“Our flying courtyard needs a hull upgrade to handle Rank 10 Atmospheric Pressure and Ink-Gales?”
Standing on the cedar veranda of the [Galactic Flying Courtyard]. Thirty-six-year-old Gu Changsheng looked fondly around the familiar home that had carried his family all the way. A snowy lane in Frost-Pine Town on Planet Canglan (#001) to the center of the 1,000-Galaxy Cluster.
Right in the middle of the courtyard stood the original Frost-Pine Town Plum Tree, its branches heavy with pink-and-gold blossoms. Beside it lay Su Nuannuan’s neatly hoed vegetable garden bursting with plump spirit-cabbages and sweet radishes. Under the eaves sat the clay bread oven, the cast-iron wok stove, the long cedar dinner table.
The two well-worn wooden rocking chairs where he and Empress Luo Qingxue sat every evening after the kids finished their homework.
“First Founder Gu Mu, Grandpa Yao,”
Gu Changsheng said with a warm grin, resting his palm against the main cedar pillar of the porch, “we can reinforce the hull all the way to the ceiling of the universe. I have one non-negotiable architectural rule: when we upgrade our [Galactic Flying Courtyard], it stays a warm wooden courtyard. I don’t want a cold, sterile metal battleship—I want our Frost-Pine plum tree, our vegetable patch, our kitchen stove.
