Ji Tianjin’s views aligned closely with Su Cha’s—he believed that sometimes, even a few encounters were enough to tell if someone was trustworthy. For instance, Su Cha was certain that even if Cyril learned the truth and couldn’t accept it, he still wouldn’t harm him.
What Su Cha didn’t know was that he himself was being trusted in the same way.
Lately, he had been drifting through his days in a haze. He was getting plenty of sleep, but still woke up feeling drained, with no memory of when his proxy-trained spirit form was returned to him each day.
This excessive drowsiness was unsettling.
The soul-summoning ritual was over, his headaches were gone—by all accounts, he should have been improving.
But avoiding medical help wasn’t a good habit. So Su Cha went to Cyril and got straight to the point: “All I want to do these days is sleep.”
Cyril picked up where their daytime conversation had left off. “That’s a sign of early dormancy.”
Su Cha remembered how Cyril occasionally needed long periods of rest. Could it be that his own future would involve falling asleep at any given time?
“Your constitution is excellent,” Cyril reassured him, easing his worry.
For a pureblood child to be this healthy was nothing short of a miracle.
“But your awakening is progressing too quickly. Even with Sanses’s spiritual power suppressing it, other factors are at play.”
The soul couldn’t be touched by spirit force. Cyril suspected Su Cha’s soul wasn’t as healthy as his appearance suggested.
Su Cha lightly pressed his lips together. He didn’t even have to think—he knew the aftereffects of the soul-summoning ritual were also a key cause of this.
He had already waited this long, and didn’t mind waiting a few more years. What he hadn’t expected was that old enemies could still so easily provoke his killing intent.
“Dormancy isn’t a bad thing,” Cyril noted, sensing Su Cha’s turbulent emotions. “With some luck, when you wake, you’ll have completed a deep awakening.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle and pinched Su Cha’s puffing cheek. “Look at you, turning into a steamed bun from anger.”
In the past, Su Cha would never have let his emotions show so easily. But ever since he’d opened up a bit, Cyril had earned a place in his heart as a trustworthy elder. Of course, there was also the fact that—he really was angry.
Su Cha suddenly asked, “How’s Luan Zheng doing?”
Did Cyril happen to know any cruel, drawn-out methods that didn’t kill too quickly? He’d love to learn a few for future reference.
Cyril said calmly, “The methods I used on him were a bit extreme.”
Whenever Cyril referred to himself with such formal language, it meant the topic was closed. He didn’t want Su Cha to have nightmares from what he might hear.
Su Cha, however, didn’t see it that way. His eyes even lit up slightly—though the deep weariness in them made it hard to notice.
He didn’t press the issue. There would be plenty of chances to coax it out later.
“The dormancy chamber is ready. Tomorrow I’ll announce your upcoming sleep.”
This wasn’t just for a few days. If Su Cha disappeared from the public eye for too long, it would stir public concern. Cyril’s voice held the faintest sigh—this meant he would miss yet another stretch of the child’s growth.
The only small comfort was that he now had ample time to design a perfect teaching plan.
Without Su Cha’s knowledge, Cyril had already hand-written several lesson books—including mechanical courses, which Su Cha loathed most.
8:00 AM.
The most authoritative interstellar station on Fog Star broadcasted a formal nationwide announcement: due to a rapid awakening, His Highness would soon enter dormancy. Everyone was asked not to worry…
The news emphasized multiple times that it was the awakening pace, not a physical illness, that was responsible.
Even so, a gloom settled over the entire planet.
Even Su Cha, tucked away in the palace, could sense the mood. The butler and others were clearly smiling less than before.
“I’d like to visit the children at the hospital,” Su Cha told Cyril.
There was a flicker of comfort in Cyril’s gaze. “I’ll make arrangements.”
The visit was set for four days later. This time it would be a formal event, with reporters stationed at the hospital entrance broadcasting everything quietly through cameras. As Su Cha’s final appearance before entering dormancy, every gesture and word was under the public’s watchful eye.
The children in the pediatric ward had all put on new clothes early, eagerly awaiting him. In fact, Su Cha was even more popular among the children than with adults. They looked at him with a kind of admiration—as if his freedom to walk and run was the embodiment of their dreams.
“The brother who smashed the big stone is here!” someone called from the ward as soon as he appeared at the door. The kids tried to suppress their cheers but couldn’t quite manage it.
Su Cha entered with Cyril. Hearing his “signature move” mentioned, he lifted his chin proudly.
Yes, that’s right. That’s exactly how you introduce me.
Cyril noticed the expression and was slightly surprised—Su Cha seemed oddly fixated on physical prowess.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Su Cha murmured.
That moment when the wind had carried him away… would take a lifetime to recover from.
As part of the official visit, the guards handed out gifts brought by Cyril and took group photos. Among the presents was a sunflower doll that sang—a custom piece Su Cha had someone make. Fog Star’s manufacturing speed was incredible: with just a brief description from him, dozens of identical sunflower dolls were ready and delivered within three hours.
One child, drawn by its unique look, pressed the button.
“I still want to live another 500 years—”
The lyrics were poignant, but the bold melody made Su Cha’s howling rendition oddly invigorating. His voice couldn’t hit the final high note, so he pleaded with Cyril to help.
Cyril hit the note effortlessly—though without any emotional nuance. Fortunately, it was just one line, and the two managed an odd kind of harmony.
The strange yet relatable gift made the king seem less distant. The kids played the song twice more, holding their sunflowers close. One even rubbed his cold little face against it.
Seeing the bruises from IV needles on the child’s hand, Su Cha sighed internally.
Premature dormancy was something to worry about. Children weren’t as good as adults at hiding their fears. One asked, concerned, “How long will you be asleep?”
“Until I naturally wake.”
Su Cha changed the topic: “Have you heard the story of Sleeping Beauty?”
As expected, they all shook their heads.
Su Cha figured Cyril probably hadn’t heard it either, so he told the story from beginning to end.
Fog Star folk weren’t drawn to fairy tales, and had even less interest in exaggerated love stories. Still, someone asked seriously, “So, if a prince kisses you, you’ll wake up?”
“…I am the prince, thank you.”
Well, that killed the fun of the story.
Su Cha hadn’t actually met that many children on Fog Star.
The hospital kids were those with high blood purity. Healthy peers were all receiving closed-off education, just like in the Galan Empire. Their curriculum was harsh, designed to push physical limits and teach survival skills.
They couldn’t stay too long—some kids had checkups soon.
Before leaving, Su Cha pinky-promised each one: “Next time.”
“For sure.” Fog Star people valued promises. The kids suddenly felt like they had a mission to live for.
As he left, Su Cha waved to the doctors and nurses too. Bathed in the golden sunset, his drowsiness grew heavier by the minute.
He had no memory of getting in the car or returning. When he was finally awakened, he was already back in the massive, labyrinthine palace.
Squinting, he muttered, “Looks like it’s time to wash up and sleep.”
In other words, time to officially begin his “hibernation.”
Cyril didn’t object. There was no point in resisting. He took Su Cha to see the specially designed dormancy chamber.
It wasn’t hidden underground but set in a spacious room with a full-length glass window and fresh flowers all around. It looked more like a greenhouse.
With the sunset shining through, it was almost absurdly beautiful.
But Su Cha’s attention was locked onto the chamber itself.
It was predictably luxurious and high-tech. What baffled him were the two massive white wings—each over ten meters long—on either side.
“The designer said it’s part of the angel series, made just for you.”
To Fog Star people, Su Cha was like an angel—gentle and kind.
Seeing he didn’t seem thrilled, Cyril quickly added, “They can be removed if you’d like.”
“…It’s fine.”
Better an angel with wings than one with broken ones. Su Cha ultimately chose to keep them.
The butler stood at the door, waiting for their conversation to pause before bowing slightly. “Your Majesty, the minister is here to see you.”
Cyril resumed his usual detached tone. “What is it?”
“He said the Galan Empire has sent a list for the cultural exchange delegation.”
“Exchange delegation?” Su Cha responded first.
Since when? How come he hadn’t heard?
Cyril briefly summarized it, explaining that the cultural exchange program was back on.
Su Cha asked tentatively, “Can I take a look at the list too?”
Just in case…
There might be someone I know inside.
After leaving the castle, Cyril brought him to the main hall of the palace, the place symbolizing power and status. Here stood the truly resplendent throne—lofty and imposing, inlaid with rare and precious gems.
While Su Cha was appraising the throne’s value, Cyril led him directly up to it and had him sit by his side.
The throne was enormous—let alone two people, even lying down and sleeping on it wouldn’t be a problem.
Su Cha immediately took two steps back. “It’s easy to get sleepy while sitting. I want to stand for a bit.”
Drying out a salted fish in advance on the job he might one day have—wasn’t that just cruel?
Stimulated by the throne looming so close, Su Cha’s drowsiness nearly got scared away. The officials below the throne all thought: with His Highness this lively, he didn’t look like someone on the verge of falling into slumber.
Cyril’s cold gaze snapped him back to attention. The official presented a list and began reporting the latest interstellar battlefield updates.
Cyril handed the list directly to Su Cha, leaning lazily against the throne with one hand propping his head. His every movement was usually elegant, but on the throne, he exuded an unusually languid air.
Su Cha strongly suspected that he wasn’t all that keen on working either.
Rustle.
The sudden crumpling of paper made the official stop his report. Su Cha’s eyes were fixed on a name he couldn’t be more familiar with—Ji Tianjin.
Cyril glanced sideways at the list and asked, “Someone you know?”
Su Cha nodded. “My classmate.”
Cyril estimated the time of Ji Tianjin’s likely arrival and figured that Su Cha would probably already be asleep by then.
Su Cha said seriously, “I want to hold out as long as I can, just to see him one last time.”
“…”
***
This interstellar battlefield route was considered the easiest in the past decade, thanks to a newly discovered wormhole. Most of the fighting now took place on the outer edges.
As long as one didn’t force their way in, they usually wouldn’t be directly targeted.
The Galan Empire’s fleet chose to cut straight across, with over twenty warships escorting the journey, enough to deter even space pirates.
Members of the exchange delegation didn’t interact much. Everyone was busy with their own tasks.
The engineer worked on modeling, the doctors flipped through medical texts, the teachers chatted occasionally, and Ji Tianjin practiced control over his right hand. As Land had analyzed before, his right hand was slower than his dominant hand.
“We’re almost there.” One doctor glanced at the hourly-updated remaining distance. “They said the exchange would last a year, but in reality, it’ll probably take several years.”
As long as both sides continued cooperation in the battlefield, cultural exchange would go on.
The engineer, focused on his model, added, “Both the Zerg and Fog Star seem determined to win. It’s likely to hit a stalemate.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than his eyes narrowed dangerously. “A strange beast is stirring.”
Attacks from strange beasts on Fog Star were practically routine now. The engineer glanced at Ji Tianjin—combat was the best training. By the time they returned, the boy’s fighting ability would far surpass others his age.
Five warships were dispatched to deal with the strange beasts blocking the way. The rest continued without pause, finally arriving at Fog Star before nightfall.
As soon as the warship’s door opened, a group of people rushed up in tight formation, their pace urgent—like they were escorting a prisoner to execution.
The threatening atmosphere put the exchange members on alert. Unexpectedly, two officers strode directly up to Ji Tianjin. “Come quickly. His Highness wants to see you one last time.”
Ji Tianjin’s expression shifted, but he quickly composed himself. If something had really happened to Su Cha, these two officers wouldn’t just be anxious—they’d be in despair.
“What happened to Su Cha?”
The officers ushered him onto an aircraft. “His Highness must enter sleep ahead of schedule.”
The aircraft flew at top speed. Upon reaching the palace, they switched to a car, which raced unimpeded toward a castle.
“The person His Highness was waiting for has arrived!”
Whether guards or palace staff, everyone stepped aside, clearing the way.
“Hurry!”
The officers’ boots squeaked loudly against the floor from how fast they were walking.
Ji Tianjin followed. The usually composed butler dashed ahead to lead the way. “Keep up.”
Two heavy doors swung open. The butler and officers stopped at the threshold. The once noisy palace fell into sudden silence.
“Mm…” A familiar murmur. Su Cha laid in a sleep pod, still open. In a weak voice, he said, “Be careful not to step on my angel wings.”
Ji Tianjin didn’t even have time to react before catching sight of the extravagantly ridiculous wings Su Cha had mentioned.
He walked around and softly asked, “Are you okay?”
Compared to before, Su Cha’s complexion was a bit rosier, but he still looked very tired. His eyelids drooped heavily, and his long lashes trembled slightly.
Su Cha nodded weakly and stretched out a hand, grasping Cyril’s cold fingers beside him. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone… He has no one else here. Please… be good to him…”
Ji Tianjin: “…”
To his surprise, Cyril actually nodded solemnly. “I promise you.”
Right before his consciousness faded completely, Su Cha suddenly recalled a familiar tune. “Ah, my friend, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye…”
Ji Tianjin sighed and gently covered his mouth. Su Cha had once used this song to bid farewell to Shen Ningze—this wasn’t the time for another farewell performance.
“Goodbye,” Su Cha still stubbornly sang the final two words, then, with the last of his strength, added, “You must be… happy… oh.”
He even added a little vibrato at the end.
“…” Ji Tianjin closed his eyes before Su Cha could. “Su Cha.”
“Ah-ha~”
“…Don’t mess around.”
“Okay.”
But Su Cha really didn’t have the energy to mess around anymore. He was truly exhausted, and could only force himself to stay awake through self-amusement. Now that he’d said everything he needed to say, entrusted what needed entrusting—he completely fell asleep.
“Your Highness.”
The butler outside the door lowered his head in grief. Except for Cyril and Ji Tianjin, everyone else present also bowed their heads, trying to hide their sorrow.
Cyril personally pressed the button, and the sleep pod’s lid slowly closed.
The butler walked over to Ji Tianjin. “Your quarters have been prepared. Please come with me.”
Ji Tianjin’s room was on the same floor Su Cha used to stay on. Su Cha had once told him to pick any room he liked—so Ji Tianjin chose one styled like a student dorm.
Everything he needed was provided. As for which school he would be attending here, the butler gave no answer that day.
It wasn’t until the next morning that the butler knocked on the door and said from outside, “The king wishes to see you.”
Perhaps because of Su Cha’s request—or maybe due to affection by association—Cyril, recognizing Ji Tianjin’s journey across star systems for Su Cha, actually began personally guiding him.
Time flew by. Nearly half a month later, Ji Tianjin received a letter from home. It asked how things were, whether he had managed to see Su Cha.
Ji Tianjin spread out the letter paper and wrote just two words:
Utter loneliness.
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