Chen Kuan had quite a large family—parents, sisters, plus their husbands and kids, adding up to over a dozen people.
Ever since Chen Kuan had made it big, they’d all been living under one roof.
“Talk about fair-weather friends! The tea’s gone cold before I’ve even left the building?” He said this, but Chen Kuan still had faith in his parents and sisters.
Anyone else might ditch him now that he’d fallen on hard times, but those three never would.
Chen Kuan put away the green beans and tried calling everyone. Not a single person picked up. So he waited at home, all the way until late into the night, but still nobody came back.
That was when he finally started to panic. He pulled up the home security footage.
In the video, his parents and sisters suddenly collapsed on the floor. The others carried them to their beds and called for a family doctor.
About half an hour later, the family doctor never showed—instead, Federation security police arrived. They exchanged a few words with his brother-in-law, then took the entire family away.
Chen Kuan frowned deeply. Had his family been caught up in his own shady dealings?
But that didn’t make sense. If the police were coming for him, why wouldn’t they have arrested him first?
After much deliberation, Chen Kuan decided to swallow his pride and ask the lobby manager to go with him to the police station.
The lobby manager was a good man and agreed without hesitation.
When they arrived at the station, they handed over a backup copy of the surveillance footage to the security officer on duty.
The officer was a young, newly appointed man with a pleasant attitude: “Alright, we’ll verify the identities of those security officers as soon as possible. We’ll notify you when we have results.”
Chen Kuan couldn’t believe it: “What era are we living in? Verifying identities still takes time?!”
“I’m sorry, but the Zerg invasion damaged our planet’s storage servers, and they haven’t been restored yet.”
What else could Chen Kuan say?!
After leaving the station, he thanked the lobby manager again.
The lobby manager tapped the Star Harmony Party badge on his chest and smiled. “It’s what I should do.”
Chen Kuan didn’t understand what he saw as a foolish sense of duty, but as the beneficiary of such foolishness, he gladly accepted it.
“Why don’t you go to Kyushu Star? Isn’t that your party’s stronghold?”
The lobby manager’s pace was unhurried. “Because this place needs me.”
Chen Kuan rolled his eyes. “The world keeps spinning without anyone. The universe doesn’t pause for you. Don’t take yourself too seriously.”
“Hmm. But I think you need me to have a drink with you right now.”
Chen Kuan chuckled, pulled out two tubes of nutrient solution, and handed one to the lobby manager. With a nostalgic tone, he said, “I saved these up when I was a part-time believer. Cheers!”
The two tubes of plain-flavored nutrient solution clinked together.
Even though it tasted absolutely terrible, the lobby manager sipped it slowly, as if savoring some rare delicacy.
Perhaps it was the tenderness of the night, but Chen Kuan rambled as they walked: “Actually, my whole family immigrated here from the Sixth Star Ring. Starting from my grandfather’s generation, we kept saving and saving, generation after generation. It took three generations to finally afford tickets for all of us.”
“I thought the Fifth Star Ring would be paradise—no worries about food or shelter, a peaceful life. But after we got here, I realized it’s just… whatever. Not that much better. The bottom rung is still the bottom rung.”
For the powerful and wealthy, moving to the Fifth Star Ring meant a real jump in quality of life.
For ordinary people, it was just emptying their life savings and moving somewhere else to scrape by.
Chen Kuan got tired of walking, sat down by the roadside, and continued: “I know about your Star Harmony Party. I’ve looked into your political platform. But it’s too naive, too unrealistic. Sounds like you’re selling a dream—painting a picture of some beautiful utopia.”
“My sister idolizes Lin Xiaohe. Absolutely worships her! She thinks Lin Xiaohe is a warrior who breaks down class barriers, a template for human evolution! She even handmade a set of red battle armor.”
When he mentioned his sister, Chen Kuan’s expression softened considerably. He lowered his voice and said, “Actually, I’ve met your party leader, Lin Xiaohe.”
“Oh?”
“She’s not what I imagined. Not some radiant, towering figure. Not some sanctimonious hypocrite either.”
She was just… pure. A strong, ordinary person.
That might sound contradictory, but it was exactly how he felt.
Chen Kuan stood up, patted the lobby manager on the shoulder, and showed a rare moment of sincerity: “I know what you’re trying to do, but I’m telling you to give it up. Look at your party members—councilors, college students, professors, soldiers, rich kids. Even the lowliest among you have proper jobs.”
“You think you’re the bottom of Federation society, but the real bottom can’t even see Lin Xiaohe. They’re using every ounce of their strength just to stay alive—they don’t have the energy left for ideals.”
The lobby manager seemed to peer straight into his soul through his eyes: “But isn’t that where you come in?”
“Ha. My faith is in star coins!” Chen Kuan waved his hand and walked off, leaving the lobby manager with a cool silhouette.
Over the next few days, every time Chen Kuan recalled that moment, he felt pretty good about himself, thinking he’d looked incredibly cool.
Until the fifth day. Chen Kuan couldn’t sit still anymore. The security police had no news, and every time he went to ask, he was brushed off.
Having lost the vast majority of his followers, Chen Kuan was once again just plain old Chen Kuan—good for nothing.
The doors that had once been open to him were now slammed shut.
Chen Kuan hit dead ends everywhere and finally had no choice but to swallow his pride and go back to the lobby manager.
His expression was awkward as he forced the words out: “They still haven’t found my family. Can you help me?”
There was no mockery, no excuses—just a simple “Okay.”
Chen Kuan was both hopeful and anxious: “How are you going to find them?”
The lobby manager gave a mysterious smile. “Through our Star Harmony Party.”
And then Chen Kuan got a glimpse of just how deep the Star Harmony Party’s network ran—members so low-key you’d never notice them.
From the Secretary-General of Vettara Star’s government office, all the way down to ordinary part-time laborers—they were all part of that spark!
Chen Kuan was floored. If he had even a fraction of the lobby manager’s connections, he’d have become a grand master of recruitment ages ago!
It took only one day for the lobby manager to get back to him: “They’re legitimate Federation security police, not imposters. There’s an internal operation codenamed ‘Awakening’ with a high level of secrecy. They were ordered to take your family.”
“What?!” Chen Kuan was stunned and confused.
His family hadn’t done anything wrong!
The lobby manager’s expression turned serious: “According to our investigation, Operation Awakening has already taken over a thousand people from Vettara Star. They’re being sent to the First Star Ring.”
Chen Kuan’s face changed drastically. A windfall that big usually came with poison attached!
“Which ship? When are they leaving? Can we opt out?”
The lobby manager’s eyes were filled with gravity: “Seven days from now. The Anidam Faith’s Explorer 7 transport ship.”
Chen Kuan’s heart sank. His throat felt dry and scratchy as he forced the words out: “The Anidam Faith has been recruiting people left and right, also promising to take them to the First Star Ring. Are the two connected?”
The lobby manager let out a long sigh. Most likely, yes.
Chen Kuan squatted on the ground, covering his eyes with both hands, his shoulders trembling weakly.
He didn’t understand what those people were after. But he knew one thing for sure—the more they gave, the more they’d demand in return!
