Ryan stood on the second floor of the hall, holding Tuantuan in his arms. The corridor here was square, with an open central area that provided a clear view of the middle section of the first-floor hall. In the past, the central area of the hall was empty; when the owner was away, the old house didn’t even have a decorative piece placed there, making it feel spacious, somber, and plain. Nowadays, a square carpet covered the central area, and atop it stood a massive, layered floral arrangement. A half-human-tall alabaster flower urn was filled with an intricate and staggered assortment of flowers.
Ryan could recognize peonies, starflowers, milky way leaves, and large-leaf lotuses, among others. The arrangement was intricate and lively without feeling chaotic or messy. The flower urn itself had a diameter of 1.5 meters, and the combination of the base and the flowers reached a height of 2.5 meters, truly testing the skill of the arranger. Yet, the arranger was no master-level florist. On the contrary, it was the housekeeper, Bowers, who was still a novice in this field. However, the floral arrangements he created could already be considered masterpieces, proving that talent plays a significant role.
Last week, the hall’s centerpiece was water lilies; the week before that, it was a floral arrangement accentuating a Cupid statue. Floral arrangements had become a complete expression of Bowers’ refined aesthetic sensibilities, and there was never a repeated flower in the house.
“Sweetheart, Daddy will be home soon. Let’s go downstairs to welcome him, shall we?” Ryan cradled Tuantuan in his arms. The full-moon banquet had passed half a month ago, and now, at 45 days old, Tuantuan had grown even rounder, living up to the meaning of his nickname with remarkable consistency.
Tuantuan yawned, his little mouth moving slightly as if he wanted to eat. Ryan decided to ignore it, as he had already fed him half an hour ago. Feeding him every time he seemed hungry wasn’t in line with scientific feeding standards. Sometimes, while holding the increasingly heavy Tuantuan, Ryan couldn’t help but feel like he was meticulously raising a little piglet. Don’t be fooled by his small size—this little guy was quite strong. When he grabbed the edge of Ryan’s shirt, Ryan could clearly feel the tugging force.
Looking down at Tuantuan, Ryan smiled and said, “Sweetheart, in the future, Daddy will design a perfect, tailored exercise plan for you so your strength can be put to good use.”
Tuantuan’s bright black eyes couldn’t see clearly yet. He blinked up at Ryan, as if he could see the smile on his daddy’s face. He yawned again but refused to sleep, seemingly determined to wait for Daddy to come home.
Even during his vacation, Auston couldn’t completely leave work behind. He was just a little less busy than during his official working days.
After the establishment of the provisional government, a thorough reorganization of the capital star’s garrison was undertaken, uncovering significant issues: more aristocratic offspring had entered through nepotism than ordinary soldiers; many bore the title of soldier without possessing the corresponding skills, with individual quality being alarmingly poor; there was a severe lack of training, leaving a hollow structure; military pay had been embezzled, financial records were unclear, and fund usage was untraceable; wages were distributed unequally, there was excessive redundancy, and personnel were idle and unproductive. The investigation revealed a situation even worse than anticipated.
This was the capital star, the political, cultural, and economic center of the entire empire, with a densely packed population. For security to have such glaring loopholes was akin to a humiliating slap in the face of the government! No wonder that during Ryan’s last encounter with an attack, a high-stakes chase through the skies with explosions lighting up the air and a 50-kilometer battle route unfolded, yet the garrison and police only took action near the end of the assault.
And this was just addressing acts of violence targeting individuals—what if it were aimed at the entire capital star or the entire capital city?
Imagine a bomb planted in front of the central government building, detonated during the most crowded hours with a resounding “boom”—just the thought is chilling.
Not many people are aware of the capital star’s weak defense capabilities, but if this information were to spread, it would undoubtedly cause widespread panic among the populace. The government’s image would plummet in the eyes of the people, and anti-government organizations across various regions might seize the opportunity to push their narrative of governmental incompetence.
The people are the foundation of any government. A government that loses the confidence of its citizens cannot salvage its reputation, no matter how many prime ministers it replaces. People won’t blame individual factions of the government—they will point fingers at the entire system.
Why did Gustav act this way during his tenure? Coupled with Connor’s mention of wanting to restore the monarchy, Ryan quickly connected the dots. Perhaps their plan was to tear down the old system to rebuild anew. If not for the earlier attacks exposing the incompetence of the capital garrison prematurely, Ryan figured they might have deliberately revealed their weaknesses at the right moment, triggering an upheaval that would cascade from top to bottom—a radical and transformative revolution. “A thousand-mile dike collapses because of an ant hole,” and “A hurricane begins from the slightest breeze.” Major national upheavals often stem from seemingly minor cracks in the system.
“Hmph, hmph~” Tuantuan tugged tightly at his daddy’s collar with his chubby little fist, surprisingly strong, pulling Ryan out of his thoughts.
Ryan coaxed him, “What’s up now, little troublemaker?”
Of course, Tuantuan couldn’t talk yet, so he let out a few soft noises just to get some attention.
Only after becoming a parent did Ryan truly understand the hardships involved: feeding, changing diapers, holding and soothing… Being woken up in the dead of night had become the norm. Ryan had even developed the habit of getting up twice during the night to check on Tuantuan. Raising a child was indeed an exhausting endeavor.
“Daddy will be home soon. Let’s go downstairs.”
“Hmph hmph ah,” Tuantuan made a few soft noises, as if responding in agreement.
Due to the dire state of the capital star’s garrison, the provisional government had tasked Auston, who was supposed to be on vacation, with overseeing the reorganization. As a result, Auston had been quite busy lately, leaving the house at 8 a.m. and not returning until 5 p.m. This made Tuantuan a little “left-behind child,” crying every day because he missed his daddy. The old grandmother often joked, “For such a tiny child, he sure knows what’s going on!”
Because of his own past experiences, Ryan sometimes looked at his son suspiciously, wondering if this little one might be a reincarnated soul carrying memories of a previous life. After a few tests, however, he was certain he was overthinking it—Tuantuan had definitely drunk the soup of forgetfulness before reincarnating and was just an ordinary little baby.
Standing by the door with Tuantuan in his arms, the little one stopped fussing, squinting his eyes to rest a bit as he waited for his daddy to come home. Ryan glanced at the clock. It was only 4:20; there was still a while before Auston would arrive.
Seeing that Tuantuan seemed to have fallen asleep, Ryan carefully started moving, planning to take him upstairs to rest. But as soon as he took two or three steps, the little guy wasn’t having it. He immediately woke up, his lips trembling as if he was about to cry, letting out a soft, pitiful “Wuwuwu...”
Ryan sighed, “…Seriously, do you have an antenna installed?!”
Tuantuan’s eyes glistened with a hint of tears, but as long as his daddy didn’t move, he wouldn’t cry.
Curled up at Ryan’s feet, Da Fu let out a yawn. Since Tuantuan’s arrival, the dog had become slightly neglected and was actively “saving itself,” constantly trying to catch Auston’s attention.
Ryan’s keen ears picked up a sound. He looked up toward the sky, and sure enough, the transparent membrane over the old house opened to reveal a small starship. Its hull was black, and the door bore the emblem of the Golden Crusade Legion. After the previous attack, Auston now used a specially customized starship for travel. Once it arrived home, Ryan had made additional modifications, equipping it with enhanced weapon systems. In the event of another attack, the ship could hold out until reinforcements arrived.
Every day, the AI companions Yuan Chu and Code Zero accompanied Auston to and from work, serving as the most reliable and versatile bodyguards. Inspired by this, Ryan was designing a new model of small mecha. The old mansion’s underground basement had been reactivated and outfitted with numerous new devices. As long as the materials were available and there was enough time, Ryan was confident he could even build a large-scale mecha right at home.
In the distance, the small starship gradually descended. Ryan took the cloak from the housekeeper robot that had come to call him and wrapped it around Tuantuan. Once securely bundled, he carried him forward, passing through the front yard, walking out of the small grove. After another ten meters, they reached the temporary landing spot.
With a soft hum, the small starship, under Code Zero’s control, landed steadily. The hatch opened, and Auston, who had been busy all day, arrived home early. He held a bouquet of roses wrapped in blue paper and tied with a yellow satin ribbon in one hand and a gift box in the other. Seeing Ryan, a smile spread across his handsome face. He walked briskly toward Ryan and, smiling, said, “Happy Birthday.”
Ryan stood there, a little confused.
“Today’s August 11th, your birthday.”
Ryan suddenly realized, “Oh right, it’s my birthday. No wonder Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me in the kitchen, and no wonder Grandma handed Tuantuan to me and told me to just hold him, not to do anything else.” It was because today was his birthday.
“Happy Birthday,” Auston repeated gently, leaning forward to kiss Ryan’s lips in a soft, tender kiss.
Ryan’s eyes were filled with soft emotion. “Thank you.”
Auston looked a little regretful. “We haven’t celebrated birthdays together the past two years.”
Ryan smiled. “We did.”
Auston blinked, puzzled. “Huh?”
“I made noodles,” Ryan said, giving a playful wink. “It wasn’t your full birthday, so I didn’t mind.”
Auston froze for a moment. “I… I didn’t even notice.”
Ryan chuckled. “Did you forget? The longevity noodles I made that day, there was just one noodle in the bowl.”
Auston’s face softened, realizing. “I thought it was some kind of special noodle. I never asked because I hadn’t seen it before.”
“Haha, now you know. That was longevity noodles. I’ll make them again when it’s your birthday.” Auston’s birthday was in December, which wasn’t too far off.
Auston nodded. “Mhm.”
He handed the bouquet of roses to Ryan, then squatted down to scratch Da Fu’s chin and patted his head. He even picked him up, weighing him in his arms. “Heavy, you’ve grown. Da Fu’s a big kid now.”
Da Fu proudly puffed out his chest and looked up, letting out an enthusiastic “Awooo!” He had even learned how to catch stationary prey on the ground and was about to learn how to catch moving prey. As for how he learned, Da Fu preferred not to think about it, because Ryan, who had been home on break, was a truly terrifying teacher.
Auston, with a gift in hand and Da Fu trotting at their feet, walked home arm-in-arm with Ryan. The two dads seemed to have forgotten something. But what?
Under the cloak covering his little face, Tuantuan’s world had turned into a faint gray haze. With his tiny, chubby hands, he tried to push away the fabric, but his current strength was no match for the weight of the cloak. Frustrated, Tuantuan burst into tears, his little face streaked with teardrops that fell like pearls.
Hearing the crying, the two dads froze and exchanged looks—they’d forgotten their son.
Poor little Tuantuan… He wasn’t just some “freebie” bundled in with the purchase of the incubation pod, was he?
Ryan took the gift and handed the baby over to Auston, who skillfully accepted his son. Pulling back the cloak, Auston saw Tuantuan’s tear-streaked, pouty little face. His heart ached as he gently kissed Tuantuan’s plump forehead. “I’m so sorry, little Tuantuan. Daddy actually forgot about you.”
Feeling the familiar warmth of his dad, Tuantuan gradually stopped crying, though his face was still damp with tears. He nestled against Auston’s chest, seeking comfort—or perhaps protesting that Daddy Ryan at home wasn’t feeding him properly.
“You little rascal!” Ryan said with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Acting like you’re so deprived. You just drank an entire bottle of milk not too long ago!”
“Well, a good appetite and plenty of sleep mean our little Tuantuan is growing strong,” Auston said with a gentle smile.
They walked into the main house together, only to find that the grand hall, large enough to host over three hundred guests, had been completely transformed. The walls were adorned with “Happy Birthday” balloons, colorful decorations, and dangling streamers that filled the space with festive cheer. Soft music wafted through the air, and at the piano sat the grandmother, her silver hair glowing under the light. Her aged hands played one delicate note after another, creating a soothing melody.
As the music flowed, Ryan’s parents appeared, carefully pushing out a beautifully crafted cake. It was a ten-inch round cake, decorated with intricate frosting and dotted with vibrant, fresh fruit—a labor of love that Ryan’s mother had spent an entire day preparing.
“Happy Birthday,” everyone chimed in unison, their voices warm and full of joy. Even Tuantuan let out a series of soft hums, as if trying to join the chorus with his own little blessing.
Ryan had celebrated many birthdays, but few left such a lasting impression. It wasn’t the scale of the event or the grandeur of the decorations that made it special. It was the people. The most important ones in his life were all here: his grandmother, his parents, Auston, and little Tuantuan.
It was a birthday steeped in happiness and fulfillment—a moment to treasure forever.
In the evening, Auston handed Tuantuan over to his parents. Leaving the warm, comfortable embrace, Tuantuan pursed his lips, looking like he was about to cry. However, his growing drowsiness took over, and he alternated between yawning and using his little “tentacles” to search for his daddy.
Auston said, “Thank you for taking care of him, Dad and Mom.”
His mother, holding Tuantuan in her arms, chuckled and replied, “It’s no trouble at all. We’re happy to look after Tuantuan. It’s just that we’ll soon have to return to E69, and we’re really reluctant to leave.” They had stayed for quite some time now, wanting to spend time with Tuantuan and watch him grow bit by bit. Yet, back home, numerous responsibilities awaited them. Deciding what crops to plant, adjusting acreage to meet market demands, negotiating good prices for harvests, and improving crop varieties—all these tasks kept the farm-owner couple far from a leisurely life of simply watching sunrises and sunsets.
Auston felt a twinge of guilt. “Once Tuantuan grows a bit older, I’ll send him to the plantation star to stay with you.” The very thought of being apart from his child for an extended period made his heart tremble.
His father reassured him, “Only send him to us when you’re truly overwhelmed. Children should stay close to their parents as much as possible.”
Auston nodded and glanced at Tuantuan, who had finally succumbed to sleep. The little one’s hand was still outstretched as if trying to grab hold of his father. Gently, Auston took the tiny hand, kissed it lightly, and carefully placed the small arm in a more comfortable position. Saying goodnight to his parents, he turned and left for his room. While Tuantuan was an angel when asleep, Auston knew all too well that by the middle of the night, the little one would transform into a mischievous demon—fussing for milk or crying about an uncomfortable diaper.
After leaving Tuantuan with his parents, Auston returned to his room. When he pushed open the door, the spacious bedroom was enveloped in darkness, with all the lights turned off. Instinctively, he reached for the switch, only to hear Ryan’s voice from within the room:
“Don’t turn it on.”
Ryan was sitting in a corner of the room, the faint glow from his personal terminal serving as a beacon. Smiling, Auston abandoned the idea of switching on the lights and walked toward him. Once there, he sat down beside Ryan. On the small sofa, Ryan had set a box of snacks, which he quickly moved aside before Auston could accidentally sit on it. The box contained all the essentials for a movie night—popcorn, milk tea, and sunflower seeds.
Ryan had gone for a simple but endearing setup: a cozy spot to watch a classic romance movie together. And not just any movie—it was a remake of an old film from ancient Earth. Ryan’s low-key, somewhat cliché arrangement brought a hint of amusement to Auston’s face, but he couldn’t deny the charm of the thoughtful gesture.
“Do you remember the movie I arranged for us back on Rui de Star?” Ryan asked, his voice soft in the dim room.
“I remember,” Auston replied, his thoughts drifting to the elaborate date Ryan had planned, a series of activities meticulously laid out but ultimately derailed by unforeseen circumstances.
Ryan had always harbored a small regret over that abandoned plan. Life and work, relentless as they were, never left much room to revisit it. But tonight, he had carved out the perfect moment. The holographic movie unfolded before them with such vivid realism that it felt like the scenes were unfolding right in front of their eyes.
The story was a bittersweet classic. The protagonists, a man and a woman, went through a series of separations and reunions, their love tested by countless obstacles. The climax took place on a massive steel bridge at midnight. The female lead, watching the male lead’s retreating figure diminish in the distance, was overwhelmed by a surge of emotion. She realized she couldn’t let him go, couldn’t let their love slip away. With determination, she lifted her gown and sprinted into the night after him.
The final shot lingered on the empty expanse of the bridge, the melancholic strains of music underscoring its openness. It was an ambiguous ending—perhaps they reunited in the night’s embrace, perhaps she was too late, or perhaps fate had other plans entirely.
Life was full of “maybes,” Ryan mused. The choices people made shaped their stories, carving paths toward vastly different outcomes.
In the quiet dark, Ryan and Auston held each other close, their lips meeting in tender kisses. The movie’s conclusion lingered in the air, but their own story unfolded in a way neither had to question. The night stretched on, full of unspoken promises and shared warmth—a world of certainty in each other’s arms.
…
Auston was busy with matters related to the garrison stationed in the capital star, and Ryan wasn’t available all the time either. Thus, they decided to let Ryan’s parents stay in the capital star for another half-month and planned to return home once their baby, Tuantuan, turned two months old. During this period, Ryan arranged several outings for his family. Previously, he had already taken his parents and grandmother to explore Eve City, but the capital star had more to offer beyond just Eve City. Whenever Ryan was free, he would personally accompany his family on excursions. When he was tied up with work, he called on his cousin, Connor, to act as their guide. After all, it would be a pity to visit the capital star and miss out on its iconic attractions.
Although Ryan didn’t have free time every day, with the help of Master McAryan, he had secured an exceptional placement as an official member of the Imperial Institute. He had earned a Level 3 certification as a mecha engineer, a significant milestone. Time passed quickly, and another year had gone by. With the wealth of knowledge in his mind, Ryan found that simply reviewing a few reference materials was enough to breeze through certification exams without much effort. Achieving Level 3 mecha engineer certification was a monumental accomplishment, placing him far ahead of his peers. At Ryan’s age, earning this certification made him the first in history to do so.
Even more astonishing was the fact that Master McAryan had recommended Ryan as the acting executive director of the Imperial Institute—a temporary position he would hold until Master McAryan’s retirement. In this role, Ryan was entrusted with managing various research-related affairs, excluding administrative duties.
Ryan was highly capable and talented. He had quietly become the leader of many at the institute, though his position was not officially recognized. When the formal appointment came, many voiced their dissatisfaction. Ryan was too young—he had talent, but few accomplishments; he had ability, but not many titles…
Today, Master McAryan had called for a departmental meeting, which would be held in the conference room where the new mecha unveiling had taken place. At 9 AM, everyone had arrived. Master McAryan, sitting at the head table, smiled as he looked down at the attendees. Some of them had been at the Imperial Mecha Research Center for over fifty years, eagerly awaiting promotions, hoping to delve into deeper research, or striving for higher honors. Many had even given up opportunities to work at local mecha research institutes for this chance. He knew that there was a saying within the Imperial Mecha Institute: being transferred to a local branch meant being distanced from the core organization, and holding a high title often meant a covert demotion.
Having been at the Mecha Institute for over a century, Master McAryan had observed countless events and individuals with a cold eye. It was time for a change. Perhaps Ryan was the key to stirring up the stagnant waters. Many could not see it, but Master McAryan only moved those he truly valued to local branches for further training. His disciples had all gone through this process, but the ones he chose either refused or, after agreeing, harbored grievances. It was only after gaining experience at the local level that they realized the Master’s true intentions.
The Imperial Mecha Research Institute boasted excellent resources and a strong research environment, but it was also filled with talent, making it incredibly difficult to stand out. Aside from a few top-tier researchers who had the opportunity to tackle problems beyond their own fields, many others spent years repeating the same tasks day in and day out.
After a brief opening remark, Master McAryan dove straight into the main topic. Though he still smiled, his years of holding high office gave him an air of authority. “I have appointed Ryan as the acting executive director. The appointment letter has already been issued. He will oversee all research affairs until my retirement. After I officially retire, I will observe everyone’s performance and choose a candidate for the permanent executive director.”
The crowd buzzed with whispers and discussions.
Master McAryan rapped the table with his knuckles, signaling for silence. “Ryan is only the acting director. Whether he can become permanent is uncertain. Those of you with ability may also have the chance to lead. I’m giving everyone three months—three months for you to evaluate Ryan and, more importantly, to evaluate yourselves.” During this time, if Ryan failed to gain the support of the staff, he would never be able to become the permanent executive director. This was a one-time opportunity, and he needed to seize it.
“When I first became executive director, I had to overcome widespread opposition to sit in this position. My accomplishments and achievements at that time were just like Ryan’s now—far from enough to win everyone’s favor. Ryan reminds me of myself, and I am willing to give him the chance to prove himself. What about you? Are you willing to use this opportunity to prove yourselves?”
The formal appointment letter had already been issued, and Master McAryan’s decision to have Ryan act as the executive director was an announcement, not a request for input. The matter was settled, and any opposition would be futile unless one could convince government officials. Otherwise, arguing within the group would be pointless and would only cause them to miss out on future opportunities. Some people in the room exchanged glances, realizing that if Ryan wanted to remove the word “acting” from his title, it would depend on whether they were willing to support him.
Gradually, the eyes of several people turned toward Sierra Bromfield. Although the Bromfield family had fallen from prominence, they were still a powerful force—”the dying camel is still bigger than the horse.” The family still held many manuscripts of Emperor Qin Feng Anderson, and there was a possibility they could regain their former glory. Rumor had it that Sierra, who had past grievances with Ryan, might not be pleased to see him take the executive director position, but would he silently watch him rise to the role?
Sierra stared at Ryan, sitting beside Master McAryan, her gaze distant and contemplative, his thoughts unclear.
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152