Lu Chenyuan's "retirement" remained an enigma to the outside world.
Though he had occasionally vanished from the public eye before,
no one believed a man at the peak of his power would truly relinquish his authority.
Nor did anyone think this architect of countless business miracles would genuinely retreat into domestic life.
Yet as time passed, it seemed Lu Chenyuan had indeed retired.
The media buzzed with endless speculation.
Some called it his "feast to dismiss the generals"—a calculated move to stabilize morale within the Sky Path Alliance.
Others claimed weariness with the corporate battlefield had driven him toward inner peace.
A few whispered of a grander scheme just beginning.
But the noise never reached Cloud Peak Residence No.1.
Lu Chenyuan's life distilled into simplicity.
Mornings meant escorting Lu Shi'an to kindergarten.
Mornings were spent with Mo Qingli overseeing the Stellar Foundation's operations.
Afternoons brought his son home.
Evenings unfolded with dinner, walks, and bedtime stories for three.
He became, unmistakably, an ordinary husband and father.
The Stellar Foundation emerged without fanfare,
as quiet as its founder.
Its charter bore a single line:
"To fund all non-profit basic scientific research exploring humanity's cosmic future."
The first grant flowed to Jingzhou University's mathematics department,
earmarked for Professor Lu Ruoxi's team studying "Higher-Dimensional Topology and Unified Field Theory."
The second funded Lu Chenxiao's life sciences lab,
advancing "Human Genome Mapping and Age Reversal" research.
Then came the third, the fourth...
Each investment targeted fields most deemed quixotic—projects unlikely to bear fruit for decades.
Lu Chenyuan imposed no deadlines, demanded no reports, asked for no progress updates.
He simply sowed seeds named "future,"
and waited.
Time flowed through these tranquil routines and silent plantings.
One year.
Two years.
...
Several years later:
Jingzhou University, Institute of Fundamental Physics.
A colossal hologram swirled with formulas and models like a galaxy in motion.
Lu Ruoxi stood before it, fingers dancing as data constellations bloomed and faded.
Her white button-down and jeans, the ponytail swaying behind her—
time had touched her lightly, leaving only a deeper intellectual serenity.
Su Yang worked the control console behind her, keystrokes fluid.
The years had tempered him too, his gaze at Lu Ruoxi's back still attentive, though his tenderness had grown more subdued.
"The curvature parameter here is flawed," Lu Ruoxi suddenly said.
"Adjusting," Su Yang responded instantly.
No superfluous words passed between them—
a glance, a gesture, conveyed everything.
Just then, Su Yang's terminal pinged with an alert.
Its headline blazed:
[World Physics Prize Shortlist Announced: Xia Country's Lu Ruoxi and Su Yang Lead Contenders for Quantum Gravity Breakthrough.]
Su Yang chuckled, flicking the notification into Lu Ruoxi's holographic view.
"Ruoxi, you're trending again."
She glanced back, her eyes lingering on the headline for less than a second
before swiping it away.
"More than that," she said, returning to the shimmering cosmos before her,
"I want to know what lies at the universe's edge."
Su Yang's smile softened further.
"Alright," he said.
"I'll watch it with you."
...
Xia Yin Studios, Recording Room.
The massive mixing console resembled a starship bridge, its lights winking in the dimness.
Only the hum of equipment filled the air.
Ji Yichen sat at the helm, monitoring headphones on, brow slightly furrowed as his fingers slid faders with precision.
On the sofa behind him lounged Lu Qianqian,
back from South America barely a week.
Her simple tee and jeans couldn't hide the quiet intensity in her eyes—a stillness forged by sun and wind.
Ji Yichen seemed to finish tweaking a passage.
He removed the headphones, turned, and hit playback without speaking.
Music unfurled.
No elaborate arrangements—just an acoustic guitar's foundation,
then wind whispering through soil,
followed by distant tribal drums carrying muted sorrow.
Suddenly, a child's crystalline laughter pierced through like a stone skipping across water,
intertwining with the guitar's warm chords.
Lu Qianqian closed her eyes.
As the last note faded, silence reclaimed the room.
"Well?" Ji Yichen's voice was rough.
She didn't answer immediately.
When her eyes opened, they held distance.
"I heard Ji's laughter," she murmured.
"The day before cholera took her."
"And Brother Chen Lei's wrench—that clear metallic echo when he fixed the pump."
Ji Yichen's mouth curved faintly, almost imperceptibly.
He knew he'd gotten it right.
This wasn't music composition.
He was writing an indelible diary in notes—for her, for those distant souls.
"Proceeds from the Dust Motes album built three permanent water purification stations and a solar plant at the camp," Lu Qianqian told him.
"You saved lives."
"We did," he corrected.
His gaze held none of their first meeting's arrogance, only unspoken understanding.
"You brought the stories," he said. "I just translated them."
Lu Qianqian smiled.
Then, after a pause:
"I leave again mid-next month."
"Good," Ji Yichen nodded.
"This time, I'm bringing the best gear to record..."
"...that land's first guitar notes played by their own hands."
He reached for the guitar beside him.
Lu Qianqian pulled a worn notebook from her bag—
fresh pages filled with tales of rebuilding and hope.
No more words were needed.
One sought melodies in strings.
The other gave those melodies souls through ink.
...
Qin Corporation and Sky Path Alliance's joint launch event for "Titan," the next-gen space engineering robot.
Qin Ya commanded center stage,
a flame-red gown ensuring she remained the spotlight.
Yet her presence had mellowed—less cutting edge than her youth, more grounded assurance.
"'Titan' will not be just a product, but a platform."
"It will provide the most reliable foundation for humanity's permanent bases on the Moon—and even Mars."
Her speech, delivered with confidence and power, drew waves of applause from the audience.
Huangfu Chengshi sat quietly in the front row.
Dressed in a tailored black suit, the youthful stubbornness of his past had long faded from his eyes.
He was no longer the loyal "puppy" trailing behind Qin Ya.
As the speech concluded, Qin Ya stepped off the stage.
Huangfu Chengshi approached, naturally taking the microphone from her hand.
Their gazes met in the air.
No words were exchanged—just a shared smile.
In that smile lay the tacit understanding of fighting side by side, the trust forged through adversity, and a love so deep it had become part of their very bones.
Once, they had been each other's ruin.
Now, they were each other's refuge.
……
At the headquarters of the Celestial Path Alliance.
Before a vast, circular floor-to-ceiling window, Lin Yuan stood gazing outside.
Beyond the glass, a massive holographic Earth floated in the air.
Hundreds of blue light trails—representing flight paths—stretched between Earth and the Moon.
Countless dots of light shuttled tirelessly along these trails.
They were the vessels of "Expedition."
They were the satellites of the Celestial Path Alliance members.
They were the bustling celestial highway, belonging to Xia, leading to the stars.
Ren Qian approached with two cups of coffee.
"Still watching?" she asked with a smile.
"Yeah," Lin Yuan replied, accepting the coffee.
"Sometimes, it feels like a dream."
"Years ago, when Old Lu told us he wanted to build a road to space..."
"Who could have imagined it would look like this today?"
Ren Qian leaned against his shoulder, watching the bustling "starry river."
"He always saw futures we couldn’t."
"True," Lin Yuan took a sip of coffee.
"That’s why we have to protect this road."
"Keep it thriving, just like this."
Ren Qian squeezed his hand.
"We will."
……
Jingzhou, "Glimmer" Gallery.
This was the gallery Wang Tongwen had opened for Lou Mengling.
Now, it stood as one of Xia’s most prestigious art sanctuaries.
But today, the gallery was closed to the public.
A family gathering was underway.
At the center, several long tables had been pushed together, laden with an abundance of food.
The Lu children—some already in their teens, others still babbling—ran and laughed, chasing one another.
Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli sat at the head of the table with Lu Shi'an.
Lu Chenxiao, Lu Chenyan, and Lu Chenjin, along with their families, filled the surrounding seats.
Lu Chenyan was animatedly describing his latest project—a sci-fi blockbuster about the construction of the "Luminous" lunar base.
Surprisingly, Lu Chenjin was gently serving his wife and child.
Meanwhile, Lu Chenxiao and Su Yang were deep in a hushed academic discussion.
Lou Mengling and Wang Tongwen stood side by side.
A refined smile graced Wang Tongwen’s face as he took in the lively scene.
Lou Mengling’s eyes brimmed with happiness and contentment.
She walked to Lu Chenyuan and gently touched his face, just as she had when he was a child.
"A-Yuan," she said tenderly.
"Mom," Lu Chenyuan looked up.
"Thank you," Lou Mengling said.
She didn’t specify what for.
But Lu Chenyuan understood.
Thank you for giving this family a new, warm ending.
Thank you for healing every wound, letting love return to every heart.
Lu Chenyuan clasped his mother’s hand.
"Mom, we’re family."
Lou Mengling smiled, her eyes glistening.
Yes, family.
……
Many more years passed.
The Earth-Moon route had long become routine.
The "Luminous City" on the Moon had expanded from a scientific outpost to a lunar metropolis, home to tens of thousands.
It had become a warm, visible dot in Earth’s night sky—a new beacon of human civilization.
And the names Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli had become symbols of an era, etched into history.
Their story was now legend.
On the terrace of the penthouse at Cloud Peak One.
The summer night breeze carried a hint of coolness.
A tall young man stood before a massive telescope.
It was Lu Shi'an.
Now grown into a handsome, composed man, much like his father in his youth.
His gaze, fixed through the lens, was trained on the blue satellite.
"Dad, Mom, come look!"
His voice trembled with barely contained excitement.
"The lights of 'Luminous City' are so bright tonight!"
Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli stepped up behind him.
Time had been kind to them.
Their faces bore the wisdom and grace of the years, yet their presence remained undiminished.
Lu Chenyuan wrapped an arm around Mo Qingli’s waist.
Side by side, they admired their son’s eager profile before turning their eyes to the star-studded sky above.
Below them, the city’s lights shimmered like an inverted galaxy.
And above, the true cosmos stretched endlessly, radiant and boundless.
Mo Qingli rested her head against her husband’s shoulder.
Everything was perfectly, peacefully still.
Softly, she asked:
"A-Yuan, when you sent me that note all those years ago... did you ever imagine this?"
Lu Chenyuan’s gaze shifted from the distant Moon to his wife’s face.
Then to their son, lost in the wonders of the universe.
His eyes overflowed with tenderness.
He smiled.
"No."
His voice was quiet as he squeezed her hand.
"But later, I only thought about seeing every beautiful thing in this world with you."
"It seems we’ve done just that."
't think I'm that capable, I'm just trying my best to stay alive. I've been kind all my life, never did anything bad, yet worldly suffering spared me not one bit. The human world is a nice place, but I won't come back in my next life. A kind young man, who wanted to just get by singing, but through repeated deceits and betrayals, has gone down an irredeemable path.
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
ions, keeping it grounded and realistic】 After quitting his job, office worker Su Yang accidentally binds with the "Enjoy Life System." As the name suggests, simply by indulging in life's pleasures, he can earn random rewards from the system—no need to spend money on beautiful women or grovel before anyone. Just enjoy, and the money follows, making it all about effortless fun. The system comes with a scanning feature, allowing him to establish a favorability bond with women rated 85 points or above. Every 20-point increase in favorability unlocks additional rewards. After suffering through over twenty years of hardship, Su Yang trembles with excitement, his dull eyes suddenly gleaming with newfound hope. "Enjoy life? How hard could that be?"
