Day thirty of the interstellar blockade.

Ling, the youngest surgeon aboard the medical vessel, had just finished an operation. Before she could even take off her hazmat suit, she was swept out of the ship by a violent air current from an out-of-control supply pod.

In the vacuum, she nearly became stardust.

Then a starfighter cut through the turbulence like a black bolt of lightning, pulling her back to the medical ship. The airlock sealed, and oxygen flooded in.

Her savior was Commander Xiao Ke of the Seventh Federal Fleet. He lifted his helmet, revealing sharp, determined eyes — yet when they settled on her, they softened with warmth.

“Doctor, you’re lucky to be alive.”

Ling gasped for breath. “Commander… th-thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Saving you is my duty.”

But Ling saw it clearly: his hand, hanging at his side, clenched into a tight fist.

After that day, she kept running into him in the medical corridors. He would pretend to pass by just to talk to her.

One day, Xiao Ke pointed to a distant jump gate and said it was where he would deploy next.

“Are you scared?” Ling asked softly.

“I never was — not until I met you,” he replied, trying to sound casual.

During a lull in the war, the fleet was granted permission to dock at an interstellar station.

It was a massive spaceport floating between nebulae, swarming with ships. Neon lights streaked across the void, forming a long bridge the locals called — the Starbridge.

Xiao Ke held Ling’s hand as they walked through the flowing light.

“When the war ends, I’m taking you away from here,” he said, kissing her cheek. “To a world without gunfire. We’ll open a small clinic, and never be apart again.”

Ling wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” He pulled out a silver ring forged from meteorite and slipped it onto her finger. “By the Starbridge, I, Xiao Ke, will love only Ling for the rest of my life.”

That night, they embraced before the observation window, watching billions of stars streak across the sky.

He kissed her, from her forehead to her lips, so gently as if afraid she might shatter like stardust.

“Ling,” he said, his voice rough, “when I come back, we’ll get married.”

She nodded, tears falling onto his neck. “I’ll wait. No matter how long, I’ll wait.”

The final battle broke out early. Xiao Ke’s fleet was ordered on a surprise assault. Communications went dark, and the sector was swallowed by an electromagnetic storm.

Ling stayed by the communications terminal on the medical ship, not sleeping for seven days and nights.

What came through, in the end, was the news that the fleet had been destroyed. Commander Xiao Ke was confirmed killed in action.

Her world collapsed. She took off the meteorite ring and squeezed it so tight her knuckles ached.

Others tried to court her, but her heart had already died with Xiao Ke in that nebula explosion.

Six months later, the Federation held a victory celebration, inviting all medical personnel. Ling wanted to stay away, but her colleagues dragged her to the event.

The banquet hall doors opened, and everyone stood to applaud.

A familiar figure stepped in, walking through the starlight. His uniform was crisp, his posture straight, his gaze as cold and sharp as ever.

It was Xiao Ke.

He was alive.

Ling froze in place. His eyes swept the room, then locked onto her.

Their gazes met, and both were overcome with overwhelming joy.