Ziye lay still for a moment, and when she didn't hear SuperComm’s ping, a small wave of frustration washed over her. She glanced sideways at it; SuperComm remained placid, showing no sign of activity.

She got up, unwilling to give up, retrieved it from beside her, activated the light-screen, and stared intently without blinking.

But An Junlie really hadn’t called again.

Ziye rolled around in bed with vexation: “Agh, every single one of them is a bastard!”

Little Sprout jeered with schadenfreude: “Serves you right for being so proud, for putting on airs!”

Angered and embarrassed, Ziye was about to seize a pillow to silence Little Sprout when the doorbell suddenly rang. Red Hair’s voice came through the light-screen system: “Little Stinky, are you asleep? An alien buzzed your SuperComm looking for you. If you’re awake, come open up.”

Ziye: “…”

She scrambled joyfully off the bed and ran barefoot to the door. Just as she reached it, about to open it, she thought of something, paused, took a deep breath, and coolly informed Red Hair, “I’m already asleep.”

Red Hair believed her, said something to An Junlie, and disconnected the call.

Ziye stood by the door for a while, then silently walked back to the bed.

Little Sprout looked at her with disdain: “You wanted it so badly, yet you pretended!”

Ziye shot it a sidelong glance: “What do I need a man for?”

Little Sprout blinked: “To eat?”

Ziye didn’t answer. She got into bed, pulled the covers over herself, and went to sleep.

Little Sprout poked its tiny sprout head over the top, sweeping it back and forth above her eyes. Seeing Ziye remain completely unresponsive, it expressed surprise: “Huh? Are you perhaps angry?”

The moment the words left its mouth, Ziye opened her eyes: “I’m not angry.”

Little Sprout: “…” After not seeing her for a while, Ziye’s temper was becoming increasingly inscrutable. Well, given its ample energy reserves, it supposed it could reluctantly take on the task of detecting the exact reason.

Suddenly, Ziye shot out a hand, grabbed it, and tucked it under her head as a pillow, closing her eyes with satisfaction.

Little Sprout nearly went ballistic. “Hey, I’m not a plush toy!”

Ziye rubbed her head against its body, not even opening her eyes: “I know. I only use plush toys to prop up my feet.”

Little Sprout grew even more dejected.

However, as a high-minded, ambitious command optical computer, it decided against an outburst, contenting itself with quietly enduring Ziye’s cuddling. Ziye had an open temperament; despite her slight displeasure with An Junlie, she forgot everything after lying down for a bit. Consciousness slowly slipped into darkness.

Just then, Little Sprout suddenly spoke, its tone very earnest and serious. “Ziye. I understand why you’re angry.”

Ziye murmured an “Mmm” halfway between sleep and wakefulness.

Encouraged, Little Sprout raised its voice: “After detection, it was determined that fifteen minutes ago, when the alien dialed your SuperComm, frustration was the dominant emotion in your heart. Data calculations suggest the ultimate cause might be this: After the Rose Garden incident, even that damned Tang offered his condolences, yet the alien showed absolutely no reaction. From a woman’s perspective, when a man remains silent, it signifies indifference. Little fool, you believe the alien doesn’t care about you.”

Ziye mumbled: “...Stop bothering me.”

“If I gave up this easily, I wouldn’t be called Sprout,” Little Sprout huffed inwardly, then continued to elaborate on its data: “Ten minutes later, the alien stopped dialing your SuperComm, and you took that as a sign of his losing patience, hence you became angry.”

Little Sprout concluded: “Someone on the light-net said that if you don’t care, you won’t get angry. Therefore, little fool Ziye, you do care about the alien.”

Ziye flipped over: “...I fell asleep.”

Finally free from being used as a pillow, Little Sprout seized the moment Ziye turned over to slip out and hover in mid-air.

Ziye was in a bad mood and couldn’t be bothered with it.

It floated above her, looking down, observing the faint tremble of her long eyelashes, knowing she was listening intently. This only spurred it on: “When the alien used a roundabout tactic to have Red Hair contact you, you understood the alien still cared about you, and you were very happy. However, you were frustrated by his choosing to involve a third party in what was essentially an issue between the two of you, so you rejected his SuperComm.”

Little Sprout was leisurely reviewing data and intending to continue when suddenly, the area before its eyes dimmed, and a massive shadow fell over it.

It jumped in fright, lifting its head to see Ziye sitting up at some unknown time, her eyes blazing red as she stared daggers at it.

“Little fool, you want to see how I calculated it, right?” Little Sprout shoved the light-screen towards Ziye as if presenting a treasure.

Ziye ignored it completely.

For some reason, a dreadful equation flashed through Little Sprout’s programming. It rapidly balled itself up. “Aaaah! Little fool, are you planning to silence me?”

The whole affair ended with Ziye balling up Little Sprout and stuffing it into Douzai’s mouth before going back to sleep.

Without the noisy pet, Ziye slept soundly until the broadcast for the battleship requesting docking in the Xilian Galaxy rang out, pulling her reluctantly from her sleep.

Red Hair was sitting on a sofa in the external lounge, the ashtray overflowing with ash and cigarette butts.

Hearing Ziye’s footsteps, she spoke without looking up: “Intelligence reports that Tang Wan is not a spy.”

Ziye was silent for a long moment: “I know.”

Red Hair pondered, then added, “I’ll say it again: the alien is not a good match for you.” Without waiting for a reply, she patted her backside, stood up, and said, “Sis got you an assistant. He’ll handle the grunt work for you from now on, so you can relax a bit. I’m heading to the Tamarr Galaxy to make money. Don't miss me too much.”

Ziye watched her walk toward the gangway and managed an “Mm,” saying, “Go ahead. Let me know if you need anything.”

The dead pervert must have left at some point, and now Red Hair was gone too. The vast battleship was left with her alone. She looked around at the cold, sharp metal, devoid of any softness.

Would she ultimately end up alone?

She turned back toward the long corridor she had walked down, only to see a chubby little ball clumsily crawling on the floor, and above it, Little Sprout stretching out its tiny sprout, ready to whip it at any moment.

She wasn’t alone!

Ziye couldn’t help but smile, running toward her two pets. She caught Little Sprout with one hand and scooped up Douzai with the other. “Let’s go, we’ve reached our destination.”

The space station in the Xilian Galaxy hadn't been this lively in a long time.

Due to its proximity to the Kelai Galaxy, the Xilian Star System had been affected right at the start of the war. However, the station’s defense capabilities were too low. The station’s administrator had become one of the first casualties in the war’s first week. Nearby merchants and residents either evacuated or fled, leaving the area desolate.

A few days ago, Ziye initiated a vote to establish the air force assembly workshop in the Xilian System. Big Head immediately rallied a group of engineers for surveying and design, bringing the Xilian System back to life.

As soon as Ziye arrived, someone came to greet her in an airship.

The man was in his early twenties, tall and well-built, with lips pressed tightly together. Upon seeing Ziye, he uttered only two words: “Hello. I am Haley, from the Silver Leopard Squadron.”

The Silver Leopard Squadron was the first cohort of true Wolf’s Den space warriors trained by Red Hair.

So this was the assistant Red Hair had arranged for her.

But the assistant seemed to be in a foul mood.

A deadpan expression was an excellent skill for concealing emotion, but the man’s deadpan technique was clearly underdeveloped; in the split second he saw her, Ziye clearly caught the flicker of disdain in his eyes.

Everyone in the Wolf’s Den knew how strong Red Hair was.

But only the founding members of the Wolf’s Den high command knew how strong Ziye was.

To the soldiers, Ziye was Red Hair’s sister, someone who caused trouble everywhere only because Red Hair protected her.

Ziye usually didn't care what others thought. But unfortunately, her mood wasn't great today, and she needed an outlet for the emotions she felt toward Tang Wen and An Junlie. This man happened to be a soldier, so he wouldn’t be completely crippled by a fight.

She immediately had an idea. She glanced up at him: “Are you dissatisfied with me?”

Haley stared straight ahead: “No.”

Normally Ziye would let it go, but today she happened to be in a bad mood. She said coldly, “If you have grievances, say them directly. Keeping them bottled up will make you sick.”

Haley responded: “A soldier’s primary duty is to obey orders!”

Ziye let out a cold snort, stepped back a few paces, set Douzai down to one side, took a quick running start, leaped about a meter from Haley, and struck toward his chest.

Haley hadn't expected her to attack so directly, but being a trained operative, his brow didn't even twitch. He took two steps back, raised both hands, and blocked.

With two dull thuds, Ziye heavily kicked his elbow. The force was so great that he staggered three steps backward, his arms hanging uselessly, unable to lift.

Only then did Haley realize with shock that he couldn't raise either of his arms!

Ziye landed lightly, her face unflushed and her breathing even: “Are you convinced yet?”

Haley shouted loudly: “No!”

Ziye unhooked Little Sprout from her waist, placed it on Douzai’s back, and beckoned him over, her voice calm and serious: “Beat me, and you get to be Red Hair’s assistant. Lose to me, and you’ll have to follow me from now on.”

Haley’s eyes lit up.

Following Red Hair was the dream of every warrior in the Silver Leopard Squadron!

By Red Hair’s side, a man could realize the wildest dreams of manhood, fight to the death on the battlefield, do anything they wished without restraint, and trample all interstellar laws!

The nature of a warrior was to follow strength!

Haley was no exception.

His dream was to fight side-by-side with Red Hair, not to babysit a young girl! Even if the young girl before him had already proven she knew a thing or two about combat.

Haley said: “I will hold back.”

Little Sprout next to them scoffed.

Ziye stamped her foot. Her boots were made of hard Jihu hide, soft on the inside, firm on the outside—perfect, she didn't even need to take them off. Ziye looked up again, and her entire aura shifted. She moved like an arrow, her fist slicing the air with a rushing wind toward Haley’s ribs.

When delivering a punch intended to maim or kill, the primary targets are the nose, throat, and ribs. Ziye was shorter than Haley, making the nose inconvenient and the throat awkward; only the ribs remained. The ribs protect the liver and lungs; if broken, those organs would certainly be injured.

This single punch completely changed Haley’s impression of Ziye.

He suddenly realized that Ziye wasn't the delicate little girl he had imagined; she was a Tyrannosaurus Rex disguised even better than Red Hair!

He shifted sideways to evade, his punch coming down in a vertical strike aimed at Ziye’s head.

Ziye knew how to play to her strengths, and Haley capitalized on his height advantage, throwing punch after punch at Ziye’s head—each one powerful enough to crack a skull.

The two began fighting in the exit hall of the dock. Passersby were terrified, some calling for the police, others summoning space station security.

But no one dared step forward to mediate.

They were fighting for their lives; who had the capability to ensure both of them stopped safely?