Zhang Wei wiped the thin layer of dust off the old radar panel in his workshop. Its needle, which usually just swayed lazily, pointing to locations within Xianzhou, was now stuck rigidly on a coordinate in a far-off sector of space. A faint light blinked with an unfamiliar pattern.
"Huh... someone from a planet far away has ordered a coffin," he muttered, his voice hoarse and full of disbelief. Orders usually came from within Xianzhou, or at most from partners on the Luofu. But this... this was different. The planet's name wasn't even listed in his ship's outdated database, only a code: XC-72-Phi.
He touched the screen, zooming in on the star map. The signal was weak, as if transmitted through layers of mist and forgotten time.
"If only the other Starskiff was functional, I wouldn't have to make such a long delivery," he sighed, his eyes fixed on the old Starskiff parked in the warehouse. The Dusty Dragon—that's what he called it. Its other engine could only manage a weak purr, not enough for a heavy interstellar jump. The journey to XC-whatever-that-was would take weeks. Navigating through desolate trade routes, perhaps even crossing uncharted territory.
But something nagged at his soul. This wasn't a normal order. Usually, people ordered coffins after a death. This signal... felt different. It was as if this coffin was ordered for someone still alive, or for something that was... waiting.
His finger tapped on his scarred wooden desk. Curiosity—an emotion nearly extinct in him since the Swarm Disaster—began to gnaw. What was happening on that planet? Why would someone from there call upon a carpenter from Xianzhou?
Taking a deep breath as if to gather courage, his calloused hand opened the communicator channel. The old machine whirred and crackled to life.
"The Dusty Dragon to the client on XC-72-Phi. Order... confirmed." His voice sounded more confident than he felt. "Estimated arrival... three weeks. Please provide safe landing zone coordinates."
He pressed the 'send' button, then fell silent, staring at the blank screen, waiting for a reply that might never come.
Then, a short message came through. Just one line, written in fragmented basic code, as if typed in a hurry or by a trembling hand.
"Hurry. He has heard."
A chill ran down Zhang Wei's spine. He? Who was 'he'?
Suddenly, this coffin delivery was no longer just a job. It was an invitation to a mystery—a snare he might have agreed to enter. And those final words echoed in his mind, transforming a simple delivery mission into a gamble whose stakes he didn't yet understand.
He looked at the finished coffin, made from the sturdy, fragrant Arbor Ambrosial wood. Now, the wood felt heavier, as if it held not just an empty space for a body, but a dangerous promise he had to keep.
With forced, determined steps, Zhang Wei walked towards The Dusty Dragon. A long journey awaited. And at its end, perhaps, it wasn't just a customer, but an answer—or an end—waiting for him.
With a tired pneumatic hiss, the door of The Dusty Dragon sealed shut. The sound severed all noise from the workshop, leaving a heavy silence inside the cockpit. Zhang Wei dropped his body into the pilot's seat, its leather cracked with age. The impression left by his form over the years felt comfortable, like a familiar grave.
His calloused hands danced across the console panel, pressing a series of buttons and sliding worn levers. One by one, indicator lights flickered on, casting a pale green glow on his weary face. The starskiff's engines roared to life with a low rumble, the vibration traveling from the floor up his spine, like a metal heart freshly awakened.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lubricating oil, Arbor wood, and bitter memories.
"Ruo Yan... Wei Yun..." he whispered into the still air, as if their names were a protective charm. "Wish me a safe journey..."
As his eyelids fluttered shut, the starskiff's vibrations and the engine's hum carried him away, not into space, but to a morning twelve years in the past.
12 Years Ago
The morning sun filtered through the window, illuminating dust particles dancing in the warm living room. The air was filled with the sound of cheerful laughter.
"Dad! Dad! Look, look! I can make a replica of the Arbor Tree from scrap wood!"
Wei Yun, a seven-year-old boy, proudly held up a simple yet detailed wooden structure. His small hands were still covered in wood shavings, and his eyes shone with the pure pride unique to a child.
Zhang Wei, whose hair was not yet streaked with grey, laughed heartily. His voice was still full and warm, not yet hoarsened by long silences. He scooped up his son, lifting him high until the little boy squealed with delight.
"Hahaha! Look at that! The detail is amazing! You'll surely be a great carver, even greater than your dad!" he praised, his heart melting at the light in his son's eyes.
From the kitchen, the tempting aroma of a warm breakfast wafted. Ruo Yan, his wife, appeared with a smoking wok in one hand and a dish towel in the other. Her beautiful face glistened with sweat and a smile.
"Alright, alright, my two heroes," she said, her voice soft as a bell. "Put the wood toys away for now. Breakfast is ready. Wei Yun's special favorite fried rice."
Zhang Wei set Wei Yun down and approached his wife. He quickly kissed Ruo Yan's cheek, making her pretend to be angry while swatting his dusty shoulder with the towel. "You," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with affection.
In that moment, life felt so perfect and eternal. His wood workshop was a palace, the old Starskiff a dream toy for future family adventures, and their biggest worry was the fried rice getting burnt.
Back to the Present
BRTZZZT!
A short electrical spark shot from the panel to his left, followed by a monotonous warning from the navigation system.
"Warning: Interstellar Jump Stability at 45%. Abort flight recommended."
The flash from the spark wiped away the beautiful shadows of the past. The smiling face of Ruo Yan and the joyful laughter of Wei Yun shattered, replaced by the grim cockpit and the threatening warning.
Zhang Wei's chest tightened. His breath, once even, became short and shallow.
They... They were the reason he had to keep going. But they were also the reason every step felt like walking on shards of glass.
He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He forced himself to focus.
"There will be no aborting the flight," he growled at his machine, his voice gravelly. "I have a promise to keep."
With a resolve hardened by memory and pain, his hand gripped the control lever. The metal heart of The Dusty Dragon roared louder, protesting but ultimately obeying.
The starskiff slid slowly out of the hangar, leaving the shadow of his workshop behind, and carried him into the cold darkness of space—a small vessel carrying a father, a coffin, and the ghosts of his past, toward a mysterious planet and an unknown threat.
The starscape beyond The Dusty Dragon's canopy was not a silent darkness. It was filled with the remnants of memory. Every twinkling star seemed to transform into the small, shining eyes of Wei Yun. Every speck of interstellar dust floating in the distance formed the faint silhouette of Ruo Yan, smiling.
"I have to be able to forget what happened..." Zhang Wei hissed to himself, his hands gripping the control levers until they were pale. The words were an empty mantra, an unanswered prayer. How could he possibly forget something that had become a part of every breath he took?
FLASHBACK (The Swarm Disaster):
Ruo Yan's Last Message His mind raced, hurling him back to that devastating day. He remembered Ruo Yan's final message over the communicator, her voice broken by the roar of chaos in the background. "Zhang Wei! Where are you? They... they're everywhere! Wei Yun and I—" The signal cut out abruptly, replaced by a piercing static hum. That voice still echoed in his dreams, waking him in a cold sweat with a pounding heart.
The Devastating Discovery He remembered the frantic fight to reach his home. He remembered finding it—not their bodies, but Wei Yun's wooden replica of the Arbor Ambrosial, lying amidst the rubble, cracked and trampled. Beside it lay Ruo Yan's simple jade pendant, its string broken. It was the final proof of their existence. The coffins he later built for them held only those two items. A tomb without bodies.
RETURN TO THE PRESENT:
"There's a customer waiting for me," he muttered, trying to divert his thoughts to his current mission. He looked at the coffin secured safely in the cargo hold. Its Arbor Ambrosial wood gleamed softly in the cabin light. This coffin was a reminder of his profession, a lifeline he clung to desperately.
Suddenly, the navigation radar detected something. An anomaly. Not a planet, not an asteroid. Something... organic. Adrift in his flight path. Something large.
Carefully, he guided The Dusty Dragon closer. As the visual sensors captured the object, his breath caught.
It was a shipwreck.
But no ordinary ship.It was the derelict of an ancient Xianzhou Starskiff, perhaps from an even older generation. Its badly damaged hull showed signs he knew all too well: gashes and holes made by sharp claws and teeth. The Swarm.
He looked closer. Among the metal fragments, something glinted. Using the ship's manipulator arm, he carefully retrieved it and brought it into the cabin.
It was a personal journal, encased in a metal sheath that had kept it intact. With trembling hands, Zhang Wei opened it. The writing on the first page made his blood run cold:
"Day 43 stranded. They are still outside, scratching at the hull. The sound... The sound never stops. But we cannot give up. We must get back to our families. My wife, Li, and my son, Xiao Ming, must be waiting..."
The words were a direct blow to his chest. A husband. A father. A survivor, just like him. Stranded, alone, and surrounded by the same nightmare.
Did this person make it home? Or was this journal the only proof he ever existed?
The mysterious message from planet XC-72-Phi suddenly felt more urgent, more personal. Was his customer a survivor too? Was he also a father who had lost everything? Was the "He" mentioned in the message related to The Swarm?
His heart pounding, Zhang Wei placed the journal beside him. This journey was no longer just a delivery. It was a message in a bottle, sent from one survivor to another. A snare that had pulled him from his grave in Xianzhou and cast him back into the darkness that had once destroyed him.
He took a deep breath, this time with a new resolve forged from shared pain.
"Alright," he said to the darkness of space, his voice louder and steadier than before. "I'm coming."
The Dusty Dragon continued its journey, carrying a man and his ghosts, towards a fated meeting on a trembling planet.
The silent darkness of space was suddenly shattered by a shrill shriek from the radar panel. Not a normal 'beep,' but a deafening, continuous screech—the highest-level danger signal.
"Huh? What in the...?" Zhang Wei muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the screen. A small red dot appeared from the void, and in an instant, it blossomed into a blazing crimson mass, moving at an impossible speed. It wasn't an asteroid, and it wasn't another ship. Its movement pattern was chaotic, unpredictable, like a giant insect.
Skree. Skriiiitch. Garrr...
The sound froze his blood. A noise like metal being scraped, clawed, and torn by something sharp and powerful. It was coming from outside the ship, right behind the cargo hold where the coffin was stored.
"Gah! Don't tell me...!?" His heart pounded in his throat. The bad memories from 12 years ago ambushed him. The sound of roaring wings, screams, and the same claws that had torn through the roofs of homes on Xianzhou. Them. It felt impossible, but his primal instinct screamed: The Swarm.
The Dusty Dragon was violently thrown sideways, as if struck by a giant hammer. Emergency alarms wailed, flooding the cabin with blinking red light. Zhang Wei was thrown from his seat, saved only by his seatbelt digging painfully into his chest.
"Damn it! Agh... Hold on, you!" he yelled at his ship, both hands grabbing the wildly shaking control levers. It was like trying to tame a raging bull. The ship spun out of control, its artificial gravity flickering on and off, making him nauseous and dizzy.
From the side window, for a split second, he saw it. A dark form, multi-winged and scaly, with compound eyes that reflected his ship's blinking lights. A Scarabaeid, one of the Swarm's soldiers. Its long claws scraped against the hull again, tearing through metal plates like paper.
"I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO LAND!" he screamed, realizing a fight in the vacuum was suicide. With the last of his strength and hope, he pointed The Dusty Dragon's nose towards the nearest planet—a hostile-looking brown and grey sphere in the distance. It was his only chance.
But the planet's gravity pulled him in with brutal force. His ship went into a free fall, entering the atmosphere at too steep an angle.
GGGGRRRRAAAAAWWWWWW!
Atmospheric friction turned the ship's exterior into a flying oven. Flames of orange and red blazed across the canopy, scorching his view. The roar was deafening, louder than any engine. His seat grew burning hot, and the smell of melting metal filled the cabin.
"DAMN IT!!!" he roared, fighting desperately with the control lever, trying to find a shallower angle. But it was too late. The ship was no longer a vessel, but a meteor with a predetermined fate.
BOOOOOM!
The impact was apocalyptic. His body was thrown forward, the seatbelt gripping his chest with sharp pain. The sound of crushing metal, shattering glass, and the ship's final warning screams deafened him before everything suddenly fell silent. His head hit something hard, and the world exploded into white stars before darkness swallowed everything.
Zhang Wei lost consciousness, trapped within the wreckage of his twisted metal ship, on an unknown, alien planet, with the threat of the Swarm possibly still lurking above.