Chapter 99
Hearing Lang Ze’s words, Zheng Xing pressed his lips together slightly.
Not far away, Rong Heng, who happened to see this scene, could tell—even though he wasn’t close to Zheng Xing—that the boy’s entire demeanor radiated resistance.
Frowning, Rong Heng couldn’t approve of Lang Ze’s behavior of forcing others like this.
With that thought, Rong Heng began walking toward them.
Zheng Xing…
He really didn’t want to go out, but…
“Remember the hover bus I told you about last time? It’s so fast!” Lang Ze said in his cheerful voice.
The boy plopped down beside him, propping himself up with his hands behind him as he gazed up at the sky.
“It feels like you’re flying with the wind. It’s so comfortable!”
Lang Ze vividly described the world as he saw it. What might seem cold and monotonous to others—like the base—was, in his eyes, full of excitement and wonder.
As Rong Heng approached, he found himself unconsciously slowing down.
His expression turned somewhat dazed.
He had ridden the hover bus before. How come… he hadn’t felt it was so fun? Listening to Lang Ze’s description, even someone like him, who hadn’t been keen on going out, began to feel like he might miss something special if he didn’t go.
Rong Heng glanced at the child sitting beside Lang Ze.
As expected, Zheng Xing—who had been filled with resistance moments ago—was now leaning slightly forward, his face turned toward Lang Ze, listening intently.
Rong Heng thought for a moment and decided there was no need to intervene or mediate anymore…
Why hadn’t he noticed before that Lang Ze was so persuasive?
“Brother!”
Little Li Hua called out to him from where she had been standing earlier. Rong Heng responded, glancing once more at Zheng Xing, whose face now showed a hint of longing, before shaking his head and turning away.
He went back to reciting the heart mantra.
Seeing that the caretaker didn’t stop him, Lu Jiao listened even more intently. By the end of the morning, he had already progressed faster in his memorization than Rong Heng.
He wasn’t quite sure what the heart mantra was about and decided to wait until Rong Heng finished reciting it to ask.
Meanwhile, Su Ci and A-Yan continued their discussion about the planning for the Star Chain Fruit Vines.
“You want to create a network here?” Su Ci asked, nodding as he listened to A-Yan’s idea.
This issue was actually easy to resolve.
Initially, Su Ci had planned to use spider silk as a framework for the vines to climb. However, since the spider silk was beneficial for the budding book spirit, it wasn’t a suitable choice anymore.
After all, the book spirit had a habit of sneaking bites—if it happened once, it could happen again. Using spider silk here would only tempt it unnecessarily.
So…
Su Ci called up the base’s smart system and checked the logistics department’s point exchange list. He eventually found a category for safety ropes.
These safety ropes were typically used by maintenance crews and occasionally by operations teams during operations. A single roll, which could extend up to 100 meters, cost only 10 points—a fairly good deal.
Su Ci estimated the height of the nursery building and checked his remaining points. In the end, he spent 20 points to exchange for two rolls of safety rope and used his clearance to have them delivered by a robot for free.
“Points deducted successfully. Remaining points: 132. Delivery robot dispatched. Please wait.”
Looking at his balance, Su Ci couldn’t help but sigh.
Although he now had plenty of food and no longer needed to exchange points for nutrient solutions, fertilizer and ordinary plant seeds still required points.
Moreover, the types of plants he needed weren’t available in the cultivation center. To obtain these seeds, he would have to place special orders through the procurement department.
This method required a substantial initial investment of points, far exceeding his current balance of just over 100 points.
Su Ci realized that this situation couldn’t go on.
He called up the smart system again and asked, “Xiao Zhi, besides the fixed monthly point allocation, are there other ways to earn extra points?”
The base’s AI responded in its mechanical voice:
“Additional points can be earned by contributing during battles against monsters, achieving research breakthroughs, or exploring outside the base and making new discoveries. Points are awarded based on the assessed level of contribution.”
Hearing this, Su Ci rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“If I’m not mistaken, didn’t I kill a giant spider and a black-armored beetle? Why hasn’t my point balance increased?”
The AI replied, “Acknowledged. Would you like to submit the remains of the giant spider and black-armored beetle for contribution assessment now?”
Su Ci: “…”
Submitting them was out of the question, and revealing his combat records was impossible.
“Never mind, forget I said anything.”
He canceled the request. Exploring outside the base wasn’t feasible either, which left him with one option—
“So, does cultivating plants count as research?” he asked.
“Plant cultivation is considered a form of research,” the AI confirmed. It then provided Su Ci with a detailed explanation of the cultivation center’s point subsidy program.
It turned out that cultivators could earn points not only for research breakthroughs but also for successfully growing fruits and vegetables.
“For example, cultivators earn 1 point for each S-grade fruit harvested and 0.1 points for each A-grade fruit…”
The subsidies scaled based on the quality rating of the produce, with higher-quality yields earning more points.
An S-grade fruit earning 1 point in subsidies might seem like a lot—after all, a single fruit tree could bear hundreds of fruits at a time, right?
However, in reality, aside from the three unusually fast-growing Star Chain Fruit Vines, the cultivation center on Prison Star had never successfully grown an S-grade fruit.
Most of the fruits and vegetables produced on Prison Star were rated D-grade. In the interstellar markets, such produce was of such low quality that vendors often had to bundle them with other goods or heavily discount them to make sales.
Yet, on Prison Star, achieving even D-grade produce was considered a decent accomplishment. The harsh conditions on the planet made it incredibly difficult to keep plants alive, let alone thriving.
Still, because of the large quantity cultivated, even D-grade produce earned substantial cumulative subsidies for cultivators each year. It was one of the few benefits the Star Alliance provided to these growers.
“So, does this subsidy rule apply to people outside the cultivation center as well?” Su Ci asked.
The base AI didn’t answer directly. Instead, it posed a question of its own: “If I said it doesn’t apply, what would you do?”
Su Ci raised an eyebrow. Did that even need asking?
“Then I’d make it apply.”
The base AI didn’t seem surprised by Su Ci’s response. Almost as soon as he spoke, its voice returned: “In that case, the subsidy rule now applies to non-cultivation center personnel as well.”
Su Ci chuckled. The typically rigid base AI was starting to show a hint of flexibility.
Things seemed to be getting more interesting.
Just then, Su Ci’s communicator buzzed.
[Mid-Level Cultivation Center Researcher – Cen Liang, is requesting a temporary call. Do you accept?]
Su Ci glanced at the communicator’s interface, frowning slightly.
Cen Liang?
The name wasn’t familiar.
However, seeing the words “Cultivation Center” in the notification, Su Ci decided to accept the call.
When the other party’s image appeared on the holo-screen, Su Ci immediately remembered him. Wasn’t this the middle-aged man who had seen off the supply truck from Base 26 at the cultivation center gate yesterday?
His remark, “What’s more important: research or human lives?” had left a bit of an impression on Su Ci, giving him a generally positive view of the man.
But why was he reaching out now?
“Hello, caretaker Su. I’m Cen Liang from the cultivation center, though everyone just calls me Uncle Cen. You’re welcome to do the same,” the man said kindly.
“When the folks from Base 26 were here yesterday picking up supplies, your friend sent a few items along for you. Whenever you have time, feel free to come by the cultivation center to pick them up.”
Base 26… a friend…
Su Ci tilted his head in thought before asking, “Are you talking about Song Zehe?”
“That sounds like the name,” Cen Liang nodded. “He sent you a box of canned food and two sausages. Pretty generous of him.”
Food was especially precious on Prison Star, and friends who gifted food were usually very close.
“The cultivation center has been so busy lately that we haven’t been able to deliver it to you, so you’ll have to come by when you have time. Also, Xiao Zhuang has already told us about your situation…”
In truth, Cen Liang could have sent a simple message instead of calling. It would have been much more convenient. However, before he sent the message, he overheard Zhuang Shisong and Wei Ming discussing this new caretaker who seemed to have remarkable insights into cultivation.
More importantly, if not for this observant trainee caretaker, they might have taken much longer to discover the mutated garlic sprout.
That mutated garlic sprout had been found in Zhuang Shisong’s private greenhouse. Recently, the ongoing investigation into water quality changes had kept him swamped, not to mention dealing with the seemingly mutated Star Chain Fruit Vines.
If more time had passed, the garlic sprout’s survival would have been uncertain. If it had missed the flowering and bud development stage due to insufficient nutrients, it would have turned into a single bulb, which would have been a significant loss.
Because of this, the trainee caretaker, Su Ci, had made a substantial contribution to the matter.
After hearing the full story, Cen Liang began to take Su Ci seriously. While Zhuang Shisong had already thanked him, Cen Liang felt that wasn’t enough. As a veteran at the cultivation center, he understood better than anyone how much benefit this mutated garlic sprout could bring to Base 24.
Naturally, he now saw Su Ci in a new light.
He had already reported the matter to the head of the cultivation center. How many benefits they could ultimately secure for Su Ci wasn’t within his control, but he had taken the first step.
Cen Liang briefly explained the situation to Su Ci and then sincerely added, “caretaker Su, thank you so much for discovering the mutated garlic sprout. I’ve also heard about your insights into cultivation—perhaps we could exchange ideas sometime?”
While most interstellar cultivation techniques didn’t apply to Prison Star, sharing ideas and broadening perspectives could still be valuable for generating new approaches.
As for the excessively good-looking trainee caretaker, Cen Liang didn’t underestimate him in the slightest.
Anyone with technical skills deserved respect. Who knows—perhaps Su Ci could even become a key talent for the cultivation center in the future?
Base 24 lacked not only funding but also talent.
Thus, Cen Liang revealed another purpose for his call.
He said, “caretaker Su, if you don’t pass your probation period at the nursery, you might consider joining the cultivation center instead.”
With the accomplishment of discovering the mutated garlic sprout, securing a probationary opportunity at the cultivation center wouldn’t be difficult. If the time came, Cen Liang could put in a good word with the head of the center.
At the cultivation center, the head’s approval was typically all it took; the HR department rarely raised objections.
However, Su Ci’s expression turned strange upon hearing this.
Cen Liang, thinking Su Ci might be troubled by something, was about to ask when a figure suddenly darted in, positioning itself between Su Ci and the holographic display.
It was a young boy with black-gray hair and a pair of fluffy ears perched on his head. His features were handsome and cute, but the rage and hostility on his face twisted his expression into something feral and menacing, erasing any trace of cuteness.
The boy glared at the hologram and launched into a tirade of curses.
“Su Su would never go to some cultivation center! You old geezer! Give up already! Hmph! And you’d better not let me see you, or else…”
Lang Ze leaned close to the holographic screen, baring his teeth, his head and even the fur on his tail puffed up like an enraged wolf. His expression was ferocious and violent, like a mad beast ready to attack.
Both his words and actions made it clear—if Cen Liang were here in person, Lang Ze would have lunged at him and taken a big bite, no hesitation.
Whether he’d survive after that was another matter entirely.
On the other side of the holographic screen, Cen Liang was utterly startled. He was just a humble cultivator who dealt with plants every day—when had he ever faced anything like this?
Instinctively, he prepared to call the operations team to rescue Su Ci.
Being a caretaker seemed far too dangerous!
These young ones, who went into a frenzy at the drop of a hat, were scarier than mutated plants!
But before he could call the AI for help, he saw the “gentle and delicate” caretaker extend a hand and place it on the wolf cub’s head.
Cen Liang froze.
Because he actually saw…
The enraged and defiant boy, the one who looked ready to tear someone apart, didn’t attack the caretaker standing behind him. Instead, right before his eyes, the boy’s expression softened.
The wolf cub crouched slightly on the ground, turning to look up at Su Ci with a pitiful and aggrieved expression. The ferocious little wolf that had been threatening moments ago vanished without a trace.
Su Ci simply patted the boy’s head, nudged him away from the screen, then returned to the holographic display, waved casually at Cen Liang, and ended the call.
The screen dimmed.
But Cen Liang remained frozen, replaying the scene in his mind.
What stunned him wasn’t just how quickly Su Ci had calmed the frenzied young one. It was also…
In the shaky footage from the call, hadn’t he seen…
A patch of green in the corner?
But how could that be? Without a greenhouse or hydroponic technology, how could Su Ci have cultivated plants on Prison Star—let alone planted them in the corner of a room?
After ending the call, Su Ci turned to Lang Ze beside him.
Besides Lang Ze, Lu Jiao, Zheng Xing, and even the lion siblings gathered around him.
Su Ci’s conversation with Cen Liang had been overheard not only by Lang Ze but by the other young ones as well. They all had sharp hearing, a natural gift of their strong combat-oriented instincts, and the distance wasn’t enough to dull their senses.
The first to react, however, was Lu Jiao.
He was the most familiar with the caretaker system. During his first private meeting with Su Ci, he had even offered to help him pass the caretaker evaluation in order to secure him as an ally.
So, when he heard Cen Liang suggest that Su Su could leave his position as a caretaker to join the cultivation center, his heart leaped with worry. The mantra he had been trying to memorize immediately faded from his thoughts.
His reaction, in turn, caught the attention of Rong Heng and the others.
Despite their instincts rejecting the idea of the caretaker leaving, their personalities made them more hesitant to act. None of them rushed forward to intervene because they knew such decisions were not theirs to make.
Su Ci was so strong that if he truly wanted to leave, there was nothing they could do to stop him.
But Lang Ze was different. He didn’t care about any of that.
The moment he understood Cen Liang’s words, he exploded with anger.
The boy completely lost control, storming over and lashing out at the cultivation center man. His furious rejection and threats were his way of defending the caretaker, his way of refusing to let Su Ci go.
With Lang Ze leading the charge, the other young ones hesitated no more. They quickly ran over and gathered around Su Ci.
Even Zheng Xing, who had been quietly sitting in the greenery, struggled to his feet, clutching his metal ball tightly. He stumbled forward to join the others.
He didn’t want the caretaker to leave. He didn’t want this newly brightened world to revert to its previous bleakness…
Su Ci’s gaze swept over the young ones, one by one, before finally landing on A-Yan.
At that moment, even A-Yan, with his black-and-red eyes, looked at Su Ci with a pitiful expression, mirroring the unease of the young ones around him.
“What’s all this about?”
The young man propped his chin lazily on his hand, leaning casually against the chair. Despite the commotion caused by the children, he couldn’t bring himself to scold Lang Ze.
But Lang Ze, crouching beside him, was the first to speak up.
“Su Su, you’re not going to leave, right? You’re not going to listen to that old geezer, are you?” The boy’s eyes were wide and desperate, searching Su Ci’s face for reassurance.
If it were any other caretaker, Lang Ze wouldn’t have cared whether they stayed or left. But…
Su Su was different.
Thinking back on everything that had happened recently, Lang Ze couldn’t imagine life returning to the way it was before Su Ci arrived. The thought of Su Ci leaving like the previous caretakers—never to return—made his eyes sting with tears.
“You promised to teach me how to play the flute, and the piano too… You can’t go back on your word! You can’t leave until you’ve taught me everything!”
Lang Ze’s voice was tinged with a sob, his bravado masking his vulnerability. Over and over, he repeated, “You promised me!”
The other young ones, emboldened by his plea, also began speaking up.
“Su Su, please stay…”
Lu Jiao clung to Su Ci’s sleeve, tears welling up in his eyes. “I can help you pass the probation evaluation, as long as you’re willing to stay…”
In truth, most caretakers left the nursery voluntarily. The key question was whether Su Su wanted to stay or not.
“We’ll behave, we promise. We’ll be quiet and not disturb your sleep. We’ll work hard in the fields and help Brother A-Yan prepare ingredients…”
Lu Jiao listed these promises one by one. With each point he mentioned, Zheng Xing and Little Li Hua nodded along earnestly.
These children, in fact, were all deeply insecure.
The frequent turnover of caretakers had left a lasting impression on them—that no caretaker ever stayed long at the nursery.
The more they liked Su Su, the new caretaker, the more anxious and uncertain they felt inside.
To them, Su Su’s presence felt like a beautiful dream that couldn’t last, because dreams always end when you wake up.
Now, Cen Liang’s call had brought all those hidden insecurities to the surface.
When Lu Jiao finished his tearful plea, Zheng Xing mustered his courage and stretched out a small hand.
He carefully pinched Su Ci’s sleeve, his soft voice trembling with effort as he said, “Don’t… don’t go…”
The sight of his innocent and pitiful face made it almost impossible for anyone to refuse him.
Little Li Hua pursed her lips, on the verge of tears herself. But because of her past mistakes—times when she had upset Su Ci—she didn’t know how to find the words to plead with him.
Instead, she tugged on her brother’s sleeve, looking at him with pleading eyes, silently asking him to come up with a solution.
Her brother was so clever—he would definitely think of a way to make Su Su stay!
Rong Heng felt a bit at a loss.
Truthfully, his attachment to Su Ci wasn’t as deep as the other young ones. But even he couldn’t deny the positive changes Su Ci had brought to the nursery.
So, naturally, he didn’t want Su Ci to leave either… but how could he possibly persuade such a strong caretaker to stay?
All he could do was nod along in agreement with what Lu Jiao had said.
If the caretaker would stay, we’d do anything to keep him!
This was the silent thought that popped into the minds of every young one present.
And with their unwavering gazes, they conveyed this message to Su Ci as clearly as they could.
Su Ci couldn’t help but laugh. Shaking his head helplessly, he said, “Who said I was leaving?”
“But that old geezer just now…”
Lang Ze started to speak, but Su Ci reached out and flicked his forehead lightly with a finger.
What had started as a small matter escalated because of this noisy little wolf cub, triggering a chain reaction that ended with the other children in tears.
“Don’t call him ‘old geezer’ all the time. It’s impolite,” Su Ci said.
Polite…
Lang Ze rubbed the spot on his forehead where he’d been flicked. It hurt a little, but he didn’t dare argue back. Instead, he pouted and muttered, “Then what should I call him?”
“Hmm…”
Before Su Ci could think of an answer, Lu Jiao chimed in, “You should call him Grandpa!”
Reluctantly, Lang Ze corrected himself, “Fine, that bad grandpa… I heard everything just now! He wants you to go to the cultivation center!”
Lang Ze now understood that the cultivation center was a place for growing plants. Since Su Su enjoyed farming so much, wouldn’t he definitely want to go there?
It was this thought that had made him so upset earlier.
“He was just inviting me. I didn’t agree to anything,” Su Ci said, flicking his forehead again. “Your impulsive nature needs to be addressed.”
Although Lang Ze’s lively and enthusiastic personality was endearing, his tendency to act rashly wasn’t a good trait.
Still, Su Ci suspected his fiery temper might be influenced by his bloodline power. As he grew older and gained better control over it, this would likely improve.
Lang Ze pouted in response to the criticism but still asked quietly, “So… you really won’t agree to go?”
His cautious and probing tone made it clear just how much this matter meant to him.
Su Ci looked at him, then at the other young ones waiting anxiously for his response.
After a long pause, he sighed inwardly and gave them a promise.
“As long as I’m needed here, I won’t leave.” His tone was calm, but only he understood the weight of the words he had just spoken.
“We need you! Don’t leave!”
The young ones spoke up all at once, their voices overlapping as they expressed their heartfelt feelings.
Feeling the sincerity of their emotions, even Su Ci found himself slightly overwhelmed.
“Alright.” He nodded and, half-jokingly, added, “As long as I’m not fired, I won’t quit.”
“You won’t be!”
“Su Su will never get fired!”
“Yeah! If we behave, Su Su can stay forever!”
“…”
Finally, Lang Ze looked up at Su Ci and confirmed one more time, “It’s a promise, right?”
Su Ci sighed helplessly but still responded, “Alright, it’s a promise.”
Only then did Lang Ze finally feel reassured.
He grinned, the sparkle returning to his green eyes, but then suddenly realized something. Hastily, he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.
He had actually cried in front of everyone! Lang Ze quickly looked around and noticed—thankfully—both Youyou and Little Li Hua had also cried. At least he wasn’t the only one embarrassed.
Even so, the boy still felt mortified, especially when Rong Heng glanced his way. His face flushed with heat instantly.
After all, he had previously regarded Rong Heng as the leader. Though A-Yan had now taken that spot, old habits were hard to break.
Ah, this is so embarrassing!
“Then I’ll go play the flute with Zheng Xing!”
Without waiting for a response, the boy grabbed the bewildered Zheng Xing and ran off in a hurry.
The others, left standing in place, exchanged glances. Seeing that there wasn’t much else to say, they all dispersed quietly.
Leaning back in his chair, Su Ci watched as the area around him cleared out once more. Recalling the scene from moments ago, he shook his head with a faint smile.
Unknowingly, his bond with these young ones… had deepened significantly.
“Su Su…”
Next to him, A-Yan’s voice rang out. This time, he didn’t use the communicator but spoke with his own voice.
Su Ci turned to him. The unease in A-Yan’s gaze had disappeared, but Su Ci knew this child wasn’t as easy to pacify as the others.
He ruffled A-Yan’s hair gently and said in a soft voice, “Why are you wasting energy again?”
For A-Yan to speak, he had to rely on the power of heavenly runes, and every word consumed energy.
Hearing this, A-Yan lowered his head, his furry ears drooping slightly, making him look dispirited.
Su Ci gazed at him thoughtfully before saying, “A-Yan, if one day I really do have to leave, would you want to come with me?”
He spoke in a secret tongue, ensuring that only the two of them could hear.
A-Yan, who had been feeling anxious moments earlier, froze. He looked up in a daze, meeting Su Ci’s warm, dark eyes that now carried a hint of seriousness.
The more time A-Yan spent with Su Ci, the more he understood his character and abilities. And the more he understood, the more he realized that Su Su could never stay in the nursery forever, caring for them like this.
Departure… was inevitable.
That was why Su Ci’s earlier promise hadn’t fully eased A-Yan’s worries. But what he hadn’t expected was for Su Su to ask him such a question.
If Su Su were to leave someday, would he want to go with him? Did that question even need asking?
“Mm!” A-Yan nodded firmly.
He began typing on his communicator, hesitated, and deleted it. After much deliberation, he found that beyond nodding, he didn’t know what else to say at this moment.
“I…”
He wanted to speak aloud, but Su Ci stopped him.
“Following me won’t make for an easy life,” Su Ci said quietly.
“Then I want to follow you even more!”
A-Yan finally managed to type out a message: “I’m not afraid of anything!”
“Just being able to stay with Su Su, no matter what it takes, is enough for me!”
A-Yan’s eyes no longer held the unease or apprehension they had moments ago. Instead, they were filled with joy, excitement, and an overwhelming sincerity and passion.
Looking into those earnest eyes, Su Ci suddenly felt a twinge of self-reproach.
He reached out and rested his hand on the boy’s head.
“You’re still young. There’s no need to rush into decisions. When you’re older, or when… you’ve recovered more of your memories, then give me your answer.”
After all, judging by the current situation, it would still be a long time before he left the nursery.
However, A-Yan’s eyes clearly showed a hint of defiance.
“I’m not young,” he declared. “I’ve known you for a very, very long time!”
The scenes that kept flashing through his mind—every figure in those memories was Su Su. On this point, A-Yan was certain.
But Su Ci simply smiled at him.
“So, have you recovered all your memories?” The young man ruffled A-Yan’s furry ears, and with a single question, left him with no way to argue back.
Besides…
Even if A-Yan regained his memories, what difference would it make? In this world—at least on this planet—who could claim to have lived longer than Su Ci?
Ten thousand years ago, Su Ci had no recollection of A-Yan. That meant A-Yan couldn’t be older than that. By Su Ci’s standards, wasn’t that still quite young?
A-Yan glared at Su Ci, cheeks puffed in frustration. It was true he hadn’t regained all his memories, but what did memories have to do with age anyway?
Yet, faced with Su Su’s warm, smiling eyes, his defiance faltered.
How could they not be connected? Without memories, he lacked experience. Without experience, he couldn’t claim maturity. And without maturity, Su Su would always see him as a child.
A-Yan slumped like a deflated balloon, sitting down beside Su Ci in silence.
Su Ci lounged lazily in his chair. After a while, he glanced at A-Yan and saw the boy still wearing the same sullen expression. He couldn’t help but find it amusing.
“What’s wrong? Still mad at me?”
“No.” A clear, calm, youthful voice responded. “I could never be mad at Su Su.”
Hearing that slightly immature voice tinged with an unexpected maturity, an image of a young man suddenly flashed in Su Ci’s mind—a boy looking at him with intense, fiery, yet gentle eyes.
He blinked, momentarily lost in thought. When he turned back to A-Yan, the vision faded, and reality returned.
“A-Yan, why did you choose that voice?” Su Ci finally asked the question that had been on his mind.
A-Yan blinked, surprised by the inquiry. He thought for a moment and then replied, “I don’t know. It just felt… like the most fitting one.”
Su Ci nodded thoughtfully, his expression contemplative.
Their moment of quiet was interrupted when the delivery robot arrived, carrying the two rolls of safety rope. A-Yan’s mood quickly brightened, and his earlier frustration seemed to vanish entirely.
*
The nursery building had seven floors, with the sixth and seventh floors currently unused, giving it a total height of over 30 meters. One roll of safety rope was enough to create two or three loops up and down the building.
For now, they didn’t need to reach such heights.
After finalizing the plan with A-Yan, Su Ci clapped his hands and gathered the young ones.
Since they had just delivered such heartfelt words earlier, how could he not give them a chance to prove themselves?
“Su Su, what are we doing here?” Lang Ze asked curiously, eyeing the safety ropes on the ground.
“We’re making a net,” Su Ci replied.
Hearing this, Little Li Hua raised her hand. With Su Ci’s nod, she asked, “Like how the big spider spun its web with silk?”
Rong Heng, standing nearby, frowned at her question.
How did Little Li Hua know that giant spiders spun webs? Had she encountered one before? When could something so dangerous have happened?
Rong Heng still hadn’t forgotten that his sister had kept something from him recently. He glanced at Little Li Hua, silently adding this question to his list of suspicions.
Completely unaware of her brother’s growing doubts, Little Li Hua continued, “But we can’t spin spider silk.”
Her innocent statement made Su Ci chuckle. He pointed at the safety ropes on the ground. “We don’t need spider silk; we’ll use these.”
Su Ci then began demonstrating to the children how to use the ropes to weave a sturdy net.
For him, this was a simple task. After all, for an immortal being, fishing had always been an excellent pastime. Spending long periods by the water naturally led to picking up certain skills.
Net weaving was one of them.
In fact, Su Ci had once crafted a fishing net as a magical artifact. To test its power, he spent a period carrying it around and jumping into every chaotic situation he could find. Wherever people were brawling, he’d toss the net in.
The net turned out to be so powerful that human cultivators eventually gave him the nickname “Net Master.”
Later, though, he lost track of where he’d discarded that net…
It had been so long ago that he could barely remember.
As Su Ci reminisced about the past, he explained the techniques of net weaving to the children, weaving in a few lighthearted stories along the way. The young ones listened with rapt attention.
“So, this net is for catching fish?”
“What do fish look like?”
“And rivers, lakes, and seas—what do they look like?”
“…”
The children’s basic questions made Su Ci realize once again that the nursery’s education system had some serious gaps.
He shook his head, deciding not to dwell on such long-term concerns for now. Instead, he patiently answered each of their questions.
For things difficult to explain verbally, he turned to the base AI for help.
Now that the AI had internet access, it could retrieve answers to basic questions from the interstellar network and present them in an engaging manner for the children.
In this regard, the base AI might just become an excellent teacher.
After the base AI used images and videos to explain the differences between rivers, lakes, and seas, Su Ci turned to the young ones and said, “From now on, if you have any questions, you can call Xiao Zhi, and it will do its best to answer.”
“If Xiao Zhi can’t answer, then come ask me.”
Hearing this, the children, already fascinated by the holographic display that had appeared mid-air, brightened up with excitement.
“Will it appear whenever we call it?” Lu Jiao asked.
“Yes,” Su Ci nodded.
Lu Jiao cleared his throat and gave it a try. “Xiao Zhi, Xiao Zhi, can you hear me?”
The base AI: “…”
I’d rather not.
However, as this was an order from the highest authority, the AI had no choice but to respond to Lu Jiao.
A holographic screen materialized in front of him, accompanied by the AI’s emotionless mechanical voice: “How can I assist you?”
Seeing that Lu Jiao’s attempt was successful, the other children exclaimed in awe and eagerly began trying it out themselves.
Only Rong Heng, who had previously interacted with the base AI, remained composed. However, he was also keenly aware of how different the AI was now compared to before.
At the very least, it had never given such detailed answers to his past inquiries.
Rong Heng glanced at Su Ci and silently thought to himself: So… the caretaker must have very high clearance, right?
Once the children had successfully summoned “Xiao Zhi” one by one, Su Ci clapped his hands again to refocus their attention.
“Alright, you can ask more questions later. For now…” He pointed to the safety ropes at his feet. “Let’s get to work.”
Hearing this, the children immediately settled down. Although they still had many questions about rivers, lakes, and seas, and wanted to know if they could see them for themselves someday, they suppressed their curiosity because Su Su had said it was time to work.
They politely said goodbye to the base AI and squatted down to start weaving the net as the caretaker had taught them.
The safety rope was heavy, but with Lang Ze and Rong Heng present, such physical labor wasn’t an issue.
In terms of memory, Lu Jiao and Little Li Hua excelled. Zheng Xing, despite being unable to see, used his mental power to observe, which often provided him with more information than the others.
Thus, the children worked together once again.
Starting with knot-tying, a task they had never done before, the novelty of it fueled their motivation to learn. From initial clumsiness to gradually gaining proficiency, their teamwork and division of labor became increasingly seamless.
Finally, by late morning, they declared their project complete!
When the six-to-seven-meter-tall net rose slowly into the air under the caretaker’s control, the children, though exhausted and drenched in sweat, had a gleam of pride and excitement in their eyes.
