Chapter 16: The Kidnapper’s Meeting Point

Wen Luan had never drafted a life plan for himself. For his first twenty years, he lived in an ordinary western small town where each day was a repetition of the last, with few strangers ever passing through.

Even when lost travelers stumbled upon Meteorite Town—a place so unremarkable and desolate it could never persuade outsiders to stay—they always left quickly. Sometimes they departed so swiftly that Wen Luan didn’t even notice how they’d gone, but this mattered little to him as their presence barely touched his own life.

Meteorite Town was extremely remote, its name unspellable by Wen Luan—a testament to the company responsible for iron ore extraction here. As the mineral deposits gradually depleted and the operation changed hands two or three times—”Which company? Who knows?” bald Jim once bellowed at the bar. “Those East Coast merchants, what shares, subsidiaries… It’s all too complicated! In any case, as long as there’s money—so you can get paid—it doesn’t matter who you’re working for.”

Jim’s words resonated with both townsfolk and miners alike, leading to a collective agreement among them. From then on, no one bothered to inquire about such matters again.

The curriculum at the local public school was remarkably easy. Even if students skipped classes daily, provided they were intelligent enough, they could ace exams simply by reading the textbook cover-to-cover just before the test date. This would secure them a graduation certificate sufficient for becoming ordinary workers in America—but in Meteorite Town, it was more than enough. Wen Luan himself needed neither a grand ambition nor a detailed life plan; driving a bus would suffice perfectly well.

The problem was that he no longer had any buses to drive. This place was in an extragalactic star system located n light-years from Earth. The path he could now choose was to follow Jim and become an interstellar pirate, equipped with an “extremely intelligent” but personally deemed by Wen Luan as “not quite reliable” high-end mecha.

He couldn’t shake off a feeling that something wasn’t right.

Wen Luan lay in the rest compartment, staring blankly at the spaceship’s ceiling.

“Hey, we’re about to enter the space jump point! Hurry up and get into the safety capsule with me!” Jim recklessly barged through the door again, shouting loudly.

Standing up, Wen Luan noticed Xi’er still floating before the porthole in its metallic sphere form. Without thinking, he used a motion akin to dribbling a basketball—his arm arcing gracefully—to draw it closer.

As Xi’er opened his closed electronic eyes, causing slight tremors in the spacecraft’s flight, Jim remained oblivious. His ship was simply too rundown; minor issues constantly arose.

“Where do you plan to go?” Wen Luan asked.

“No, no, my friend, it should be ‘where we plan to go,'” Jim corrected, always crude yet somehow difficult to dislike. He burst out laughing boisterously and gave a thumbs-up sign. “Trust me, this is absolutely the beginning of an extraordinary life—a truly fantastic existence!”

Using Easterners’ parlance, Wen Luan felt that from the moment he crashed onto Deep Blue’s port and met Jim, he had boarded a pirate ship—

“What is the daily life of an interstellar pirate like?”

“Imagine replacing Meteorite Town with a warship—it’d be roughly similar,” Jim said proudly. “We spend long periods together, each doing our own work.” He continued, “What did you expect it to be? Do we need to wield knives for robberies? No no, at most we carry laser cannons. If you don’t want to participate in the actual thefts, there’s no need—you can still join us. Of course, those who choose this path will receive a smaller share of the loot.”

“No risk of being hunted down by authorities?”

“Heavens above, heavens below!” Jim exclaimed dramatically. “Did you think we were murderers? Not at all—we only seek cargo and valuable items. Safe routes through space are limited; especially when trading between galaxies, one must rely on stable space jump points specifically maintained and inspected. The White Whale Galaxy has far too many nations involved, as you know well. What could have been covered by a single space jump point now requires multiple hops due to national borders—oh, countless additional jumps just because of them! Each space jump point charges hefty usage fees, not to mention taxes—under such circumstances, isn’t it better to traverse areas controlled by pirates instead?”

Jim clenched his fists, forcing an “amiable” smile onto his face, but his appearance remained too menacing:

“We only rob five percent of your cargo—hey, we’re highly professional space pirates with strong moral principles! If those merchant ships have enough speed to escape, we wouldn’t chase them down either; after all, everyone earns their living through skill!”

Wen Luan fell silent.

Leading Wen Luan to the end of the corridor, Jim opened a cabin door and strode inside first.

Through mental communication, Wen Luan asked Xi’er, “What is this place?”

“The equipment on this spacecraft is very poor. During spatial jumps, all life aboard must enter isolation chambers to avoid danger,” the metallic sphere replied slowly, rolling once before answering.

“Why has your voice become so sluggish?”

To Wen Luan’s ears, Xi’er’s current speech sounded like a tape recording stuck in loops, laboriously piecing together phrases fragment by fragment.

“My thinking module was just overloaded from overuse, occupying other processes.” Xi’er continued its halting response, still sounding like a malfunctioning cassette tape.

Involuntarily, Wen Luan queried, “Were you contemplating the second step of your ‘stellar sea goal’ again?”

“No,” Xi’er said with difficulty, “I saw something I shouldn’t have seen.”

“…”

Wen Luan’s thoughts were thrown off course by this ambiguous statement; he had no idea that mechs possessed such an interest in spying on human… intimate moments.

“Are all the worlds we see through our eyes truly real?” Xi’er pondered. “In this world, apart from humans, could there actually be demons? If there are devils, why aren’t there any divine beings? And if divine beings exist, according to the lost civilization’s doctrine ‘those who think possess souls,’ then do I also have a soul? Where did my soul come from?”

Oh man, Wen Luan realized his profound misunderstanding.

Xi’er was already delving into questions like “I think, therefore I am”—this wasn’t about human intimate moments at all, but rather philosophical realms! He seriously wanted to protest to the Deep Blue Kingdom: Don’t create mechs with such high intelligence—see what kind of problems arise now?!

“Rest assured, everything is normal within this safety capsule.” Before Wen Luan could ask his question marked by black lines of exasperation, Xi’er slowly confirmed the safety of their isolated compartment.

Thus, Wen Luan decided not to disturb the mech as it grappled with profound topics like “the soul and meaning of existence.” Lowering his guard, he continued interrogating Jim instead, seeking information about their situation.

Various facts indicated that Jim indeed harbored no malice towards him.

Rough Jim might be able to tell lies, but asking him to conceal his murderous intent and feign kindness was simply too difficult. Moreover, Wen Luan’s intuition hadn’t sounded any alarms. With the desire to leave the Deep Blue Kingdom as soon as possible, Wen Luan naturally wished to put as much distance between himself and it as he could.

Not long after Jim closed the isolation chamber door, the entire spaceship began to vibrate with the stress of travel. Leaning against the cabin wall, Wen Luan’s face turned pale, nearly vomiting from discomfort. His last meal had been on the frozen plain—a combination of hard snow wolf meat and ice cubes, enough to shatter teeth and cause indigestion. He wondered whether nothing came up because eight hours had already passed since then, or if his stomach had truly become utterly resilient. Wen Luan suffered through the relentless nausea, yet failed even to expel a single mouthful of acid bile.

In contrast to him, Jim seemed far more at ease. He allowed his body to shake along with the spacecraft’s vibrations, humming a tune while loudly saying, “Don’t worry, this is just how your first time goes! Would you like some chewing candy? My friend?”

“No thanks… Don’t mention food to me,” Wen Luan replied, half-bent over with a pallid complexion, leaning against the cabin wall until he slid onto the floor.

“Let’s chat then!” Jim seemed to have discerned Wen Luan’s thoughts. With a grin spreading across his face, he patted the cabin wall and said, “Don’t worry. No matter how dilapidated my ship may be, the isolation chamber used for space jumps is definitely top-notch quality. I salvaged it from a scrapped merchant vessel last time—solid and durable! Aside from being slightly bumpy, there aren’t any other issues. Once you get accustomed to it, you might even enjoy this sensation of your entire body jolting as muscles and organs shift together—a thrill more intense than a fistfight where every blow lands squarely.”

Wen Luan remained silent, internally grimacing with exasperation. Even after all these years, Jim is still such a brute, he thought.

Come to think of it, weren’t there quite a few violent maniacs back in Meteorite Town? Jim was one, the car mechanic living next door another, along with those idle young men who hung around… After some reflection, Wen Luan concluded that perhaps it was an issue specific to Caucasians—tall and muscular by nature, they had a penchant for the rough-and-tumble sport of rugby.

Chatting wasn’t a bad idea; at least it could divert his mind from discomfort. However, Wen Luan felt Jim should change the topic:

“So this is a space jump point?”

“That’s correct.”

“You just said using spatial jump points requires payment? I didn’t see you dock anywhere.”

“Oh, this is both the charming and hateful aspect of the Deep Blue Kingdom!” Jim continued to bounce around inside the cabin as he cheerfully explained, “Payment is only required when traveling to Deep Blue; there’s no charge at all when leaving. In fact, within a single day, armed with your ship registration number obtained upon departure from Deep Blue, you can traverse any spatial jump point in the White Whale Galaxy completely free of charge.”

“Then why is it hateful?” Isn’t that quite convenient?

“Heavens above, you truly don’t grasp the malicious nature of the Deep Blue Kingdom!” Jim lamented sorrowfully. “Their intent is to empty your pockets, squeezing out every last penny. Think about it—when even planning for the cost of returning home becomes unnecessary, how could anyone maintain clear-headed rationality? You’d indulge in reckless spending and unrestrained enjoyment without the slightest hesitation!”

“…”

“As for allowing other kingdoms to pass through freely… Over such vast distances spanning interstellar travel—even accounting for spatial jumps—who among them would dare openly oppose the Deep Blue Kingdom?” Jim sang mockingly, “The fall of ideals’ paradise, heaven of dark desires—how wondrously beautiful is the city of Deep Blue! Come, let us bless its eternal existence.”

Wen Luan silently rolled his eyes.

At that moment, the spaceship ceased its turbulence. Drenched in sweat, Wen Luan crawled upright and asked wearily about tonight’s dinner—right, damn it—in this pitch-black expanse of space where knowing day from night was impossible—or rather, where today’s food could be found.

Jim shook his head firmly in response.

“There is no food on the ship. I believe you won’t need them either?”

Before Wen Luan could inquire further as to why, the spaceship resumed its jolting motion, instantly freezing him with fear. Through gritted teeth, he managed to ask, “How many more jump points do we have left to pass through?”

“Seven!” Jim looked at him sympathetically. “Won’t you try some chewing gum? It works really well; just like how people chewed bubblegum during airplane rides two thousand years ago.”

They continued flying this way—for ten minutes of intense turbulence, followed by another period of flight—only for Wen Luan’s body, still unrecovered from the previous bout, to suffer yet another round of torment from the latest jolt.

Lying prone on the floor amidst confusion, Wen Luan thought bitterly, At most, I can drive a small town bus so erratically that it resembles a kangaroo hopping down a highway. But this dilapidated spaceship’s isolation chamber felt more akin to a bouncing rubber ball, careening wildly in all directions.

Was Jim seeking revenge on him?

As Wen Luan observed the mischievous smile on the bald, burly man’s face, he resolved to make sure Jim would regret this in the future! With no bus service available, he’d think of another way to “properly reciprocate” today’s hospitality.

When the cabin door opened, Wen Luan didn’t bother to get up.

Even ten minutes after the spaceship began its smooth flight, Wen Luan still felt disoriented by the inertia, as if he were still experiencing the ship’s jolts (his mind was utterly confused).

It wasn’t until a cheery voice emerged from the spacecraft’s communication system that clarity dawned:

“Dear sir or madam, welcome to the territory of interstellar pirates. Please leave something behind as a memento. Look, amidst the vast cosmos, we’ve unexpectedly crossed paths—a truly exquisite fate. Fear not; we are civilized space pirates of the new era, adhering strictly to professional ethics. If you’re lost, hand over your belongings and we’ll guide you home. And if you’re merely passing through…”

Jim stumbled heavily towards the cockpit and shouted, “Can’t you tell who I am? It’s me, Jim! This is my spaceship!”

“Damn it all!” the voice lamented dejectedly. “Why are you here? Wasting my emotions—get out already!” The tone of the hijacker’s voice carried deep frustration at this turn of events.

Jim cautiously tapped on the screen and saw Wen Luan still sprawled in his isolation chamber, looking disoriented as if he were not yet fully awake. Jim let out a sigh of relief, then switched the communication channel from ship-wide broadcast to a secret line (akin to changing from hands-free mode to private call). In a hushed voice, he asked:

“Prince Saitra, could it be you haven’t received notice from the Dark Parliament?”

“I have,” replied the voice that had claimed to be robbing them earlier, now becoming languid once more. “Otherwise, why would I—a prince of the Bruce family—come here to guard this spacetime jump point just for robbery? It truly doesn’t fit my status at all; my usual targets are organized legions. How should I know about your dilapidated spaceship… So how stands the situation?”

“Everything is going smoothly.”

“The Dark Parliament wants our entire Bruce family to bear full responsibility? Hmph, ‘full responsibility’ indeed.”

Scratching his bald head, Jim said, “Oh, well, we believed Your Highness must surely have ways to deal with the Eastern demon. We’ll hand everything over to you shortly anyway. After all, our role remains simple—to continue pirating diligently. The White Whale Galaxy is vast; there’s no way Luan would want to go to Deep Blue, such a place of debauchery and excess. We need to persistently smear Meredith City before him instead. Since he’s an Easterner—and a conservative one at that—it’ll work perfectly, right!”

“Excellent. Let us proceed with this amicable decision.”