Chapter 64 1/2

After two months of continuous sailing, relying solely on nutrient supplies, both Cen Lang and Chen Ping have visibly lost weight, their thin lips tightly pressed, accentuating their jawlines.

As the warship enters a nebula, the main and auxiliary pilots refrain from exchanging shifts, focusing on jointly determining the route amidst the obscured gas clouds.

They have been in the search range provided by the signal ship for five days now, with intermittent signals but no tangible results.

Emerging from the nebula, planets drift, and stars abound. Cen Lang glances at the distant Vega: “According to the Chinese calendar, today is the Qixi Festival.”

Separated by sixteen light-years, Altair and Vega, he and Jiang Li meet metaphorically under the vast sky on this lovers’ festival, suitable even for those in a long-distance relationship.

Cen Lang gazes towards Earth; the light from Altair takes sixteen years to reach Vega. He contemplates, “Three more days; if we don’t find anything, we’ll return.”

They’ve briefly experienced time dilation; their current seconds don’t align with Earth’s. Perhaps, in three months, their return might find children grown.

In the best scenario, Cen Lang anticipated a two-month return; now, detours on the way make it unlikely. In the worst case, like his parents, their child might be married by the time he returns.

Oh… He hasn’t proposed yet.

In Cen Lang’s self-countdown, Jiang Li is nearing the due date, causing him inevitable anxiety.

Interstellar medical technology allows painless childbirth, but that doesn’t mean complete painlessness; psychological unease persists.

Cen Lang hopes to return soon and not miss the birth, especially since his coordinates are set for only four months. A disrupted coordinate system would surely worry Jiang Li. Three days later, finding nothing, Cen Lang is about to announce their return.

“Bzz, bzz…”

Suddenly, a white flame emits a signal detected by the mothership!

It’s a signal Cen Lang has never heard since the creation of the White Flame battleship—a special sound, unmistakable and unique, resembling the call of a lost wild cub to its mother, understood only by the mother.

Cen Lang’s adrenaline rushes; human vision can’t locate the mothership. He maintains moisture in his eyes, staring fixedly at the dashboard.

Approaching, a white dot appears like a ghost.

Growing larger and clearer.

Chen Ping exclaims, “It’s a cryosleep chamber!”

The White Flame battleship emits a scanning beam: “Organic entity detected.”

Chen Ping accurately assesses, “Don’t get close; the cryosleep chamber doesn’t look like it’s been worn in space for over twenty years.”

Perhaps a black hole consumed the spaceship and released it at some point, repeating the cycle. Approaching recklessly could lead to the White Flame being engulfed.

Cen Lang focuses, observing the cryosleep chamber’s movement. When its flight arc is closest, the White Flame battleship accelerates, like an eagle skimming turbulent currents, grabbing a fish, and powering up to escape at maximum speed.

The White Flame battleship unfolds its wings, perfectly docking. At that moment, Cen Lang tastes a hint of blood in his mouth due to space pressure.

“How are you, Uncle Chen?”

Chen Ping’s expression is restrained: “I’m fine; let’s go quickly.”

The White Flame battleship elegantly sways its tail and heads towards Earth.

Earth’s position is fixed, unlike the signal ship that floats unpredictably. Returning won’t involve detours, saving time. Once the flight stabilises, Cen Lang scans the cryosleep chamber again, holding his breath for the results. As the report comes in, he immediately extracts key information.

Two people, cryosleep, freezing.

Even though time has passed differently for them, it might only be four or five years. Merely being in cryosleep without supplies can’t last for four or five years. Cen’s parents are currently in frozen status.

Medical cryopreservation technology isn’t mature; attempts have been made only in recent years, with a low success rate upon thawing.

Cen’s parents, staying calm in adversity, took the risk and underwent human cryosleep with freezing under rudimentary conditions. Different from the later-developed Earth technology, thawing is more challenging.

Regardless, he has finally brought them back.

At this moment, Cen Lang indulges in longing for Jiang Li, his heart racing through the galaxy.

Amidst the vast Milky Way, the Jiang family has developed a habit of cooling off outdoors at night, sometimes with Cen Wei. Rocking chairs, straw fans, open-air relaxation—abandoning air-conditioned glass rooms, they gaze at the starry sky unhindered.

The stars shine brighter on clear nights.

Among those twinkling stars, could someone be rushing on a journey?

Jiang Li feels his imagination is akin to ancient people believing there’s a jade rabbit pounding medicine on the moon. He analyses Cen Lang’s coordinates; ideally, it takes four months, meaning he’ll arrive a month after the child’s birth.

After consulting experts, he receives an answer consistent with his speculation.

Knowing the timeline, Jiang Li becomes indifferent. Safety is more important than anything on the long journey.

“Bang, bang, bang.”

Jiang Li looks to the yard; Dad Lu is busy building a doghouse, four square metres, one person tall.

Originally, they could have bought a prefab doghouse, but Lu Jing insisted on buying bricks, tiles, and wood and building it personally.

Their house—first floor.