After everything that had happened, Ye Cheng no longer wanted to spend a single extra day in Sunset City. That same night, she booked passage home.
A quick check online showed an overnight mag‑rail bound for District A that even had sleeper berths. She bought the tickets, and the four of them boarded together. They slept through the hum of the long‑distance rail and awoke the next morning back in familiar air.
There was no time to rest. After washing and changing into fresh clothes, Ye Cheng roused herself to full energy. She left Yang Yu in charge of arranging rooms, furniture, and clothing for their new family members—Sorra and the two children—before heading out with Aunt Zhou's gift in hand.
Aunt Zhou received her warmly, pleasantly surprised by the scale of Ye Cheng's gains. Ye Cheng handed over the bottle of Star‑Realm Juice and sang her praises, insisting it was all thanks to Aunt Zhou's good luck, earning herself playful scolding and laughter.
Declining further hospitality, she went alone to the hospital to see Ye Zhiqiu. She upgraded him to a deluxe ward and booked a panel of Yilan Star's most renowned specialists. Sitting beside his sleeping form, she told him stories of her journey, editing out only the dangerous parts.
On the way back, her new mech—Andreas's promised gift—arrived right on schedule. Ye Cheng signed for it and went straight to the government registry to file ownership and expand her Subspace Ring's first storage bay.
Andreas had chosen well: a Zenith‑grade research‑type elemental mech, designed mostly for scientific missions and not heavy combat. Because it carried only standard melee armor and no advanced weapons, the inspection passed immediately.
When asked to name her mech, Ye Cheng looked up at the soft brown giant gleaming under the hub lights and murmured, "Camellia."
Unlike Shennong, Camellia had no advanced A.I. It required full manual piloting—and since Ye Cheng had no clue how to operate one, she simply stored it away for later training.
By the time everything was done, night was drawing in.
Back home, the house gleamed with order. Yang Yu was in the kitchen cooking; Sorra and the twins were up, dressed in fresh clothes, quiet as always, watching with serene curiosity while clutching their father's sleeves.
The sight filled Ye Cheng with pride: her Tubby really did know how to keep a home. Top marks!
After dinner, she sat at the head of the table like a stern little general calling a council meeting. Yang Yu and Sorra sat one on each side—and since Gingko and Sequoia were too small for the chairs, she gave up all illusions of seriousness and pulled them close: Gingko into Sorra's lap, Sequoia into her own. The meeting atmosphere evaporated instantly.
Ye Cheng cleared her throat. "I've decided… to apply for the Star‑Realm Academy."
Naturally, the other three remained unmoved, leaving Yang Yu to break the silence. "You can do it, Master."
But his expression betrayed skepticism. Annoyed, Ye Cheng thumped her Subspace Ring against the table, producing a neat pile of books. "I mean it!"
Yang Yu glanced over them—basic mech operation manuals. If piloting were that simple, the Union would be full of geniuses.
Seeing that he said nothing, she tapped the table again. "Tubby, I know this isn't enough. About the mech we used last time…" She meant Shennong. "It could probably flatten Kairald's machine, right? But with my current ability, I can't control it.
"And we'll need more money—for Father's treatment, for our own futures. If I can become a licensed pilot, I can work, explore, even mine again—on my own terms. Maybe someday I'll uncover Shennong's secrets. Maybe then I can keep us safe… from people like Kairald."
If she could become a high‑level mech pilot, at least when her mixed‑blood identity was inevitably exposed, she'd have the status to protect herself from being branded a low‑tier slave. And perhaps—Shennong's cryptic remark about Ye Zhiqiu still haunted her—the strength to defend her family.
Her gaze lowered to Sequoia drowsing softly in her arms. A pang shot through her chest. In her previous life, the children in her old neighborhood had been lively and bright, their laughter drifting through the dusk like birdsong. Yet these two, though delicate as porcelain, breathed in silence. In a few years, matching steel collars would clasp their small throats, and they'd grow under chains without ever realizing their meaning.
The image was unbearable.
To make the world safe for every hybrid child—it wasn't just a dream. For her now, it felt like an oath set aflame in her veins.
Yang Yu studied her quietly across the table. Ye Cheng met his eyes without flinching. Finally, he stood, hands behind his back, and bowed slightly. "Master, that path is difficult beyond words. I'll help you as much as I can. But whether you succeed will depend on your own effort."
"I'll work for it," she said firmly. "You'll be my overseer."
In this era, education differed sharply from Earth's past. Enhanced New‑Human youth learned at accelerated levels—what once matched high school or early college was now mastered by their early teens. High school itself focused on specialization.
As Yilan Star's top school, the Star‑Realm Academy was renowned for its mech‑pilot program—also its most expensive, nearly three million credits per year.
Money wasn't Ye Cheng's worry; admission was. The academy recruited across the entire Union, with tens of thousands applying but barely over a thousand accepted.
Once her resolve was clear, Yang Yu threw himself into planning. He checked exam schedules, pulled official guidelines, sifted curriculum databases. By nightfall, he'd compiled a brutal study timetable.
Ye Cheng looked at it and nearly fainted. Yang Yu laid a tower of additional books before her with impeccable calm. "Master, let's begin."
A boulder hurled at my own foot. She wanted to cry.
Having abandoned science for more than a year in her past life, she found the equations and schematics utterly alien. Yang Yu was brilliant at practical mechanics but hardly gifted at teaching, so progress was slow. Eventually she dished out her own trick: studying beside Sorra. When concentration waned, one glance at his sleeping‑angel profile instantly revived her motivation.
By the time night finally came, Ye Cheng all but fell over with exhaustion. After a perfunctory shower, she dove into bed and went out like a switch flipping off.
At dawn, something warm beside her stirred. She rolled sleepily, touched soft skin—and shot upright, nearly screaming. The man beside her was half‑naked, blinking groggily as if unsure where he was. On the far side of the bed, Gingko and Sequoia slept soundly in identical pajamas, cuddled against his body.
"Tubby!" she yelped, crimson to her ears.
Yang Yu dashed in, saw Sorra sitting bare‑chested on her bed, and calmly swiveled out again to fetch clothes. Without comment, he handed them over, waited for her to turn away, and said, "Master, slaves of his kind must sleep by their owner's side every night."
Ye Cheng froze halfway between shock and despair. She'd read about those rules but hadn't connected them until now. Kicking him out would count as rejection—and a native‑born slave who felt rejected would self‑punish, even fatally.
Fully awake now, she buried her face in her hands and fled to the bathroom.
By the time she came back, dressed and fresh‑faced, Sorra sat neatly at the bedside, fully clothed, kneeling with perfect posture while the children rubbed their eyes beside him.
She shot Yang Yu a helpless look. He sighed. "Master, you didn't… share the bed kindly last night. He believes you despise him."
"I don't!" she cried, near tears herself. "I'm just—he's gorgeous and I'm underage and the bed is small—and how's anyone supposed to study with three extra bodies rolling around?"
"I was supposed to sleep on the floor by your door as well," Yang Yu added dryly.
"Absolutely not," Ye Cheng said, waving both hands. "You're sleeping in your room, and you're going to help me figure this out!"
Yang Yu opened his Subspace interface, scrolling calmly. "Perhaps, Master, you can persuade Sorra to let the children use a small bed near yours. As for himself…"
He didn't finish. She caught his meaning well enough. There was no changing decades of conditioning overnight—but neither could she share her blankets with a naked man indefinitely without dying of embarrassment.
Taking a breath, she knelt before Sorra and gently took his hand. "Sorra, I'm your master, right?"
"Yes, Master," he answered softly.
"For the children's health—they need their own space. We'll still all be in one room, but I want them to sleep separately so they rest well. That's all right, isn't it?"
He looked at her silently—for a long moment—and then a tear slipped down his cheek.
Panic struck. "No, no, don't cry! I'm not sending them away! I'll sleep elsewhere—you take the bed—I like you, I'm not disgusted by you! Do you understand?"
The twins, clinging to his sleeves, saw their father's tears and began sniffling too.
"Oh no, please don't—don't cry!" Ye Cheng pleaded, clutching both children, babbling nonsense. "It's fine, all right? We'll all stay together! I promise I won't snore or kick the blanket—just please—please don't cry!"
Yang Yu, watching the chaos, finally cut in, speaking with quiet authority. "Sorra. The master doesn't want to separate you. She means you no harm."
His expression softened; he lowered his head. "…Yes."
Yang Yu continued, "I'll start breakfast soon. You did well yesterday learning the ingredients. From now on, you'll learn more—everything. You were once trained only for your master's pleasure; now, you'll learn to help her."
Something about that phrasing should've sounded uplifting. Somehow, it didn't.
Sorra glanced toward Ye Cheng—still holding the sniffling children—and seeing her worried eyes, managed another nod. "Yes."
Ye Cheng's heart cracked again. All she'd wanted was for the children to sleep better—how had she turned into the villain separating a family?
Yang Yu turned to her. "Master's studying schedule is heavy, and you need clear sleep. Sorra, you'll rest in pajamas from now on. She does not demand your company otherwise."
"Yes," Sorra said obediently.
Ye Cheng jumped to affirm, waving both hands. "Exactly! I'm studying for exams, so I need peace and quiet. We'll just… sleep normally. Keep your clothes on. Please." One more morning like that and she'd die of blood loss.
"Let the children rest," Yang Yu added, lifting Gingko and Sequoia gently back into bed.
Sorra lingered beside them, eyes full of muted ache. To reassure him, Ye Cheng hurried to wash up then retreated to the living room with her books, determined not to make things worse.
Once the children drifted back to sleep, Yang Yu led Sorra outside. This time, Sorra followed without hesitation, his steps quiet but resolute.