Chapter 915: Chapter 915: Another Family That Brings Joy
Mercury Lamp is truly a mischievous little thing. Upon discovering the giant sculptures of Sandora and me at the entrance of the sanctuary, the first thing she did was to splash ink all over them. She wrote “was here” on my nose and “passing through” on Sandora’s chin—obviously, our once innocent Chairman Shui has been completely corrupted by some people at home. Her first line had Lilina’s style, and the second was undoubtedly influenced by Bubbles…
Of course, that’s not the funniest part. What’s really giving me a headache is that Mercury Lamp, this little doll, still doesn’t know how to write certain Chinese characters. She didn’t know how to write the character for “you” in “was here,” so she used Pinyin instead…
Just think about how dramatic and comedic this situation is. The statue of the Imperial Leader has the words “was here” scrawled on it, and one character is crookedly written in Pinyin!
Luckily, it was the Empire’s Little Princess who did this, or else the Xyrin Apostles, who revere the Emperor above all, would never see it as mere graffiti. They would definitely elevate this issue to the level of imperial dignity.
“Flap-flap-flap—”
The little doll, having completed her prank, fluttered down from the sky and sat on my shoulder as if nothing had happened. She held a marker pen in her hand, which was a bit too large for her, and gestured wildly as she expressed her opinion: “This thing is so ugly! Such a meaningless sculpture, dozens of meters high!”
I really wanted to educate this arrogant and ill-tempered doll, to tell her that she should at least occasionally respect her old man, even if it’s just to uphold family rules a bit. But suddenly, I realized I probably didn’t have a chance to speak anymore because Qianqian had somehow run over. She was now intently carving Olympic rings on “Sandora’s” ankle, while Lin Xue was drawing Fuwa and Ultraman on “my” calf…
“That’s why I say I don’t like such city sculptures…”
With tears in my eyes, I exchanged a helpless glance with Sandora and turned to explain to Bingdisi, who had a defeated expression, “It’s not just that they’re embarrassing, but more importantly, there are always a few jumpy individuals at home who will do things like this…”
“You really have it tough,”
Bingdisi had once again realized the pitfalls of the Imperial First Family. She looked at me and sincerely sighed.
Sayaka had been living with us for a long time and, at this moment, appeared even calmer than Bingdisi. She just stuck out her tongue and then pointed seriously at the two massive alloy sculptures: “Dear Brother, these were made to express gratitude to you. I know Big Brother doesn’t like such things, but after all, it’s everyone’s heartfelt gesture.”
I certainly understood this reasoning, but it was just that I couldn’t adapt to such a high-standard way of showing gratitude—deep down, I’m just a guy who eats, drinks, and waits for death. No matter how many great achievements I have in the future, I probably won’t be interested in such massive personal sculptures, just like now. My and Sandora’s big head stickers seem to already be printed on the currency circulating in many worlds, but we’ve never thought about dumping our sculptures there. Sandora and I both believe that’s a huge waste: from a practical standpoint, at least putting our portraits on money can help ordinary people spot counterfeits, but placing a several-ton-heavy sculpture in the city center and expecting it to ward off evil on the overpass feels a bit ridiculous.
“The protection shield above the sanctuary hasn’t been removed yet,”
Sayaka led us into this colony city protected by the thick barrier, “But it’s not of much use anymore. Now half of the oxygen supply here comes from the external environment, and the only function of the shield is to regulate the city’s temperature since it gets a bit cold at night.”
No matter how well-constructed it is, New Mars has a fundamental flaw compared to the original Earth: it’s still a bit too far from the Sun. This vast distance means Mars gets very little sunlight, and adjusting Mars’ atmosphere is a part of the ecological transformation plan. By changing the thickness and physical properties of the atmosphere, we’re trying to warm Mars up. There have been preliminary results in warming; the large vegetation in the Northern Hemisphere is a prominent example. But overall, the nights on this planet are still a bit cold.
That’s why the transparent protection shield above the sanctuary is still retained—the residents need it to maintain the city’s temperature.
“If that’s the case, wouldn’t the Ecological Dome have the same issue?” Big Sister asked worriedly, “And the other twenty-two temporary city-states, I’m afraid the engineering teams couldn’t complete ecological domes as perfect as the sanctuary’s in a short time.”
Sandora nodded but didn’t seem too concerned: “There will definitely be some inconveniences at the start, but they should learn to overcome them by themselves. The cold at night won’t reach unbearable levels. If we plan every little thing for them, they might never learn how to survive in this New World.”
I thought about it, and it made sense: even though the transport ships have comfortable living conditions and we could build numerous well-equipped ecological domes for the immigrants, they can’t live in a greenhouse forever. This New World needs them to explore by themselves—as long as their lives aren’t in danger, such exploration is necessary.
“By the way, isn’t there something the sanctuary’s people are worried about?” As I looked at the stores with near-future designs and neat residential areas along the road, a question suddenly popped into my mind, “The sanctuary’s residents number in the hundreds of thousands, but there are 450 million immigrants from the Ruins World. No matter how familiar the sanctuary’s people are with this world, and how unfamiliar the new immigrants are, this vast numerical difference will soon make the latter the dominant tribe in this world, right? The sanctuary residents will suddenly change from being the only wise beings in the world to a rare minority. Aren’t they worried about being assimilated quickly?”
Sayaka apparently hadn’t thought about this either. Upon hearing my question, she was stunned for a moment, but Sandora quickly came up with the answer and replied, “They don’t need to worry about that.
Both the sanctuary’s residents and the new immigrants are completely under the Empire’s control. This world belongs to the sanctuary and the new immigrants, but ultimately it belongs to the Empire… huh? Ah Jun, your expression looks strange.”
Me: “…It’s nothing, I thought you were going to say it ultimately belongs to the Koreans…”
Sandora: “…”
“Well, I understand what Sandora means,” Big Sister coughed and interrupted my drifting thoughts, “Given that all survival resources are provided by the Empire, there’s no territorial dispute between the sanctuary’s residents and the new immigrants. They won’t compete for each other’s living resources, and there’s an absolute power watching over them. Plus, the universe is so vast, offering nearly limitless living space for both tribes. With the guidance of the Xyrin Empire, those spaces are almost prepared for every Wisdom Race under the Empire. Whenever they need it, it’s within their reach. In such a situation, who would care about one planet’s occupancy rate?”
“I get what you’re saying,”
Sandora’s words clicked with me, and my Big Sister’s voice snapped me back to reality from wherever my thoughts were floating. “But here, the populations of the two tribes are vastly different, so close together on one planet.”
That’s why they say smart people can always make you feel much more sane. Their conversation left me feeling under pressure, and so I quickly fished Dingdang out of my pocket and had a little stare-off with the little thing. As I watched this little one’s confused and silly expression, I immediately felt a lot more balanced inside.
The size of the sanctuary is vast, but fortunately, it’s well planned and easy to navigate. As we walked along the road leading to the inner ring of this huge city, the commercial centers on either side and floating screens with colorful characters made me feel like I was in a bustling near-future metropolis. If there were anything related to the post-Doomsday world, it would probably just be the hurried people we see everywhere and the uniformly styled streets. If you look closely, you’ll also notice that the advertising billboards on either side of the street don’t have much commercial content. About sixty percent of what they display is related to the Mars Ecological Transformation project, while some call for more technicians to join the Ecological Dispatch Center and various fieldwork groups.
Perhaps we can notice some things related to Mars’ current state from the faces of the people we pass by: amidst all this bustle, there are signs on people’s faces. Although there’s not much sense of joy, there’s no distress in their expressions either. At the end of the long street, there’s a large billboard where sharp Empire characters and the common language of the sanctuary alternate, announcing the arrival of the new immigrants on Mars. These messages are vivid, accompanied by footage of those giant transport ships landing at various locations on Mars, with many passersby stopping to watch these billboards. No one seems to express dissatisfaction or rejection towards the arrival of these new neighbors, suggesting that the sanctuary’s managers have done a great job guiding the citizens’ emotions; otherwise, the bottom-level citizens would never be so accepting of these impactful changes.”
The murmured discussions of the crowd beneath these billboards reached our ears as we passed by.
“Ah, it seems like it finally happened. Suddenly, there’s talk of over four hundred million people settling on this planet today. I thought it was someone’s joke.”
“…I heard that their world was also destroyed, destroyed for hundreds of thousands of years. These four hundred million people have been holding on in the ruins until the Royal Fleet went to rescue them…”
“Ah?! Really? They are truly a formidable bunch!”
“Rest easy, rest easy. The Emperor must have considered it. No matter how you look at it, he wouldn’t place dangerous folks right next to us. Besides, on this planet… Honestly, if it could prosper, that’s more or less a good thing. It just reminds me of the days on Earth.”
“I heard their recent settlement is in the dome outside the city. Maybe we could go take a look then? I guess there shouldn’t be a ban on entering, right?”
Listening to these discussions, Lin Xue gently nudged my arm, and whispered: “See? Your previous worries were completely unnecessary.”
I smiled, glanced around, and suddenly noticed a giant holographic projection in the distance that caught my attention, so I asked: “Sayaka, what is that?”
“Them?” Sayaka also showed a surprised expression upon seeing the distant images, then thought for a moment: “Seems like last time Mr. Kobayashi mentioned this pair of sisters. Apparently, before the disaster, they were newly debuted performers who barely survived the catastrophe. After the refuge was built, they were quiet for a while, but now they started singing again. That’s all I know.”
In the large distant image were a pair of short-haired girls with similar appearances, singing songs against changing backgrounds of Earth’s past sceneries. The music drifted from afar, ethereal and elusive. This was originally a normal scene, but seeing such a pair of girl singers in this somewhat oppressive refuge was quite intriguing. I couldn’t help but get a little interested, so I connected to the information link to query the database about this pair of girl singers. The results came out quickly.
As Sayaka mentioned, the girls were singers before the disaster, though incredibly unknown, essentially the kind who had to self-fund their albums and also sing in bars to make a living. Their debut, performances, and earlier career had nothing particularly noteworthy, except for becoming part of the few hundred thousand survivors after the disaster that annihilated seven billion people. After the refuge was established, this sister duo took on the role of caretakers for the plantation. They had been continuing this work until their return to the stage a few weeks ago. Aside from being plantation caretakers, the sisters managed to persuade the refuge government to let them sing their self-composed songs for free for the refuge citizens at fixed times daily. Their aim seemed to be reviving morale and reminding everyone not to forget everything about Earth while striving to build Mars into a similar home.
“A commendable behavior,” Sandora also glanced at the brief information and commented lightly, with not many words, yet it showed the Queen’s affirmation towards the girls, “but it seems their influence isn’t as large as expected.”
Sayaka pondered for a moment, nodded, and said, “Perhaps the daily life in the refuge is too tense, leaving people no time to listen to their songs.”
“No, I think it’s because they’re really off-key.” I had been listening for a while and finally concluded.
Everyone: “…”
Bingdisi: “Well, it seems this is an admirable inspirational story. The sisters’ starting point and wishes are good. But why do I feel that you, Chen, ruin the mood as soon as you speak?”
Now it was my turn: “…”
“In any case, they’ve worked hard,” finally, the ever-gentle Big Sister gave a tolerant evaluation, “in such circumstances, having this kind of spirit is most important. But their strength alone is still a bit small, and it seems they’re not quite fitting either. Ah Jun, do you think we should do something?”
Big Sister just casually mentioned it, but I was already stirring in my heart. All this time, I hadn’t really cared about the situation at the Mars Sanctuary, perhaps because the few hundred thousand survivors here were indeed insignificant compared to other vassal races or Macro World races, or perhaps because the constant turmoil at the Imperial Front left me no time for them. However, it’s an undeniable fact that I neglected these people, and now it’s only when resettling the Ruins Tribe that I think of them along the way, which is why the huge sculpture they erected in front of the city only made me more uncomfortable.
In any case, this place is also half of Sayaka’s “hometown,” though she doesn’t catch much attention usually, and at home, she’s always the caretaker and an ordinary person. But since Sayaka has called me “big brother,” I should do something.
“Just take this chance to call the whole family over.”
I suddenly grinned, coming up with an interesting idea. Then, amidst the confused gazes of those around me, I connected to the Time-Space Administration’s information link. Assuming I remembered correctly, that Scallion Warrior did seem to be a lower-level officer at the Administration.
The spiritual connection transferred through the Time-Space Administration was quickly connected, and a somewhat flustered voice echoed in my mind: “Hello? Hello? Is this how I respond? This is…”
“MIKU, right? Your eldest brother, big sister, second brother, second sister, third sister, third brother, fourth sister… little brother, little sister, maybe I got a few wrong just now, but anyway, are they at home?”
There was a few seconds of silence on the other side of the spiritual connection, then a panicked exclamation erupted: “Wow! It’s you… Can you say it again?”
I thought for a moment: “…Who did I say first just now?”
Miku didn’t answer, perhaps caught off guard, frozen.
“Ahem, anyway, I have a task for you. It’s best if you can mobilize your whole family to come over. The thing is, at the Mars Sanctuary—yes, that’s one of the three venues during the last Macro World Festival you guys attended. There have been some major changes here since then. The entire planet has been ecologized and there’s now a group of new inhabitants… So here’s the situation, I’d like you all to organize a concert… Don’t worry, don’t worry, that terrifying One-Meter-One won’t show up, and you don’t need to worry about her Three-Scallion Flow—by the way, have you been practicing the Onion Pulling Technique lately?”
The other side could no longer hold back, and a frantic shout burst out, “How could there be that kind of skill!”
Finally, this matter was settled just like that. I had actually thought very simply— to inspire humanity, the most suitable way is through a form of art that aligns with their world view, like a grand enough celebration that can involve everyone. In this regard, even Sandora is probably an amateur, but the Hatsune family is undoubtedly professional: that joyful family was born to bring encouragement to people. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, you’re welcome to Qidian () to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)