The largest department store in Newnes, the first planet of the Storm Starfield, was bustling as Ryan’s parents swiped their card for a guide robot to lead the way. They had already been shopping for nearly an hour. Normally, shopping at a mall was something Ryan’s father, Qin Yi, disdained doing. He thought it was a complete waste of time. Wouldn’t goal-oriented shopping be better? Wasn’t online shopping more convenient? Wouldn’t staying at home for afternoon tea be more enjoyable? In the past, when Ryan’s mother, Pei Li, suggested going to the mall, Qin Yi would always stay in the waiting area, bored, scrolling through StarNet to read news, watch videos, or read books… Several famous long novels were ones he had powered through in such settings.
The waiting area of the mall was also called the “Husband Deposit Zone,” where wives could retrieve their bored husbands once they returned, laden with shopping bags.
But today, Qin Yi didn’t end up as one of them. Upon learning that their grandchild was on the way, he took the initiative to drag Pei Li to the mall. The Newnes Department Store boasted 20 floors of shopping areas, covering all aspects of life—from large civilian-grade mechas to small bath scrubbers. To browse through every floor and every item would take no less than a week. Faced with the dazzling array of goods, it was hard to decide where to start, yet everything seemed desirable—that, perhaps, was the joy of shopping.
After arriving, Ryan’s parents headed straight to the seventh floor’s children’s section, admiring the array of adorable little clothes and toys. They indulged in the fantasy that everything would look good on their grandchild, and every toy would be fun to play with. By the time they came to their senses, the shopping cart following them was already full. Qin Yi and Pei Li exchanged a silent glance and, without saying a word, simultaneously burst into laughter.
Father Qin Yi: “It seems like we’ve picked up about twenty outfits just for clothing.”
Mother Pei Li: “And the same little ball toy—we took sixteen of them just because they’re different colors.”
“Tuantuan is a boy, yet I ended up picking a unicorn castle… and it’s pink.”
“Tuantuan is only a little over a year old and can’t even use a flying device, yet I still grabbed one.”
“…”
“…”
This was impulsive shopping at its finest. But knowing their grandchild was on the way, they were so excited they had completely lost all sense of reason. Oh well, they had already picked the items—might as well just buy everything and bring it home. It was great!
Afterward, they headed to the eighth floor, the children’s food section. By the time they were done, another shopping cart had joined them. This cart was piled high like a small mountain with food suitable for children, carefully selected for being nutritious, delicious, and with minimal artificial additives. Correspondingly, in the interstellar era, the more natural the product, the more expensive it was.
Who could blame them? They had the money!
After donating half of the compensation and keeping the other half, it was still an enormous amount. Qin Yi used the money to upgrade all the machinery on the E69 planting star, including agricultural equipment and security systems. Following Ryan’s suggestion, he also bought a large number of cost-effective weapons, essentially arming the planting star to the teeth.
In addition, they expanded their storefront on Newnes. Without hesitation, they purchased an eight-storey direct-sale fruit and vegetable store in the central district of the capital city. After opening the store, thanks to the planet’s excellent produce, the monthly profits kept increasing. In three or four years, they might even earn back the money spent on the property.
The remaining money was used by Qin Yi for long-term investments. He purchased several stable funds and acquired some properties and land with potential for appreciation, avoiding any reckless spending.
“Shall we go upstairs and take another look?” Pei Li glanced at the mall’s recommended list on her personal terminal. There were still some items that caught her interest.
Feeling a little cooled down from the shopping excitement, Qin Yi hesitated slightly, “…”
Pei Li rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I get it, I get it. After buying things for Tuantuan, you don’t want to bother with me anymore.”
“How could that be!” Qin Yi immediately denied it, though his overly quick response carried a hint of guilt.
“Then come with me to look at clothes, check out the department store, and head up to the 20th floor to browse the agricultural products.”
Qin Yi felt a twinge in his calves at the thought of all the walking, but he still braced himself and agreed. “Serving the lady is my duty.”
Pei Li suppressed her laughter, pretending not to notice the twitching of Qin Yi’s facial muscles. It was rare to bring her husband shopping, so of course, she had to make full use of the opportunity—who knew when the next time would be?
For the next four hours, except for lunchtime, it was nonstop walking. Their personal terminals recorded over 20,000 steps, quickly approaching 30,000. Just as the step count was about to hit 30,000, their personal terminals chimed simultaneously—it was a message from Ryan. They were now only 30,000 light-years away from the E69 farming planet and could be home in time for dinner that evening.
Pei Li put down the dress she was holding, and she and Qin Yi simultaneously made the decision: Time to go home!
The small starship was piled high with goods. When their relatives boarded the starship to return home with them, they were stunned. Ryan’s Aunt exclaimed in surprise, “Did you move the entire mall home?”
“Everything looked so good, we just couldn’t help but bring it all back.” Pei Li was busy organizing the purchases. As she folded the little clothes, she couldn’t help but imagine how Tuantuan would look wearing them, and her heart filled with joy. “Look at this outfit—won’t Tuantuan look adorable in it?”
“Adorable!” Ryan’s Aunt nodded. That well-behaved, sweet, and irresistibly cute little child was loved by everyone.
“Ryan said Tuantuan is interested in brightly colored things—he’ll definitely like these little balls.”
Ryan’s Aunt looked at the small floating balls, about the size of a fist. They were brightly colored with a great texture. “Tuantuan will love them.”
The elders’ conversation had entirely revolved around Tuantuan, while the little one lay sprawled out, sound asleep in his small bed. Beside the bed lay a white, winged lion, larger than a golden retriever. Its folded wings occasionally twitched, and a low purring sound came from its mouth. In Da Fu’s dreams, there was surely a flock of bleating beasts for it to chase—why else would its paws be making subtle scratching motions?
In the cockpit, Yuan Chu sat in the pilot’s seat, with Code Zero seated nearby. A starmap was spread out in front of them, constantly updating the route and monitoring the surroundings for any suspicious ships. The universe was vast, and not every place was safe. The route they were following had been cleared as a secure path by the Empire’s military. However, this “security” was only relative; they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. There was always the possibility of encountering unexpected threats—some opportunistic adventurers could turn into wild pirates at any moment.
Ryan stood between the two AIs, arms crossed, gazing out at the unchanging expanse of space. Some familiar planets became fleeting landscapes as they quickly passed by. He mentally estimated the time to reach home. “Yuan Chu, how long until we reach the plantation star?”
Yuan Chu responded, “At the current speed, we’ll reach the planetation star’s outer space station in 40 minutes.”
“Maintain the current speed.” It was close to what he had estimated; they would be home soon.
Yuan Chu replied, “Understood, sir.”
Just as Ryan was about to turn and leave, Code Zero spoke up. “Sir, a suspicious starship has been detected 1,500 meters away in the 10 o’clock direction, approaching.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Conduct a preliminary investigation.”
“Understood.” Code Zero’s fingers swiped across the starship’s control panel twice. A small hatch, no bigger than a palm, opened on the underside of the small starship, and several bee-sized probes flew out. The probes were entirely black, extremely well-concealed, and their flight speed was fast, with an excellent capability for transmitting feedback. The only downside was that they were single-use. As a byproduct of Ryan’s work in creating animal-shaped mechas, the probes had been patented and sold to a government-affiliated arms company, earning him a little pocket money.
1,500 meters away, the probes, disguised as space dust, quietly approached the starship, circling and capturing footage. The images were quickly transmitted to the holographic screen in front of Code Zero. He used his small mecha finger to adjust the image. They saw a starship gradually approaching them—it was a swallow-shaped medium-sized starship, weighing approximately 25 to 30 tons, with nine gun ports, six of which were concealed. The windows on the starship had been specially treated, making it impossible to see inside. Ryan was familiar with this treatment, as he used it himself. He knew the coating was expensive… Anyone who used this treatment was either wealthy or hiding something.
“Sir, the distance is closing—700, 600, 500… Do you need to take any action?”
At 500 meters, Ryan decisively said, “Warning.”
“Understood!” Code Zero’s fingers swiftly pressed several buttons on the secondary control panel. Several light, high-speed shells shot out and exploded in front of the unidentified target, signaling a warning. Although the explosions appeared small, their interference with the other starship was obvious. The unknown starship suddenly came to a halt, and its body visibly vibrated.
Auston had somehow moved to Ryan’s side. He lowered his gaze to the screen displaying the probe’s transmission, his brows slightly furrowed. The other starship had opened two concealed ammunition launch ports, and the ammo was loaded. One of the projectiles had a half-visible, very familiar insignia. Auston ordered, “Code Zero, enlarge that section.”
While Code Zero was operating the controls, he said, “Yes, General. The insignia is very blurry, but after image restoration, it’s clear that it’s half of a red skull, a symbol often used by rogue pirates. These weapons are said to be available at many pirate gathering points, supplied by unscrupulous arms dealers to the black market.”
Both Ryan and Auston were already familiar with this information; Code Zero was merely emphasizing the point.
Yuan Chu’s voice interrupted, “There’s a signal request, sir, general. Should we connect?”
Ryan curved his lips into a faint smile. “Connect, but mask our identity.”
“Yes, sir!”
The video call was quickly connected. To the other party, Ryan’s side appeared as ordinary-looking, nervous, and somewhat reserved individuals—completely unremarkable. As for the other side… Ryan let out a soft “hmm” and turned to Auston. “Do you remember this person?”
“The Shakespeare Cruise Ship,” Auston replied. His memory was excellent, and he immediately recognized the face on the video screen.
On the Shakespeare Cruise Ship, they encountered a small band, led by the adventurer “Musician” Evan, who was on the official wanted list. Among them was a violinist who was nervous and prone to stage fright in front of large crowds. At one point, when the ship docked at a small planet, some guests requested an ice-surface performance. The small band, dressed in thin clothes, performed in the biting cold wind until Ryan filed a complaint, helping them end the performance early.
Now, the once stage-frightened violinist had transformed into a bold and confident “adventurer.” He politely inclined his head toward the camera, exuding a courteous charm. “Gentlemen, good weekend.”
It was, after all, the weekend on Newnes, the primary planet of the Storm Starfield.
Ryan opened his mouth and said, “Good afternoon.” It was, after all, a weekend afternoon on Newnes.
The former violinist, now “adventurer,” smiled and said, “We mean no harm. We just need some fuel. Would you kindly spare some? We’ll pay.”
Disguised as an ordinary traveler, Ryan followed the typical mindset of “the less trouble, the better.” After pausing for about five or six minutes, he finally responded, “Sorry, but our journey is still long.” Transactions could easily lead to attacks, and the wise move was to hunker down in the starship, not even opening half a door.
The “adventurer” regretfully shook his head. “But we really need it.” Somehow, a dagger appeared in his hand, spinning continuously at his fingertips like an ink-black butterfly, as if it could claim a life with ease amidst casual conversation. “The deal is fair—I’ll pay ten times the market price.”
Ryan glanced sideways at Auston and, after winking at him, replied in a hesitant and fearful voice, “O-okay. Wh-what kind of transaction…method?”
“Just toss the fuel out of your starship. No need for a face-to-face exchange.”
Ryan pretended to breathe a sigh of relief. “Alright, that’s…good.”
If they disregarded the possibility that the other party might be pirates, this deal would be a guaranteed win for Ryan and his group. Selling the fuel at ten times the price was highly profitable, and all they had to do was toss the fuel into space, without worrying if the other side could retrieve it. Meanwhile, the star coins simply needed to be transferred into an account. Ryan provided a fake account linked to a real identity, and twenty seconds after agreeing to the deal, there was a notification: 50,000 star coins had been deposited. A single barrel of fuel for space travel typically cost 5,000 star coins. It was compressed nuclear fuel, expensive but with excellent cost-performance… Of course, now wasn’t the time to discuss that.
After hurling the fuel forcefully into space, Ryan gave the order, “Retreat at maximum speed.” The goal was to appear like an ordinary person desperate to escape after an encounter.
As they pulled back, the other party’s starship remained completely still, showing no signs of pursuing them.
“No attempt at robbery?”
Auston: “Feeling a bit disappointed?”
Ryan laughed. “Haha, not exactly. If they had made a move, we’d have had a reason to engage in a fight.”
With children aboard the starship, neither Ryan nor Auston were the type to take risks just because they were confident in their abilities. They would never endanger the children by bringing them into a perilous situation. Whether or not the other party made a move, they had already decided to strategically retreat—unless the other side was relentless in pursuit.
Auston: “Code Zero, how’s the installation of the probes?”
“General, six probes were deployed; four have been destroyed, two are attached to the target starship. As of a minute ago, one of them lost signal, leaving only one transmitting a weak signal,” Code Zero replied. The underlying message was clear: these disposable gadgets weren’t designed for tracking purposes, and it was uncertain how long the last probe’s signal would hold.
Ryan shrugged helplessly. “Looks like we’ll need to come up with a second-generation design to enhance durability and tracking capabilities?”
“That’s up to you, Mr. Smith.”
“Understood, General Dalton. I will give my utmost service to the military.”
“Looking forward to it.”
With the child absent, Ryan leaned closer to Auston’s ear and made a slightly risqué joke. “General, I can also offer some private services—thorough, deep, and meaningful.”
Auston, flustered, looked at Ryan, a blush creeping uncontrollably across his cheeks. “I’ll go check if Tuantuan’s awake. I think I heard a sound.” He quickly turned and left, his footsteps slightly unsteady.
The two of them could be considered an old married couple by now, already having a child together. Even though they often unlocked new positions during their intimate activities, Auston still couldn’t hide his bashfulness whenever the topic arose. This lingering shyness tugged at the heartstrings of Ryan, whose soul felt centuries old.
Meanwhile, Yuan Chu and Code Zero were entirely focused on their work, serious and unwavering. However, within their systems, a private conversation unfolded.
Code Zero: [“The master is becoming more and more uninhibited. He’s like a completely different person compared to the shy, reserved young man we first met.”]
Yuan Chu: [“Well, he is a man who’s lived for centuries. His capacity for learning and understanding is incredibly high. You wouldn’t believe some of the things he browses on the StarNet.”]
Code Zero: [“Oh? What does he look at? Wait—hang on. Are you snooping on the masters’ browsing history? You are not a good kid, Strawberry.”]
Yuan Chu sent Code Zero an emotionless emoji in response: = =.
Yuan Chu: [“When the master asks me to erase his history, it’s impossible not to see what’s there. You understand, Bai Bai1Bai means White”]
Because of his white, winged lion mecha body, Code Zero had self-confidently accepted defeat long ago and ended up with the nickname “Bai Bai.”
Code Zero: [“Oh.”]
He had no comments about the nickname—after all, it was the general’s choice. Whatever the general decided, he would unconditionally agree.
Yuan Chu continued the earlier topic: [“‘One Hundred Ways to Flirt with a Man,’ ‘How to Say Romantic Things Without Sounding Cheesy,’ … and so on. You know, the master’s learning and comprehension abilities are exceptional.”]
Code Zero: [“Understood. It seems the general still needs to take a masterclass in this area.”]
Standing between Yuan Chu and Code Zero, Ryan was unaware that the two silent AIs had already exchanged hundreds of lines of conversation in their “minds.” He mulled over the earlier “adventurer,” speculating about the person’s true identity. At the moment, there wasn’t enough information to draw a definitive conclusion, but several hypotheses had emerged:
- A genuine adventurer?
- A disorganized, rogue pirate?
- A well-organized major pirate?
- A spy planted by official forces?
Options 1 and 2 could be merged, while the fourth was a wildcard born of Ryan’s animalistic instincts—a gut feeling offering an alternative possibility. Sometimes, the most improbable answer turns out to be correct.
Of course, gut feelings have a high margin of error, and Ryan wasn’t about to guarantee its accuracy. A proper investigation would soon reveal the truth.
Originally, it was planned that they would reach the space station outside E69 in forty minutes. Upon arriving at the space station, they would contact the ground control tower to inform them of their arrival, avoiding being attacked. After obtaining the entry instructions, they could enter the atmosphere of the planting star. However, due to delays along the way, they were now half an hour behind the estimated time.
“Tuantuan, this is our other home. It’s a beautiful planting star. Grandpa, Grandma, Great-Grandma, Auntie, and many, many relatives are waiting for us to come home.”
After the long journey across star regions, Tuantuan was a bit listless. The universe was beautiful, but when you see it every day, all the time, and as soon as you open your eyes, it’s no longer that fascinating. (To save time, Ryan and the others didn’t make many stops along the way, unlike their previous mode of traveling while sightseeing.) Adults could control their emotions and adjust their feelings, but children couldn’t bear such a boring journey. Tuantuan managing to hold on without crying or fussing was already very, very commendable.
Tuantuan leaned his little head against Daddy’s face, yawned, and said, “Oh, going home.”
“Yes, we’re going home. Grandpa and Grandma miss you very much.”
Tuantuan curved his eyes into crescents. “I miss Grandpa and Grandma.”
“These words must be said directly to Grandpa and Grandma; they’ll definitely be very happy,” Ryan said, turning to look at Auston and Tuantuan.
Tuantuan nodded. “Mm, I’ll say it.”
The small spaceship streaked through the sky, leaving a brilliant “shooting star” in the twilight sky. By the lakeside, at the white house, Mom and Grandma stood at the door, looking up at the sky. Mom, Pei Li, said, “Finally home. It’s been so long since we’ve seen Tuantuan. I wonder if he missed us and will want to be close to us?”
“You’re overthinking. Five days ago, during the video call, didn’t Tuantuan call us so cheerfully?”
“Mom, video calls and real-life interaction are not the same.”
“How is it different?” Back when they were young, holographic video calls were expensive and not something they could use often. Using regular video calls to communicate never caused any feelings of unfamiliarity.
Mom, Pei Li, looked a bit worried—truthfully, she was just overthinking. “I have a close friend whose son works in the capital star and has settled down there. He rarely comes home, maybe once a year. She told me that she often does holographic calls with her granddaughter, and their interactions are great. The child would throw herself into her arms whenever they called; you couldn’t imagine how close they seemed. But when they met in person, the child hid behind her parents, as if she didn’t recognize her at all. It felt so distant. Sigh, people say holographic calls can’t transmit scent or warmth, and kids have their own ways of identifying things. My friend was so heartbroken. She compRyand to me every time we talked, sighing over it for days, and even cried several times.”
“Nonsense!” The great-grandmother dismissed the worries with a scoff, raising her head proudly. “Do ordinary kids compare to our Tuantuan? Our Tuantuan is the smartest.”
“Of course,” chimed in the grandmother, Pei Li, who immediately switched to doting mode. “Our Tuantuan is the smartest child. We’ll be seeing him very soon.”
That moment came quicker than expected. About ten minutes later, they saw the family of three—two adults and one child—step out of the spacecraft about a hundred meters away. Behind them followed two small robots with similar appearances, and trailing further behind was a nanny robot pulling their luggage. Flying alongside them was a white, winged lion about the size of a calf.
Da Fu, the lion, still remembered the joy of running free on the planting star. While many memories had faded, the feeling of freedom remained. Stretching its neck, it let out two loud roars, already showing the majesty of a future ruler of both land and sky.
“Da Fu, go play! Do you remember your old friends?” There was Little Chestnut the pony, the cow, the lamb, the sheepdog, and many other playmates Da Fu had made when it was younger on the planting star.
Da Fu tilted its head, a hint of confusion in its large eyes. It looked in a certain direction, then lowered its head to glance at Ryan.
Ryan reassured it, “This is home now. You can play however you want. Go on.”
Da Fu let out a soft cry, spread its wings, and soared into the sky. It quickly became a small dot in everyone’s view and then disappeared entirely.
Tuantuan, who insisted on walking by himself, tilted his head up to watch Da Fu fly away, a bit envious. “Da Fu…” He wanted to fly too.
“When you’re a little older,” Ryan said, “Daddy will make a special seat to put on Da Fu’s back, so it can take you flying everywhere.”
Tuan Tuan nodded eagerly. “Mm-hmm!” Then he ran over to his papa and grabbed his hand. “Papa, me, fly fly.”
“Tuantuan is amazing.”
“Hee hee.”
Kicking his little feet joyfully as he walked, Tuantuan soon saw the relatives who had come out to greet them, especially his grandparents and great-grandmother at the front. He let out a loud “Wow!” and let go of his dad’s hand, rushing toward them. As he “ran,” he called out, “Grandpa, Grandma, Great-Grandma, Tuantuan missed you all~!”
Hello everyone. Thanks for reading!!! I was hoping to update this chapter along with my exam results, but it seems, it may take another 3-4 hrs for the results to be published. Bless me pls🤞 I will post my results with tomorrow’s chapter. Love you all❤
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152