Ming Yunyu was the sort of woman who imprinted on the memory the moment you saw her—her beauty was utterly breathtaking, the kind that made men yearn to kneel at her feet and be utterly conquered.

When responding to Zhong Yun’s polite greeting, she appeared slightly flustered; her slender, pale hand reached out for a brief handshake with Zhong Yun before quickly withdrawing it.

Zhong Yun found it rather amusing; the woman who could sway the royal family of the Gane Empire with her mesmerizing voice, the famous Ming Yunyu, was acting like a shy young girl.

“And here we have Major General Zhong Yun, the savior who bravely stepped forward during Dawa’s darkest days, leading the Forty-Fifth Fleet deep into enemy territory to turn the tide,” Zeng Xiaosan delivered the string of adjectives with a single, unbroken breath, so smoothly it sounded rehearsed.

“Hello,” Ming Yunyu bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her voice was as beautiful as celestial music, yet distinct from Weiwei’s deep, bone-melting tones. It was full, resonant, and possessed a natural penetrating quality.

“You are too kind,” Zhong Yun motioned for them to sit. “Please, don’t stand. Can I get you something to drink?” He produced several bottles of beverages and distributed them.

“Oh, isn't this orange juice? I thought I’d never taste this kind of fruit juice again.” Ming Yunyu took a small sip, a look of genuine surprise on her face.

Zhong Yun was greatly intrigued. “You’ve had it before?” The Dawa language lacked a word for ‘orange’; he had used direct vocal translation.

Then he realized. Back on Dawa, aiming for a business venture, he had manufactured and marketed orange juice, hoping to popularize the drink, but the market reaction was frigid—it was a pure loss. Production stopped after only one batch.

“Yes, I fell in love with the sweet and sour taste the first time I tried it several years ago. It’s a shame the company that produced it only ran one batch before stopping,” Ming Yunyu lamented.

“Wait a moment. Wasn't that company under the Zhong Group? Could it be…” She looked at Zhong Yun with sudden astonishment.

Zhong Yun rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This… this was indeed my little experiment. Production was halted because the sales were catastrophically poor.”

“Several of my friends really loved it…” Ming Yunyu finally displayed her superior social grace, bridging the gap between them in just a few sentences.

The other six exchanged glances, their eyes simultaneously drawn to the drinks on the table. They had all taken a small taste moments ago and nearly spat it out. Due to Dawa’s dietary habits, they genetically rejected sour flavors, much like most Earthlings dislike bitterness.

Ming Yunyu was clearly an anomaly. With Zhong Yun’s sharp intuition, he knew her words were sincere. It was rare to find someone who appreciated orange juice, and he immediately took a strong liking to her.

“Right,” Zhong Yun patted his pocket, searching for a pen. In an age where computers were ubiquitous, finding a physical pen was surprisingly difficult, especially aboard a spaceship.

“Hm?” Ming Yunyu tilted her head, her eyes shimmering with moisture, incredibly captivating.

“Wait a moment.” Zhong Yun remembered he had drawing implements in his quarters and quickly instructed a robot to retrieve them.

Soon, the robot returned with a sheet of paper and a pen. Zhong Yun smoothed the paper onto the table and offered the pen. “Please, could you sign this for me?”

“Ah?” Ming Yunyu was taken aback by the request, momentarily losing her composure. She took the pen, but her hand shook, causing her to botch the signature several times. She was clearly nervous.

“One of my very best friends is a huge fan of yours, a member of the ‘Yusi’ fan group. He’s been desperate for your autograph. Since I have this rare opportunity today, I was hoping to get one for him.” Zhong Yun’s gaze softened as he thought of Tianhai.

“I see,” Ming Yunyu rested her chin in her hand, pondering for a moment. “Just an autograph might be a little plain. How about we take a printed photo too?”

Zhong Yun smiled. “I was worried it might seem too forward.”

“Not at all.” Ming Yunyu’s smile instantly revitalized the air in the room. She stood up, moved to sit beside Zhong Yun, and looked at him with a pleasant expression. “Shall we take it together? You don’t mind, do you?”

“Certainly not.” Zhong Yun beckoned, and a robot positioned itself before them.

Taking the picture was simple—they could have whatever clarity they desired—but printing it proved more complicated. Unexpectedly, Ming Yunyu flipped her wrist, and a palm-sized camera materialized from somewhere, complete with a printing function.

They took a photograph, which was printed out as a flat image. Ming Yunyu rapidly scrawled a line of text: “For my best friend—Tianhai,” signed with her name.

Hmm? Best friend? Zhong Yun found the wording a little strange.

“We want one too…” The group of six onlookers grew envious and clamored for individual photos with Ming Yunyu. She graciously agreed to each request.

Every single person walked away satisfied with a signed photo, beaming with joy. A picture with the superstar Ming Yunyu!

“Zhong… Yun, could you sign one for me too?” After ushering the group of six away, Ming Yunyu suddenly approached him, holding up a photo.

“Me?” Zhong Yun shook his head. “I’m hardly a celebrity. Let’s skip it.”

“What celebrity compares to you? You are our savior!” Zeng Xiaosan exclaimed proudly.

“Always stirring up trouble,” Zhong Yun shot him a look.

“Please,” Ming Yunyu’s eyes were full of entreaty.

“Who could refuse you?” Zhong Yun sighed helplessly. No man could deny such a look.

Picking up the pen, he paused, then wrote a single line: “For the idol of my best friend—Ming Yunyu,” followed by his signature.

The sentence he wrote was already a fairly clear hint.

The six people nearby, however, were filled with admiration. This was the legendary high-level seduction technique—feigned indifference. No wonder he managed to court the young mistress; he truly was a master.

If Zhong Yun knew their thoughts, he’d probably cough up blood. Heaven help him, he wasn't feigning indifference; he genuinely didn't want to start another ill-fated entanglement.

After signing, Zhong Yun’s expression suddenly turned serious. “I have something important to tell you all.”

“What is it?” The six of them felt a sudden pang of unease seeing his grave expression.

“We are in deep trouble.” Zhong Yun informed them about their entry into the Dead Zone, feeling they deserved to know as comrades sharing the same vessel.

“How serious is this trouble?” Wang Xiao’er asked cautiously.

“More serious than running into pirates from a high-level civilization nation,” Zhong Yun offered as a comparison.

“That truly is major trouble,” Wang Xiao’er groaned, clutching his forehead in distress.

“Utterly disastrous,” the other five looked thoroughly disheartened. “Why must we be so unlucky?”

“I’m suddenly realizing,” Zhong Yun looked at the six of them and chuckled bitterly, “that you are all quite auspicious omens.”