After Waking Up I Inherited the Earth [Interstellar] – CH121

Chapter 121

The Insects really did seem kind of… weird?

No wonder people constantly complained they couldn’t understand Insect Civilization’s behavior.

Watching the patrol squad walk away, Xie Xingchen felt like he couldn’t really understand them either.

He sighed. Eh… maybe it’s just because we’re different species.

Everyone else, loudly: No, it’s not!

“Boss, what’s wrong?”

“Is something up?”

“Do you need help?”

Seeing Xie Xingchen still standing outside the energy shield, the design team looked over curiously.

Xie Xingchen turned his head and met his employees’ concerned gazes. He shook his head first, then said with a strange expression, “Nothing. I just feel like… I might not be able to understand certain behaviors from other civilizations.”

The design team: ?

Why did the topic suddenly jump to “understanding other civilizations’ behaviors”?

That leap was so huge they didn’t react in time.

And by the time they did, Xie Xingchen was already back inside and starting to set up the booth.

Everyone: …

If they kept chatting now, would the boss think they were slacking off?

They exchanged looks and decided to drop the subject.

Their boss really was a great person—but a boss was still a boss.

It was the first day of work, and everyone was busy. Even if they were pretending, they still had to look serious.

Fully aware they were basically here to “have fun on the clock / get taken out by the boss to broaden their horizons / chase livestream hype,” the group still behaved very obediently.

After working for several hours, everyone admired the results with satisfaction.

A blazing sea of “China red” filled the space with festival cheer and celebratory energy.

Couplets pasted on both sides of the booth, paper-cuts stuck to the walls, lots of hanging Chinese knots, toy red chili peppers… plus all kinds of flowers tucked into every available gap. And on top of that, a holographic simulated snow scene that Xie Xingchen had forgotten about—but Wang Qianqian had brought along.

Xie Xingchen’s booth—neither huge nor tiny—instantly overflowed with a strong New Year vibe.

Seeing it, he couldn’t help marveling again at how much convenience technology brought to daily life. That holographic tech was seriously incredible.

As long as you didn’t reach out to touch it, the snow looked completely real. It was amazing.

After the moment of awe, Xie Xingchen clapped his hands.

Once he had everyone’s attention, he said, “Alright! We’re done for today. The rest of the time is free. Go have fun if you want—but remember, do not provoke Insect people.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Okay, boss!”

“Thank you, boss—boss, you’re the best!”

The moment they heard they could go play, everyone’s eyes lit up.

Yes! Dismissed! Perfect!

They’d been wanting an excuse to go out and do a livestream anyway.

The seven girls who had just converted from part-time to full-time were practically glowing with joy.

Was there anything happier in the world than doing your own thing during work hours—with the boss’s approval?

Hahaha, their boss really deserved the “angelic boss” label!

Look at that mindset—unreal.

The group filed out of the Earth Trading House booth.

They were so curious that they kept looking left and right—eyes never stopping.

A distance that was only 200 meters turned into well over 2,000 meters of wandering.

Honestly?

This place was huge. And walking it was exhausting.

When you’ve never seen anything like this before, everything is fascinating.

But…

Why were everyone else’s booths so empty?

Didn’t the Insects—as the host—say booths needed to be set up?

Strictly speaking, Trade Day would start in two and a half days.

Was that enough time?

Small planets with little merchandise might be fine, but big planets with tons of goods… probably not.

It was confusing.

They couldn’t figure out why nobody else was doing anything.

In the end, Wang Qianqian—who was relatively close to Xie Xingchen—casually asked him, “Boss, why hasn’t anyone else started setting up their booth?”

As soon as she said it, others who shared the same confusion piled on immediately.

“Yeah! Small booths are one thing, but those massive booths we just passed haven’t started either. That makes no sense.”

“Exactly! I paid attention—Mechanical Commerce hasn’t moved at all either! They’re the biggest shop here. Their people arrived, so why aren’t they working?”

Sometimes pure confusion hits harder than any accusation.

Right—why weren’t Mechanical Commerce people working?

Xie Xingchen froze too.

He lifted his head and scanned the surroundings.

And then he realized…

It seemed like only the Earth Trading House was being “special.”

Wait.

A very bad feeling hit him.

He turned stiffly to look at the “native interstellar humans” beside him and asked dryly, “Um… Trade Day doesn’t actually require booth setup, does it?”

In that instant, he finally understood why the Insect patrol squad had come over—and why their expressions had looked so strange when they left.

If Trade Day didn’t have a “booth setup” phase, then everything made perfect sense.

Xie Xingchen: QAQ

Hearing his question, everyone answered matter-of-factly, “In the past, it didn’t need booth setup… but doesn’t it need it now?”

“Yeah! When you said we needed to set up the booth, I was shocked.”

They started chattering about how surprised they’d been back then—then proceeded to make reasonable guesses about why other planet lords still hadn’t begun.

“Maybe the planet lords who haven’t arrived yet are planning to use holographic scenery? That’s pretty common, and the cost isn’t too high.”

“Ugh, holograms just look pretty. But in a small area with a huge crowd, if everyone squeezes inside, there’ll definitely be clipping and glitching. Just imagining it makes me suffocate.”

“…”

“Lona, do you think those booths are all like Earth Trading House? It’s hard to get ‘packed like sardines’ on Trade Day. Your concern isn’t very realistic.”

They “solved” it with confident group logic, but—

Xie Xingchen’s mind went blank.

He’d assumed. Again.

He’d used modern thinking on an interstellar situation.

There was no such thing as “setting up booths” here.

He’d even thought the Insects were weird and sighed about “civilization differences,” and now—

Hahahaha. It wasn’t “civilizations differ.”

It was that there was a huge gap between interstellar people and modern Earth people.

Noticing the boss’s expression looked… wrong, the design team immediately shut up.

They carefully studied Xie Xingchen’s dead-inside face and tried to guess what happened.

They’d talked a lot, sure, but they didn’t think they’d said anything offensive… right?

Compared to the design team—who’d only recently joined and still felt a bit restrained—his three long-time robot companions had no such hesitation.

Seeing their owner looking miserable, Get-Rich, Prosperity, and Long-Life asked in unison, “Boss, what’s wrong?”

Xie Xingchen: weathered man lights cigarette.jpg

What’s wrong?

Nothing much!

He’d just been stunned by his own stupidity, that’s all. (:???)

He looked up at them and said in a hollow voice, “Maybe we’re the special ones. This doesn’t seem to be an Insect rule.”

Everyone: ?

What? Why was this suddenly about Insect rules?

And the sentence sounded kind of… broken?

They didn’t process it in time.

Then Xie Xingchen continued heavily, “Yep. Exactly what you’re thinking. The Insects never actually required booth setup, so of course nobody started.”

Only they had started—and even attracted an Insect patrol squad to come stare.

Xie Xingchen could practically picture it: while he was internally complaining the Insects were weird, the patrol squad was probably complaining that he was the weird one.

If he didn’t have the Insect Crest, he might’ve already been tossed out with pitchforks.

Thinking of that, he suddenly felt very grateful to the Insect Crest for saving his dignity.

And honestly, it wasn’t just that.

The patrol being so easygoing was partly because they knew he was an Insect Crest holder, so they were friendly to him—but also because Xie Xingchen hadn’t actually broken any rules.

Ever since Trade Day existed, there had never been a written rule saying you couldn’t decorate your booth.

If there’s no “forbidden,” then it’s effectively “allowed.”

So Xie Xingchen wasn’t wrong.

He just liked things “pretty” more than most people did.

The design team: …

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Only the three robots kept asking diligently.

“Boss, did the host say we can’t decorate the booth?”

“Boss, did the patrol come to tell us about this?”

“Boss, what did the patrol say?”

Xie Xingchen thought for a second and said quietly, “They didn’t say anything. So I guess that means they’re fine with it?”

Otherwise, they would’ve directly said “no,” right?

If the host was fine with it, then it was fine.

Xie Xingchen felt like he could breathe again.

He said, “If you think about it, we didn’t do anything wrong. It’s Trade Day—people trade local specialties. Our decorations are specialties too. Maybe someone will even like them!”

The more he talked, the brighter his eyes became.

Right—why couldn’t couplets, paper-cuts, Chinese knots, firecrackers, fireworks, brush-ink-paper-inkstone sets, and so on be considered Earth merchandise?

They were the definition of local specialty.

They carried a strong Earth flavor.

In the wider galaxy, Xie Xingchen hadn’t seen products like this—folk cultural goods with strong East Asian vibes.

Even in modern times, plenty of people still loved brush-ink-paper-inkstone sets. That meant the market for elegant “taste” never truly disappeared—at most it just became a niche instead of mainstream.

As for couplets, paper-cuts, Chinese knots, and firecrackers?

Those would be even easier to promote—just livestream more, bring people into the holiday atmosphere.

Anyone who liked Earth and loved Chinese culture would naturally follow along.

Imagining a future where he might see Earth-style couplets and Chinese knots across different civilizations and streets… Xie Xingchen started grinning.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became.

Noticing the employees still staring at him, he put on a wise, profound expression. “Actually, what we’re doing is using booth decoration as a way to leverage environmental factors to sell products.”

Everyone: ? What does that mean?

Before they could ask, Xie Xingchen explained.

“Look—this setup is pretty, right?”

He led everyone back to the Earth Trading House booth.

Seeing no one nearby, he deliberately took down the small energy shield.

The booth—brightly decorated, overwhelmingly festive, drenched in celebratory red—instantly stood out against the surrounding cold, empty booths.

And that contrast was deadly.

Because it was so obvious.

Every other booth reflected cold metallic light, but Earth Trading House was wrapped in holiday warmth and joy.

It was basically “a single red point amid endless gray.”

“It’s gorgeous—our booth is insanely pretty!”

“It didn’t feel this pretty earlier, but with this comparison… the beauty just skyrockets!”

Hearing that, Xie Xingchen nodded in satisfaction, then said, “And everything we used is filled with Chinese elements—elements that appeared in my livestreams and that people really loved.”

That part was true. During that holiday livestream—Spring Festival, basically—those decorations became widely known. The newly decorated Xie residence and Chang’an City even stayed on trending topics for half a month, until a celebrity scandal finally pushed them down.

Xie Xingchen said, “So we’re not ‘decorating a booth.’ We’re showcasing our products in a different way! It’s like a model home. We have to show what things look like in real life—this is way more attractive than just laying items out.”

Otherwise, why would modern society have so many model rooms?

Everyone selling furniture, home goods, or decor works themselves to the bone building showrooms. Do you think they do it because it’s fun?

Of course not.

They do it because it sells.

Once Xie Xingchen framed it that way, the design team stopped caring about “rules” or “allowed/not allowed.” They only felt like this was genius.

And their inspiration exploded.

After discussing it, they decided to follow their boss’s idea and design a “model room” that incorporated all Earth Trading House products into the scene.

Xie Xingchen: …

Sure. If you’re happy, go for it.

Earth Trading House didn’t lack customers anyway. They had zero pressure to “land orders.”

Xie Xingchen: 0.0

But then—

“Boss, have those brush-ink-paper-inkstone sets, couplets, paper-cuts, and Chinese knot products been produced yet?”

“Boss, do we have a lot of inventory for those folk products? If someone orders, how soon can we ship?”

“Boss, if someone wants to buy in bulk, do we offer discounts? Should we draft a bulk price list and a cost sheet?”

“…”

Xie Xingchen’s triple denial: “No inventory. No products. No shipping schedule.”

Everyone’s eyes went wide: ?

Xie Xingchen encouraged them cheerfully, “That’s why I’m waiting for you to work. After Trade Day ends, producing those items will be your main focus for a while!”

Everyone: !

Wait—this was part of their work now?

Weren’t they “just” a design team?

What was the boss trying to do?

Turn them into elite all-rounders?

…Unfortunately, they’d guessed correctly.

It wasn’t obvious yet, but as Earth Trading House grew and Earth developed further, these early employees would grow—painfully and happily—under Xie Xingchen’s intentional or unintentional “training.”

Given enough time, looking back—

Oh wow. Those all-purpose core talents used to be “just” designers.

Too bad their boss never treated them like “just” designers—so they were forced down the path of becoming capable of everything.

But that’s later.

Right now, hearing they had to do this kind of work, everyone looked troubled and started refusing.

“No way, boss. We can’t do that.”

“Yeah! This kind of professional work should be handled by professionals. Designing or drafting is fine, but production? No, no, no!”

“We have zero experience! If we mess around and ruin it, that would be terrible!”

“…”

Xie Xingchen didn’t care at all.

“It’s fine. We’re not building a factory—we’re just finding partners. It sounds hard, but it’s actually simple. Once you do it, you’ll get it. If it really doesn’t work, we’ll find someone else.”

Then he added casually, “But if we can avoid hiring outsiders, it’s better not to. Because this task has rewards. If you do it well, the reward is one set of the ‘Yonghua’ hanfu series plus matching jewelry.”

A ‘Yonghua’ hanfu set plus matching jewelry?

Everyone’s eyes lit up instantly.

The people who had no confidence a second ago suddenly became overflowing with confidence.

Hire outsiders? Hire who?

Would outsiders be more reliable than them?

Their hearts belonged to Earth Trading House!

They lived as Earth Trading House people and would die as Earth Trading House ghosts!

No one could steal the holiday-and-folk merchandise production job from them!

Whoever tried was their enemy!

They’d been pushing the job away moments ago—now they were terrified of being left out.

So realistic.

The moment rewards appeared, everyone squeezed up to Xie Xingchen and started enthusiastically volunteering.

“I can do it, boss. Give it to me!”

“I’m even better, boss! I won’t let you down!”

“Boss, look at me—such a capable employee. What can’t I do, right?”

“…”

From “no one wants it” to “everyone fights for it,” the only difference was one hanfu set.

Xie Xingchen: So Teacher Jin was right—people really do have two faces!

He put the small energy shield back up to block visibility, then said lightly, “Alright, alright, stop arguing. We’re on break now. No work talk. Go have fun.”

Everyone: …

How were they supposed to have fun now?

They hadn’t even “won” the job yet. Paid leave didn’t feel sweet at all.

Ugh, it was the boss’s fault. Why bring it up right before letting them off? Now they couldn’t enjoy anything.

But break was break—if the boss insisted they go, they had to go.

So the adorable girls left the venue with gloomy faces, wandered around for a while, then randomly found a spot to start a livestream.

With fans asking worried questions, they proceeded to flex—complaining about paid leave.

“This vacation is terrible. It took away our joy of working!”

Everyone watching: ? Are you even speaking human?

Do you know you can get jumped for saying that out loud?

Fans were speechless.

They felt they were mature fans and should react rationally, but… they simply couldn’t suppress the jealousy.

Then the streamers said they had to work hard to “win” the job, because Boss Xie promised: if they completed it, he’d give them a new Yonghua hanfu set plus matching jewelry, and a huge bonus.

The chat suddenly went quiet.

That must be really difficult work, right?

Otherwise, why would the rewards be so good?

Fans felt both conflicted and proud.

Their favorite creators were that capable?

But then—

When they learned the “high difficulty” job was merely “finding partner manufacturers to produce holiday and folk merchandise,” everyone went numb.

The bullet comments exploded across multiple streams.

“I swear to—THIS is your ‘high difficulty’ job?!”

“Is something wrong with me or with you?! You call this high difficulty?! This is pure??—pure benefits! A famous shop looking for manufacturers? If you announce it in the industry, you don’t even have to search. People will line up to contact and flatter you!”

“Good grief, I’m screaming. When did ‘high difficulty’ become this easy? Earth Trading House’s job and benefits are insane. I want to drag my boss here and force him to watch your stream. Would he feel ashamed?”

“Hahaha, don’t dream. Even if you could drag him over, he wouldn’t be ashamed. He’d just think Boss Xie is ‘ruining industry rules’ by giving employees so much. That’s how bosses are.”

…And honestly, that sounded very plausible.

At that point, the audience got way more interested in “how other bosses would react” than in answering the streamers’ constant requests for advice.

As for the streamers asking how to win the job?

Well… people were too jealous. They wanted the streamers to taste the cruelty of society, so they collectively ignored it.

Nothing happened here.jpg

The chat instinctively dodged their pleas for help—responding only with endless laughter and crying emojis.

It was extremely weird.

Eventually, Wang Qianqian and the others realized they’d flexed too hard and completely locked themselves out of getting help from netizens.

So after ending the stream, they started seriously plotting.

Most chose to draw drafts, trying to use their brains to make tomorrow’s “product display” work bloom into a masterpiece—so the boss would assign them the “heavy responsibility” of folk merchandise production.

The next day.

When Xie Xingchen called everyone upstairs for breakfast, he saw ten employees with heavy dark circles.

He was shocked. “Where were you last night? Don’t tell me you played all night?”

That single question flipped on the “compete for favor” switch.

The ten employees looked at each other… and immediately started competing.

One said she’d drafted a booth product placement plan. Another said she’d screened a list of potential manufacturers. The most outrageous one—she casually said her family owned a factory, she’d already contacted them, had them ship sample products, and even sent over quotes. She patted her chest and promised the prices would be great.

Everyone shot a resentful look at Zhao Xin, feeling stabbed in the back.

Zhao Xin, seeing those looks, lifted her chin proudly.

Compete! Keep competing!

Hahaha, didn’t expect it, did you? My family is literally in this business—no matter how hard you try, you can’t out-compete me!

Not only were the coworkers stunned—Xie Xingchen was too.

Were his employees like game characters that unlocked “backstory” when special events triggered?

Why were his employees’ families all so rich?

And not just rich—rich and still wanting to hustle on their own, never using their background to talk big.

If they didn’t say it themselves, nobody would ever guess.

Zhao Xin enjoyed everyone’s shock for a while, then added modestly, “But boss, the Zhao family factory can only produce part of the merchandise. For things like brushes, inkstones, and firecrackers, we’ll probably need another factory that’s better suited.”

Zhao Xin wasn’t stupid.

If her family couldn’t swallow everything, she would share the profit with others.

And she didn’t want to stress herself hunting down other factories, so she’d rather let teammates share the “reward opportunity.” More people splitting the workload meant everyone would be less tired.

The only question was whether their boss was willing to provide more hanfu as prizes.

If not, she’d have to handle everything herself.

Zhao Xin—who just wanted to be lazy—looked at Xie Xingchen with hopeful eyes.

And Xie Xingchen truly lived up to the “angelic boss” label.

He waved his hand and agreed.

Anyone who became a “merchandise lead” would get a prize—but to stop lazy loopholes, he set the minimum requirement at “3.”

Meaning: if you wanted the hanfu reward, you had to be responsible for producing samples for at least three merchandise items. More was fine. Less was not.

After setting the reward rules, Xie Xingchen posted them in the design team work group.

Which meant that aside from Zhao Xin, everyone else who wanted the job now had to compete not only with the remaining eight girls, but with the entire department—including Ivy and Zhang Yu.

Everyone: QAQ

So hard. It was really hard.

They just wanted to do a job seriously. Why was it this difficult?

Since when did you have to fight to work?

Oh, right. This was an Earth Trading House job.

Then it made sense.

Xie Xingchen’s group headed out in high spirits.

They first went to the delivery station to pick up a ton of packages. After stuffing everything into the storage button, they rode hoverboards to the Trade Day venue.

Two days remained until Trade Day.

Compared to yesterday’s quiet emptiness, the venue was much livelier today.

The big planet lords still hadn’t made any moves for some reason, but the small ones had begun setting out samples with their employees.

When people saw the Earth Trading House group glide in on hoverboards, they couldn’t help watching them.

The looks were complicated.

They’d all arrived on Insect territory yesterday—so how did Earth Trading House end up trending again while everyone else was still adjusting to this cold, hard culture?

Wasn’t that infuriating?

They were all planet lords—so why was it so hard for them to hit trending even once, while Xie Xingchen seemed to live on it?

Did he really have a yearly subscription to trending topics, like the netizens joked?

The planet lords sighed, their gazes becoming even more resentful as they watched Earth Trading House go.

Their eyes followed the group to the booth—until Earth Trading House disappeared behind a small energy shield and everyone lost sight of them.

It wasn’t that they wanted to stop watching.

The energy shield simply blocked their view.

“They’re smart. They even thought to use a small energy shield to block visibility,” someone sighed.

“Maybe they just don’t want to see our investigative stares. Perhaps this is the self-awareness you get from being on trending all the time,” someone replied self-mockingly.

Others nodded and said sourly, “Yeah… no help for it. They’re just experienced. If it were us, we wouldn’t even think of it—we’d just be happy.”

It was true.

And precisely because it was true, it hurt.

Suddenly, nobody felt like chatting anymore, and nobody felt like investigating anymore.

Which meant they also missed the chance to discover the truth.

So on Trade Day itself, they were shocked just like ordinary netizens—stunned by Earth Trading House’s setup, while their own bare booths became a tragic “comparison group.”

Most of the ten design team employees who came to help were newly converted full-timers. Many were streamers—popular influencer streamers.

Don’t assume influencers are “insensitive” to people staring.

It’s the opposite: because they’re stared at so often, they’re more sensitive to it.

And honestly—

Fans’ gazes are love and affection. Even overly intense fans are just more passionate love. And even haters are simple: anger and contempt—still easy to read.

But planet lords’ stares were different. They were messy and complicated—hard to describe, but undeniably uncomfortable.

“Thank god our boss is smart and put up a shield early.”

“Yeah. Forget the decoration part—just the fact that it blocks visibility makes everything feel better.”

“Totally! The moment I came in, I felt refreshed. Outside, after walking through all those jealous, resentful looks… I felt like my whole body was going numb.”

They worked while venting, and collectively discovered a new use for the small energy shield.

Maybe they should all start carrying one. This “new function” was ridiculously practical.

After a few more jokes, their focus naturally returned to work.

“Xiao Xiao, where did you put the sunflowers?”

“Where’s my vase? I just put it here—why is it gone?”

“Zhao Xin, don’t use the poppies here. Poppies don’t match. Even peonies would be better.”

“Lona, don’t put that fruit platter on the shelf. Put it on the table, next to the bouquet.”

“…”

These ten girls were all top-tier creators online. Each had their own aesthetic.

So yes, they sometimes argued—but the solution they “argued into existence” made the “model room” better.

Add in their boss’s approval (his taste was solid) and the three tireless robots helping out, and after a full day, they truly assembled a convincing “model room.”

Since this was still a Trade Day venue—and the “model room” was only a beautiful bonus—the core still had to be “trade.”

So they deliberately split the space into two areas, setting aside a section specifically for displaying goods. The two areas were separated by a carved openwork moon gate.

The moon gate’s wood came from the pile of lumber Xie Xingchen had impulsively bought before boarding the ship.

And the builder?

Prosperity—the robot who was absurdly good with a blade.

They stayed busy all day. By the end, nobody even ate. If they were hungry, they drank nutrient solutions. If they were sleepy, they pulled folding beds out of the storage button, found an empty spot, and slept for a bit.

In short: they never went out.

So no matter how many people came and went outside, nobody saw Earth Trading House employees emerge.

10:00 p.m.
Trade Day venue — Earth Trading House booth.

Xie Xingchen finally dragged the group away with a firm attitude.

“Come on, come on—it’s late. Get back and sleep.”

He herded them like sheep, pushing them out.

The employees stared longingly at the results they’d worked so hard on and begged, “Boss, can we do a few more hours? It’s only 10 p.m.! Only kids sleep this early. We’re adults—we’re not going to bed yet… so how about we stay until 1 a.m.?”

Xie Xingchen’s forehead twitched.

He shook his head and refused firmly, face stern. “No. You stayed up all night yesterday. If you stay up again, you’re basically asking to drop dead. No negotiation—go back and sleep.”

When his face hardened and his voice turned serious, the would-be troublemakers instantly fell silent.

They obediently followed behind him like chicks all the way back.

From the venue to the hotel, Insect troops patrolled everywhere, giving them an overwhelming sense of safety.

In the darkness, they walked slowly, chatting happily, not paying much attention to the surroundings—

Until Xie Xingchen bumped into someone.

He immediately apologized on reflex and asked with concern, “Are you alright?”

The other person froze.

On the handsome face, the brows drew together.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then pressed his lips together… and said nothing.

The dim yellow streetlight didn’t let Xie Xingchen see his face clearly. But a passerby was a passerby; how they looked had nothing to do with him.

The passerby seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember who it was.

And if he couldn’t remember, then it wasn’t important—right?

Xie Xingchen smiled, completely confident his logic was flawless.

When the person shook his head to indicate he was fine, Xie Xingchen smiled again and walked away chatting with the others.

The light reflected in Xie Xingchen’s eyes, making him look bright like starlight.

And yet the one who carried starlight in his eyes seemed to have forgotten who the man was, leaving behind only laughter as he walked away.

Leaving Fu Yunzhou—forgotten—standing silently in a corner untouched by the streetlights.

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