Chapter 135: Cracked Shell, Crying Baby
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Lin Xu scratched the soft belly Blackie had rolled out for him and speared a clean slice of meat, holding it out in front of the rabbit-cat. Blackie immediately flipped over, snatched the meat from Lin Xu’s hand, and hopped off the dining table to scamper away.
Snowy, who had been sitting obediently at the edge of the table, tilted their head with pure, innocent eyes fixed on Lin Xu. Their short tail twitched ever so delicately, utterly adorable. Lin Xu couldn’t resist and offered it a piece of meat as well. Snowy grabbed the morsel and trotted off after Blackie, the two of them—one black, one white—side by side, happily munching away.
Somehow, Yuanxiao seemed to sense that both rabbit-cats had been fed. The egg started rolling again and again, bumping repeatedly into Heinrich’s arm. Heinrich glanced at Lin Xu. “Is Yuanxiao hungry too?”
“Maybe,” Lin Xu said. “Their feeding habits are pretty irregular.” Heinrich only ate a few bites before setting down his utensils. He cradled Yuanxiao in his arms and pulled a piece of green sea crystal from the pocket of his uniform. Glowing energy fluid began to seep from the cracked edges of the gem.
Heinrich’s expression didn’t change, but unlike usual, he didn’t drip the liquid directly into the egg’s opening. Instead, he let the glowing droplet hang from the edge of the eggshell, just outside the hole. The shimmering green drop wobbled slightly, giving off the rich, distinctive scent of energy.
This time, Yuanxiao couldn’t just lie back and wait for the liquid to reach their mouth. They had to move, sniffing and scooting toward the hole. After licking off a drop, they caught the scent of Heinrich’s leftover food and stretched forward eagerly. One small white paw gripped the edge of the shell, pulling their tiny body closer.
When Heinrich’s hand came near, Yuanxiao stuck out their pink tongue, licking up the last of the energy fluid. Heinrich kept a serious face, a crease forming between his brows, revealing none of the obvious amusement he took in teasing the baby dragon.
But the fun didn’t last. By the time Lin Xu had finished eating, Yuanxiao was already full. They had flopped back into the shell, now facing away from the opening. No matter how Heinrich tapped or shook the egg, the baby ignored him completely.
The crease in Heinrich’s brow deepened. Lin Xu shot him a look. “Let them sleep. You eat.”
Calmly, Heinrich placed the egg in his lap and picked up his utensils again. That night, Lin Xu went down to the S297’s storage room and pulled out a backup smart housekeeping robot. It stood about a meter tall, cylindrical in shape with mechanical arms and a domed top. Lin Xu took it apart without hesitation.
He removed the AI core and battery, rewired the internal brake system to convert it to manual control, then flipped the dome top upside down and nested it inside the cylindrical body. He fastened the two robotic arms together at the top, forming a frame.
Finally, he tore open a pillow and used the stuffing to pad the dome’s interior, layering it with soft, translucent gauze made by the mermaids. It was an odd-looking, slightly clunky creation—but cozy and warm. A makeshift baby crib with push handles and a gliding base.
When Marshal Chu returned from the bridge, the finished product was already sitting in the room. He stared at it for a while, then silently noted in S297’s logistics log: “Unit 003 Backup Housekeeping Robot — Decommissioned due to work-related damage.”
Yuanxiao now slept peacefully in the robot-crib. The two rabbit-cats had been relocated—nest and all—to the next room. They were only allowed near Yuanxiao when either Lin Xu or Heinrich was present. When the rabbit-cats finally realized what had happened, their wails were heartbreaking. Lin Xu stroked their ears and consoled them.
“When Yuanxiao gets a little older, you can sleep back on the bed.” Then he activated the soundproofing mode, ensuring a quiet night’s rest for everyone.
The next few days of travel were calm. Yuanxiao, as usual, ate and slept in blissful rotation. Occasionally, when there wasn’t enough sea crystal, they would even nibble on bits of their own eggshell for a snack.
Lin Xu spent his time in the cabin reading one of the parenting manuals Heinrich had downloaded earlier. Beside him, Yuanxiao napped in the robot crib while Heinrich monitored the ship’s course from the bridge.
The soft sound of rustling and crunching reached Lin Xu’s ears—he didn’t need to look to know Yuanxiao was chewing on more of their shell again. The two rabbit-cats at his feet perked up, raising their front halves and staring intently at the egg. Unbothered, Lin Xu opened a drawer to find another piece of sea crystal. Then came a loud crack.
In the silence of space, with the ship’s background hum dampened by soundproofing tech, the noise rang out especially sharp. Lin Xu froze mid-motion. Before he could even look up, his body was already moving. He lunged forward and caught something round just in time.
It was half a white eggshell.
Lin Xu’s eyes widened slightly. He looked toward the crib—and saw a small black-and-white baby dragon sitting inside the remains of the egg. Their stubby claws clutched a shard of shell, and their blue eyes stared blankly at him. As Lin Xu straightened, the half-shell in his hands rose into Yuanxiao’s view. The little dragon’s gaze shifted, staring at the fragment for a few stunned seconds. Then the tears began.
One after another, large round droplets fell from those big blue eyes. Yuanxiao clutched the broken shard in their claws, utterly bewildered and wronged. They had only meant to bite off a little piece for a snack. Just a little. But the crack they tugged had spread across the entire egg, splitting it in two. The top half had flown out of the crib—thank the stars Lin Xu had caught it in time.
But Yuanxiao had only ever seen the world through a tiny hole. They had never been fully exposed to air and artificial light. Now, with their whole body out in the open, they were overwhelmed. They hugged the piece of eggshell to their chest and cried, tears quickly pooling into a shimmering puddle in the bottom half of the shell. “Wuuuuh… uuuuuh…”
Lin Xu froze, uncertain of what to do. He held the remaining half of the eggshell in his hand while Yuanxiao stared at him like he was the villain who had stolen it. He had no choice but to kneel beside the crib, lowering his gaze to meet Yuanxiao’s. He reached out, wanting to comfort the little creature with a gentle stroke down their back. But Yuanxiao shrank into the corner of the shell, trying to escape the shadow of Lin Xu’s approaching hand. Before he could stop it, the other half of the shell tipped over.
With a flap of their tiny wings, Yuanxiao propelled themself right out of the crib and landed in a clumsy heap on the floor. Bits of eggshell scattered behind them. The two rabbit-cats that had been lounging nearby perked up curiously, lowering their heads to inspect the strange little creature. Yuanxiao was only half their size, and being stared at by two enormous feline faces sent them into a panic.
“Ying!” they cried. Blackie and Snowy blinked. “Ying?” Yuanxiao flapped their wings again, but they were too weak, too unpracticed. They couldn’t take off. “Ying, ying, ying…”
They were still crying. Lin Xu immediately reached out and scooped the hatchling into his hands. His palms brushed over trembling, rising-and-falling scales—like a frightened kitten puffing up in alarm. Yuanxiao clung tightly to his finger.
Lin Xu righted the eggshell in the crib and gently placed Yuanxiao back inside. As soon as he did, they let go of his hand, curled around their tail, and buried their head into the shell, sniffling softly. Lin Xu set the other half of the shell back in place.
Gradually, the crying stopped. The egg grew still. Maybe they had fallen asleep. Lin Xu stared blankly at the now whole white egg.
He had considered that since Heinrich’s dragon form couldn’t speak, Yuanxiao might be the same. He had tried communicating with them through mental energy, but their mind was still a chaotic haze—newborn and impossible to connect with. He’d had to give up for now.
But that “ying…” earlier—what had that been? Why did it sound like they had picked up the rabbit-cats’ cries?
As he frowned, lost in thought, the eggshell cracked open again, just slightly. A pair of blue eyes peeked through the gap, scanning the outside world. When they landed on Lin Xu still watching, there was a soft pop—the shell snapped shut again.
What a timid little thing. Chuckling at the thought, Lin Xu gently pulled the two rabbit-cats away from where they had their paws up on the crib, clearly trying to poke at the egg.
He’d gotten a good look at Yuanxiao earlier, just for a second. The little creature looked like a miniature version of a silver-white dragon. Their scales were fine and delicate—black across the upper half of their body, while the chest, chin, and all four paws were a shimmering silver-white, like pearl against storm clouds.
But unlike a true dragon, Yuanxiao had flowing, silk-like fins on their back and elbows, faint gray and translucent. Their wings, though underdeveloped, shimmered with a prismatic gleam—iridescent black laced with hints of rainbow light, like oil on water. They had been so small, so warm, so soft to the touch.
Lin Xu couldn’t help himself. He reached out and gently stroked the eggshell. The halves shifted, parting slowly to reveal a narrow gap. Inside, the little dragon hesitated, then slowly extended their tongue to lick the knuckle of Lin Xu’s finger.
A sudden idea struck him. He held the crushed nutrient liquid to the opening.
Sure enough, Yuanxiao licked it eagerly, even pushing their head partway out of the shell. Lin Xu gently caressed the ridge of their head with his fingertip. Yuanxiao flinched but didn’t retreat. Only when they had licked up every drop did they pull back inside, sealing the gap with their stubby tail.
Later, after Heinrich returned to the room, Lin Xu told him how the baby dragon had flown out of their shell for a moment before retreating again.
“So timid?” Heinrich said, poking at the unmoving white egg.
“Yeah, a little. I don’t know how dragons usually raise their young.”
Heinrich dug through his limited memories of Dragon Star and recalled something. “I think… they sort of just let them roam free after they’re born.”
Lin Xu frowned. “Yuanxiao’s not even as big as a human baby. How could you just let them roam?”
Heinrich glanced at him—serious, thoughtful—and nodded. “You’re right.”
Lin Xu smiled faintly. He pulled Heinrich down to sit beside him and brought up the holographic screen. “There’s footage from the monitor. Let me show you what Yuanxiao looks like.”
The two adults leaned in close, watching the footage. Even when Yuanxiao bumbled around clumsily while breaking out of their shell, they found themselves holding their breath. But in the days that followed, no matter how many tricks they tried—offering sea crystals, coaxing with soft calls—Yuanxiao never came back out.
In the end, they gave up and decided to let things take their natural course. No need to pressure the little one.
Now that the S297 had reentered Imperial territory, the StarNet connection was restored. As Lin Xu sat by the crib keeping Yuanxiao company, he idly opened the StarNet and checked the Imperial news.
He normally didn’t care much for current events, but this time he wanted to follow up on the aftermath of the Tribunal’s collapse.
According to reports, judgments against the major noble families had already been carried out. There were no appeals, no errors. Whether it was intentional or not, none of the condemned nobles were directly linked to the Tribunal in the reports.
Curious, Lin Xu used Heinrich’s access to pull up the Imperial military exhibition’s official site. The empty positions on the Tribunal had already been filled—most of the new appointees came from once-fallen noble houses. None of them wielded the overwhelming influence their predecessors had.
Perhaps someone had decided the cunning hare had been hunted, and it was time to cook the hounds… Yet one name remained—Capricciosa Neumann. She had been stationed at the Florentine defensive line for years. How much did she know about the Tribunal’s sudden restructuring?
Later, when Lin Xu went to eat, he left the sleeping Yuanxiao in the room. Heinrich took the opportunity to play back a clip from the crib’s surveillance feed, his voice tinged with excitement. “Look—Yuanxiao sneaks out whenever we’re gone.”
On the live feed, the little dragon pushed open the shell, crawled to the edge of the crib, and flapped their wings. With an enthusiastic leap—
Splat.
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