This exquisitely beautiful girl radiated an aura that was anything but ordinary.
The wealthy could be divided into different tiers. If the portly, greasy-faced man from earlier reeked of vulgar nouveau riche, then this girl was undoubtedly the kind of heiress born with a silver spoon in her mouth, raised as the jewel of her family. Her demeanor—one that could look down on anyone with equal disdain—made it clear to everyone around her that she was not to be trifled with.
The train doors closed, and it gradually pulled away from the platform, venturing deeper into the cosmos.
Even in the interstellar age, people were still ranked into hierarchies.
The privileged VIP passengers enjoyed services far beyond the ordinary.
Linda quickly approached the girl, first bowing before extending a hand. "Miss Xia, your compartment is in first class. Please follow me."
Many had already been speculating about the identity of this dazzling yet haughty young woman. Upon hearing the surname "Xia," realization dawned.
"Huaxia Heavy Industries"—the most renowned corporation in the galaxy. Practically every major industrial enterprise involved in foundational production and technology was tied to it.
No one in the interstellar era could claim ignorance of Huaxia Heavy Industries, and the Xia family was equally famous. Countless netizens jokingly referred to Chairman Xia as "Daddy," though the man himself had made it clear: "I have only one daughter. I don’t need so many people calling me Dad."
Now, seeing this girl’s impeccable, extravagant style, it was obvious—she was the beloved daughter of the internet’s favorite "National Daddy."
Xia Miao followed Linda without so much as a glance to the side, her gaze fixed ahead as if no one else existed. She had clearly been raised like a princess, showered with adoration, and now carried herself like a queen. Even the click of her heels against the floor exuded an exaggerated air of nobility.
As she drew closer, the armed security personnel instinctively parted to make way.
No. 13 also stepped aside. As they brushed past each other, he could’ve sworn—for just a fleeting moment—Miss Xia’s eyes lingered on him.
Soon, the young heiress’s figure disappeared down the corridor.
No. 6 muttered under his breath, "That woman is terrifying. I heard the Xia family is arranging a marriage for her. I wonder what kind of man could possibly handle her?"
No. 13 replied dryly, "Probably someone with terrible luck."
The others nodded in silent agreement.
As if sensing the whispers, Xia Miao suddenly turned her head.
The young men stiffened, immediately lowering their heads and pretending to be engrossed in their tasks.
Seeing his comrades so "busy," No. 13 debated whether to play along—but before he could, the young mistress let out a cold snort and followed Linda into the first-class carriage.
Nearby, a group of students was also discussing Xia Miao.
Gou Dejiu couldn’t help but remark, "So that’s what the daughter of an ultra-wealthy family is like. The sheer intimidation she radiates is unreal."
He couldn’t imagine mustering the courage to confront her if she had been the one causing trouble earlier. The way she looked at people made you question whether you were nothing but a clown in her eyes.
Put simply, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone mentally reducing him to worthless trash.
Xue Fufu glanced in the direction Xia Miao had vanished, feeling the stark divide between social classes for the first time. As the others continued gossiping, she quietly added, "Someone like her would never spare a glance for people like us. Only the rich could ever catch her attention."
Ming Zhenduan scoffed. "Obviously. Are you stupid? Look at her status—of course she’d only mingle with the wealthy."
Xue Fufu clenched her jaw, swallowing her frustration.
Ming Zhenduan sighed dreamily. "If only I could marry the Xia heiress. I’d never have to worry about money again."
His words echoed the unspoken fantasies of many men.
The first-class carriage was far quieter than the others, with exclusive access to entertainment lounges and restaurants. Though the Galaxy Express was nothing extraordinary in Xia Miao’s eyes, objectively speaking, it was a marvel of human engineering.
Her room was No. 444—an unlucky number by superstition, but she paid no mind to such things. Stepping into the lavishly appointed suite, complete with a bathroom and shower, she surveyed her surroundings before drawing the curtains to reveal the boundless expanse of space outside.
With luck, she might even catch a glimpse of distant, sun-like stars during the voyage.
Satisfied, Xia Miao turned to Linda. "I’ve heard first-class cabins have the best security measures, designed to prevent all kinds of incidents. I’d like someone to explain the safety features of this room."
The Xia family had recently opened a factory in the Virgo Cluster, and as the heiress, Xia Miao couldn’t afford to idle at home. Her father had assigned her to oversee the new facility’s operations—a way to groom her for future responsibilities.
Company personnel would meet her upon arrival, but this was her first solo journey. It wasn’t unreasonable for the young mistress to be cautious, even aboard the galaxy’s most secure train.
Linda nodded. "The security team knows the train’s safety protocols best. I’ll have someone brief you."
Xia Miao smoothed her skirt as she took a seat, replying casually, "Thirteen is my lucky number. Send No. 13."
Linda hesitated but knew better than to question the request. She left to summon him.
In the interrogation room, the stench of blood hung thick in the damp, oppressive air.
"I admit it! I stole! I shouldn’t have stolen on the train—please, let me go!"
The man, now a broken mess, knelt on the floor, his scalp torn and bloody, several teeth missing. His face was so battered it was unrecognizable.
A young man in a black uniform shook his bloodied hand, smiling amiably. "See? If you’d confessed earlier, you could’ve spared yourself all this pain."
The thief sobbed. "I was wrong, I was wrong—ah!"
Another punch sent another tooth flying.
"I already confessed! Why are you still hitting me?!"
The orange-haired man grinned. "I never said confessing would save you. Besides..." His cheerful tone turned playful. "I’m bored."
Through his bright, boyish smile, the thief realized with horror—this man wasn’t torturing him for a confession. He was doing it purely for entertainment.
Someone knocked on the door of the interrogation room, and a teammate said, "The train attendant said that young mistress demands you go explain the security measures in the carriage to her."
No. 13 blinked, bored, and curled his lip slightly before releasing his grip. The man on the floor, now barely recognizable as human, lay limp and barely breathing. As No. 13 stood up, he couldn’t resist giving the man another kick. Seeing no reaction, not even a twitch, he let out a faint sigh of disappointment.
No. 13 pulled open the door and stepped out of the interrogation room, accepting the tissue his teammate handed him. He wiped away the blood smeared across his pale, unblemished face first, then meticulously cleaned his hands until not a trace remained.
"The young mistress is asking for me?"
No. 7 replied, "Yeah. You don’t think she overheard us talking about her and is looking to make trouble, do you?"
No. 13 casually tossed the crumpled tissue to the floor, where a cleaning robot swiftly appeared to dispose of it. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he recalled the fiery-tempered young mistress, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes crinkled with amusement.
"A young lady that fierce… surely she won’t bite, will she?"
Watching No. 13 stride away with light steps, No. 7 exchanged uneasy glances with the rest of the team.
The interrogation room door creaked open again, and the metallic stench of blood seeped into the hallway.
No. 7 muttered, "Honestly, which one of them is scarier?"
