Henry Lane used to eat mostly tube-shaped liquid food on the garbage planet. Most of these were foods from wealthy planets that were about to expire or had already expired and been discarded, then shipped by the tens of thousands of tons at dirt-cheap prices to slums like Haizhou Star, passing through an organization called the “Aid for the Poor Convention.” The brains behind this organization were, first and foremost, among the richest people on the capital planet.

The lowest quality goods were sent to the slums to squeeze the savings from the poor, and most people even felt grateful for having their survival maintained by them.

Because these foods had been stored for so long, even the liquid inside had become somewhat dried out, so they tasted dry and astringent in the mouth.

But Henry Lane still missed one particular kind of liquid paste called “caviar flavor.” Even though the taste had long since dried up or even changed, he had liked this flavor since childhood. He fantasized that on those rich and beautiful planets, he might one day get to eat real fresh fish, or even taste the delicious sturgeon roe that so many writers and artists raved about in countless books. If he could do that, he thought, his life would truly be full of flavor.

But there was no fresh fish on the garbage planet—only endless storms and dangerous mutant creatures that had to be dealt with using mechs.

And now, Henry Lane could see with his own eyes slices of fresh fish, cut thin and tender, piled high with glossy, dark caviar. The color of the rice was as soft and delicate as the exposed skin of the woman in front of him. When he first arrived at this old-style restaurant, Henry Lane could hardly believe that his lifelong dream of satisfying his appetite could be realized so easily.

What’s more, he was accompanied by a beauty like Violet Lane. Just now, when the waiter arrived, he couldn’t help but steal a few glances at her, and then looked at Henry Lane with a hint of jealousy, probably guessing which pretty boy had managed to win over a rich girl this time.

“What's wrong, not to your taste?” Seeing Henry Lane’s calm expression as the food was served, Violet Lane frowned slightly. This restaurant had a strong traditional vibe. Although it wasn’t exactly luxurious, it was a place she often liked to come to relax and meet friends.

So bringing Henry Lane here today was a somewhat private gesture, and Violet Lane was showing her goodwill. But if this illegitimate child was so hard to please and picky, Violet Lane wouldn’t have such patience with him again.

Henry Lane shook his head, then said, “So, may I start eating?”

Violet Lane nodded lightly and picked up her napkin, just as she was about to lay it across her lap, she noticed that Henry Lane had already, at some point, tucked his napkin into his chest and was rapidly demolishing the large plate of food in front of him.

But he wasn’t wolfing it down.

Each time he swept food from his plate, he did it with incredible speed. His hands were like robotic arms on an assembly line—precise, efficient, and ruthless. The way he picked up each piece of food gave people a strange sensory impression.

Violet Lane had seen countless gentlemen and nobles eat with slow elegance. Sometimes, if there was more than a quarter of food left on the plate, it seemed to show off their affluent background.

Now, there were also some well-dressed girls in the restaurant who, to appear dainty, would take just one bite of cake and set it aside, as if a mouse had nibbled a corner, making it look cute and fashionable. None of them had ever seen such a striking scene as this, so for a moment, everyone was staring in their direction, eyes wide.

But they had to admit, although Henry Lane ate and swallowed at a speed that left people stunned, he never once appeared crude or impatient. He quickly finished everything on his plate, not leaving a single crumb, then wiped his mouth with the napkin and grinned at Violet Lane.

“…It’s delicious. Thank you.”

Delicious? He looked more like someone who hadn’t eaten for a week!

These words stuck in Violet Lane’s throat. Thinking of the young man in front of her spending twenty years in a place like Haizhou Star, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness. This feeling, faint but persistent, connected her to Henry Lane, and as she looked at him, she felt a trace of pity.

So she simply finished the food on her plate, then suddenly looked up and, for the first time, smiled. “I’m going to the gym later… want to come with me?”

…

Henry Lane still remembered the battered cartons of milk stacked in the corner under the shabby eaves of the garbage planet, the packaging so worn that the writing was barely legible.

In the slums, where liquid food was the staple and malnutrition was common, milk was as precious as gold. Only pregnant women and newborns who had just been weaned were given priority at home.

For Henry Lane, those bags of milk, sold cheaply to Haizhou Star because of packaging defects, were his most important source of nutrition growing up.

Having learned from a young age how hard life could be, he understood the importance of cherishing survival resources. On the garbage planet, every time he finished a bag of protein dairy product, he would follow a certain plan to exercise his body, striving to survive better in the harsh natural environment.

Most importantly, his greatest dream in life was to become a mech pilot. And it was said that to become an excellent pilot, besides mastering a vast amount of knowledge, one also needed sharp reflexes and a strong physique.