Qin Haoran quickly rubbed his sleeve against his eyes.
He didn’t want anyone to see him crying. Standing in the shadow of the mainmast, the twenty-nine-year-old former heir of Jiangcheng’s wealthiest family took a deep, shuddering breath. He adjusted the collar of his bright yellow volunteer vest, making sure the fabric was pulled straight over his chest.
In his right hand, he clutched his golden broadcast megaphone so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
Around him on the deck, the core cast was celebrating.
Su Wan was calculating equilibrium indexes with Star-Weaver Mu Lan. Grandma Chen was handing out hot wontons to the soldiers. Little Guo’er was happily feeding candied hawthorns to her spirit rabbit, and Master Lu Jian was reviewing the blueprints of his new rest-towers. Every single one of them was a shining pillar of natural virtue, radiating the effortless grace of true saints.
Then footsteps sounded on the deck planks behind him.
Qin Haoran snapped to attention like a recruit on inspection day. He wiped his nose on his palm and turned around with an eager, forced grin.
“Chairman Lin!” Qin Haoran barked, his voice cracking slightly. “The public address system is fully operational! The broadcast antennas have locked onto forty thousand planetary comm relays! The volunteer brigade is ready to deploy!”
