Chapter 167: A Night of Strange Dreams
"No problem! Absolutely no problem! Leave it all to me!" Stelle patted her chest, her agreement resounding and absolute.
She seemed even more enthusiastic than the ones giving the gifts. "Tribbie, you've thought of everything! Thank you so much!"
Without a moment's hesitation, she spun around and bolted back to the balcony, shouting at March 7th, who was still engrossed in the group chat. "March! Quick! Stop chatting! We have an emergency mission! Ask what sizes Fu Xuan and Qingque wear! Be precise! Hurry, hurry!"
March 7th jumped, startled by the sudden urgency. Though she had no idea what was going on, she obediently complied, posting a rather bizarre request for "emergency body data collection" in the chat, which immediately triggered a flurry of confused and curious questions from the others.
Dan Heng, meanwhile, remained where he was, representing his companions. He offered a solemn expression of gratitude to Tribbie and Phainon. "We are deeply grateful for your careful and thoughtful arrangements. We will engrave this gift and your kindness in our hearts. This will surely help us avoid a great deal of potential trouble."
With the serious matters concluded, the atmosphere grew even more relaxed and convivial.
Tribbie and Phainon didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. Stelle, on the other hand, had become a chatterbox, launching into a vivid recounting of the major events she and the other Trailblazers had experienced on their journey.
Tribbie listened with rapt attention, her large eyes wide, gasping and sighing in all the right places as Stelle's tale unfolded. Her perfect reactions were a massive boost to Stelle's storytelling ego.
"...And then what? What happened to that enormous Doomsday Beast?" Tribbie pressed eagerly, completely engrossed in the story of the Herta Space Station.
Stelle was just getting into the swing of it, ready to launch into a grand, embellished monologue about how she "single-handedly fought the Doomsday Beast and saved the Space Station"—with a healthy dose of added personal heroism, of course.
Unfortunately, she had barely gotten a tenth of the way through her prepared epic when March 7th scurried over, brandishing a sticky note. It was densely packed with the various size data she had managed to collect from the group.
"Stelle! I got it! Everyone's sizes are all here!" March 7th announced, handing over the note.
The arrival of the data signaled that it was time for Tribbie and Phainon to depart and get the clothing prepared.
The two accepted the sticky note. Though they were still visibly eager to hear the rest of Stelle's unfinished story, they rose to their feet to take their leave.
"Xiao Hui, you have to tell us the rest next time! We have to go now!" Tribbie waved, a hint of reluctance in her gesture.
"Definitely, definitely! I'll tell you even more exciting stories next time!" Stelle waved back just as vigorously, feeling a pang of regret. A good, cooperative audience like Tribbie was a rare treasure.
But there was nothing to be done about it. She would just have to find another opportunity later.
After Tribbie and Phainon left, the bathhouse returned to its previous quiet.
The small interlude had broken their focus, and none of the three felt the urge to dive back into the group chat. The relaxed mood, however, persisted. They slumped back into the comfortable recliners, chatting idly and savoring the rare moments of tranquility before the next big battle. Two consecutive days of high-intensity work had left them physically and mentally drained, and they desperately needed this kind of aimless relaxation.
Perhaps it was because they had been too engrossed in chatting during the day and had stayed up too late, or maybe their minds were simply buzzing in a strange state of excitement mixed with fatigue.
That night, neither Stelle nor March 7th slept soundly. And by a strange coincidence, both of them had bizarre, fantastical dreams.
Stelle's dream was a chaotic, blurry affair. She seemed to be back in the unfamiliar valley on Amphoreus where she had first crash-landed. The mysterious, soft, pink creature she had briefly encountered—the one that only made "mee~ mee-mee~" sounds—reappeared, circling her curiously.
In the dream, Stelle leaned in, observing it with fascination. Miraculously, it seemed she could understand it. The simple syllables carried a vague yet urgent torrent of emotions and information that flowed directly into her mind.
And so, throughout the night, in that hazy dreamscape, Stelle communicated with the pink creature entirely in the language of "mee-mee-mee." Or rather, it was more of a one-sided exchange. It seemed Stelle didn't realize she could just speak normally, so she spent the entire time simply receiving the creature's transmissions.
But what exactly was communicated, what information was perceived, was like a sand painting washed by the tide. Upon waking, all that remained was a vague impression and a strange sense of familiarity that quickly dissipated into the morning air.
Meanwhile, on another recliner, March 7th was also experiencing a peculiar and troubling dream.
Unlike her usual dreams, which were filled with pink bubbles and grand, adventurous fantasies, this one carried an indescribable heaviness… and a deep absurdity.
In the dream, she heard a voice. It was a voice she didn't recognize, one that carried an ancient echo. It was calling to her, persistently, stubbornly, using a title that made her entire being recoil.
"Mother…"
For a beautiful young girl who firmly believed she was in the prime of her youth, with absolutely no connection to the concept of motherhood, that single word had the impact of a direct hit from the Doomsday Beast's "Impending Doom" attack.
She shook her head desperately in the dream, trying to reject the title, her mind screaming in protest. 'You've got the wrong person! You must have the wrong person! How do I look like a mother?! I'm still a kid myself!'
But the voice, in addition to being stubborn, was laced with a heartbreaking, pitiful helplessness. It was as if a lost child, having wandered in endless darkness for far too long, had finally grasped a faint connection and was now pouring all its remaining strength into a desperate plea for a response from its "Mother."
The raw vulnerability and longing in that voice sent an instinctive pang through March s heart.
Ultimately, her soft heart won out over her embarrassment and resistance. She couldn't bear to let that voice continue calling out so lonely into the void. Tentatively, cautiously, she tried to establish a vague connection with it within the dream.
She sent a wave of comforting thoughts. 'Alright, alright, don't cry… I'm here…'
The moment the voice received her response, its original sorrow and helplessness were instantly washed away, replaced by an immense, indescribable joy that felt like the sun breaking through a storm. March could clearly feel that pure, unadulterated happiness enveloping her like a warm ocean current.
Just as she relaxed slightly, preparing to ask the voice, 'Who exactly are you?' and 'Why are you calling me Mother?', her consciousness suddenly plunged, and she was wrenched from the strange dream.
She snapped her eyes open, finding herself still lying comfortably on the recliner in the bathhouse.
Subconsciously, her hand went to her pocket. The Sheep Talisman was emitting a faint glow that was slowly dimming.
"Was it because of this?" March 7th sat up, still a little shaken.
She glanced over at Stelle and Dan Heng, who were both still sound asleep beside her. Remembering the absurd and somewhat terrifying dream of "suddenly becoming a mother," she decided she wasn't taking any more chances.
She deliberately took the Sheep Talisman out of her pocket and clutched it tightly in her hand, trying to use its power to stabilize her soul and prevent herself from being pulled back into that bizarre dreamscape.
This time, holding the talisman, she drifted off. And sure enough, no more strange dreams came. She finally had a relatively peaceful and sound sleep for the rest of the night.
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