Huo Jing: “Stop struggling, young master. Just comfort me a bit… Let me hold you later, and I won’t bother you tonight.”
Xie Jianxun said in horror, “You were even planning to bother me tonight?”
Huo Jing: “Ah, of course I wouldn’t be that crude. But if I just sit on the floor and watch our Xunxun sleep, that should be fine, right?”
They returned to the Main Ship, Xie Jianxun dragged along at a brisk pace by the hand, unable to slow down.
Fortunately, the star pirates along the way were all rushing out for fun and only whistled when they saw them.
Xie Jianxun said sincerely, “So perverted.”
Huo Jing said softly, “That’s how star pirates are. Trust me.”
Ke Xi: “Which star pirate is that perverted?”
The scarred pirate passed by and chimed in. “We proper star pirates don’t do that.”
Huo Jing turned to him. “The corridor floor in the lower living quarters is dirty. Go clean it, Ke Xi.”
The little pirate leader: “Huh?”
Xie Jianxun thought he had to placate Huo Jing properly, lest the man really stay up all night and sneak into his cabin just to squat on the floor watching him sleep.
Especially since he had plans to leave tonight—no mishaps allowed. He hadn’t forgotten Huo Jing’s declaration about “hunting traitors.”
Worst case… worst case, he’d send his Light Brain coordinates and summon Julius, letting those two perverts take each other out.
To ensure the plan succeeded, the young master stepped into the Captain’s Quarters once more.
The price wasn’t small—he was held for a full ten minutes, nestled on Huo Jing’s soft single-seater sofa, listening to the Great Star Pirate’s heartbeat slow from rapid to steady, as if he were truly soothed.
Xie Jianxun couldn’t help saying, “Your heartbeat is so…”
Huo Jing, full of soft young master, didn’t want to speak. “What?”
Xie Jianxun: “So calm.”
Huo Jing: “…I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
Xie Jianxun shook his head uncertainly.
It was a very quiet, singular heartbeat—no sound of blood surging from the chambers. Of course, just pressing an ear to the chest might not pick it up anyway.
He’d only heard two heartbeats so far—the other was One’s.
Perfectly normal. A Mechanical Puppet’s true heart was the Mechanical Core above the chest; the heartbeat merely simulated blood flow.
And Huo Jing…
His thoughts were interrupted by Huo Jing, who grumbled discontentedly from his throat upon snapping back.
The agreed ten minutes were up, but he didn’t want to let go.
Xie Jianxun patted his shoulder, signaling to be put down. “Alright, time’s up.”
Huo Jing reluctantly released him—probably the hardest decision he’d made in his entire star pirate career.
“If I’d known, I should’ve negotiated for twenty minutes,” he sighed.
Xie Jianxun quickly slipped his feet into his shoes, preparing to leave the Captain’s Quarters.
Hearing that, he turned back with a warning. “Don’t come bothering me in the middle of the night—I sleep lightly!”
Huo Jing lounged lazily on the single-seater sofa, long legs stretched out on the floor.
“Of course. You won’t find a star pirate more trustworthy than me.” He drawled.
Xie Jianxun returned to his cabin half-believing, lay on the bed, and browsed his Light Brain for a while.
Around eleven, chaotic, staggered footsteps echoed in the corridor, along with drunken shouting.
Fortunately, the cabin’s soundproofing was decent—only faint noises filtered in.
Xie Jianxun yawned, set down the Light Brain, pulled up the blanket, and fell into normal sleep.
At three a.m., the Siphon Whale prepared to set sail. Aside from the control room’s on-duty pilots, the entire Main Ship was silent—everyone deep in slumber.
Accompanied by the engine’s roar… and Xie Jianxun’s Light Brain alarm.
He opened his bleary eyes and silently sat up, trying his best to shake off the discomfort of having his sleep interrupted.
He then got dressed, took a deep breath, and looked out the window to see the ground gradually receding—the standard procedure as the ship took off into space.
It was time.
Xie Jianxun opened the cabin door and hurried along the route he had memorized earlier, heading straight for the Escape Pod launch bay.
No matter how he had tried to probe indirectly before, Huo Jing had given him no option to leave the Siphon Whale.
From what he had gathered, the upcoming journey wouldn’t stop at any other planets; Lihou Port was his only chance.
If he had the opportunity, he would have loved to visit that beautiful place called Minai Hill for a tour.
Not be forcibly taken there by a star pirate ship, never to leave again.
Xie Jianxun’s heart pounded.
The corridor was dim, lit only by emergency lights along the way.
He smoothly made his way down to the living quarters, the storage area, and the belly of the Main Ship. The only sound in the walkway was his deliberately light footsteps.
Finally, he reached the Escape Pod launch bay.
He buckled the safety belt, prepared the emergency oxygen tank, and readied all the standard Escape Pod equipment. Lastly, he found the most important button on the control panel.
Silently, a small Escape Pod detached from the Siphon Whale’s underbelly.
Compared to the massive Main Ship, the Escape Pod was like an invisible shrimp— the contrast was stark.
He then adjusted its direction and plummeted back toward the nearest planet’s surface—or rather, its ocean.
He didn’t know that launching an Escape Pod required permission verification beforehand, or that it would trigger a ship-wide alarm afterward.
But nothing happened.
A hand reached over and switched off the alarm.
A heavy splash echoed as Xie Jianxun maneuvered the Escape Pod to surface, fighting to rise quickly to sea level.
The night was deep and dark, pierced only by the Escape Pod’s faint beam of light.
Though he had never used an Escape Pod before, thankfully technology was advanced, and these things were designed to be extremely user-friendly.
Even the control panel buttons came with text and phonetic annotations, ensuring even an idiot could survive a disaster.
The waves pushed the little Escape Pod onto the beach.
The glass canopy opened, and Xie Jianxun crawled out in a disheveled state. He unclipped the emergency oxygen tank, gave the pod a hard shove to send it sinking into the sea, and let it go.
After that series of actions, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything had gone exactly as planned. No issues.
Next, he just needed to hole up in some corner of Lihou Port for the night and catch the earliest flight out the next morning…
Huo Jing probably didn’t have information-gathering skills as strong as Julius’s, able to quickly trace his financial transactions and track his movements.
As he thought this, Xie Jianxun turned around and saw a figure standing not far away, silently watching him.
…
At four in the morning, Huo Jing lay in bed with his eyes wide open, one hand pillowed behind his head.
He stared fixedly at the ceiling, which was blank and snow-white, nothing there.
A moment later, he got out of bed and left the Captain’s Quarters.
He walked all the way to the living quarters, stopping in front of that cabin door.
The cabin door was tightly shut, everything deathly quiet.
Right now, he desperately wanted to act like a proper star pirate—kick the door down without regard for rules, drag the young master onto his lap, and hold him to his heart’s content.
Huo Jing averted his gaze, his expression silent and cold.
Right now, with just a slight use of his authority, he could make that wish come true—hear the young master wake up with a soft scolding, or feel him pushing with all his limbs to shove him away.
In the end, he gave up.
He turned around and simply sat on the floor, leaning against the door.
The pre-dawn chill didn’t bother him at all; his constitution was extremely robust, and he never got sick.
Huo Jing closed his eyes.
But moments later, he snapped them open.
In the faint glow of the emergency lights, with his excellent eyesight, he spotted a trail of hurried footprints—stained with the wet, soft sand from the beach, leaving fleeting marks on the Siphon Whale’s self-cleaning floors.
He shot to his feet. The cabin door swung wide open, revealing an empty interior.
The blankets were bundled into a heap, messily shoved against the wall, and Xie Jianxun—who should have been sleeping inside, hair all tousled—was nowhere to be seen.
The star pirate leader stood in silence for a moment, then strode indifferently toward the lower decks.
One Escape Pod was missing.
Yet the Main Ship’s alarms hadn’t sounded.
The entire Siphon Whale Main Ship hovered in space, lights blazing, signal beacons flashing frequently as star pirates poured out.
Huo Jing sat casually in a chair he grabbed in the hall, propping his cheek with one hand. He watched as the grey-eyed First Mate was dragged forward from the back of the crowd, stumbling before kneeling on the ground.
The leader of the Siphon Whale said offhandedly, “Someone left the Siphon Whale, and I was none the wiser.”
“My First Mate, you owe me an explanation… Why did you turn off that alarm?”
