Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [138]

Fu Xuan initially entered the library with a mix of curiosity and irritation, only to find herself deeply startled by what she discovered.

At first, she subtly advised Chen Lin, through the phrase “There is no benefit without practice,” to temper his seemingly ostentatious behavior and focus on steady progress. Divination was as challenging as climbing a mountain; there was no shame in starting small.

But Qingque, always the wildcard, had to chime in, recounting her astonishment at Chen Lin’s earlier feats. The sheer absurdity of it made Fu Xuan briefly suspect they might be colluding to pull some elaborate prank on her.

Was this all an act, or could it be real? Fu Xuan decided to find out for herself.

Thus began an impromptu scholarly duel between the Diviner of the Xianzhou and the novice Chen Lin in the Diviner Division’s library.

The more they debated, the more Fu Xuan found herself shaken.

Divination was an art of profound complexity. While hexagrams appeared comprehensive, reading them at face value wasn’t even considered an entry-level skill.

Each hexagram could evolve in countless ways, and even the slightest change in a single line could shift the entire interpretation. An amateur might end up with wildly incorrect predictions if they couldn’t grasp these nuances.

In the realm of divination, memorization was just the first step. True mastery required a deep understanding of transformations, and at the highest levels, even the same hexagram could appear different depending on the practitioner.

With the advent of jade talismans and computational aids, much of the workload for diviners had eased. Yet, as a result, fewer people had the motivation to explore the underlying principles of divination deeply.

Fu Xuan was one of the rare exceptions. Through her innate talent and relentless effort, she had forged her own path in the art of divination, climbing the ranks to become the Diviner.

But even with her expertise, out of ten topics she posed during their duel, Chen Lin managed to best her in one and tie her in two others.

For someone like Fu Xuan—acknowledged as the foremost authority in the Diviner Division—this was nothing short of extraordinary. Her opponent had only studied for a few hours!

This is unbelievable…

What had started as a test of knowledge gradually evolved into an in-depth exchange on the deeper academic traditions of divination. Qingque, seeing that no one was paying attention to her, gleefully retreated to a corner with her unfinished book, occasionally sneaking glances at the duo.

As their debate dragged on, Fu Xuan found herself winning more often than not. However, the increasing frequency of close calls and outright losses prompted her to cut the contest short.

“Although my dear younger brother’s talent cannot quite match mine, it’s not far behind,” Fu Xuan declared, her tone lofty. “Had this been anyone else, I would have wagered my title as Diviner to duel for three days and nights. But since you’re family, there’s no need to dwell on victory or defeat. I wouldn’t want to dampen your enthusiasm for learning or disrupt your focus. Let us leave it at that!”

Her words carried an air of magnanimity that might have felt genuinely senior if not for her youthful appearance.

But someone in the room knew better.

“That’s enough,” Qingque grumbled inwardly. “Not even the celestial fire could burn through your thick skin.”

“Your praise is too generous, Diviner,” Chen Lin replied humbly, his gaze now carrying a faint trace of admiration. “I still have much to learn from you.”

“Ahem!” Fu Xuan cleared her throat. “Why so formal? You are my sworn brother now. Addressing me by title feels too distant!”

“Elder Sister!” Chen Lin immediately corrected himself, while inwardly consoling his pride. By age, I’m clearly getting the better deal here. Besides, I’ve stolen some of her secret techniques. This is a total win—no, a jackpot!

Fu Xuan nodded, satisfaction evident on her face. “You have a gift for this field, dear brother. If you dedicate yourself, you will undoubtedly achieve greatness. But remember, learning must be steady and deliberate. Rushing only clouds your understanding.”

With that, she added, “I’m fatigued. Keep studying diligently, and if you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

Without waiting for a response, Fu Xuan turned and left, not sparing the library a second glance. She feared lingering too long might lead to restless nights where she’d wake in a cold sweat, questioning why Chen Lin wasn’t a Xianzhou native.

Could he really have mastered the intricacies of Diviner Divination in just a few hours? Or had he been secretly studying it beforehand?

If it were the latter, where had he learned it? That thought alone was troubling enough.

Determined to uncover the truth, Fu Xuan decided to forgo dinner and made her way to the main hall, where a jade talisman mechanism could replay recent events in the Diviner Division. Whatever the case, the evidence would reveal all.

Once Fu Xuan left, Chen Lin noticed Qingque staring at him with an almost pitiful expression. It was as if she were silently begging him to stop reading so she could finally clock out.

Normally, Qingque would simply ignore such demands from any regular diviner, treating them as an excuse to slack off. But since the task came directly from the Diviner, she couldn’t afford to lounge around or sneak off for card games.

After all, while a regular diviner might only manage to get her to write a perfunctory report, Fu Xuan, as the head of the division, could fire her with a single word.

Faced with the prospect of unemployment, Qingque begrudgingly abandoned her principles and stayed overtime, her annoyance growing as the hours dragged on.

Chen Lin, however, understood her predicament all too well.

“Alright,” he said with a grin. “You’ve been a big help today. Let me treat you to dinner.”

The offer seemed to lift a weight off Qingque’s shoulders, and her sulky expression immediately brightened.

“Hmm, at least you’ve got a shred of decency,” she quipped, cheerfully swiping her identification card at the library’s jade talisman. “So, what are you planning to treat me to?”

“You choose. I’m new here—I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I want wu’ou cake and Chen Po Tofu!”

“Chen… Po Tofu?”

“Hah! Old Chen, you’re clueless!”

Qingque’s eyes sparkled as she launched into an enthusiastic explanation. “Tofu, made from soybeans, is a Xianzhou specialty. Add a mix of sauces and spices, and it becomes this fragrant, spicy dish that’s a must-try here!”

“I know what tofu is,” Chen Lin muttered, thinking to himself, Isn’t this just mapo tofu? Why’d it get renamed here?

Still, he had plenty of credits to spare. With debts already in the billions, treating himself and a friend felt like a trivial indulgence.

Debt’s just a number, after all!

Navigating the star skiff back to Chang Le Sky, they arrived to find the area far livelier at night than during the day. Food stalls lined the streets, and street performers entertained passersby.

Qingque, a regular in the area, led the way. Her daily commute often brought her through these streets, and she frequently dined or played cards with colleagues at nearby eateries.

They eventually entered one of Qingque’s favorite spots. Chen Lin handed her the menu and let her order while his attention was drawn to a makeshift stage outside, where two performers were engaging in a lively comedy routine.

After placing their order, Qingque noticed Chen Lin’s gaze fixed on the performers.

“Old Chen, are you into stuff like that?”

“Kind of,” he admitted.

Chen Lin once had a neighbor from Tianjin, whose casual conversations always carried an uncanny comedic rhythm that made him wonder, Is this guy performing stand-up?

Intrigued by the style, Chen Lin had spent nearly a year learning kuaiban (a traditional Chinese rhythmic storytelling performance). Occasionally, he would perform tongue-twisters at events, and once even teamed up with that neighbor for a routine at a welcome party.

Qingque was about to say something when she saw Chen Lin suddenly shiver, get up, and head outside. Moments later, he returned, holding a pair of clappers borrowed from the comedy performers outside. The cheerful grin on his face instantly reminded Qingque of the way he looked while playing cards—brimming with confidence and mischief.

That same grin… she thought. It’s… kind of charming.

“I know you’re not really into the whole ‘let’s bond over a meal’ thing, so how about I teach you a song instead?” Chen Lin offered.

“What, you sing too?” Qingque asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! And trust me, this one is perfect for you.” Chen Lin gave the clappers a few practice taps, quickly falling into a steady rhythm.

To Qingque’s surprise, he handled the clappers effortlessly. While they seemed simple at first glance, trying them herself had taught her otherwise. Forget rhythm—just getting them to make a clear sound was an accomplishment.

Then, Chen Lin’s voice rang out confidently.

“If my house catches fire, I’ll take pictures,"
"If life’s a mess, I’ll take a nap."

"When calamity strikes, I don’t know,"
"Worst-case scenario, I’ll hang a rope!”

The lyrics were absurdly simple and catchy, like a nursery rhyme for adults.

Even more captivating was the carefree tone of the song, which resonated with Qingque. Listening to it felt like coming home.

“Today’s troubles? Delay them for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow’s troubles? Let them wait a day more."

"Oh, I just love to live this way,"
"Nothing ever weighs on my heart to stay!”

“Pressure? Setbacks? No big deal,"
"Can’t pass through? I’ll just detour!”

Qingque’s eyes lit up. He gets me. He really gets me.

“Life’s about attitude—live it your way."
"Don’t let trifles lead you astray."

"Life has its ups and downs—rough, bumpy roads."
"But just as rivers find their course, joy’s the rarest reward!”

Chen Lin finished the song, tapping the clappers one last time. As he looked up, he found Qingque staring at him, her expression completely blank.

For a moment, he panicked, wondering if his singing was off-key. Did I butcher it?

But before his self-doubt could spiral further, Qingque suddenly burst into applause.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

She applauded so fervently that Chen Lin was taken aback.

At first, Qingque had assumed Chen Lin was just another slacker who had been forced to step up due to life’s pressures. But now, she realized his philosophy went far beyond hers.

True slacking isn’t just about doing nothing—that’s laziness. Real mastery is in resisting unreasonable demands and achieving balance, making time for yourself.

Qingque’s own method was to exploit workplace loopholes, completing her tasks on time while securing more free time for herself. Her colleagues, noticing her punctuality and steady output, would often seek her advice, hoping to emulate her efficiency.

Unbeknownst to them, some of these "colleagues" were actually sent by superiors to spy on her. Qingque, however, understood everything but chose to say nothing, letting life carry on as usual.

But Chen Lin?

He had transcended mere slacking. His philosophy was an act of rebellion against unreasonable oppression—a calm, measured approach to life’s unscalable peaks.

When faced with an insurmountable challenge, why waste energy climbing the highest mountain when a smaller one leads to the same river?

Qingque felt humbled. Compared to Chen Lin’s worldview, her approach was amateur at best.

“Chen, you truly understand me!” she exclaimed. “What’s the name of this song?”

“Life’s Attitude,” he replied.

“What a great name!” Qingque beamed. “Tomorrow, I’m sharing this with my colleagues. It’s so deep! If we were in a sect and I were the leader, you’d definitely be the reclusive elder meditating in the back mountains for a million amber eras!”

“It’s not that profound…” Chen Lin chuckled, though inwardly, he sighed.

During his time on the Xianzhou, Chen Lin had noticed numerous underlying societal issues.

Native Xianzhou humans—known as “Celestials”—possessed theoretically infinite lifespans. Alongside them were the Vidyadhara and the Foxians like Tingyun, who also lived for centuries, if not longer. Even the shortest-lived Foxians had lifespans of at least 300 years.

This meant that in a society where population turnover spanned centuries, opportunities for newcomers—particularly short-lived outsiders—were incredibly scarce.

Among these outsiders were short-lived species seeking longevity, some even raising families on the Xianzhou. If societal development ever stagnated, these communities could become ticking time bombs.

Chen Lin glanced at Qingque. She wasn’t foolish—Fu Xuan’s insistence on assigning her tasks wasn’t random. It was clear to anyone that Fu Xuan was grooming her for greater responsibility.

From his position as a friend, Chen Lin wanted to remind her to maintain the right mindset. After all, one of the leading causes of falling into Moyin Syndrome was being overwhelmed by negative emotions.

Some struggles could be bypassed, but others couldn’t, requiring resilience to overcome.

Placing a hand on Qingque’s shoulder, Chen Lin said, “As long as you don’t let the pressure get to you, no one can truly burden you.”

“Hey—” Qingque perked up, eager to share her own thoughts on the matter.

At that moment, the server arrived.

“Excuse me, is this the wine you ordered?”

“Not…” Chen Lin started to answer, but Qingque quickly grabbed the wine jug from the tray.

She winked at him. “You’re treating me to dinner, so I’m treating you to wine! We’ll split the tab equally later. If it doesn’t add up, we’ll figure it out when we need to.”

“Can you even handle alcohol? Don’t make trouble if you get drunk,” Chen Lin warned.

“Are you kidding? I’m an amazing drinker!”

As the two drank and ate, Fu Xuan sat far away in the Diviner Division’s main hall, watching footage of Chen Lin flipping through books at lightning speed on the jade talisman.

Her head tilted slightly in confusion.

“Huh?”

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T/N: omgggg they would be SOOOO CUTEEEE

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!