With its light sails deployed, Tidal Peace sped swiftly through the nebula.

Unlike massive planetary vessels that traveled directly through wormholes, light-sail navigation worked more like hopscotch, leaping from one star's energy to the next. After experiencing a course-deviation accident on his very first ride aboard a planetary vessel, Xi Yujin didn't dare try again for a while and instead opted for this unconventional propulsion method.

Because of that, he could still receive signals from the Deep Space Prison.

He browsed the AI Forum for a while and nearly found himself convinced by the "truth" the alien readers had pieced together.

Xi Yujin had never publicly explained what had happened between Qiongtian and Canghai. And it was precisely this half-hidden ambiguity that most likely sparked the readers' imaginations.

In their version of the story, the two authors met in youth, grew up side by side, and just as their spirits were soaring, Canghai was suddenly diagnosed with early-stage terminal illness. Lost and confused, he lashed out when Qiongtian came to him, full of anticipation, to discuss their future after the college entrance exams, and drove him away. Through layers of misunderstanding, those two childhood companions completely parted ways.

As adults, both became accomplished novelists in their own right. Both regretted the past, yet neither could bring themselves to back down. Having once known each other's generosity so well, they found it impossible to tolerate even small faults in each other and clashed openly on the AI Forum.

Qiongtian and Canghai: what a tragically mismatched pair of close friends.

But as more and more readers grieved for Canghai or assumed that Blue Planet already held a funeral, Xi Yujin couldn't hold back any longer. Using his Yujin alias, he posted an announcement:

"Thank you all for your concern for Blue Planet novelist Canghai. We believe this is not the end of our journey. Canghai is currently undergoing treatment. We hope for a miracle and wish him a swift recovery."

Readers flooded the comments with tearful messages.

"I still can't believe it... sob, my Canghai. When I was in the Pangshi Galaxy, I loved his physical books so much that I bought the entire set and displayed it right in the center of my ship. Whenever the journey grew boring, I'd flip through them. I even visited his theme park. It was the happiest time of my entire trip. Waahhh... Canghai will definitely get better."

"I understand how Qiongtian must feel. I once had a close friend, but we fell out over something small. Then a navigation accident separated us, and we never saw each other again. Who could have known that a trivial argument would become our final goodbye? I regret not saying farewell properly. Qiongtian, you're a novelist, so you must understand. Please say a proper goodbye, sob."

"Today I've been hit with a triple blow: I only realized halfway through Dream of the Red Chamber that it was unfinished; Born Again with the Spring Wind suddenly stopped during the Three Kingdoms arc; and after finishing A Hundred Years Together, the author has a terminal illness... This universe is too cruel to me, and to the novelists I love!"

Xi Yujin's heart was as hard as a diamond, and he considered that his personal safety came before everything else. He didn't regret using the terminal illness cover to escape, but a faint, lingering twinge of guilt remained.

"Maybe I should release something else to distract the readers..."

He sifted through his materials archive and quickly assembled a new issue of Reader's Digest and uploaded it to the official site.

This issue was a special on Huaxia culture, focused on appreciating classic literary Chinese texts, giving readers a taste of authentic ancient writing, and hopefully helping them move on from their grief.

The alien readers did click in, and the comment count surged.

But the reaction... wasn't quite what Xi Yujin had expected.

These articles had been written earlier as backup material. Some were signed under Yujin's name, others under Qiongtian's. At the time, he hadn't anticipated that things would escalate this way, and feeling that two names weren't quite enough, he also added Canghai's name to some of them.

Which meant that, in readers' eyes, Canghai's and Qiongtian's articles were displayed side by side, and their names were placed so close together.

"Seeing their two names listed next to each other, I feel dazed. Is this real?"

"I've always been a calm reader. Life and death are unpredictable. I've made peace with that. But after reading their analyses, parts of Huaxia civilization that I previously couldn't grasp suddenly became clear to me. That essay, On the Faults of Qin, truly resolved some of my doubts. It's the first time I've encountered literary Chinese as a genre. I'd love to read a phonetic version... Both novelists have such a gift for interpreting it. No wonder Blue Planet mourns them."

"For a moment, I thought they had reconciled, that Canghai had recovered, and then I realized this must be from when the two of them were still close. Yujin, this is devastating."

Forced into causing devastation, Xi Yujin silently covered his face.

The alien readers turned to the final article in Reader's Digest: "Some Lines of Poetry That Gentle Time and Astonish the Years: A Grand Appreciation of Classical Chinese Verses."

The title alone made it obvious that it was written by Yujin.

Xi Yujin had written it in a hurry, presenting only classic lines and their literal translations, with large areas of blank space in the layout. He had thought this conveyed a sense of artistic atmosphere and left it as it was.

He had no idea it would trigger a nuclear-level discussion among the readers.

Many of the classic lines were about emotion.

Lines like "Only the idle dreamer fails to dream of you" and "I find myself in this world, my head covered in snow", usually difficult to grasp, now resonated deeply with grieving readers. The lines flowed easily, giving voice to the weight pressing on their hearts. Combined with the spacious, evocative layout, it stirred an overwhelming urge to pour themselves out. Huaxia civilization, in this unexpected moment, had rapidly found its way into people's hearts.

In the end, it all condensed into one sentiment:

"I cried so loudly!"

It seemed... he made the readers cry again.

Xi Yujin shut off his optical computer and stopped checking the comments.

At this point, the only remedy that could soothe the readers was time.

He turned to Gano, beside whom several little Rust Clan members were bouncing around.

Xi Yujin crouched down and asked them whether they understood their current situation.

The little Rust Clan members huddled together, went quiet for a moment, then chattered all at once that they did.

"I'll apply for Blue Planet identification for you later. You can become Blue Planet beings," Xi Yujin said, his tone softening as he thought that his fictional Blue Planet was finally welcoming legal residents. "But it's hard to grow up properly on a spacecraft... I'll find a habitable planet. Before you land, you need to arm yourselves with knowledge."

The little Rust Clan members' fur puffed up noticeably, strand by strand, as if witnessing something they would never forget. After a moment, they bounced in agreement: they understood, and they would study hard.

Xi Yujin boldly reached out and ruffled one of them. Prickly. A very peculiar feeling.

He drew up a study plan for the little Rust Clan members, and out of personal bias, the curriculum focused mostly on the Blue Planet civilization. He hoped that someday, he would see a more vibrant Blue Planet, his dreamlike homeland continuing in another form, alive in this universe.

He sent the little Rust Clan members off while Gano immediately and silently drew closer.

Gano had already sensed that there might be another truth behind Xi Yujin's "terminal illness", but it didn't matter anymore. What mattered was continuing what had been interrupted. Yujinno said he hoped he would take the initiative, so he would have to be even more proactive.

Looking at his own reflection in Gano's pale green eyes, Xi Yujin's thoughts drifted again.

The alien beings were weeping and wailing for that poor pair of close friends, Canghai and Qiongtian, while he was off enjoying a sweet and happy voyage with Gano. That added approximately 0.1% more guilt to his conscience.

Tidal Peace had sailed out of the sphere of influence of the Deep Space Prison. According to the star map, a well-known cosmic void lay ahead.

A void was a region where almost no stars existed. On the star map, it appeared as pitch blackness, as though a section had been erased.

Voids were common in the universe, often found between two large galaxies due to gravitational effects. But the void they were about to pass through was not naturally formed. It was the remnant of an ancient battlefield between the Intelligent Machines and the Zerg.

That war had nearly annihilated every star in the region, to the point that even the nebulae and dust that could nurture new stars were gone. No matter how far one looked into the past or future, all that remained was deathly silence.

This famous void was enormous, spanning hundreds of millions of light-years in diameter.

Since Tidal Peace's light sails relied on stellar energy, the safest route was naturally to travel along the edge of the void, where at least some light was available.

After adjusting the course, Xi Yujin entered what he considered a vacation period. Aside from teaching the little Rust Clan members, he set down his pen.

All his Blue Planet aliases went on hiatus. He finally had enough free time to enjoy the treasures he had acquired from the Intelligent Machines.

First: the miniature Intelligent Machines models. From the various instruments he had bought on the black market, he found suitable tools and spent his days engrossed in assembling and painting them.

He also frequently tinkered with the visual-enhancement telescopes gifted by various literary brands.

In space travel, those brilliant starfield images were almost invisible to the naked eye. Those colorful pictures were reduced countless times over, with each photon separated by immense distances in reality. But with this visual-enhancement telescope, those images could be easily captured.

He used it constantly, trying to photograph beautiful scenes.

From the dazzling spectacle of space, the inspiration that had been drained out of him by the AI Forum gradually returned.

"There are so many wonderful things in the interstellar era! I feel like I can write multiple projects again!" Xi Yujin was full of energy.

—

Some time had passed since the escape. There was now a ten-minute network delay between Tidal Peace and the Deep Space Prison.

At the edge of the ancient battlefield ruins, they hadn't encountered another large civilization, or even any other travelers. Finally unable to bear the solitude, Xi Yujin opened the AI Forum again and went back to browsing.

He expected Blue Planet's popularity to have faded considerably by now, but there were still numerous posts on the forum discussing the Blue Planet civilization. More novelists than ever were analyzing its history and culture with professional rigor.

Because Blue Planet had been on hiatus for some time, many readers expressed how much they missed it.

Xi Yujin realized that he missed the lively community too.

He had also gone a long time without writing much and suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia for the days of rushing to meet deadlines.

An idea took shape. Previously, Blue Planet had always sent representatives to participate in writing contests in other star systems. This time, why not have Blue Planet host the contest and let the other star systems come to them? His various aliases would be competing on the same stage.

He brought up the calligraphy brush tool on his optical computer's editing page and wrote in bold strokes:

"Blue Planet 2303rd Open Writing Competition: The Fisherman Cup."

Fisherman, fisherman, those willing will take the bait.*

Gano watched Xi Yujin's action from the side.

These days had been peaceful, but Gano felt somewhat dissatisfied. From that day on, this sense of dissatisfaction had surfaced frequently. He hadn't known what to do with it before, but now he knew he could take the initiative.

A bold idea suddenly surfaced in his mind: why not try writing something himself?