An Junlie added, "By any means necessary to convince me. You can use superior martial prowess, exceptional piloting skills, or mechanical ingenuity—whatever you excel at. Register with my assistant."

Most of the boys, having spent a month around Ziye and capable of basic conversation in Interstellar Common, rushed off to sign up upon hearing An Junlie’s words, then doubled back to inform their families to bring their friends and relatives to try as well.

Their group alone numbered twenty to thirty, and with the crowds drawn by reputation, there were at least a hundred hopefuls. That meant one spot for every ten applicants—a true one-in-a-hundred selection!

Some who were close to Ziye immediately thought of finding her to see if a favor could secure a spot.

However, An Junlie had anticipated this move. "You can certainly speak to Ziye, but even if she agrees, if you don't pass my test, I won't accept you."

One of the boys, nicknamed Little Orange by the G-Series little loli, flatly disbelieved An Junlie and dashed off to find Ziye.

Ziye was busy calibrating metals for a warship she had designed. Seeing him arrive, she said cheerfully, "Perfect timing. Help me purify this batch of metal; the purity must exceed 993.80."

Little Orange didn't have time to speak before being thrust into the work: purifying the metal, fusing it with other elements to create an alloy, and then testing the alloy’s density and hardness to see if it was suitable for the warship.

An hour passed, then two, then three. The work proceeded methodically, but Little Orange finally couldn't hold back. He asked, "Ziye, your boyfriend said he’s taking us into space—is that really true?"

Ziye, viewing data on her optical brain, didn't lift her head. "If you can convince him to take you, then there's certainly no problem."

A piece of Little Orange’s heart sank.

Ziye clearly intended to wash her hands of the matter, leaving everything to An Junlie’s discretion. This meant seeking her counsel was likely pointless.

He clung to one last thread of hope. "If I convince you, does passing your test not count?"

Ziye shrugged. "That's fine too. Pass my stage, and then go through his stage afterward."

Little Orange nearly dropped to his knees before her.

Did that mean he had to clear two hurdles? This defied logic!

Even more devastating, he suspected An Junlie had already chosen the ten candidates during these past three hours.

Little Orange was on the verge of tears.

He momentarily lost focus, misplacing the weight of the metal sample.

Housekeeper W reprimanded him, "There’s barely any of that metal left, and the probe robots have trouble locating more. Don't waste it."

Little Orange hung his head miserably. This time, it really was over.

He allowed himself a brief moment of internal gloom before steeling his resolve and continuing the metal allocation.

He worked until evening, right up until Tang Wen arrived before Ziye with Blan in tow.

After fighting with An Junlie, Tang Wen hadn't sought out Ziye but had instead been wandering the planet in his mecha with Blan.

The planet possessed excellent natural resources, tragically buried under refuse. He assumed Ziye, having lived there for a month, would be familiar with the resources, so he sought her out. Seeing him, Ziye stood up. "Teacher, Blan, you've arrived."

The title "Teacher" caught Tang Wen in the throat. Ever since Ziye and An Junlie got together, she had insisted on calling him Teacher. Honestly, he had grown to detest the word.

Tang Wen suddenly felt a strong urge to tell her, "Actually, you are my sister," just to see her reaction.

He moved his lips, but Blan, sensing his intention, spoke first. "Ziye, where are you staying tonight? It’s getting dark; we’re looking to crash here."

Ziye glanced at Tang Wen and laughed. "I hope you don't mind these remote little places."

Tang Wen knew with his toes that she was teasing him. He couldn't help but reach out and pinch her cheek. Just as Ziye was about to bat his hand away, another hand shot out from the side.

Slap—

The sound was remarkably crisp.

A red mark appeared on the back of Tang Wen's hand.

Tang Wen narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the person who had struck him.

It was An Junlie.

An Junlie pulled Ziye into his arms. "Don't you dare touch her."

Ziye sighed again. Here we go again. How bored could these two men be?

Tang Wen, uncharacteristically, did not get angry but dropped a parting shot. "An Junlie, you will regret this."

An Junlie’s gaze was unflinching. "Absolutely not."

Tang Wen let out a soundless "Hmph," ignoring him, and said to Ziye, "It's getting dark. Let’s go back and rest."

—He would have plenty of opportunities for revenge. He was definitely going to tell Ziye that she was his sister someday. If An Junlie ever proposed marriage, he, as the bride's relative, could simply utter a single "No" at the crucial moment. Humph, An Junlie would be jumping mad then.

Tang Wen wasn't just someone who held grudges; he was exceptionally vengeful. If he held something in his heart, one had better sleep with one eye open later.

Ziye led them and the robots back to her quarters. Although her current residence was considered high-end and impressive for this planet, it was merely a standard three-bedroom, one-living-room apartment on a backwater world. It certainly couldn't accommodate so many people.

The G-Series little girls each served a cup of purified water; there wasn't even tea, let alone food.

Seeing how meagerly Ziye was living, An Junlie’s heart ached. "I'll summon two frigates. We can stay aboard them shortly, alright?"

The standard configuration for a frigate included five rooms, a galley, and a head. Most ships carried enough provisions for ten days to half a month, enough for extended travel in space.

Ziye pushed her luck. "I want jelly pudding."

An Junlie smiled. "Done."

Ziye added, "And I want lots and lots of meat, and rose hip jam too!"

An Junlie ruffled her hair. "It's all prepared, you foodie."

Ziye immediately exploded. "You're the foodie!"

An Junlie took her hand and led her outside, where a massive frigate was descending from the sky. A frigate was the smallest class of warship, second only to the stealth bomber, but on this small, garbage-mountain planet, even a small frigate looked immense.

The frigate couldn't land on the refuse heaps, so it hovered low, deploying a mecha gangway. The group entered the mecha cockpits and slid down the ramp into the vessel. Little Orange, having worked with Ziye all afternoon, was present and thus became the first youth on the planet to be privileged enough to tour a space frigate.

Aboard the frigate, the K-Series kitchen robot had already prepared dinner. Precisely as Ziye preferred, there were huge plates of meat, rose hip jam for dipping, and jelly pudding for dessert.

The others, accustomed to such fare, didn't find it remarkable. Little Orange, however, had never seen such exquisite, high-class food. His mouth hung open and refused to close. Ziye reached out and tapped his chin. "Your drool is showing."

Little Orange instinctively wiped his mouth.