With heartfelt thanks to Chun Niu, Sha Sha, Hui Yi, 66, Xiao Yao, Jiang Nan, and Liu Feng Dao Shuai, a thousand virtual kisses to you all~ — Ziye didn't look at him, focusing instead on his hand. Sensing something amiss, he let go. Ziye murmured coolly, "It’s nothing, just fatigue."

An Junlie wanted to ask her the reason but couldn't find the words, so he simply said, "Rest well."

Now free, Ziye walked towards her room without a backward glance.

An Junlie stared at the spread of dishes on the table, feeling even more dejected. In his haste to cook, he'd made seven or eight dishes. Now that his guest wasn't inclined to eat, was he expected to finish it all himself?

He sighed silently and sent a terse message to the Pervert: "Got time? Come over for a meal?"

The Pervert's culinary skill was on par with Ziye's; most days he subsisted on jerky supplemented with rose petals served like a hamburger. This time, an invitation was too good to refuse, and he hurried over.

Unaware of the subtle tension simmering between Ziye and An Junlie, he unceremoniously plopped down at the table. "Where's the brat? If he doesn't come, I’m eating everything!"

Ziye being out of sorts was one thing; arguing with the Pervert was another. Seeing him sitting there, devouring the food with the entitlement of a master, she bristled, crossed over to the opposite side, and without a word, began to eat heartily.

An Junlie watched the two of them eat as if competing, unable to suppress a slight upturn of his lips.

This really was the most rewarding feeling!

For several days, Ziye was listless. On top of her low mood, her period decided to join the party, making her utterly miserable. Every time she thought about how they belonged to different worlds, a strange sadness welled up. What if she accidentally became reliant on him?

An Junlie, not grasping her inner turmoil, tried to get her to run as usual. She refused. An Junlie grabbed her wrist and tried to drag her out; she countered by wrapping both arms around a pillar in the corridor, refusing to budge, determined to resist to the end.

An Junlie looked at her, utterly confused. Seeing the blush creeping up her ears, he guessed that the "youth" might be embarrassed about something and delicately asked, "Did you... did you do that thing last night?"

Ziye was startled. Did he know about her period? She reviewed her actions mentally. Both her undergarments and the sanitary pad were carefully hidden; there was no reason for him to have discovered it.

What to do?

She didn't know how to answer, a cold sweat breaking out on her back.

Little did she know, her slightly guilty reaction only solidified An Junlie's internal suspicion. He patted her shoulder and said earnestly, "Youth, these things are a necessary part of growing up. Nothing to be shy about. Just make sure you don't do it too much; it’s bad for your health."

Ziye stared at him with vacant eyes, managing only a stiff, hollow laugh.

An Junlie truly was dense—a fool either way. He actually thought she was... pleasuring herself. Cough, cough. Fine, she decided to pretend she hadn't heard a thing.

An Junlie, taking advantage of her momentary lapse, pulled her away from the pillar. As he led her out, he advised, "Exercise more. A young boy's little brother needs to grow up healthy. Come on, running time."

Ziye finally understood completely: communication with certain types of people was futile. But woe was her; halfway through the run, the bleeding intensified. If not for the rigorous training from Little Sprout recently and the good nourishment he provided, she would have collapsed mid-route.

Once the run was finally complete, she went straight to her room to collapse into a lifeless heap. From that day on, she held even more firmly to one belief: Cherish your life, and stay far away from aliens.

A history written in blood and tears!

The only smooth sailing was in her work.

The useful particles on the airship's outer hull were quickly identified by Leg-Wobbly Bro. The wreckage of the interstellar vessel also yielded rich data. Besides the damaged exterior, many items—including heavy missiles, official credentials, and reports—were all complete. The team carefully analyzed this data, cross-referencing it with their previous understanding of the Interstellar Federation, and suddenly, everything clicked into place.

It felt like having the Conception and Governing Vessels in their bodies suddenly cleared all at once.

The process of reaching a conclusion was surprisingly smooth.

An Junlie wasn't a specialist; he could only grasp the final results and conduct basic, rational analysis. He couldn't delve into the underlying physics or particle theory of how these analyses were derived. Looking at the final data, all he knew was that the specialized Stargate channel mechs of the Interstellar Federation wouldn't work.

If they truly wanted to use that route, they would need a starship.

In the long time since arriving at Silver Emblem Star, he had hardly seen a starship.

Of course, starships were massive and required extensive materials. Since he was already imposing on her for food and shelter, he couldn't possibly ask her to help construct a starship.

Furthermore, a starship wasn't built overnight. Even if Ziye had the ability to build mechs, she might not have the capacity to build a starship.

Fundamentally, taking the route of an interstellar warship was the primary choice for the inhabitants of Silver Emblem Star to leave, but it wasn't his choice.

He reopened the shared files in the F430, comparing the starship routes with the trajectory he had fallen on. Unexpectedly, he found that the two paths came extremely close, with the nearest point only 100 km apart.

In space, where distances were measured in light-years, such a small gap wouldn't take even half an hour. A sudden idea struck him, and he excitedly ran off to find Ziye.

Ziye looked over the data without comment, merely asking, "You’re desperate to return home, aren't you."

An Junlie nodded.

Ziye let out a silent breath. "Is your mech insured?"

An Junlie blinked, then replied, "Yes, Platinum-tier." He understood what Ziye was implying—that leaving this way was likely a death sentence—but as long as there was a sliver of hope, he had to try.

Ziye shook her head. "Do what you must. Give me two days for the mech. I found a special thin film among the matter scraped from the airship's hull; it should prevent the ship from being scorched by intense radiation when passing through a wormhole. While I can’t replicate the exact film yet, it should be useful."

An Junlie expressed his gratitude. "Thank you."

Ziye glanced at him. "You're welcome."

An Junlie wasn't sure how to continue; the atmosphere felt constrained. Perhaps he shouldn't have said thank you, he thought, but if not thanks, what else could he say?

Perhaps from spending too much time with robots, An Junlie was used to wrestling with problems alone in his mind. He sensed the subtle shift in the atmosphere between them but couldn't pinpoint its origin.

An Junlie scratched his head, watching Ziye walk toward her workshop.

Ziye had actually already compared the routes used by starships with An Junlie's descent path. Leg-Wobbly Bro connected the two and redrew a route theoretically deemed more viable. As soon as it was generated, Ziye used An Junlie's mech data to test the wormhole jump points.

She turned the wormhole into a level-based game, with the mech as the character. She watched the character, no bigger than a finger, advance through the game—left, right, up, down, accelerating 10 km forward, executing a 176° turn—when suddenly, a powerful tension caused the figure to shake twice, stretching front to back. In less than three seconds, the figure was reduced to a thin reed.