Gu Qing returned to the home star from the desolate world, yet he did not choose to rest immediately. Instead, his first stop was to find Ace·Meyer.
The purple-haired, red-eyed young male insect crossed his arms, fuming the moment he saw him. “Did you die on the black market or something? Ever since we parted over a month ago, I couldn’t find you anywhere. Your signal was completely gone! I thought you’d been sold off to some mining planet!”
Gu Qing’s gaze remained calm, his voice even and measured: “You knew I would come back.”
“You could’ve at least sent a message!” Ace snapped, though he didn’t press further, turning away with a muffled mutter. “…Anyway, you owe me this time.”
Gu Qing made no objection. He simply placed a bag of spirit-plant seeds and a collection of cooking utensils on the table. “These are for experimentation. I’ll also teach you a new set of recipes.”
Ace clicked his tongue but obediently accepted the items.
He was already accustomed to being dragged into the kitchen by Gu Qing. At first, he had found it absurd—a top-tier combatant worrying over cooking? But after a few sessions, he had to admit that Gu Qing’s dishes were not only delicious but taught with painstaking precision, from plant classification to seasoning techniques—every detail meticulous.
This time, however, Gu Qing added a line:
“These dishes, if paired with the right spirit-plants and methods, can stabilize the mental sea.”
Ace was struck speechless. “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve invented meals that prevent female insects from mental breakdowns? Why not say you can tame beasts with a single bowl of soup while you’re at it?!”
Gu Qing didn’t answer. He rolled up his sleeves and began demonstrating, explaining the properties of the plants and cooking techniques as he worked. Ace, initially stubborn to a fault, found himself reluctantly taking up the spatula under the dual pressure of Gu Qing’s skill and presence.
Before long, a new restaurant called Sunny Court sprang up, sending shockwaves through insect society.
The cuisine was so innovative that many insects doubted everything they had previously eaten was merely sustenance. From affordable bento boxes to high-end set meals, the cheapest offerings brought some female insects to tears over messages: “Now I finally understand what taste really is…”
Private rooms were exorbitantly priced, the booking fees enough to bankrupt commoners for years, yet they sold out immediately. Even several council members were said to quarrel on the spot just to secure a spot.
The craze spread quickly to the military. During lunch breaks, Milton walked down the corridors, surrounded by chatter about Sunny Court:
“I heard Sunny Court released Meal Box No. 6 today! My master ate it and said life suddenly had hope!”
“Box No. 5 sold out yesterday before I could even grab it! I set an alarm and still missed it by a second!”
“My master said the taste made the entire universe feel beautiful…”
Was this a restaurant or a destiny-changer?
Milton raised an eyebrow but maintained his indifferent composure as he headed toward the meeting room.
His adjutant, Irel, was already waiting at the door, excitement written all over his face, holding a meal box aloft. “General! I managed to get Sunny Court’s limited set! I battled the system and secured it exactly at ten this morning!”
Milton nodded, taking the box. He intended to simply acknowledge his subordinate’s excitement, but the first bite froze him in place.
The taste seemed to traverse countless star systems, brushing against his tense nerves like the gentle aroma of a familiar presence stirring a pot beside a cavefire on a desolate world. Soft, intimate, and stirring to the soul.
Though not as personally warm as when Gu Qing himself cooked, the emotion embedded deep in his taste buds and spirit could not be denied.
Milton fought to maintain composure, lowering his head to continue chewing, as if reason could suppress this sudden flood of feeling.
“General? How is it? Amazing, right?!” Irel exclaimed, opening his own box, words tumbling out uncontrollably. “I ordered three portions yesterday! I swear I was eating garbage before—this is what life is! Sunny Court restored my passion for living! I feel like I’m falling in love!”
Milton cast him a brief glance, voice calm: “Stay composed.”
“I can’t! This taste… it’s too blissful!” Irel gestured wildly.
Milton said nothing, finishing his meal slowly before lifting his head to murmur:
“He’s starting to change things… from just one meal.”
The military communications screen lit up, showing a familiar figure:
Marshal Akran·Hubert, silver-haired and impeccably dressed, shoulder epaulettes glinting sharply. He held a cup of tea, reclined with composed elegance, yet his eyes carried a teasing glimmer.
“Milton,” he said gently, a smile hidden in his gaze, “how has your time with Mental Coordinator Gu Qing been?”
Milton stood rigid, expression calm: “All is proceeding smoothly. Missions completed.”
“Hm, sounds very official,” the Marshal hummed, then shifted tone. “But you’re often seen together—any… ‘progress’ at all?”
Milton’s gaze flickered slightly. “He’s just a colleague. Cooperation on work matters is going smoothly.”
“Cooperation?” The Marshal’s tone lightened, brow raised. “Do you mean the kind where he sleeps on top of you? Or the kind where he feeds you water? Or the kind where he held you through your mental sea turmoil?”
“….” Milton fell silent.
The Marshal grinned. “You know, the higher-ups and several noble families are all watching him now—face, skill, no noble lineage. A once-in-a-generation opportunity. One slip and a noble heir could snatch him away. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Milton’s eyelids twitched, voice low: “…You worry too much.”
The Marshal glanced at the faint blush on his ear tips, smiling deeper. “Call it what you will. At my age, I’ve seen it all, but the only one who could melt this iceblock of yours is him.”
He sipped tea, tone relaxed: “Alright, report received. You’ve done well. Don’t forget to personally thank Gu Qing, and… show some sincerity.”
Milton remained silent for a moment, finally murmuring: “I’ll consider it, Marshal.”
The blush on his ear tips betrayed every suppressed emotion.
At Starshine Hall, soft sofas cradled clusters of young females, each holding a freshly delivered Sunny Court dish, faces lit with wonder and disbelief.
“This is so good… can we really eat this forever?” one whispered.
“It can’t be just temporary, right? This happiness… it feels unreal…” another murmured, eyes glistening.
Some chewed slowly, savoring the taste that had stirred them like never before.
In a corner, Loes watched quietly, eyes gentle, hands clutching his bento. Memories of Gu Qing—the male insect he had pledged loyalty to—flooded back.
Under Gu Qing’s guidance, he had transformed from a past of humiliation into a masterful operator of elite intelligence networks. He once believed this was all the value he could offer.
But a few days ago, Gu Qing had personally visited Starshine Hall.
At the sight of the familiar figure, the hall fell silent, then erupted in excited commotion.
“Sir!” “Gu Qing, sir!” “So glad you’re safe!”
The young females swarmed, clutching at the ever-calm insect. Some held his hands, some whispered tearfully:
“We thought the desolate world had been sealed… all ships, devices, mechs inaccessible… we feared…”
“I’m fine,” Gu Qing soothed, voice low yet steady, “you’ve all worked hard. Many things still need handling, but you need not worry.”
Loes remained at the back, wiping stray tears. He had been sure his master would return, but seeing Gu Qing in person made that certainty burn warm and tangible, making his fingers tremble.
Gu Qing assigned several important tasks.
First, to investigate the secret forces behind the royal family and expose the audio files that had spread online to tarnish him and Milton’s relationship—critical to both reputation and hidden power currents. Loes understood this trust implicitly, regardless of danger.
Second, to expand the Sunny Court initiative. Gu Qing explained that the cuisine could slow corruption of the mental sea. Starshine Hall females would have priority access, while those wishing to leave could be relocated to Sunny Court as servers or cooks, no longer bound to forced service. A path to freedom, not charity.
Gu Qing’s final instruction burned in Loes’ mind: “Spread the fame of Sunny Court to every noble ear.”
He obeyed, placing some females as servers, others to infiltrate noble social circles, planting word and building reputation.
The intelligence network he wove expanded like a spider’s web, growing ever denser.
“…Loes,” a young female approached timidly, “can we really go to Sunny Court?”
“As long as you want to leave, you can,” Loes replied gently.
“And you?” she asked cautiously.
Loes shook his head, smiling bitterly. “I… am used to staying here. Someone must remain to hold this network together.”
Unspoken was the truth—he remained willingly, for his master.
Had he met Gu Qing earlier, things might have been different. Now, he believed he no longer deserved to stand beside them. His only choice was to fortify the network until it could shield Gu Qing from all harm.
“…Loes, the noble intel from this week has arrived. Some insects are starting to notice Sunny Court.”
Loes frowned, expression serious. “I’ll filter it before reporting to Gu Qing. And remind him… several noble families are watching him.”
——
Home Star, Fanguang District Overpass
Light-rail trains whistled past as the bustling core of the home star thrived. The streets swarmed with insects chatting about one name.
“Sunny Court has new dishes today! Glazed Crystal Egg and limited Frostfire Bone Broth—”
“Seriously? I’ve been refreshing the network since 0700 and couldn’t get a spot!”
“I managed to grab one, then it disappeared… shows sold out!”
Only a few days back, Sunny Court had arrived, yet the name already bombarded every corner.
Just a restaurant, yet it had driven the city mad.
“Liyu, order one,” Caesar coldly commanded.
Liyu responded instantly: [Sunny Court bento, order completed.]
A groan came from nearby:
“What?! My order disappeared?!”
“Sold out, I just got it!”
Caesar smirked, glancing at the holo-pad in his hand. “Liyu, have you learned to ‘grab’ orders too?”
Liyu replied coolly: [Executing high-priority directive; not considered grabbing.]
Soon, Caesar entered a hidden residence and opened the steaming bento.
A familiar warmth and aroma rose, ineffable yet grounding.
The meal carried subtle spirit-plant energy, almost hidden in the ingredients.
Yet this was no ordinary culinary skill—it bore traces of cultivation techniques.
He set down his chopsticks, voice cold:
“Liyu, trace the founding records of Sunny Court and the investment chain. I want to know who is truly in charge.”
Liyu responded: [Retrieving network and Star Alliance commercial records… analyzing.]
Caesar’s gaze cut like a blade, fixed on the unfinished meal.
—Interesting. Finally, this world begins to stir again.