Yan and Zhu Jue were completely unaware that a haloed figure had once appeared behind them as their roommate.
At the moment, the two were standing under the evening glow, carefully observing the behavior of the Twilight Mist Fruit.
"Jue Jue, it’s really changing!" Yan widened her eyes as she watched the fruit. Originally, its surface had been shrouded in a mist-like haze, but as Zhu Jue lifted the fruit box into the glow of the setting sun, the round little fruit began to transform bit by bit.
It was like… a gradient palette—the mist gradually dissipated, replaced by layers of shifting hues, its skin continuously altering under the shifting colors of the twilight.
The shopkeeper at the Interdimensional Convenience Store had been telling the truth.
Who knew such a magical fruit existed in the world? Though, at this moment, whether it had even sprouted on that distant planet—who knew how many light-years away from Earth—was still a mystery.
"The wonders of nature’s ecosystems are truly incredible." Yan couldn’t even bring herself to blink, mesmerized by how the Twilight Mist Fruit transformed every second before her eyes.
"We forgot to ask the shopkeeper how long the fruit needs to be exposed to the twilight," Zhu Jue remarked.
Just how much exposure counted as "ripe enough to eat"?
Yan also regretted it—they had been so caught up in the novelty that they completely overlooked this detail.
After a moment’s thought, she said, "To be safe, let’s leave it out a little longer. Jue Jue, let me hold it for a while."
She reached out, offering her galaxy-patterned cup in exchange. Zhu Jue had been holding the box of Twilight Mist Fruit up high for quite some time now, and keeping it angled to catch the fading light was tiring.
Yan cradled the box in her hands, watching as the twilight seemed to pass right through her fingers. The fruit’s skin shifted between deep and light tones, its colors melting into a dreamy, ever-changing gradient. It looked less like something edible and more like an exquisite piece of art.
"So beautiful…" Yan held the box up, letting Zhu Jue snap a few photos with her phone. The fruit would be gone once eaten, so preserving a bit of its beauty was worth it.
The Twilight Mist Fruit was about the size of an Earth orange, but unlike oranges, it didn’t need peeling—it could be eaten whole.
Yet, there was no faucet nearby. Yan hesitated again. "Jue Jue, if we rinse it, will the colors wash off?"
They knew nothing about the habits of alien fruit!
Luckily, the skies were kind today—flaming clouds stretched across the horizon, and when Zhu Jue took the fruit back, its skin had grown even more vibrant.
Since the fruit was perfectly round, Yan mused, "It looks like a tiny planet covered in sunset clouds."
"If we posted a photo, people would probably think it’s some kind of decorative art piece. I bet tons of people would want to buy it."
By now, she was almost reluctant to eat it. Something this beautiful would brighten any room just by sitting on a table.
"What a shame we only stumbled upon that Interdimensional Convenience Store once. Otherwise, we could’ve asked the shopkeeper how to preserve the Twilight Mist Fruit—if it could be turned into a specimen," Yan sighed.
Mostly, they didn’t understand the exact mechanism behind how the fruit absorbed twilight. Would it retain this stunning visual effect if preserved?
At this moment, countless questions about the Twilight Mist Fruit swirled in Yan’s mind, but there was no one left to answer them.
A place as extraordinary as the Interdimensional Convenience Store was something most people would never set foot in, not even once in their lifetime.
Yan and Zhu Jue had been lucky enough to stumble upon it by chance. Though they only bought snacks, they were more than satisfied.
After all, contentment was the key to happiness in life!
The two of them held the Twilight Mist Fruit under the glow for nearly half an hour, until the deepening colors of the flaming clouds caused the fruit’s transformations to slow.
Finally, Yan and Zhu Jue returned to the bench, sitting under the crimson-streaked sky. They exchanged a glance.
Yan nodded firmly. "Jue Jue, let’s try it."
Her arms were sore from holding it up for so long. She just hoped the fruit wouldn’t taste terrible.
Not wanting to ruin its perfect form, they didn’t split it. Instead, Yan pulled a tissue from her pocket and wrapped it around the fruit.
Then she froze—another serious thought struck her.
The physiology of interstellar beings was probably different from theirs. As a "primitive" from ancient Earth, would eating this cause any issues?
After some consideration, Yan decided it was probably like ancient humans eating modern hybridized fruits and vegetables. Surely it wouldn’t be a problem… right?
With a decisive breath, she threw caution to the wind. A little dirt never hurt anyone. She took a bite.
"Huh? It’s crispy," Yan mumbled through her chewing.
She had taken a small bite, skin and flesh together, enough to reveal the fruit’s inner color. Then she held it up to Zhu Jue’s lips.
Zhu Jue took a bite from her hand, her clear eyes widening slightly.
The texture was… fascinating.
"The flesh is tangerine-red, just like the sunset," Yan observed, examining the part they had nibbled on.
The initial bite was crisp, like a fresh apple, with sweet juice spilling out.
The flesh of the fruit wasn’t soft and mushy but rather had a flowing texture—like wind, like mist—dissolving the moment it entered the mouth. It was magical.
Not only was it not unpleasant to eat, each bite offered a strangely delightful sensation. A faint sweetness spread across the palate, and the more they ate, the more addictive it became.
The two of them took turns finishing the Mistglow Fruit, which had no pit at all.
“How amazing. There’s not even a seed—has the future evolved to this point already?” Yan, who had a bit of a lazy streak, hated peeling fruit and dealing with pits. Anything she could eat straight away was perfect.
“It’s hard to imagine how this fruit even grows.” Yan and Zhu Jue leaned against each other, pondering for a moment before giving up. They’d leave that mystery for someone else to solve.
Having eaten one Mistglow Fruit to tide them over, they had bought two in total. The other one was reserved for absorbing the morning mist, just to see if it made any difference.
Yan then used a straw to open her Galaxy Cup, inserting the dark green bamboo tube inside.
Yan: “…”
Back at the interdimensional convenience store, she had watched as the shopkeeper, Lu Chen, opened six miniature planets in his cup. Hers, however, only had four.
Had she gotten the most basic version?
Casually sticking the straw into one of the tiny planets, she took a sip.
Her eyes instantly lit up. “This is so good, Zhu Jue! Try it!”
Zhu Jue took a sip and thought for a moment. “It tastes like a blend of tropical fruits.”
Yan nodded eagerly. “It’s a bit sweet, but the balance of sour and sweet is just perfect.”
The four planets Yan had uncovered each held something different: one had a texture like chilled jelly or agar, another was a sea salt-flavored gelatin, and the third contained some kind of juice—first sour, then bitter, but with a lingering sweetness afterward. When she tasted that one, Yan’s face twisted in reaction.
After finishing the Mistglow Fruit and the Galaxy Cup on the path, the snacks didn’t seem like much, but they were surprisingly filling.
Having polished off two treats already, Yan pulled out a chocolate-flavored nutrient pack but hesitated. Best to save it for when they really needed it.
Today, their taste buds had already been thoroughly bombarded by interstellar snacks. It wouldn’t do to finish everything at once—better to leave something to look forward to.
After all… once these interstellar snacks were gone, there’d be no way to get more.
“I probably won’t be hungry for dinner,” Yan mused, patting her stomach. She had no idea how calorie-dense these snacks were, but for now, dinner seemed unnecessary.
Yan and Zhu Jue had lingered on the path for quite a while, from waiting for the sunset until the sky darkened, before finally packing up and heading back to the dorm.
“Zhu Jue, I’ll keep the stuff with me,” Yan said after a moment’s thought.
Zhu Jue nodded. “Even if we don’t know whether this ‘interstellar’ is the same as that one, it’s better to be cautious.”
After all, Ye Ping’an was a halo-bearer who possessed the “Interstellar Livestream.” To this day, Yan and Zhu Jue still couldn’t be sure if he was capable of obtaining anything from the interstellar realm.
Yan carried the bag back to the dorm. Since these snacks couldn’t exactly be shown off, she had no choice but to stash them in her closet.
Luckily, she was the only one in the room at the moment—her roommates were all out, sparing her the trouble of hiding things like a thief.
After shopping and watching a movie with Zhu Jue, spending a long time in the interdimensional convenience store, and then lingering outside on campus for nearly two hours, Yan took advantage of her roommates’ absence to enjoy a leisurely solo shower.
Just as she was blow-drying her hair, Yi Zhi walked in, looking exhausted.
“You’re back,” Yan said, fingers combing quickly through her hair.
“Yeah.” Yi Zhi sank into her chair with a long exhale.
Another day of picking, packing, and shipping—she’d been buried in work inside her space for hours.
It was seriously exhausting!
By now, Yan’s hair was about 80% dry. As she bent her head to brush it out, the high-powered hairdryer blew a gust of air toward the floor, stirring up a patch of dark soil.
“There’s dirt on the floor. Yi Zhi, you look so tired—don’t tell me you spent the whole day in the experimental fields?” Yan remarked offhandedly.
Yi Zhi: !
She glanced at the soles of her shoes. Oh no. She’d forgotten to change them when she first entered her space and had walked around for a bit before switching to work shoes. She must have tracked some of the space’s soil out without realizing it.
Was Yan mentioning the experimental fields to test her?
Instantly on high alert, Yi Zhi scrambled for a response until she remembered the flower market she’d visited the previous week.
“I went to a chrysanthemum nursery. They have specially treated soil there—I must have stepped in it without noticing,” she said.
“Looking at chrysanthemums again? I thought you were busy with the fruit thing. You’ve been so elusive this week.”
The fruit thing… Did Yan already know the fruit was hers?
Yi Zhi’s pupils contracted. Was this another probe?
She didn’t outright reject the idea but vaguely replied, “It’s been busy. There are too many orders. We have to coordinate with the family about harvesting, ripeness, and logistics, especially since these are guests from Chu Shen’s side—we can’t afford to lose face.”
Yan let out an “Oh.” She had only asked casually, but upon hearing Yi Zhi’s response, she couldn’t help offering a suggestion.
“For fruit deliveries, SF Express is better. If the destination isn’t too far from Bin City, it can arrive the next day. It’s also convenient for our own purchases.”
Once her hair was dry, Yan cleaned up the fallen strands, applied some oil, and sat at her desk to watch videos.
She occasionally chuckled softly while watching, but Yi Zhi, who had her back turned, felt anything but calm.
Earlier, Yan’s questions had felt like a relentless barrage, leaving Yi Zhi dizzy and overwhelmed.
On the surface, Yan had seemed to speak offhandedly, never pressing further before switching to another topic.
Yet every casual question struck right at Yi Zhi’s weak points, making her heart race each time.
With only the two of them in the dorm, Yi Zhi quickly showered and cleaned her shoes. When she stepped out of the bathroom, her sharp ears caught the sound of Yan’s video playing aloud.
“Plant mutations are often related to their environment…”
Yi Zhi: !
Ears perked up.jpg
Why was Yan suddenly watching something like this? Normally, she only browsed celebrity gossip, travel vlogs, or mukbang unboxing videos.
Yi Zhi feigned nonchalance as she asked, “What’s this about plant mutations? Since when did you get into this, Yan?”
Seeing her emerge, Yan paused the educational video.
Truthfully, she had been curious about how the Mistglow Fruit grew and had simply searched terms like “strange fruits,” “Earth plants,” and “unique flora” on Bilibili to see if there were any unusual fruits on Earth.
But she obviously couldn’t say that to Yi Zhi. Instead, she offered a white lie: “Just random browsing. It popped up on my homepage, so I clicked on it.”
Yi Zhi let out an “Oh.” Though she appeared indifferent, her mind raced with speculation.
Is Yan testing me? Black soil, fruits, plant mutations…
It’s like she’s dancing all over my secrets!
Yi Zhi refused to believe Yan was clueless. Looking back, every word Yan had said felt like a deliberate hint.
“Yi Zhi, do you think we’ll ever have seedless mangoes, jackfruit, or durians with full chambers—fruit without pits or peels?” Yan suddenly asked.
She wondered what fruits and plants were like in the post-apocalyptic era Yi Zhi had come from.
Caught off guard by the abrupt question, Yi Zhi paused before answering thoughtfully, “Plant mutations adapt to their environment.”
“From a survival standpoint, traits like seedlessness are more of a human desire for convenience. For the fruit itself, it’s biologically altruistic—no seeds mean no reproduction. Under normal circumstances, I don’t think it would naturally occur.”
She answered seriously. Even in the apocalypse, plants evolved toward aggression and survival, not self-sacrifice for human appetites.
Yan’s question had come out of nowhere, almost as if she were steering the conversation elsewhere entirely.
“I see.” Yan seemed deep in thought before posing another question.
“Then, do you think there could ever be… fruits that change flavor based on weather? Like tasting different during rain, smog, or wind?”
Given current agricultural technology, Yan doubted she’d live to see such a thing.
The question left Yi Zhi stunned once more.
As she debated whether to cautiously reveal a little to Yan, the dorm door swung open—Ding Ling had returned. Yi Zhi immediately fell silent.
......
An hour earlier,
Ye Ping’an, still shaken, had retreated to another path, his eyes glued to the barrage of comments on his phone.
[Speaking of Mistglow Fruit, this year’s yield dropped again, right? They’re so expensive now. Most people buy them as gifts rather than for eating—‘Love her? Gift her Mistglow Fruit, share the sunset’s sweetness.’]
[Exactly! The price is inflated by those marketing gimmicks. Out here in the remote star systems, Mistglow Fruit couple tours are all the rage… ‘Chasing the mist together.’]
[So, host, which planet is this ‘Ancient Earth Restoration’ built on? Forget the infrastructure—how did you even find so many pureblood humans?]
[The host won’t answer. Give it up.]
[What if… this is actually a lost branch of Ancient Earth? Maybe they migrated and survived in some unknown star system. That’s the only way to explain the accuracy of this restoration!]
The viewers in the interstellar livestream had once again begun their daily speculation about the streamer's background. Now, with the appearance of "Mistglow Fruits" and "Galaxy Cups," their imaginations had grown even wilder—some even suggesting he was a descendant of the lost Blue Planet.
As usual, Ye Ping'an remained silent. The camera wasn’t pointed at him, so the audience couldn’t see the baffled expression on his face.
In the past, his greatest joy during streams had been watching these star-faring folks, so utterly unfamiliar with his world, marvel at everything and spin bizarre, outrageous theories about him.
But now, Ye Ping'an was thoroughly unsettled.
The viewers had mistaken Zhu Jue and Yan for actors in his setup, laughing at the "bloopers" and poorly constructed set.
Yet, in this livestream with hundreds of thousands of interstellar viewers, only he knew the truth:
This *was* the Blue Planet—the ancestral homeworld, the cradle of civilization they spoke of in awe.
Which raised the question: *Why were futuristic interstellar snacks in the hands of his roommate and his girlfriend?*
Ye Ping'an walked quietly through the campus, his mind racing through a storm of possibilities. He scanned the barrage of comments, gleaning whatever clues he could.
He couldn’t ask outright, but fortunately, as new viewers flooded the stream, older ones stepped in to explain.
**[It’s really a Galaxy Cup—the same ones we played with as kids. I *saw* that girl holding one, and the guy was using the twilight glow to speed up the ripening of those Mistglow Fruits!]**
**[Great news! We can confirm the streamer’s replica planet has twilight skies!]**
**[Hey, what’s the most spheres you’ve ever gotten from a Galaxy Cup? I heard someone once pulled seven! Back in the day, they even had grand prize blind boxes every year.]**
**[These two actors are total immersion-breakers. You can tell from how fast the streamer walked away—he’s pissed, and things are about to get serious.]**
Reading this, Ye Ping'an nearly choked.
*Pissed?* How could he be pissed when he didn’t even know who these two *were*?
His interstellar livestream system had strict rules—any tips or gifts from the future couldn’t be exchanged for advanced tech, lest it trigger a butterfly effect. So why did *Zhu Jue and Yan* have access to futuristic snacks?
His grip tightened unconsciously on the selfie stick. *Were they also connected to the interstellar world?*
Had aliens landed on Blue Planet? Or were they time-travelers who’d brought these items themselves?
The thought made his face twist in disbelief.
But then again, Zhu Jue had never acted suspiciously in their daily interactions.
If the two had accidentally stumbled upon the Mistglow Fruits and Galaxy Cups, they wouldn’t have known to expose them to twilight—Ye Ping'an had seen the comments explaining that Mistglow Fruits *required* twilight to ripen.
This was clearly an alien fruit, with habits and a name no one on Blue Planet would know.
So… were they interstellar beings after all?
Circling back, Ye Ping'an retraced his interactions with Zhu Jue, searching for any overlooked clues.
Since they were in different majors and Zhu Jue was the textbook definition of a love-struck college kid—either in class or glued to his girlfriend—their dorm interactions had been perfectly ordinary: grabbing meals, gaming together.
*He seemed like any other regular student!*
…Wait.
Something clicked.
Zhu Jue was the *only* roommate who’d never asked about his livestream.
Lin Fan had asked about his username. Xiao Qingnang often peeked at his streaming phone. Yuan Ye had asked if he’d signed with a guild. Chu Shen had inquired about his content niche.
But Zhu Jue? Nothing.
No questions, no curiosity—as if it didn’t exist to him.
Most people would at least glance over when someone was streaming.
Not him. Zhu Jue acted like he had zero interest.
Ye Ping'an had initially chalked it up to his roommate respecting boundaries, minding his own business.
But what if… *Zhu Jue already knew what his livestream was?*
What if he avoided interfering *because* he knew?
Every time Ye Ping'an announced he was going live, Zhu Jue never lingered—immediately dragging Xiao Qingnang or Yuan Ye away, as if afraid to waste even a second of his stream time.
He never hovered, never peeked at the phone. Instead, he’d put literal *distance* between them the moment the stream started.
That one time… when Lin Fan’s family had treated them to a meal, Ye Ping'an had turned on his stream afterward in the market. The closest people to him then had been the lovebirds.
Yan had glanced back at him once before turning away.
At the time, Ye Ping'an hadn’t thought much of it. But now, looking back—had that glance been to confirm whether he was streaming?
Were these two… *monitors* from his livestream platform? Assigned to keep tabs on him locally?
Ye Ping'an suddenly recalled that back when he was slacking off after obtaining the system, it had warned him—if he kept delaying the start of his livestream, spacetime inspectors would appear to strip the system away and unbind it, collecting temporal data or something along those lines.
His viewer rewards couldn’t be exchanged for anything of ultra-modern technological value, but he’d never thought to try trading them for "snacks" before. Now, it occurred to him that cross-temporal delivery might not be impossible. Such a thing probably wouldn’t cost much energy.
If that were the case… could Zhu Jue and Yan actually be interstellar inspectors quietly stationed on Blue Earth?
