Chapter 61: The Silent 'Goodbye'

Inside the Special Barrier Shield of Sunken Ship Grand Restaurant, Kalolin gently soothed the white dolphin—its expression still pouty from being startled by Tian Dao—when she suddenly turned to him and said, “Tian Dao… you did plan this, didn’t you?”

The moment the words left her lips, Tian Dao froze.

His entire body went rigid. His breath caught mid-inhale.

If anyone else had said it, he’d have dismissed it as a joke—just another playful jab about how he’d startled the little dolphin with his sudden appearance. But coming from Kalolin?

That changed everything.

Because just as Kalolin knew Tian Dao better than anyone else, he knew her just as well.

As one of the rare Stellar Prodigies raised from birth under the watchful eye of the base, Kalolin wasn’t just brilliant—she was a master at reading between the lines, piecing together truths from the smallest details. Her words weren’t random. They carried weight. Intent.

And that meant she knew.

Yet, even as his mind raced, Tian Dao clung to denial like a drowning man to a rope.

“What… what are you talking about? I have no idea what you’re saying, Kalolin. I’m completely lost.”

Kalolin studied him—her expression half-smile, half-soft gaze—so perfectly unreadable it made his stomach twist. Every inch of him screamed that he was giving himself away, but she didn’t press.

Instead, she turned her attention beyond the barrier.

Outside, the afternoon sun pierced through the ocean surface, scattering golden ripples across the shallow waters. The white dolphin—now bored, or perhaps just unwilling to stay too close to Tian Dao’s “dog”-like presence—had stuck out its tiny lips in a mockingly spiteful grimace at him before wiggling its plump little tail and darting off toward a drifting cluster of jellyfish.

Kalolin didn’t call it back.

Instead, a quiet, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

In that moment, she wasn’t the composed, calculating Stellar Prodigy. She wasn’t the cold, analytical mind of the base. She was just… a girl. A girl lost in the simple joy of watching something free.

And seeing her like that, Tian Dao couldn’t help but smile too.

His gift had arrived.

“Tian Dao,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on the dolphin, “do you think… we’ll be able to be this happy when we grow up?”

He looked up, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting the dolphin’s joyful chase through the shimmering water.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever be that happy,” he said softly. “But I do know one thing—you’ll be free. Just like it.”

“Is that enough?” she asked, her voice distant, dreamy.

She didn’t notice—she didn’t notice—that his answer had spoken only of her. Not him.

For the first time in years, Kalolin, so precise, so meticulous, had missed the mark.

---

Three days earlier, during the planning session for Kalolin’s birthday operation:

“Tian Dao,” Chen Xing had asked, “we’re all close, but you and Kalolin are the closest. What should we get her for her birthday?”

Tian Dao paused, then replied, “Give her a memory. A good one.”

Chen Xing and Chen Kong exchanged glances, confused.

“A memory?” Chen Xing repeated. “What kind of gift is that?”

Tian Dao simply smiled. “You don’t know Kalolin. You can’t understand.”

He walked to the window beside Chen Kong’s hospital bed, where the sunlight poured in like liquid gold.

“She grew up in the base,” he said, voice low, almost reverent. “The only place she ever truly saw—the farthest she could go—was the beach right outside the facility.”

He gestured toward the horizon. “And the sea? That’s the farthest she’s ever looked. The limit of her world.”

He turned back, eyes solemn.

“Your memories are vast. But hers? They’re small. Small and quiet. The things you take for granted—the wind on your face, the sound of waves, the freedom to run… to be—those were dreams to her.”

He pushed the window open.

A soft breeze rushed in, lifting the white curtains like wings of snow. They fluttered through the room—free, unchained.

“So when she says she loves dolphins,” he continued, “it’s not because they’re cute. It’s because she wants to be like them. To swim where no one can follow. To exist beyond control.”

“And when she became an Intelligent Mechanism Class Stellar Envoy?” He smiled faintly. “It wasn’t because she loves machines. It’s because the network—your virtual world—is the only place where she can be herself. Where she’s not just a tool. Where she can breathe. Where she can be free, even if only for a little while.”

He turned to them, his smile warm, real.

“So what she really wants… isn’t a gift. Not a trophy. Not a title. She just wants a childhood. Just like everyone else.”

Silence filled the room.

Chen Kong and Chen Xing stared at him, stunned.

They’d never known this. Not about Kalolin. Not about him.

They’d always seen her as the perfect, flawless prodigy. Cold, sharp, untouchable.

And him—Tian Dao Siming—the arrogant, unyielding force they’d always chased, always feared.

Yet here he stood, speaking with a gentleness so quiet it ached.

“People can’t change their past,” he said. “But the future? It’s full of hope.”

“She’s lived for others long enough. Now it’s her turn. To live for herself.”

He paused, then added, “And I want her to know—she’s not just a tool. She has thoughts. Feelings. Dreams. A future of her own.”

“So the name of our operation? It’s not ‘Gift.’ It’s not ‘Surprise.’”

He looked at them, eyes gleaming.

“It’s Freedom.”

---

Inside the restaurant, the screen outside dimmed.

The audience—watching from the other side of the Dimensional Screen—felt something twist in their chests.

They’d seen the memories. They’d known.

Tian Dao’s words weren’t hope.

They were a farewell.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

But silent. Like a final breath.

Just as he’d once said:

> “I, Tian Dao Siming, have never needed anyone. I never will.”

And now, in his quiet way, he was making sure no one else would have to.

He wasn’t asking for permission.

He wasn’t giving them a choice.

He was simply choosing—for all of them—the future he believed in.

And in doing so, he was being not just the most powerful man in the system… but the most gentle.

---

PS:

Up for sale tomorrow at noon.

I’ll post five chapters—five full chapters—and I’ve already taken leave and bought a whole case of Red Bull.

Three hours per chapter. Fifteen hours total.

This will be a sleepless night.

But I’ll pour every drop of sweat, every ounce of effort, into this.

Come on…

Unleash the hidden writing power I’ve been holding back—YEAH!

Recommended read: “I Said I’d Live Life, So Why Are You Actually Real, Immortal Lady?”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end