Yin Yue wakes up on a space station with low oxygen, bad coffee, and worse life choices.
There was a soft hum, a flicker of artificial dawn and then..
> 💻 SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE.
🌌 LOCATION: ORBITAL TRADE STATION B9
🛏️ STATUS: ALIVE (REGRETTABLY)
☕ COFFEE RATION REMAINING: 1/3 CUP
💬 "GOOD MORNING, HOST! HOW'S THE EXISTENTIAL DREAD?"
Yin Yue groaned not because of the voice but because of everything.
He cracked open one eye inside the coffin-sized sleeping pod and muttered, "Why am I awake?"
AI 520 chirped, "You're late for your shift."
"I don't care about my shift."
"You're very late for your shift."
"Let the trade system collapse."
There was a long pause.
Then, in a softer voice:
"Would you like to float into deep space again?"
Yin Yue sat up grumpily, alive and mostly caffeinated.
His uniform was rumpled. His hair was rebellious. His will to live? Low.
He crawled out of the pod, banged his elbow on the edge, and whispered, "I hate this station."
> 💬 AI 520: "STATION B9 IS AT 89% FUNCTIONAL CAPACITY."
💬 AI 520: "YOUR MOOD IS NOT."
He made it to the shared bathroom, dodging three maintenance droids and one overeager cleaning bot that sprayed his shoes with lemon mist.
After ten minutes of brushing his teeth with recycled mint paste, he stared into the mirror.
His own face blinked back human, average, a little pale under the blue-tinted lights.
"Remind me why I'm here again?" he muttered.
AI 520 buzzed:
"You are the proud Assistant Logistics Clerk of the Intergalactic Trade Authority, B9 branch."
Yin Yue deadpanned, "Proud."
"You manage cargo manifests, oxygen billing, toilet paper allotments.."
"I want to die."
"...and fleet docking schedules!"
"I really want to die."
> ☠️ SYSTEM NOTE: EXISTENTIAL CRISIS DETECTED
💘 ML DETECTION: PENDING
🍵 SOUP ALERT: TRIGGER IMMINENT
Yin Yue sighed, pulled on his slightly-wrinkled uniform. Tugged his badge off the floor.
And stepped into another day of underpaid, underappreciated space-adjacent bureaucracy.
Yin Yue arrives at his cubicle in the bowels of bureaucracy. The logistics floor smelled like warm circuits and despair.
Yin Yue stepped over a sleeping intern, dodged a hovering datapad, and slid into his cubicle like a man entering battle.
He turned on his terminal. It beeped once then exploded with requests.
> 🔁 MANIFEST BACKLOG: 319 FILES
🚀 SHUTTLE 82-B DOCKING REQUEST: URGENT
🧻 TOILET ROLL SHIPMENT: ACCIDENTALLY SENT TO MILITARY BASE
💬 "PLEASE ADVISE IF SHIPMENT IS WEAPONIZED."
Yin Yue sipped his emergency caffeine ration one-third cup, lukewarm, still better than reality and muttered, "I should've stayed unconscious."
AI 520 buzzed.
"You were never technically unconscious. You were simply forcibly reassigned by an unknown transmigration system into a low-rank cosmic logistics role..."
"I get it."
"...with no exit clause or union."
Yin Yue groaned and began rerouting supply crates. Three went to the right place. Two disappeared into space. One labeled "delicate frozen dairy" went to a sulfur planet.
"Oops," Yin Yue said flatly.
An hour later, he stood before the vending machine.
It beeped, processed his ID, and delivered a single cube labeled: "Meal Unit: Flavorless Joy."
Yin Yue stared at it. Then kicked the machine hard.
It spit out a second cube.He kicked it again.
A third.
> 💥 SYSTEM 520:
⚠️ HOST ENGAGED IN PETTY VENDING MACHINE WARFARE
🍲 COMBAT RATIONS OBTAINED: 3
🧠 HOST MOOD: Slightly Improved
Yin Yue collected his pathetic bounty and trudged toward the cafeteria.
His shift wasn't even halfway over and he still hadn't had real food. No danger, no drama just a normal day in space or so he thought.
All Yin Yue wants is soup. All the station wants is chaos. He walks into the cafeteria.
The cafeteria was halfway between "military mess" and "food prison."
Metal tables, humming floor panels, flickering lights. Yin Yue stood in line behind two tentacle officers and a sleep-deprived botanist.
The stew looked edible well barely. He grabbed a tray, a spoon, and approached the self-serve vat with hope in his heart.
"Don't betray me," he whispered to the ladle.
Then the gravity cut out.
> 💥 SYSTEM 520:
⚠️ GRAVITY MALFUNCTION DETECTED
🚨 MEAL UNITS IN FLIGHT
🧠 HOST STATUS: UNSTABLE TRAJECTORY
The soup lifted first, then the tray, then Yin Yue and before he could scream, curse, or salvage his lunch—
He collided, chest-first, with a tall, immovable object. No its not object its a man.
Tall, sharp-shouldered and dressed in Galactic Enforcement Fleet black with very cold eyes.
Yin Yue clutched at the stranger's uniform and wheezed, "Sorry..gravity..I didn't mean.."
The man said nothing just caught his elbow. Stabilized both of them midair with one sharp motion and stared.
> 💘 ML DETECTED
🐺 FILE ID: COMMANDER LANG ZHU
🫠 HOST REACTION: Immediate Shutdown
Yin Yue felt himself blush. Felt his entire body float one inch closer.
Felt Lang Zhu's grip tighten slightly not painful, just firm.
Then.. Lang Zhu looked down.
"You're bleeding."
Yin Yue blinked. "What?"
Lang Zhu touched his collar. Held up his fingers. Red it a chili oil.
Yin Yue choked. "That's not blood. That's soup."
Lang Zhu's eyebrow twitched. "You hit me with soup?"
"I didn't mean to!"
Lang Zhu stared at the floating spoon between them.
Then slowly..so slowly..drifted them both back toward the floor as gravity sputtered back on.
> 💘 TENSION LEVEL: SCORCHING
🍲 CASUALTY: 1 Tray, 1 Dignity
🫠 HOST STATUS: Humiliated but Intrigued
Yin Yue backed away.
Bowed stiffly. "Sorry, Commander. Very sorry."
Lang Zhu said nothing just looked at him one more beat .. then turned and walked away.
Yin Yue stood there, soup-soaked and stunned.
Then whispered:
"…I think I'm in love."
Yin Yue files an official incident report about the cafeteria disaster. It's petty, it's professional and it's entirely humiliating.
Back at his cubicle, Yin Yue opened the incident portal and stared at the blinking form titled:
> INCIDENT TYPE: MINOR COLLISION (FOOD-RELATED)
He sighed and clicked it.
Typed:
> "Subject: Gravity failure in Cafeteria 4. Victim: my entire life.
Object collided with: Commander of the Galactic Enforcement Fleet. Soup status: airborne. Physical damage: None. Emotional damage: severe.
I apologize. I would like to request gravitational compensation and possibly a new face."
He hit send button and felt a little better. Until ten minutes later someone cleared their throat behind him.
Yin Yue turned and almost fell out of his chair. Commander Lang Zhu stood at the edge of his cubicle.
Holding a printed copy of the report.
> 💥 SYSTEM 520:
🛑 HOST STATUS: Cardiac Overload
🧾 ML STATUS: Responding In Person
💘 ML ATTENTION: Laser Focus
Lang Zhu didn't speak right away. Just handed over the report now signed at the bottom in perfect, aggressive cursive.
"Approved," he said.
Yin Yue blinked. "What?"
"You requested compensation."
"That was a joke!"
"You want a new face?"
"Metaphorically!"
Lang Zhu tilted his head.
"You'll keep this one."
Yin Yue's brain completely froze. Lang Zhu looked at him for one long, unreadable moment then turned and walked away again.
Leaving only his signature and the scent of pepper oil.
Yin Yue whispered, "I think I just got flirted with. Through paperwork."
> 🫠 HOST STATUS: Emotionally Incinerated
💘 ML FLIRT METHOD: Bureaucratic Violence
💬 AI 520: "THIS IS A COURTSHIP. YOU'RE BEING COURTED."
Yin Yue covered his face with the report.
"I hate space."
Yin Yue tries to go back to his normal work life. He files more reports. Tries to forget about the soup, the stare and the signature.
Yin Yue sat in his chair with hands on keyboard, heart in his mouth, he was fine and he was great.
He was very calmly drinking cold tea and ignoring the burning sensation crawling down his spine like someone with fleet-commander-level shoulders had just stared into his soul and walked off with it.
Its totally normal and its totally fine.
> 💬 AI 520: "YOU'RE HAVING A SYMPATHETIC REACTION TO POWERFUL JAWLINES."
💬 AI 520: "THIS IS COMMON IN BUREAUCRATIC MATES."
💬 AI 520: "SHOULD I FILE A SECOND INCIDENT REPORT?"
Yin Yue threw a paperclip at his monitor. Then took a breath and opened his work inbox.
One new message.
From: Commander Lang Zhu
Subject: Incident Report 004582
Attachment: "Amended with field notes. For future interactions."
Yin Yue stared at it, then clicked.
> "You handled the gravity shift well. Your balance is poor but your reflexes are fast.
In the future, avoid standing directly beneath liquid during technical failures.
I recommend practicing with one hand on the table during power surges.
If further incidents occur, contact me directly."
Yin Yue stopped moving and breathing.
> 💥 SYSTEM 520:
💘 ML ATTENTION LEVEL: Direct Channel
🫠 HOST STATUS: Screaming Internally
📈 FLIRTING: Confirmed via Workplace Protocol
Yin Yue whispered, "I'm going to die."
AI 520 beeped helpfully:
"Would you like me to forward this to your romantic log?"
"NO."
"Too late."
Yin Yue buried his face in his arms then peeked at the message again. Especially the last line.
> "Contact me directly."
Yin Yue smiled not widely but just a little.
The elevator made a soft hum. That was its only warning.
Yin Yue pressed the button for Deck 3 and took a sip of his perfectly mediocre tea, already rehearsing the list of supply code errors he needed to correct before noon.
Then..just before the doors closed Lang Zhu stepped in.
> 💥 SYSTEM 520:
🛗 HOST ENVIRONMENT: Enclosed with ML
💘 ML PROXIMITY: 1.2 Meters
🫠 HOST STATUS: Instant Panic
Lang Zhu nodded once in greeting and Yin Yue nodded back too fast and spilled a drop of tea on his shirt.
Silence. Elevator hum again.
Yin Yue looked down. "Deck 3?"
Lang Zhu replied, "Deck 2."
They stood in silence for exactly three more seconds before..
> ⚠️ ELEVATOR ERROR
💥 GRAVITY STABILIZER: REBOOTING
The lights flickered. The floor tilted.
Yin Yue lurched slightly forward straight into Lang Zhu's chest.
Lang Zhu didn't move just caught him again.
Yin Yue muttered, "Do you have some kind of gravity curse?"
Lang Zhu didn't answer just reached up. Tugged lightly at the wrinkle in Yin Yue's collar. Smoothed it down and said nothing.
Yin Yue stared at the ceiling.
> 💘 ML HAND PLACEMENT: Collar, Brief
🧠 HOST INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: [Redacted for Dramatic Screaming]
🫠 ELEVATOR VIBE: Unbearably Tense
The lights steadied, the floor leveled and the elevator doors opened.
Lang Zhu stepped out without looking back while Yin Yue stayed behind still holding his tea.
And whispered, "I'm not surviving this."
AI 520 buzzed cheerfully:
"Probability of emotional collapse: 86%!"