques, and the publicity on various websites all highlight the positive and uplifting aspects of his writing. Rarely… no, almost never has anyone mentioned the sadness in his words.
Fan Lanting scratches his head in regret, “Did I misunderstand?”
Connor didn’t smile. He looked outside where a drizzle had started. He said, “Who doesn’t have some sadness in their emotions.”
Hello Readers!!! I hope you all are doing well. My exams are over. I will try to update regularly in the future. Thanks for your patience and support. Love you all!!
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152