The poor culinary imbecile could only lower the standard of living again and again. Watching the mess all over the floor, An Junlie felt deep remorse and decided that Ziye should never be allowed in the kitchen again.

But if he left, what would she do all alone?

An Junlie rubbed his temples as he watched the cleaning robots scrub the kitchen, suddenly his eyes lit up. Perhaps he could collaborate with Little Sprout to design a robot that could function as a chef? Cooking wasn't difficult; everything could be reduced to a set procedure. He was intimately familiar with Ziye's preferences; as long as he could translate all of that into programming for the robot to execute with precision, even if it couldn't achieve one hundred percent deliciousness, it could replicate seventy percent of his skill.

The more An Junlie thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. He cheerfully baked a cake and had the robot deliver it to Ziye, while he borrowed Little Sprout to dictate the preparation of every dish so it could create the necessary programs.

Ziye watched them chat excitedly; though she didn't understand, she couldn't be bothered to inquire. She went to the study, picked up a pen and a sheet of paper, and began to work. Sometimes, after spending too long dealing with machines, she preferred this primitive method of recording to transcribe her thoughts.

Leaving Silver Rune Planet didn't require much, yet every item was critically important. She listed everything, scrutinizing the list to ensure she hadn't missed any detail.

She filled three entire sheets of paper with writing and diagrams. She took them back to the workshop, checking each item one by one, replenishing anything missing, and then testing everything three times over to ensure not a single glitch would occur.

The mecha wasn't suited for long-distance travel, but this time it was out of necessity. After much consideration, she stripped everything energy-intensive from the mecha, except for the engine, replacing them with lighter alternatives to prevent a catastrophic failure should the energy reserves run dry mid-journey.

Additionally, she installed an energy regenerator. This device could generate its own power; if she accidentally lost all energy in space, this gadget could provide a small boost to reach the nearest space station for a full charge.

Unfortunately, her technical mastery wasn't complete, and the regenerator's capacity was limited, making its utility rather minimal.

Next, she needed to stock up on radio frequency crystals. These were the ammunition for the laser cannon; without them, the weapon was useless ornamentation. She had favored the laser cannon initially precisely because the crystals took up little space. If she had opted for cruise missiles, she probably couldn't have packed more than a hundred before running out of room, whereas she could store a thousand radio frequency crystals without issue.

Once more, she confirmed the brain core coordinates.

If the coordinates were even slightly off, they might never emerge from the wormhole.

Beyond that, Ziye harbored another anxiety. Although she had scanned numerous particles and mapped out the wormhole's structure, there was still uncertainty about what might happen if a specific, vital particle within the wormhole hadn't adhered to the mecha or the airship, thus evading their detection.

In essence, Ziye's current mood mirrored that of a mother sending her son overseas for school—constantly worrying about this and fearing that.

Worries aside, Ziye did not delay in completing the necessary tasks.

Once everything was perfectly prepared, Ziye sent An Junlie a silver message: "Your mecha has been fully repaired and is ready for you to depart anytime. The total repair fee is two hundred thousand Interstellar Universal Credits. I have left the data on your brain core; you can pay me whenever I leave."

Two hundred thousand was no trivial sum.

In a space where mechas were ubiquitous, even top-tier luxury rides cost one or two million credits. Only limited editions, models with exceptional performance, or those heavily hyped by major corporations would breach the five-million mark.

Most standard mechas sold for under five hundred thousand; twenty thousand could even secure a decent machine both in performance and appearance.

Yet, Ziye charged two hundred thousand just for the repair!

An Junlie merely smiled. The amount held immense significance for him, but not because of its expense. He wasn't wealthy, but as the CEO of a legion, he wasn't incapable of affording such a sum.

What captivated him was the deeper meaning behind the digits. An Junlie felt incredibly fortunate—raised by his mentor, surviving numerous campaigns, and then landing on the prisoner planet only to meet someone like Ziye.

After this departure, the two might have very few opportunities to meet again. How many close relationships in this world faded after physical separation, leading to a lifetime of solitude?

Before this, he had dreaded that scenario.

But Ziye's bill acted as a profound reassurance. He owed her money, and he was determined to find a way to repay her. The fact that Ziye allowed him to pay later indicated that she still intended to venture out, still desired some form of connection with him.

A simple IOU represented hope for the future.

He looked forward to the day they met again; though, ideally, Ziye would be accompanying him on his journey...

Seeing his contemplative expression, Ziye asked, "Have you decided on a departure date?"

An Junlie shook his head. "Not yet."

Ziye flipped a few pages of the calendar and pointed to a date. "Eight days from now, Silver Rune Planet's rotation will align perfectly for wormhole passage. If you're willing to risk it, you can leave that day."

An Junlie noticed her expression was placid, as if speaking to anyone else on Silver Rune Planet, betraying no reluctance or unnecessary sentiment. A pang of wistfulness struck him; he wanted to tell her he couldn't bear to part, but the words wouldn't materialize.

He was an intensely rational person, knowing what he should say and do. But facing the even more rational Ziye, he felt himself becoming sentimental.

Was this the reason? An Junlie decided not to dwell on the question and smiled faintly. "Alright, that day it is."

For most people planning an international or interstellar trip, they would dedicate a few days to visiting friends and saying their goodbyes. But An Junlie was not that sort of person.

Most of his life had been spent in constant motion.

Ziye was even less so.

Aside from ensuring his mecha was in perfect order, she offered virtually no extraneous words.

Even though their hearts were filled with unspoken emotions, outwardly they maintained their routine of work and meals. They were accustomed to the ebb and flow of life, practiced in dealing with all partings and reunions with quiet composure.

Watching her busy figure in the workshop, An Junlie suddenly realized that in the long time he had been on Silver Rune, he had never properly explored the planet, nor had he ever seen Ziye truly relax and enjoy herself.

Children her age should love playing, laughing, and being mischievous—not be as composed as she was. An Junlie silently made a resolution: before leaving Silver Rune, he would ensure Ziye experienced a proper outing, letting her understand what a true youthful life felt like!

An Junlie acted on impulse, immediately approaching Ziye. "Hey there, brat. Aren't you tired of staring at these schematics and machines all day?"