It was late, yet they were still talking. Ziye, who usually slept at eleven, had been exhausted all day. Under the glow of the Purple Star, she had started nodding off around ten. It was only when An Junlie, ever considerate, gently shifted her head onto his shoulder that she finally drifted into a comfortable sleep.

She slept until she naturally woke up.

The next day, Ziye got up for her usual morning run. Midway through, she suddenly couldn't recall how she had gotten into bed the night before. Had she even showered? She glanced at An Junlie, who was running ahead of her, abruptly stopped in her tracks, and bolted back toward the room.

An Junlie, unaware of what had happened, paused in confusion and quickly followed her back.

Ziye rushed back to the room but didn't see any discarded dirty clothes. Checking the time, she realized the service bot must have already collected them for dry cleaning. She hurried to the cleaning room; the clothes were still in the process of being cleaned and hadn't been returned yet.

Ziye stood there blankly, trying to recall the previous night’s events, but the memory felt severed, a complete blank. She couldn't remember anything, so she simply gave up.

Only when everything was perfectly normal, just like any other day, could she overlook something so thoroughly. If there had been even a slight deviation from the usual, even a minor detail, she would have noticed it.

This morning, while changing, she hadn't sensed anything amiss, so things must have been pretty much as usual.

An Junlie hadn’t realized she was a woman?

If he had, he wouldn't be this calm.

Ziye’s mind settled as she thought this over. She turned to walk outside. An Junlie ran back, and seeing that she seemed fine, finally let out a sigh of relief. "What was wrong with you just now?"

Ziye shook her head, forcing a dry laugh. "Nothing. Oh, right, what happened after you went to bed last night?"

An Junlie’s tone was as casual as ever as they walked. "We probably chatted until past two, then everyone dispersed. You were sleeping like a log; everyone laughed at you for a long time."

The thought of herself being the subject of their laughter made Ziye’s face burn; she felt utterly mortified. Putting those thoughts aside, she asked the crucial question: "How did I get to bed?"

An Junlie chuckled. "The A120 you made is really impressive; last night I found out it even knows how to do a princess carry."

120...

It was the 120 that carried her back to her room!

What was she so worried about!

An Junlie hadn't touched her at all; there was no way he would have helped her undress. She had clearly overthought everything.

But then, what was this faint sense of disappointment in her heart?

Was she hoping An Junlie would discover she was female? Was she hoping An Junlie would carry her to her room? Or... Ziye clapped a hand to her head and shook it hard, banishing all such wild fantasies!

—

Time flew by quickly. After a few days of rest, the day An Junlie had scheduled to leave Silver Talisman Star arrived. Based on the precise calculations of Little Sprout, the optimal time to depart Silver Talisman Star was five in the morning.

An Junlie woke up before four. He prepared that day's breakfast, lunch, and dinner, storing them in the chiller for Ziye, packed several days' worth of rations into the mech bay, and then walked to Ziye's room.

Ziye was still deeply asleep, restless, constantly dreaming that she was watching An Junlie’s solitary figure receding from her, gradually vanishing out of sight. Every time she saw his back, she wanted to call out, wanted to beg him to wait for her, but no sound would come out.

He walked his path, and she stood within her shadow, as if separated by immutable destiny, with no intersection between them whatsoever.

Just then, the sound of the door startled her awake.

She jolted, staring at the familiar ceiling, the white roses swaying by the windowsill, and the faint purple glow outside. It wasn't yet dawn. She slapped her cheeks; it had only been a dream.

An Junlie called from outside the door, "Hey, brat, wake up?"

Ziye remembered that today was the day An Junlie was leaving. She hastily tossed the dream aside, scrambled out of bed, and shuffled in her slippers to open the door. Outside, An Junlie was wearing the iron-black flight suit he had put on when he first arrived—it fit perfectly, his flawless physique on full display, making him look capable and imposing.

Ziye sleepily scanned him from head to toe, stifling a yawn. "You're leaving already? Goodbye."

An Junlie felt a pang of hurt; Ziye didn't even have a proper farewell ready. However, as he was about to depart, he wouldn't dwell on such small matters. He strode forward and gave Ziye a man's hug—when a man nearly one meter ninety tall embraces someone barely one meter sixty, it was a complete engulfment.

Ziye's heart lurched. She instantly caught the familiar scent she had grown accustomed to over two months and instinctively clutched his clothing. Two months—she had only just become familiar with his scent, just adapted to his presence, to the food he cooked, and now he was leaving!

The dream was real.

For a fleeting moment, she wanted to be willful and say, Alien, don't go.

But she had never been a willful person since childhood; real life had made that impossible, and she couldn't afford to be willful now. She couldn't selfishly ask An Junlie to stay, or selfishly burden his heart.

Ziye told herself silently, No matter what I say, the outcome will be the same. It’s better to say nothing, bid a calm farewell, and perhaps we can be friends later.

She repeated this to herself three times until her breathing leveled out, yet An Junlie’s embrace tightened, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Ziye’s heart was filled with sorrow, but she was prepared to face it: mask her emotions and let him leave peacefully.

She would not utter words of sadness, only hoping in her heart for a reunion should fate allow it.

An Junlie’s emotions were surging. Once he ascended into space, whether the terrifying wormhole or the irresistible radiation awaited him didn't matter.

Now! In his eyes, there was only Ziye, and his future!

The morning air began to move with renewed energy, driving away worry, fear, and all negative emotions along with the darkness of the night. He recalled his teacher's words: no detours, no evasion—that was the way to survive.

He slowly released Ziye, gripping her shoulders with both hands, lowering his head until he could look directly into her black-pearl eyes. "Ziye, come with me. I can give you an ideal home, an ideal job."

In that instant, Ziye felt the urge to cry again.

She slightly lowered her eyelids, concealing her emotions, then raised her head, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry," she said, placing her hands over his on her shoulders, gently pushing them away, and speaking with clear, firm words: "I won't go with you."

An Junlie froze, his intense gaze momentarily fixed in his eyes before quickly dimming.

Ziye pretended indifference and reminded him, "You should be leaving now, or you'll miss the optimal window."

An Junlie’s bright eyes focused on Ziye, hoping to see reluctance, but all he saw were her emotionless, inky eyes, like a still pool that never stirred.

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