Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [288]

In the outer city of Belobog, within a residential area that had already been constructed but was not yet open for sale, the night air carried the distinct chill of winter.

Though Qlipoth’s blessing still lingered here, and the climate and geology had been significantly altered, winter nights remained colder than usual.

Especially for someone dressed rather lightly.

"Hoo~~"

The icy wind brushed against her fair, jade-like cheeks, causing Qingque’s usual lazy expression to shift in an instant. A faint flush appeared in the middle of her face. Lowering her head, she gazed into the mirror resting in her palm, alternating between frowning and nodding.

After about ten minutes, she suddenly seemed to sense something, and her leisurely steps came to an immediate halt.

“Old Chen, I’m sure of it. This is the place.”

With her work done, Qingque crouched beside a flowerbed, lightly playing with the blue flowers growing within it. The tip of her brown ponytail nearly touched the ground as she spoke without turning her head.

“This looks like an apartment building. The greenery is well-maintained, too. What’s your plan?”

After repeated surveys, Qingque was certain that the precise coordinates provided by the Matrix of Prescience pointed directly to this spot. Whatever Chen Lin was searching for had to be nearby.

While the embassy was busy calculating data and pinpointing locations, Chen Lin had been walking around the area. During that time, Qingque took a glance at some documents sent from Xianzhou.

She was well aware of her role. Despite constantly complaining about wanting to slack off, Qingque had never shirked her responsibilities when it truly mattered.

The duties of an ambassador were both complex and simple at the same time.

On the way here, she had done plenty of homework. Her primary task was to maintain close political ties with Chen Lin and promote friendly relations between the two nations.

Her secondary responsibility was to gather and analyze domestic and foreign policies within the Empire’s Jarilo sector and send the information back to Xianzhou for the higher-ups to assess and act upon accordingly.

In essence, she was something of a legitimate spy. After all, few nations would willingly allow a foreigner to reside on their soil and lawfully collect intelligence about them.

Qingque wasn’t naive. Even though she had a good personal relationship with Governor Chen Lin, it didn’t mean she could afford to be careless. On the contrary, she had to be even more meticulous than she was back in Xianzhou.

That was why her previous hints had been deliberate—to convey Xianzhou’s stance. She was essentially telling Chen Lin: If you want to drive the IPC out before they can stir up trouble, why not start with Luofu?

Luofu owed him a huge favor, and his reputation there was on par with General Jing Yuan and the Master Diviner. Both of them were practically his closest allies, so covering up some information wouldn’t be an issue at all. Even if the IPC sensed something was amiss, they wouldn’t have any concrete evidence to prove it.

If things were handled well, the IPC might even end up blaming their own regional leadership rather than suspecting Chen Lin or Jing Yuan.

What a perfect outcome.

And now, Qingque had given Chen Lin a convenient way out. If that floppy disk was truly important and he didn’t want her to see it, he could simply take the offered excuse and say he’d hand the matter over to someone else. Then they could go about their night as usual—grabbing a late-night snack or a drink.

That way, she would have completed the task given to her by Fu Xuan without jeopardizing their personal relationship over national interests. No matter how Chen Lin chose to handle it, Qingque wouldn’t be an unwelcome third wheel.

She might not have spent many years outside the academy—barely a decade or two in the real world—but Qingque’s keen intuition allowed her to see through things with remarkable clarity.

She had even summarized her approach into a simple mantra:

"Business is business, personal matters are personal. Keep them separate, and everything will go smoothly!"

Of course, there was another way to interpret it: Assess the situation and decide when to use public authority and when to leverage personal ties.

Mastering the balance between public and private affairs made everything easier.

Take Chen Lin’s request for Fu Xuan to use the Matrix of Prescience to locate something. By Xianzhou law, such a request would require a lengthy bureaucratic process, and even then, approval wouldn’t be guaranteed. But Fu Xuan had agreed—so that was personal.

When Fu Xuan handed the data to Qingque, Qingque had still been on duty. Yet, she had no choice but to prioritize the completely unreasonable task given to her by her direct superior. That, too, was personal.

When Qingque used her clearance to discover an undisclosed agreement between Xianzhou and Chen Lin, and then noticed his hesitation regarding the matter, she chose to offer him a hint for the sake of Xianzhou’s interests. That was business.

And now that she had located the target, she provided Chen Lin with a convenient excuse to send her away—ensuring that an envoy from an external civilization wouldn’t lay eyes on the Empire’s secrets. That, too, was business.

And there was even more to it than that.

Qingque had mastered the art of seamlessly shifting between personal and professional matters, navigating them with unparalleled finesse.

“You think this thing involves classified information, don’t you?” Chen Lin chuckled. Qingque’s little schemes never escaped his notice.

“You don’t have to step aside. We don’t need to wait until tomorrow to handle this—we can do it now. As for how to find it… it’s just one building. No one’s living here, so worst-case scenario, we’ll just tear the place apart.”

Still crouched by the flowerbed, Qingque absentmindedly stroked a flower petal, her bright eyes fixed on her friend. Her expression seemed to say: If it’s not a big secret, then why didn’t you just tell me?

Chen Lin sighed and explained, “It’s something Pela’s mother left for her. I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to bring it up, so I kept quiet.”

“A keepsake? A floppy disk?”

“Yeah, I only found out about it at the end of last month…”

Chen Lin briefly relayed what Lynx had told him. Qingque listened in silence, her expression frozen in place for a long time.

“That really is important. It’s something her mother left behind for her. If Pela never learns what’s inside, perhaps Miss Penia would feel sorrow and regret as well.”

Qingque’s voice was soft. The story had stirred up an old memory—one buried deep within her childhood.

She recalled a time when she and her peers were still young and naive, oblivious to the world’s cruelty. She remembered an elder in her family, a kind figure who had always treated the children well. And she remembered the day that elder was taken away by the judges of the Ten Lords Commission, condemned by the Mara Curse.

It was one of the rare moments she had seen her father’s eyes redden as he bid farewell to the old man. The atmosphere among the adults was heavy, yet the younger children, too young to understand, simply thought the elder was going on a trip. They clung to him, laughing and asking him to bring back gifts when he returned.

Qingque remembered the deep wrinkles on his hands as he stroked her head, telling her to listen to her parents, to be diligent in her studies. That one day, when he had the chance, he would return to teach her more about calculations, to help her annotate the ancient texts that had yet to be marked, to test whether she had truly been paying attention…

She had always been an obedient child, but that day, she had cried and pleaded with all her heart.

The old man understood. Qingque was clever—clever enough to grasp where he was truly going. But bound by custom, by the rigid traditions of their people, she had no choice but to suppress her grief and remain silent.

What should have taken mere moments stretched into half an hour as the elder carefully wrote down his final words to her. Stroke by stroke, he filled the paper, taking a full two hours to complete it.

At last, he forced a gentle smile—his final gift to her—before the judges of the Ten Lords Commission led him away.

Forever… forever lost beyond the boundless sea of clouds.

Qingque had struggled with the pain for a long time. Because in one of the very texts he had once taught her, she had read the fate of those cursed by the Mara Curse: The afflicted are to be sealed, their bones buried, their flesh purified, their souls sent to the cycle of rebirth.

The one who had taught her calculations, literacy, poetry, strategy, and mechanics—the elder who had given her so much—would never return.

To this day, she kept those final words sealed away in her room, never sharing them with another soul.

And every time she took them out, the ink on the rice paper seemed almost alive. She could see the old man’s shadow—his hand moving, pausing, finishing the final stroke.

He had been her mentor, her family’s elder… and this was the last lesson he had left her.

"Do not become what they expect of you. Become what you yourself desire."

Grandfather had been right. Ignore the faces of others. Forget the rules of society. Follow your own heart—that is the path to true happiness.

Sometimes, when she missed him, she would take out his words and reread them. They always brought back memories of better days.

Yet Pela didn’t even have that. The chance to cherish a simple memory had been cruelly stolen from her.

It was so… unfair.

Then again, the world had never been fair.

Qingque put herself in the shoes of that bookish girl, and her chest tightened with emotion.

“Next Wednesday is Pela’s birthday,” Chen Lin murmured. “In the past, she was always busy—either learning from a young Bronya, fighting Rift creatures with the military, or buried in intelligence work at Qlipoth Fort…”

He exhaled. “She’s never had a proper birthday. And coming of age marks the end of a chapter in life. I think she should have the chance to let go of past regrets. At the very least, this is the best birthday gift I can give her right now.”

Qingque smiled, saying nothing.

How many leaders, standing at the peak of power, could truly see past the illusion of wealth and status? How many, when considering a birthday gift for a valued subordinate, would think not of gold and silver, but of something far more precious—something that could complete a missing piece of their past?

It wasn’t a gift that stunned with grandeur, but one that would be treasured forever.

Pela would never forget her coming-of-age birthday.

This is just like Old Chen, Qingque mused. I suppose this is part of his charm.

“So it’s six days away?” She counted on her fingers, then grinned. “If you need an extra hand, just say the word. I hate working, hate overtime—but helping people? That, I don’t mind.”

“Then step back. I’m tearing the building down so we can start searching.”

“Oh… wait, Old Chen, how are you gonna—”

Qingque stepped back, walking a good distance away. She had just turned around to ask Chen Lin how exactly he planned to demolish a luxury apartment complex when—

The void opened.

A great, invisible maw seemed to manifest out of thin air. In an instant, the towering hundred-meter building was gone—leaving only crescent-shaped remnants of its foundation and outer walls.

Qingque: “???”

What in the—?! That’s terrifying!

But she wasn’t the only one startled. Even Chen Lin was left speechless.

He had only been testing the waters, asking the [Zroni Nexus] if it could move the building without damaging the land. But before he could react, a childlike voice from within the realm had responded excitedly: “Eat! Eat!”

And then… the structure had simply vanished.

More than that, Chen Lin had actually heard the Nexus speak—not through some vague psionic connection, but real, audible speech.

Is the Nexus about to evolve?

If it weren’t for the circumstances, he would have gone in to investigate immediately.

Instead, he looked down at the nearly flattened ground. The foundation stones had been cleanly removed, saving him the trouble of spending extra energy to send the entire building into outer space. That would’ve been a pain.

At least now, digging would be much easier.

“Qingque, take a look and pinpoint the exact location. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Ah… oh! Right.”

Snapping out of her daze, Qingque pulled out her mirror and began hopping across the wreckage, scanning the ground.

It didn’t take long to locate the target, but to avoid damaging it, she had Chen Lin start digging from the edges.

Each time she pointed, his psionic energy cut into the ground like an excavator, prying open massive holes and tossing debris aside.

As they dug deeper, Qingque suddenly shouted, “Stop!”

She leaped into the pit—over two meters deep—and quickly unearthed a white floppy disk, caked in dirt and covered in scratches.

It perfectly matched Lynx’s description.

Without a doubt, this was the “letter” Pela’s mother had left behind.

“Old Chen, are you sure this thing still works?” Qingque frowned, dusting off the cracked edges.

“I’ll do my best. I brought one of Belobog’s old terminals with me—if it’s fixable, I’ll fix it.”

With that, Chen Lin got to work. Many parts of the disk were chipped, so he gritted his teeth and channeled psionic energy into it.

Mind shapes reality. Will makes it so.

But all power had a cost. And sometimes, that cost was unpredictable.

For an object this damaged—virtually beyond repair—his energy would first gather every missing fragment, no matter how minuscule.

If that wasn’t enough, then there was only one other option:

To forcibly rewind the disk’s existence, restoring it to a past state—specifically, the moment when the researcher had last carried it before evacuation.

It required constant trial and error.

One hour passed.

Two hours…

…

Five hours later, Chen Lin, drenched in sweat, clenched a handful of [Zroni Dust] in his palm.

In front of him, wrapped tightly in a bloodstained cloth, was the floppy disk.

“…It should be fine now.”

“Try it. If it doesn’t work, we can rest and try again tomorrow,” Qingque murmured, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Finally, the disk was inserted into the old terminal.

It worked.

Chen Lin opened the only file inside.

There were 207 images.

Each was numbered in sequence.

The first image displayed a letter on a wooden desk.

As they read, the words came into view—

【1】

January 27, Clear Skies

Today, while monitoring the weather equipment, I suddenly felt something move inside my belly—was that… a kick? Heh, what a strange and wonderful sensation. I gently placed my hand over you, and you quickly settled down. Such a good girl~

Dr. Yulia, our team’s physician, examined me and told me that you’re a girl. I spent a long time thinking and finally decided on a name for you—Pelageya. Per, signifying your birth, and agéa, symbolizing the rising sun in the east and the direction our expedition is headed. But I can’t help but wonder… will you like this name?

Sitting inside my tent, I thought about it for a long time. In the end, I decided to start recording everything I wish to say to you. By the time you can read these letters, I imagine you will have already grown up.

Back at camp, everyone else was resting. Irina, our data recorder—she’s my colleague and also my roommate—saw me writing at the table and asked what I was doing.

Smiling, I told her: I am writing letters to a child far away, sharing the longing and joy in my heart. I want to pour every word onto the page and tell her that today, for the first time, I felt her existence.

A new life… my daughter—Pelageya Sergeyevna. Welcome to this world.

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This is a fan translation of 在星穹铁道点群星科技树真的没问题吗? by 杏雨诗韵 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!