When preparing for college entrance exams, Henry Lincoln showed his stubborn side for the first time. Ignoring the advice of his teachers, he insisted on applying to the history department, majoring in Earth history—a field that few cared about. Some young people with secure futures would study it for four years out of momentary interest, while others chose it simply because their grades left them with no other options.

Even so, Henry Lincoln could still be recruited by the organization. After all, spies always need a cover identity, and being a historian wasn’t a bad one.

But in his junior year, Henry Lincoln “had an episode.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t an illness, but rather a kind of psychological phenomenon. He would fall into a pessimistic state for no apparent reason—not as severe as depression, and usually able to recover on his own without treatment. It had a colloquial name: “star orphan syndrome.”

The probability of interstellar orphans developing this symptom was as high as twenty to forty percent. Some speculated it might be related to experiences during the embryonic stage, that the long interstellar journey had some mysterious effect on those tiny clusters of cells.

There were plenty of academic articles on the subject, but no definitive conclusions.

Most cases of “star orphan syndrome” appeared in childhood. Henry Lincoln’s case was quite late, with moderate symptoms—not disruptive to daily life, but it did affect his studies.

The Mei family decided to give up on this seedling, which was evident in the fact that the regular teacher visits stopped altogether.

Henry Lincoln decided to take a leave of absence, and that “leave” lasted five years. Then, all of a sudden, the Mei family opened their doors to him, welcoming him warmly. To be honest, this struck him as a bit odd.

Samuel Lincoln was also selected. When Charles Griffin was leaving, he casually informed him at the door.

Samuel Lincoln was overjoyed, thanked him with restraint, and as soon as Charles Griffin left, he did a somersault in the cramped bedroom. After landing, he immediately ran to the window, stared outside for a while, and said, “Old Charles must have become the regional team leader, and we’re the new team he’s forming. Old Charles is a formidable person—he always has been, and we’ve all treated him as the boss, even the kids older than him. I bet he’ll become a deputy director, maybe even the director someday. If we stick with him, we’ll have a shot at promotion too... Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Careful.” Henry Lincoln pointed to his own mouth.

“Ha, I won’t make the mistake of talking too much again. I’m only like this with you—if it were anyone else, even Mom, I’d...” Samuel Lincoln mimed zipping his lips shut.

Henry Lincoln said nothing. He had finally become a spy as he wished, but felt little joy in his heart.

“Are you still thinking about that woman?” Samuel Lincoln came over to ask. Charles Griffin had already walked far away outside. “With your mindset, you won’t be able to do the job. That’s a bigger problem than talking too much. You’re not... having another episode, are you?”

“I’m thinking about why the family is recruiting so many newcomers at this time.” Henry Lincoln had no intention of discussing his other thoughts.

“Yeah.” Samuel Lincoln sat on the edge of the bed, dazed for a while. “Mom’s been rearranging the rooms these past couple of days. Looks like those college students won’t be coming back for the holidays—they must have already joined the organization early. Anyway, it’s good news for us. If they weren’t short on people, the two of us would be stuck here forever. Just thinking about working on the farm... Not that I look down on them—they’re all good people, just too boring.”

“Mm.” Henry Lincoln seemed only half-listening.

“Old Lincoln, you’re the second most capable person in our group. If it weren’t for that little illness, you’d have been team leader long ago. Now that the opportunity’s here, you’re bound to stand out. Just don’t leave me behind—I’m sticking with you.”

First Charles Griffin, then Henry Lincoln—in just a few words, Samuel Lincoln had already “pledged allegiance” to two people.

After years of sharing a dorm, Henry Lincoln was used to hearing things like this and paid them no mind. To drive away unwelcome thoughts, he began recalling his spy training. “Remember what Third Uncle said?”

“Third Uncle’s a teacher—he’s said too much. Which part?”

“He said spies can never be fully prepared. Those who excel in school might not even make it past the first hurdle in the field.”

“I remember, I remember. That’s one of his lines he repeats every semester. He also said: Even so, you still have to study hard and prepare. The difference is, those who aren’t prepared die without knowing why, while those who are prepared will mutter, ‘So this is how I die,’ before they go.”

The memory made them both burst out laughing.

The next day, before dawn, the two of them packed their luggage—each with a suitcase—and waited for Charles Griffin to arrive.

Henry Lincoln sat on the bed while Samuel Lincoln kept watch at the window, eager to spot the vehicle first. “It’s here!” he shouted, turning to grab his suitcase by his feet.

The living room was large, filled with tables and chairs of all sizes, leaving only a few winding paths. Newcomers often bumped into things.

The other kids weren’t up yet. In the kitchen, Mom was busy preparing breakfast.

Mom had always been rather indifferent to her grown children and didn’t come out to see them off. Henry Lincoln called out loudly, “Mom, we’re leaving.”

“Oh.” came a perfunctory reply from the kitchen.

Samuel Lincoln also called out, receiving the same response. Though he’d always been eager to leave the farm, he suddenly felt sentimental, put down his suitcase, and ran into the kitchen.

“You rascal, how old are you and still so mischievous? Go, go, don’t dirty my kitchen.”