That year, the body of Commander Aslan was buried in Watson
… Of course, it was fake.
Jiang Jianming’s hibernation pod was disguised as an ice coffin and hidden in an underground chamber beneath the White Jade Palace. Only three people in the world could open it.
He slept in the crystal-clear hibernation fluid, wearing his commander’s ceremonial uniform, his chest adorned with the highest honors and medals. White chrysanthemums, golden roses, and the imperial flag surrounded him.
“You have been sleeping for two hundred and twenty-six days now, Aslan,” Ryann’s fingers traced the edges of the ice coffin, his eyes dark. “Zhen is planning to establish a military academy. Tomorrow, Zhen will discuss the details in the council hall. Would that make you happy?”
Six months had passed. Ryann closed his eyes. For these six months, the pain of losing his lover had been corroding him constantly.
He hungrily collected everything that bore traces of Jiang Jianming. First, he returned to the Blue Mother Star and had Lin Ge take him to the Z2 wild area. The wild area was no longer in its former desolate state, and there were no more garbage ships coming and going. The emperor found the small hill where they first met and stood there from sunset to dawn.
Then he went to that manor in Watson, opened the door of the small villa, touched each item Jiang Jianming had used and put them back in place, and finally watched the surveillance footage.
He saw Jiang Jianming sitting outside the courtyard late at night, gazing at the starry sky, weakly reaching out his hand, then withdrawing it.
In the small surveillance screen, Jiang Jianming hugged Seth’s neck and muttered absent-mindedly, “… You know, His Majesty once promised me that he would take me to places farther than starships could reach.”
“But look, now I can’t go anywhere.”
Ryann watched it over and over again, finally succeeding in breaking down once more, turning into a bloody mess of crystals.
The imperial high-ranking officials noticed that after the commander’s departure, Emperor Kaios had obviously become more gloomy.
But in contrast, the emperor’s governance methods had become gentler, as if the soul of the departed had taken residence in him.
The empire briefly set aside its conflicts, not even seeking revenge against the Lava Space Bandits.
The Great Emperor slowed his pace, focusing on rebuilding the Blue Mother Star, balancing the three star systems, reforming old systems, enlightening the people, and allowing for recuperation.
The scars of the human race were healing, although still stumbling at times, and many things could not be perfect, but everything was moving in a good direction.
What people didn’t know was that the Great Emperor would secretly visit the commander almost every day, talking to the hibernation pod.
Later, Kaios liked to sleep in the underground chamber at night, not even needing to move a bed, just making a pallet on the floor was enough.
Even later, he didn’t need the pallet anymore. He would just wrap himself in crystal bones to sleep.
Sometimes, overwhelmed by grief, he would lose control of his emotions. When he lost control, he would crystallize, not harming anyone, just pitifully turning into a puddle clinging to the hibernation pod.
Sylph was initially terrified and devastated, but after seeing it many times, she got used to it and would rush in with research equipment to collect data when Ryann crystallized.
Lin Ge sat nearby, legs crossed, munching on an apple, and commented, “… I mean, is it really okay to base scientific development on someone else’s suffering?”
Sylph’s face was serious. “But the question is, in His Majesty’s condition, can he still be called human?”
Lin Ge: “Good point. I take back what I said.”
In the summer of the third year of the New Imperial Calendar, the Kaios Military Academy and the Aslan National Library were established one after another.
In the winter of the same year, the concept of the first official research base of the new empire, Black Shark Base, was also initially set up.
In the early spring of the following year, Seth Henry’s lifespan was coming to an end.
When the veterinarian suggested euthanasia for the old dog, Seth was still laboriously and affectionately licking that old flying ball that no one played with anymore.
The Great Emperor remained silent for a long time, then shook his head.
A few days later, Seth was put into a hibernation pod. The small hibernation pod was sent underground to accompany the founding commander who slept eternally.
“Aslan,” Ryann stroked the ice coffin and said softly, “Don’t be afraid. We’re all here with you. None of us are leaving.”
In the fifth year of the New Imperial Calendar, the newly promulgated Imperial Code stipulated that new humans and disabled humans, nobles and commoners enjoyed equal human rights.
Emperor Kaios personally approved the establishment of the “Imperial Disabled Human Rights Organization”. This was the predecessor of the later “Non-Crystal Race Protection Association”.
In the sixth year of the New Imperial Calendar.
The Second Interstellar Expedition.
Initially, the voices of opposition were even stronger than four years ago, mainly because the cost of the first expedition was too devastating, and the term “Far Star” had been demonized along with it.
In addition, people were gradually liberating themselves from the oppressive atmosphere of the old empire and dared to speak up. For a time, the pressure of public opinion was enormous.
Some even privately lamented in anger. “Has His Majesty the Great Emperor gone mad? Why does he always rush to the Far Star to ruin his achievements and reputation after a period of pacifying the country and governing the state?”
Such people who insulted the emperor were naturally detained. The Great Emperor couldn’t be bothered to intervene much. He suppressed the domestic opposition with an iron fist, ordered Crown Prince Lin Ge to stay and guard the imperial capital, and took the new military commander Chen Hanke and most of his capable officers to lead the expedition personally again.
— A great victory.
The following year, Kaios returned to the country amid worldwide cheers, not because he had fought enough, but because he felt the soldiers were tired.
So the Great Emperor simply and brutally changed a group of people, took only half a month’s rest himself, and then launched the third Holy War.
— Another great victory.
The seventh year of the New Imperial Calendar was a glorious year, with human footprints directly pushing forward by more than half a light-year.
The Golden Sun Wheel carried out large-scale purges, driving out almost all alien life forms along the empire’s borders; while the Silver Big Dipper expanded the empire’s frontiers, three planets suitable for new human survival were discovered and named Alpha, Beta, and Omega respectively.
The Great Emperor ordered the establishment of Silver Big Dipper’s military fortresses on these three planets.
The first fortress was to resist alien life forms, the second to intercept space pirates, and the third, together with the simultaneously established Black Shark Base, provided resource and technological support for the Far Star campaigns. Thus, a defensive line for the Far Star was constructed like a wall of copper and iron.
This year, the people revered their Emperor as a deity.
This year, they saw victory, saw light, saw the beautiful future that the long-sleeping one had hoped for—
“… Why.” Sylph’s fingers pressed hard on the light computer.
Cold sweat slid down her delicate nose as she muttered in a daze, “Why haven’t the infection and death rates of crystal disorder decreased…?”
— They also saw the shadows lurking quietly within.
“Wasn’t it said that the quantity of the real crystal ores was enough?”
The automatic door of the research room opened, and Kaios strode in from behind, reaching out to turn the virtual screen in front of Sylph towards himself.
His Majesty had just returned from the New Year’s banquet. The years had added to the majesty between his brows. Kaios carefully looked at the data and clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Again… Was your initial calculation wrong? If there’s not enough real crystal ore, we can still launch expeditions.”
“It’s not that simple!”
Sylph suddenly stood up and said anxiously, “Even if there were errors in the previous estimates, but Your Majesty, the amount of real crystal ores brought back from two expeditions is there, the popularization of tranquilizers is also there, what sense does it make for the number of patients to increase instead of decrease?”
“…”
The Great Emperor remained silent; Sylph had a point.
“Your Majesty, I feel something is very wrong.”
Sylph’s blue eyes were cool and composed, faintly reminiscent of Commander Aslan from years ago.
“Think about it, our research is progressing, our medications are upgrading, but our ability to treat crystal disorders seems to have stagnated. Isn’t that strange?”
“If we’re advancing, but humans and crystal disorder appear to be in a relatively static state, it can only prove…”
Ryann: “Sylph, you’re not about to tell Zhen that crystal disorder is a disease that evolves along with human technological progress, are you?”
Sylph: “It’s hard to say for now – my intuition wants to nod, but I can’t prove it to you. Science needs proof above all.”
“I’m trying to restore the remnant data from the Gray Owl Laboratory. Grandfather was probably researching something related to the crystal disorder tide at that time. I hope we can find some clues.”
Ryann could only nod pensively. He took off his formal outer coat from the banquet, and let down his long hair that had been tied in an elegant braid.
As he looked up, he suddenly caught sight of fireworks outside the window, rising to the sky, bursting into bright red and purple clusters.
“Ah, fireworks. It’s another New Year, isn’t it?” Sylph remarked.
Ryann walked to the window, resting his hands on the sill, the outside light reflecting in the depths of his cold jade-green eyes.
“Zhen remembers, years ago, the Commander once told Zhen that perhaps many years later, on New Year’s Eve, Zhen would still miss him, but no longer love him.”
He fell silent for a long while after saying this, then sighed, “I suppose this could be considered… many years later now.”
The eighth year of the New Imperial Calendar, the Fourth Holy War.
The empire no longer had resource concerns, but the Great Emperor’s steps didn’t stop.
Perhaps it was due to the lingering unease he had felt for years, that “something in the depths of the universe seemed to be watching him”.
Perhaps it was to fulfill a belated promise, to seek places farther than starships could reach.
The starships went very, very far. The fourth expedition spanned a full three years.
Countless jumps, countless battles. Far from humanity’s homeland, submerged in the sea of darkness.
What lay at the end of the unknown? The pioneers of the Silver Big Dipper had countless times cast their gaze towards the nebula, harboring passionate visions.
Was it a new world?
Was it another transformation of human civilization?
The eleventh year of the New Imperial Calendar, the Silver Big Dipper expedition force’s advance was hindered. Multiple vanguard starships lost control, soldiers became mentally confused, crystal disorder symptoms occurred frequently, making it difficult to proceed.
“Your Majesty,” the accompanying general advised, “the crystal particle concentration in the space ahead is too high. The fleet can’t pass through.”
Kaios stood with his hands behind his back at the highest point of the bridge, his cold face reflected in the porthole glass, as if about to merge with that universe.
The general pleaded, “Your Majesty, please order the fleet to turn back.”
The Great Emperor pondered briefly, then raised his right hand. “All ships cease movement. Stand by in place.”
Ten minutes later, he personally piloted the Crown of Golden Dawn out of the White Jade.
Half a month later, the Golden Dawn returned. When Kaios walked out of the cockpit, he was covered in blood, leaving bloody footprints with each step.
This frightened the accompanying generals terribly, who all rushed forward with exclamations of alarm.
“— Get back!”
The Great Emperor’s face was cold and severe as he harshly waved away the medics who came to assist him. The pressure around him was unprecedentedly terrifying, as if suppressing some enormous tsunami. He only gave an order for the fleet to return to the country at full speed, then shut himself in the command room, allowing no one to enter.
The generals exchanged uneasy glances, their hearts filled with anxiety. Someone unconsciously let slip. “If only Commander Aslan were still here…”
If the Commander was still here, there would be someone who could manage His Majesty.
The next day, the mecha surveillance footage from the Crown of Golden Dawn was sent to the Black Shark Base.
It was the first time the human interstellar expedition fleet had observed images of the Crystal Nest — it looked like a huge white eyeball suspended in the depths of the universe.
That same month, the data restoration work from the Gray Owl Laboratory was completed.
An urgent communication from the empire reached His Majesty. On the other end, Sylph was pale. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she broke down crying with an “Ah!”
— At the end of the advance, were the long-awaited invaders.
****
“His Majesty has returned triumphant!”
When the Silver Big Dipper interstellar expedition army returned to the capital, the joyous news spread throughout the nine star cities.
On a cool autumn night in Aslan Star City, people poured out of their homes to gaze up at the starships streaking across the sky, immersed in this magnificent scene.
A novice nun newly converted to the Crystal Cult clasped her hands devoutly. “It’s so beautiful.”
She closed her obsidian-bright eyes and murmured, “His Majesty has led the heroes of the Silver Big Dipper back. May the radiance of the crystal particles bless His Majesty, bless our heroes…”
“It’s wonderful. Although His Majesty is brave, the Far Star is still dangerous. It’s good to be home…”
“Indeed. That good-for-nothing son of mine, I haven’t seen him for three years!”
Nearby, two old men chattered away. People celebrated, completely unaware of the shadow looming over their heads.
That night, the armed starships docked at the starship port.
Ryann did not return to the White Jade Palace.
Wearing plain clothes and a concealment device, he wandered aimlessly through Aslan Star City at two in the morning.
The streets were still crowded, the aroma of food wafting through the air. People were celebrating the heroes’ return with all-night lights and laughter.
Ryann walked numbly through the crowds, his face expressionless. His unhealed wounds made him dizzy. In his daze, it was as if three pairs of eyes were gazing at him across distant memories.
One pair belonged to Odin, green eyes containing violent power; another pair belonged to Jiang Jianming, black eyes that were gentle, calm, and determined.
The last pair was the eyes of the starry sky—no, the eyes of the Crystal Nest. That snow-white and enormous Crystal Nest had always been there, watching everyone, only humans were completely unaware.
Sylph had told him that it would take at least another twenty years to develop a more effective next-generation tranquilizer.
But according to data projections, in less than three years, a massive crystal disorder tide would erupt within the empire’s borders, one that the first-generation tranquilizers could not stop.
At that time, hellish scenes would reappear in the world, dragging this beautiful and stable empire down into the abyss of destruction.
“…Jiang, I’m about to lose again.”
Ryann murmured this sentence, and suddenly his chest hurt as if being sliced, the pain making it difficult to breathe. The myriad lights before his eyes blurred into a haze.
He staggered a step, dazed and confused, gasping. “Won’t you come to scold me, or to save me?”
As these words were spoken, it seemed as if his heart, hardened for many years, suddenly softened. A sense of powerlessness began to seep out from that crack.
He hadn’t cried for many years, but now he wanted to again. He wanted to go back and kneel before Jiang Jianming’s hibernation pod and cry, even if he cried until he turned into a pool of crystals.
But he didn’t go back. For so many years, no matter how wretched he was, he had never returned defeated to Jiang Jianming’s hibernation pod. Even if tired and aggrieved, he had to break through the difficulties first, before appearing proud yet aggrieved in front of his lover, seeking praise and comfort that could not really be given.
Before Jiang fell asleep, he must have dreamed of an infinitely bright future as he entered his slumber. Ryann had lost the future of the empire; he had no face to go and cry to the commander.
However, now that the human empire had just begun to revive, the fleet could barely reach the Crystal Nest. How could this battle be fought… It simply couldn’t be fought, there was no chance of victory!
He just kept walking, kept thinking. Those three pairs of eyes kept following him, gazing at this little monster born in a laboratory, also gazing at the founding emperor of the human interstellar empire.
Ryann’s vision grew increasingly blurry, his limbs becoming heavier and heavier, as if the millions of years of human history were pressing down on his back, making it hard to breathe.
He really couldn’t walk anymore, so he barely managed to reach an open park and sat down, supporting himself on a public bench.
He tilted his head back and saw a strip of the Milky Way across the sky. The stars flickered, whispering to him.
As his vision gradually darkened, Ryann simply closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall asleep in the starlight.
…
At dawn, Ryann was awakened by the cold.
The last bit of night before daybreak was the coldest, and now autumn had arrived. The poor Emperor, still wounded, was even less resistant to cold after losing blood. He was so cold he wished he could wrap himself in crystal bones.
—Tch, he would add a clause to the patrol police training regulations when he got back, Ryann thought darkly: If you encounter a homeless person sleeping on the street, at least cover them with a blanket…
The distant mountains began to brighten bit by bit, and the Emperor finally saw clearly that he was in the central square of the imperial capital. A fountain had just been built here, and white doves had been released.
He was a bit dazed, thinking about how soon all this peace would collapse, thinking about the racial war with no chance of victory.
Just as dawn was enveloping the entire central square, suddenly, a group of children about eight or nine years old came running over, laughing and chattering.
Among them were both boys and girls, looking to be dressed as commoners, but all healthy and lively. They held toy models of starships and mechas in their hands, shouting.
“When I grow up, I want to be part of the Silver Big Dipper too! I want to go on expeditions with His Majesty the Emperor—”
“I’ll be an officer!”
“Then I’ll be a general!”
“Hehe, silly girl, you’re a disabled human!”
The little girl with braided hair puffed up her cheeks and said angrily. “Hmph, what’s wrong with being disabled? When I grow up, I’ll definitely become a formidable disabled human and show you new humans!”
Several adults passing by laughed. The children made a ruckus again, whistling and continuing to chase each other around.
Ryann sat stunned on the bench as the children ran past, startling the white doves. The birds flew across the blue sky, the sunlight reflecting blindingly off their wings.
Ryann tilted his head back to follow the flying birds with his gaze, then suddenly closed his eyes, tears falling without reason—
He thought to himself, in another twenty years, these children would be grown up.
A new generation of tranquilizers would have been developed by then.
There would surely be better weapons, better medicines.
He suddenly thought of Jiang Jianming again, that black-haired youth with a frail body standing in the dirty wind of the wilderness when they first met, quietly gazing up at the starry sky.
For many years, he had been unable to understand Jiang Jianming’s personality, even thinking that this person probably had psychological issues due to suffering too much in childhood. Otherwise, why would he always think about the vague so-called bright future, yet refuse to look at his present self being swallowed by darkness?
Only now did he understand that having a future was such a luxurious thing; he finally embraced that noble soul, Jiang Jianming’s figure reaching out to him in the glory of dawn, saying—
Your Majesty, let’s go to places farther than starships can reach.
“…Jiang, wait for me.”
Ryann stood up. The morning breeze moved his clothes, just as it would ruffle another person’s 52 years later, “I will fulfill my promise to you.”
This was the morning of the 11th year of the New Imperial Calendar.
