After Waking Up I Inherited the Earth [Interstellar] – CH80

Chapter 80

What Kargel called “Trade Day” was short for the “Planetary Lords’ Trade Expo Trade Day.”

As the name suggests, it was a commercial event for planetary lords—a grand trading festival held once every three years.

Under the Star Alliance’s rules, “Trade Day” was hosted in rotation by the civilizations that made up the Alliance: once every three years, one host per cycle. And the next Trade Day just happened to fall to the Insectoid Civilization.

As the host, the Insectoids not only had unconditional entry rights themselves, they also had an additional ten invitation slots.

Those ten invitations could be used to grant entry to favored entrepreneurs, estate owners, cultivators, and the like—or be traded to a planetary lord who already qualified in exchange for better benefits.

The Insectoids were a race with clear lines of gratitude and grudges. Since Xie Xingchen had obtained the goodwill badge symbolizing “friendliness and help,” the Insectoids would naturally secure some official, above-board benefits for him.

But all of that came with one prerequisite: Xie Xingchen had to have the ability to deserve those benefits. Otherwise, a strength-worshipping civilization like the Insectoids would never hand something bearing an obvious Insectoid mark to a weakling.

Adolph asked in mild surprise, “You’re in charge of next year’s Trade Day?”

Kargel nodded with a cold expression.

Adolph raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t being handled by the finance department?”

Kargel tugged the corner of his mouth, but didn’t answer.

Adolph shrugged and didn’t press. “Alright then. Work hard. I won’t bother you. Bye.”

With that, Adolph turned and left without hesitation, looking very much like he was afraid of getting drafted into extra work.

Kargel, knowing Adolph’s lazy “as long as I can nap” personality was different from most Insectoids, didn’t mind at all—in fact, he felt relieved.

It was good that Adolph wasn’t interested. If he got interested, Kargel would have a headache.

Late Night

After finishing all his military paperwork, Kargel left the Fifth Military District.

He rode a hovercar home. The moment he walked in, he saw his good-for-nothing, lazy male elder brother sprawled bonelessly on the sofa, while the screen across from him played an annual melodramatic soap opera filmed by the Human Civilization.

Kargel glanced at it against his will. One more look felt like it would contaminate his eyes… yet his handsome, lazy brother was watching with relish.

Hearing the familiar footsteps, Louis greeted him without even lifting his head. “Kargel, you’re back! Big brother missed you so much.”

Faced with his elder brother’s fake enthusiasm, Kargel—unlike those soldiers who always got tricked by Louis—remained expressionless and unmoved.

He gave a flat “Mm,” then went into his room. After showering and changing into soft sleepwear, he quietly opened the door to his adorable nephew’s room.

The nephew wasn’t there.

So Kargel took the gift to Louis instead. “Louis, this is the present I got for Harold. When he gets back, give it to him for me.”

Hearing there was a gift, Louis finally looked at Kargel properly.

He accepted the package casually and said in disbelief, “My little brother… are you going back to the military tomorrow again? You just got home, and you’re leaving again—what kind of vacation is that… ah, thank goodness I didn’t join the military back then.”

Kargel felt no emotional fluctuation at all.

He glanced at his brother, expressionless, and went to bed.

Early the next morning, Louis yawned nonstop while rambling that if it weren’t for having breakfast with his beloved little brother, he absolutely wouldn’t be able to get up, and so on and so forth. Kargel looked annoyed, but the corner of his mouth still lifted slightly.

That was exactly why Kargel was attached to home.

Their family wasn’t like other Insectoid families. Even though his ridiculous brother’s words and actions were often nonsensical, Louis genuinely loved his family and was willing to do things for them. That was why Kargel was close to him—and why he’d “love what Louis loved,” even buying items from scalpers whenever Louis casually complained he couldn’t snag products from Earth Trading Company.

Kargel set down his bottle of nutrient fluid unhurriedly. “I’m leaving. Eat slowly.”

His brother sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Go already. Once you’re gone, I’m going back to sleep.”

Urged impatiently by his brother, Kargel returned to the military.

It was like coming home recharged him. The busy military workload didn’t feel quite so maddening afterward.

Time slipped by quietly. One night, a week later, Kargel finally made it back to the officers’ dorm before 10 p.m.

“Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep…”

His incoming call requests were nonstop, like someone had gone insane.

Only one person could behave that crazily.

He accepted the call. Sure enough, his good-for-nothing brother’s face appeared.

Louis was beaming. He proudly tugged at the cashmere sweater he was wearing and said shamelessly to Kargel, “Oh, brother—my dear little brother—the clothes you gave Harold are unbelievably comfortable!”

Kargel: ?

Kargel: !

Wait. That was the sweater he bought for his nephew—why was it on Louis?

Louis said as if it were obvious, “Because I can wear it.”

Kargel’s temple twitched. He completely snapped. “Do you think I was asking whether you can wear it?”

Louis looked baffled. “Yes! You asked why I’m wearing it. I answered: because I can wear it. If I can wear it, why can’t I wear it?”

Kargel laughed in anger. “That’s a gift for Harold. For your son. You’re a grown adult—how do you have the nerve to steal your kid’s clothes to wear?”

Kargel had thought Louis might feel embarrassed, but he underestimated his brother’s thick skin.

Louis acted like he hadn’t heard a word and continued excitedly, “My dear little brother, how did you manage to snag those two sweaters? Why don’t you snag two more for Harold? I don’t want to give these back to him.”

What a freak.

Insectoids were famously devoted to their young—how did someone like Louis exist, a shameless father who loved bullying his own child?

And Harold was a delicate young male!

Kargel couldn’t understand how Louis could do it so naturally, without even a flicker of guilt.

Kargel was about to explode.

But he knew arguing with Louis was pointless, because Louis simply did not listen.

With a cold face, Kargel laid out demands.

Louis’s face instantly fell.

Wear two sweaters his brother bought, and now he had to write a report of at least three thousand words?

Louis pouted, staring at the little brother who had been icy since childhood. When he saw the fire in Kargel’s eyes, he immediately chickened out. He didn’t dare bargain, only muttered softly that Kargel should buy two more sweaters for Harold, and then shut up.

Kargel’s eyes practically shot flames. “Got it. Now go write the report.”

Louis wasn’t afraid of writing a report—he just wanted to avoid effort.

But Kargel’s anger still worked. At the very least, the next day Louis handed in a report that could be called perfect.

It shocked Adolph.

Adolph clicked his tongue. “Your lazy older brother actually has that kind of ability?”

Kargel pressed his lips together and pointed out mercilessly, “He didn’t join the military, but don’t forget—back then he also fought his way through a sea of candidates and caught the military’s eye.”

Silence said everything.

Adolph gave an awkward laugh.

After reading Louis’s report, Kargel wrote up an application.

The next day, he received approval.

Immediately, he assigned the task of sending Xie Xingchen an invitation letter to his subordinate.

The subordinate followed instructions, added Xie Xingchen’s contact, and also asked the internal secretary who handled communications with Xie Xingchen to remind him to accept the request.

[Xie Xingchen: Hello. May I ask what this is about?]

Facing someone from the Insectoid military, Xie Xingchen felt a little uneasy.

He still couldn’t forget how, during the “black-hearted cotton” incident, the Insectoid army had mobilized the instant they decided to.

It was terrifying.

[Insectoid Military Department – Mervin: Hello, Mr. Xie. I am Mervin, a staff officer from the Insectoid Civilization’s military department. The main purpose of contacting you today is to deliver a Trade Day invitation letter.]

A Trade Day invitation?

What was that?

Xie Xingchen didn’t react immediately.

[Insectoid Military Department – Mervin: This is an electronic invitation. Please confirm receipt. Please arrive one day early next year; we will prepare the best lodging and booth for you.]

Mervin assumed the other side was overjoyed. After he finished explaining everything with professional precision, he politely said goodbye and logged off.

But… only after he logged off did Xie Xingchen finally understand what “Trade Day” actually was.

Once he understood, he felt both thrilled and stressed.

Trade Day’s full name: the Planetary Lords’ Trade Expo Trade Day.

It was the largest commercial gathering in the Star Alliance.

By the rules, any planetary lord could apply. Aside from certain notoriously disreputable ones, almost no one was rejected.

But it wasn’t absolute—different civilizations had different screening methods.

Some strict civilizations—like the Insectoids—had participation requirements. If a planetary lord didn’t meet the standards, they were almost guaranteed to be barred.

And because they valued honor so much, even though they held ten recommendation slots—and those slots could even allow non-lords such as enterprises, estate owners, and cultivators to attend—getting one from the Insectoids was as hard as buying an entire planet.

But if you got one, it was incredible.

First of all, invitees received the best benefits of anyone at the event.

During Trade Day, you could stay in the best hotels for free, eat the finest food, enjoy the strongest security… and, most enviably, receive the best booth location.

On top of that, if you bought Insectoid products, you automatically got an extra discount on top of any existing discount—an additional 5% off.

Don’t underestimate that 5% and think it’s too small to matter.

In bulk commodity trade, even a tiny percentage is a huge amount of money.

Sometimes that extra 5% could drop a deal all the way down to the other party’s cost price.

Xie Xingchen: starry-eyed.

If he were just a little more unscrupulous, he could probably go to Trade Day, flip goods back and forth, and get rich overnight.

But…

Yeah. Who dared to fleece the Insectoids?

Buying things for personal use was fine. If he dared to flip goods for profit, the Insectoids would probably revoke his “friendly” badge—and maybe mobilize troops again.

Actually… they wouldn’t even need to mobilize. One unit of soldiers coming over for “training” would be enough to flatten him.

Still…

Xie Xingchen counted what he had and realized he didn’t really have any bulk commodities to trade.

Xie Xingchen asked, “Prosperity, do you think I should go?”

Prosperity stared back, stunned. “Why wouldn’t you go?”

Exactly. Why wouldn’t he?

Even if he had nothing major to trade, he still had to go.

Trade Day was direct-from-producer bulk trading. Prices were naturally much lower than retail. Even if he did nothing else, just stocking up would save him a fortune.

After Prosperity explained the unspoken pricing “rules,” Xie Xingchen was honestly shocked.

So there were rules like this?

Because it was bulk trade, Trade Day prices were effectively the best?

Why wasn’t that stated outright?

Prosperity shook his head. “Not necessarily the absolute lowest. Usually, prices are calculated based on volume. Different quantities have different prices—special cases aside.”

In other words, even a total beginner at bargaining could still buy decent-priced goods at Trade Day.

He felt like there were things he wanted to buy, and also like there wasn’t anything he needed urgently.

He was definitely going—but he’d need to think carefully about what to buy.

Right now, besides machinery and energy, there wasn’t anything he absolutely needed in massive quantities.

Speaking of energy…

Xie Xingchen asked, “Prosperity, how long will our energy stones last?”

Prosperity had been counting energy stones when they made cured meats, so he knew the situation best.

Prosperity calculated consumption and remaining stock and said decisively, “At most, two more months.”

So he’d have to buy again.

Thinking about the price gap made Xie Xingchen’s heart ache.

But there was no choice. He simply didn’t buy enough.

Before he got into this field, he’d naïvely thought that seller on White Dove Star was the source. Only now did he realize how innocent he’d been.

With his current purchase volume, he couldn’t even get in touch with the big mining-planet lords. At best, he dealt with first-tier energy agents or smaller lords who mined as a side business. If he wanted to buy directly from a lord who owned a large energy mine, his purchasing volume would have to be at least a hundred times larger.

Prosperity poured cold water on him. “Boss, even if you multiply by a hundred, they might still ignore you. You’d need at least a thousand times.”

The lords with dedicated mining planets were major lords.

They did big business.

Prosperity wasn’t looking down on his boss—his boss’s volume probably didn’t even meet their minimum threshold.

Xie Xingchen sighed. “Alright then. I’ll save up more and see later. We still have a few months anyway.”

When the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll straighten itself out. No point in borrowing tomorrow’s anxiety today.

Xie Xingchen, relaxed as always, closed the communicator and patted Prosperity’s shoulder. “Prosperity, let’s go collect the cured meats.”

Once they stepped off the starship, Xie Xingchen saw the racks in the open area ahead, hung with air-dried sausages and cured pork.

After days of drying, everything had turned stiff and deep red.

Because of the wind direction, even before they got close, the wind carried that unmistakable cured-meat aroma.

He stacked the cured pork pieces neatly, and cut the sausages by rope sections before stacking them too.

Two huge baskets of meat had turned into a mountain of cured goods. After giving some away, he still had enough left to fill a third of a freezer.

He sliced off a small piece of cured pork and sausage, cut them into thin slices, then dug out a clay pot he’d finally managed to find. After washing it carefully, he added rinsed rice, the right amount of water, and lit the fire.

When the rice was half-cooked, he opened the lid and laid the thin slices of sausage and cured pork evenly over the rice.

He covered it again and waited. Slowly, the clay pot released a rich aroma—steamed rice mixed with cured meat—until the clay pot rice smelled irresistibly fragrant, infused with cured fat.

Xie Xingchen couldn’t help taking a deep breath.

He was starving.

He turned off the heat, added a few greens he’d prepared, drizzled on a bit of sauce, then covered it again and waited impatiently.

He wanted the residual heat to steam the greens. Two or three minutes, and it would be ready.

The moment the time was up, he lifted the lid.

Authentic Cantonese cured-meat clay pot rice: complete.

He took a bite immediately.

So good.

The rice was soaked with savory fat; one mouthful was salty with a hint of sweetness, instantly opening up the appetite.

The greens, cooked to about seventy percent, still had a crisp snap. With a bit of sauce, they tasted fresh and bright.

And the best part was the scorched rice crust at the bottom.

Xie Xingchen’s favorite.

Crisp, crunchy, fragrant with cured meat and sauce—better than any snack.

Xie Xingchen: This cured-meat clay pot rice really is legendary.

No wonder it never goes out of style in Cantonese cuisine. Men and women, young and old—everyone in the city loves this.

How could it not be loved?

He finished an entire clay pot, still craving more.

After thinking, he decided to follow his desires and make… another pot.

But this time he wasn’t going to do it quietly. His eyes sparkled, the corners of his mouth curved into a mischievous grin, and he shamelessly started a livestream.

[Xie Xingchen V: Taste of Earth—Live Now. Everyone’s welcome to watch. (Click the link to jump in)]

Midday break. Xie Xingchen—who hadn’t gone live in ages—suddenly popped up.

Seeing it was the “Taste of Earth” series, everyone practically cried. They couldn’t even tell whether they were happy or suffering.

[Waaah Boss Xie is poisoning us again. Why does he always choose mealtime to do food streams? What about my nutrient fluid’s feelings?!]

[Damn it, is this guy trying to kill us with cravings? Can’t you pick a normal time for once? Every time it’s this exact time slot!]

As usual, the earliest arrivals were the “black fans” who loved him the hardest.

But amid the wailing, other viewers also swirled into the stream.

Then the chat vibe suddenly changed.

[La-la-la, so happy! What is Boss Xie teaching today? I’m going to prep ingredients first!]

[Hehe… setting up my little stool, sitting nicely, waiting for class!]

[Dropping a mine, dropping a rocket, dropping a deep-sea torpedo… money power says: hurry up, Boss Xie!]

The screen filled with mines, torpedoes, and rockets—pure money power.

Xie Xingchen glanced at the rapidly rising viewer count and knew more were still rushing in. So he didn’t jump into the main topic yet. He chatted casually with viewers and introduced today’s ingredients.

According to him, the star-network marketplace had plenty of today’s ingredients, so viewers could source them themselves.

But—

There was only a thin line between ambition and instant defeat.

What cured meats? What “cured” flavor? How do you even cure flavor?

Fine, people understood “oink-beast meat.”

But who could tell them how to turn that meat into cured meats?

Xie Xingchen had prepared for this. He played an edited video showing how he’d made the cured meats that day.

Making cured meats wasn’t hard—but it took way too long.

Once people learned how long it took, their hearts sank.

They were doomed. They’d need at least half a month—maybe a full month—before they could make cured-meat clay pot rice.

And… where were they supposed to air-dry things?

People on remote planets were okay—country homes usually had a yard. But office workers living on developed planets cried on the spot.

Were they supposed to hang sausages out their windows?

Even if they were willing, sanitation robots wouldn’t allow it.

If they dared, not only would their stuff be confiscated, they’d get fined—and if it fell and hit someone, they’d get a lovely pair of handcuffs.

[Damn it, I’m so mad I don’t live in a mansion!]

[Do you think I can negotiate with my apartment manager to let me air-dry sausages on the rooftop? Nobody goes up there anyway—borrowing it shouldn’t be a problem, right?]

[Oh! That’s a great idea. I’m stealing that suggestion—after the stream I’m going to apply!]

Solutions came from people.

High-rise white-collar workers started targeting rooftops, shared ground-floor areas, and even… open spaces near aerial transit stations.

There was no choice. Land on developed planets was expensive. Outside wealthy districts, towers easily ran hundreds of floors. So for convenience, buildings had multiple aerial transit stations at different heights, letting residents hop on hovercars nearby for commuting.

[It could work, but theft prevention is a problem.]

[Yeah. If someone “force-buys” it off me, I’ll be so screwed.]

Seeing the chat drifting, Xie Xingchen immediately stopped the cured-meat-making video.

He brought out other tools, emphasized the clay pot as the key, and began cooking.

Wash rice, add water, light the fire.

Open lid, add cured meats, keep cooking.

Open lid again, add greens, drizzle sauce, cover, turn off heat.

Wait three minutes, open again—done. Time to eat.

As one of the platform’s top lazy “big streamer” types, Xie Xingchen had a fixed monthly immersive-livestream quota, and this time he used it all.

So once the second half began, viewers were so dazed by the aroma that they forgot to even send comments.

Now the clay pot rice was finally ready. Everyone waited anxiously for Boss Xie to taste it, hoping to “share the flavor.”

Xie Xingchen didn’t disappoint. He took a huge bite.

Mm. Even better than the last one.

He was extremely satisfied.

The fans nearly cried from how good it sounded.

Good heavens—what kind of divine clay pot rice was this?

Why does something this delicious exist in the universe?

Forget it. Even if the world ends today, nothing will stop my determination to make cured-meat clay pot rice!

So what if cured meats need ten days, half a month, or even a full month of drying? If I make a big batch, every problem stops being a problem!

And from that day on, many high-rise apartment managers discovered their residents had started going crazy—applying to use rooftop common spaces, shared ground-floor zones, and spare areas near aerial transit stations… all to make cured meats.

The managers: ?

Cured meats? What cured meats?

Why can’t you do that at home? Why are you applying to do it in public areas?

They thought the requests were absurd.

Most of them rejected the applications without a second thought.

They didn’t realize they’d just kicked a hornet’s nest.

From the moment they started rejecting, residents kept coming to complain. After work was even worse—waves of office workers poured in.

The managers: In their entire lives, they had never seen so many people in real life gather together to curse one person… and that person was them.

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