Fu Xiaoxin is a career-oriented woman who should have belonged in the laboratory.

If she didn't have a child, she might have lived a single life on a meager income, enough to support herself but not a whole family.

Fu Luo knew that since separating from Wang Yizheng, Fu Xiaoxin had been working very hard at things she wasn't good at or used to worrying about. She had been trying very hard to take good care of herself... Although one person's energy is always limited, and Fu Xiaoxin had to take care of both work and children, often appearing to neglect one or the other, she had really done her best.

Fu Luo didn't want blindness and craziness to become the main theme of Fu Xiaoxin's life. She hoped that Fu Xiaoxin could be as relaxed as possible and worry less. Therefore, she almost never showed obvious signs of rebellion. When it came to trivial daily matters—like wearing long johns, which she considered a toxic remnant of a bygone era—Fu Luo rarely objected the way other young people might.

In short, except for secretly applying to military school, she had always been more obedient than a good girl at home.

She did whatever she was told to do; even when faced with a stupid decision like being stuffed into Robin's studio, she still obeyed.

But...

Fu Luo looked at Fu Xiaoxin, who had her back to her, and suddenly said in a restrained voice, "If I don't go to space, where can I go?"

Fu Luo clenched her fists, feeling as if all the blood in her body was boiling under the suppression, making her heart pound and her chest ache.

However, she still tried hard to reason with her.

"Mom," Fu Luo said, "I've been in military school for six years, working harder than anyone else, sweating more than drinking water. Do you want it all to go to waste? Where else can I go besides space? What else can I do?"

Fu Xiaoxin said coldly, "What can't you do? How many jobs in the world require specialized training and skills?"

Fu Luo: "But that's not me..."

Fu Xiaoxin interrupted her, "What about you? Your ideals? Your ambitions? Can't you have other aspirations, or are they all limited to seeking death?"

This woman was simply unreasonable.

Fu Luo's temples throbbed. She took a deep breath, digging her fingertips into her palms, and tried to communicate with Fu Xiaoxin from another angle, undaunted by her previous failures. "Is Earth necessarily safe?"

Fu Xiaoxin: "The second round of protective nets can be repaired immediately, and it's still safer than the front lines even if it's not safe."

Fu Luo: "..."

This was indeed true, and she had no way to refute it.

Fu Luo's lips were so dry that they cracked. She licked them slightly and tasted blood.

She gritted her teeth tightly, her voice hoarse and tight, "My friends, classmates, and teachers are all in space, but I'm cowering under the protective shield on the ground. Don't you think I'm like a waste?"

Fu Xiaoxin suddenly raised her voice, "According to what you're saying, isn't everyone who doesn't go to the front lines a waste? Is your dad a waste? Am I a waste, are the billions of people on the ground all damn wastes?"

"Don't be unreasonable!" Fu Luo finally couldn't bear it anymore. "Since you hate space so much, why didn't you let me drop out when I was admitted to the space combat department back then?"

Fu Xiaoxin's voice was always two octaves higher than hers, "Because there was no war at that time!"

"Yeah," Fu Luo gave a cold laugh and started talking without thinking, "It would be great if there was no war; then I could go to the Second Department to be a duty soldier, coast for a few years while my superiors get promoted, and then have a bright future with my impressive qualifications, right?"

"Benefits are always more important than responsibilities, right? What's the difference between you and the kind of villain you hate the most!" Fu Luo shouted in one breath.

Fu Xiaoxin was speechless for a moment.

Fu Luo took a big step past her and ran upstairs.

Then she heard Fu Xiaoxin screaming hysterically behind her, "Then why me? What obligation do I have to give my child to the country and to the Earth? I only have one daughter! Are you being fair to me!"

Fu Luo slammed the door hard.

It was completely dark outside.

A sense of uncontrollable grievance suddenly welled up in Fu Luo's heart. The bleak road ahead, the anxiety of hearing that Dagger had suffered heavy losses, the collapsed underground city—it all pressed down on her at once. She felt her eyes getting hot, so she stared hard at the ceiling, holding back the tears.

After a while, Fu Luo calmed down a bit. She took out her phone, found the address book, and sent a text message to Ye Wenlin, "Are you still alive?"

Ye Wenlin sat hunched in the corner of the salvage ship, elbows on his knees, his spacesuit helmet tossed to one side, holding a slender little bottle in his hand.

The bottle had a diameter of less than four centimeters, and the material was semi-transparent, glittering with an almost iridescent light under the lamp.

At first glance, it looked like a piece of decoration.

This was made of space crystal.

Space crystal is an artificially synthesized silicon product. Its special molecular structure allows it to withstand the perilous cosmic environment. The mouth of the bottle has a special signal transmitter that can be received by the salvage ship. Even if it is scattered in space, as long as it is not blown away by a particle storm, the probability of finding it is still very high.

The blades all called it a "drifting bottle", and everyone had one, usually carried close to the body, used to hold relics and wills.

Ye Wenlin himself had one, which contained a large check and a brief estate distribution plan.

The one he was holding now was Jiang Jin's.

Captain Jiang had a baby face, but he acted like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Five years ago, on Ye Wenlin's first day reporting to the blade, he was subjected to a deliberate put-down by the other party.

The three words "pretty boy" were like a chamber pot that couldn't be taken off, covering Ye Wenlin's head for more than two years.

Later... how did they make up later?

A vague gap suddenly appeared in Ye Wenlin's indelible memory... was it the first time they chased a space fugitive ship together? Or was it when he stole Captain Jiang's treasured jerky and was chased and beaten for a morning?

Too trivial, can't remember.

They were just colleagues working together anyway, and every time he saw him meant saying goodbye to his nice vacation...

"Captain." Someone called out to him softly at the door.

Ye Wenlin looked up.

"General Zhao urged us to return to port quickly. He wanted you to go with him to attend a chief of staff meeting."

Ye Wenlin: "Understood."

The gaze of the Dagger soldier fell on the small bottle in his hand. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "Captain Jiang... what's in Captain Jiang's drifting bottle?"

Ye Wenlin replied, "I guess it's money."

He took out a special screwdriver from his pocket and opened the lid of the space crystal bottle, tipping it over.

Indeed, very unimaginatively, inside was a check and a stack of Earth currency bills and coins.

The cash was probably Jiang Jin's own private stash that he had forgotten about. Besides that, there was nothing else.

American tough guys would carry a photo of their loved ones, taking it out occasionally to reminisce. Chinese tough guys didn't even have this habit. They just focused on making money, supporting a family millions of miles away.

Jiang Jin didn't leave a single word, carrying his unromantic and dull style through to the end—anyway, this is all the assets I have left, you guys discuss and divide it according to inheritance law.

On one of the Earth currency coins, there was a line of text written in pen. It wasn't Jiang Jin's handwriting. The characters were delicate, not heavily written, and had a bit of a childish style, looking like it was written by a young girl—probably change Jiang Jin got back from buying something. There are always some whiny kids who like to write some nonsense musings on banknotes.

However, Ye Wenlin's gaze was suddenly drawn to that line of text.

"Your heart should be like a stone..." he murmured, then smiled self-deprecatingly. He put the lid back on the bottle, sealed it in a password box, attached a note, and handed it to the Dagger soldier beside him. "Send it to the logistics department."

According to regulations, the belongings of a fallen soldier are sealed by comrades, labeled, and sent to the logistics department, where support personnel will contact the family to hand over the items based on the identity information confirmed at the time of enlistment.

The salvage ship began its return voyage. In the future, special forces units will probably be reorganized across administrative lines. With the war being so urgent, everyone was overwhelmingly busy. At this rate, those who fall in the future may not even have the treatment of having their drifting bottles salvaged...

Let alone being mourned.

Those who see people off, each return to their own homes.

Relatives may grieve, but for others, life goes on.

"Maybe one day, I will also become a speck of dust in space."

Ye Wenlin thought calmly.

As the salvage ship entered the range of a distant satellite, there was a weak signal. Ye Wenlin received a greeting from Fu Luo.

"Alive," he replied.

At this time, it was already near dawn in Earth's UTC+8 time zone. Fu Luo hadn't slept all night, standing upside down in the corner of the wall to let her brain fully fill with blood. Suddenly hearing Ye Wenlin's voice in her inbox, she opened her previously closed eyes.

The smartphone asked, "Reply?"

Fu Luo: "...No need."

The phone automatically closed the inbox and the screen went dark.

If it were before, she would have really wanted to ask "experienced" Senior Brother Ye for his suggestions and thoughts.

But this time, Fu Luo didn't. All the answers she wanted, she got from Yang Ning.

"What should I do?"

"Soldier, we never ask this kind of question."

For a soldier, besides fighting to the end on their own battlefield, what other mission do they have?

Suddenly, her phone notified her of a new message.

Fu Luo: "Open it."

This message didn't go through her proxy converter, it was a military signal that came directly.

"Special Notice No. 12 from the Central Military Commission: The front line is in a critical situation. The Earth Allied Forces are facing the greatest crisis in history. In this special period, with special approval from the Central Committee, an emergency conscription order is issued. I hope that our compatriots will unite as one to resist the powerful enemy. Let us strive together! See attachment for details."

Fu Luo flipped up to stand in one swift motion, picked up her phone, and scanned the detailed information in the attachment, reading ten lines at a glance.

Applicants need to first send an email with their personal information and enrollment intention, then go to their alma mater for a physical examination and physical fitness assessment. Those who pass will be assigned to vacancies at the front lines of the Space Forces based on their personal conditions and preferences—most likely as basic soldiers on combat ships.

Basic soldiers on combat ships...

Not in the Second Department, not in any command center, not following behind some commander to carry out orders, but the people who truly control the warships and directly face the battlefield!