The morning broke over Planet #44 not with howling blizzards, but with warm golden sunshine from three smiling artificial suns.
Across the verdant valleys, crystal-clear lakes rippled in the gentle morning breeze. The cliffs that had once held frozen slave cages were now adorned with fifty thousand white marble villas, their terracotta roofs glowing warmly in the light.
At the planetary skyports, the scene was one of breathtaking celebration.
Ten thousand civilian passenger liners and independent shuttles were docked in long, orderly rows. Millions of travelers streamed down the ramps, their faces filled with wonder as they took deep breaths of fresh, pine-scented air.
They were not wealthy aristocrats or corrupt officials.
They were humble space-dock mechanics, rural planetary doctors, frontier teachers, and factory workers from fifty impoverished worlds along the Silk Road.
Among them was Nurse Xiao Li, who had spent the last five years working seventy-hour shifts in a cramped quarantine freighter on the rim. She held her seven-year-old daughter’s hand, her eyes moist as she stared at the blooming purple starlight lilies lining the walkway. Beside them walked Farmer Old Bai, a weathered hydroponic grower whose small crop had been squeezed by syndicate tariffs.
Near the arrival gate, Qin Haoran stood in a crisp white linen suit, proudly displaying his Taichu Morality Watch. His integrity score burned at a solid 81.0/100.
