Reborn in 2011, I am the chief designer of aerospace.

Outside the spacecraft, the explosive bolts shattered like fireworks, instantly severing the fixing frames connecting the top and bottom of each external storage tank. A guillotine-like device also fell violently, precisely cutting through the thick fuel supply pipes that delivered fuel to the MS-II. Song Xingye had expected to hear a crisp, cracking sound like bolts snapping during a Long March 5 rocket launch, along with a strong vibration, but in reality, he heard nothing and felt no unusual movement whatsoever.

"The external storage tank is separating normally," he said.

"Confirmed that the external storage tank is separated," Yang Gang replied.

"Hey, look!" Mira exclaimed, looking out the window. "I see one of the external storage boxes."

Song Xingye shifted uncomfortably in his seat, following Mira's gaze. Against the gray-blue backdrop of Earth, the abandoned external storage tank presented a cone-shaped, cigar-like silhouette, its surface a mixture of muddy brown and silvery-white reflections. He could vaguely make out fragments of letters remaining on the side, and scattered patches of orange insulation material between the silver shells. Residual propellant continued to leak from the broken feed tube, the crystalline droplets shimmering faintly against the Earth's background light. This constant dripping liquid made the massive external storage tank look severely injured, like a giant whale pierced by a harpoon.

The massive external storage tank rapidly retreated, moving away from the "Search God," and slowly tumbled in space as it plummeted toward Earth.

The two outer tanks, due to their extremely high speeds, have successfully escaped Earth's gravitational well. They will orbit as independent planets of the Sun, a journey that may last billions of years until they eventually plunge into the gravitational abyss of some other planet.

Through the porthole, Song Xingye gently waved goodbye to the outer storage container with his heavily gloved fingers. "Good luck, my darling."

The engine finally shut down. He felt the acceleration gradually decrease, and the low-frequency noise and vibrations from the distant engine, which he had long been accustomed to, also quietly dissipated.

"Alright," Sheng Tianhong said, "The engine is off, and all parameters appear to be normal."

Yang Gang called out, "Search God, the ground team is full of praise for your performance just now."

Mira cheered in response, "That push-back feeling just now was absolutely amazing!"

Sheng Tianhong maintained his calm tone: "Jingzhou, judging from our instruments, the ignition just now was very precise, thank you." After saying that, he began to unfasten the buckles on his helmet and gloves.

Song Xingye watched as the Earth gradually shrank in his field of vision, eventually shrinking into a compact sphere in the darkness of space. The surface of the Atlantic Ocean seemed to be compressed together, its waves surging and shimmering with a faint light.

At this moment, the "Search God" combination was only a few hundred kilometers above the Earth's surface than it had been in near-Earth orbit. However, its speed was astonishing; Earth's gravity could no longer hold it back. Song Xingye secretly estimated that the spaceship was now traveling at a speed of 640 kilometers per minute. At such an astonishing speed, they would only need twelve hours to cross the lunar orbit.

Yang Gang suddenly asked on the channel, "I think I hear background music?"

"It's not music," Sheng Tianhong said helplessly, "it's Mila singing."

……

Song Xingye tossed and turned in his sleeping bag, utterly exhausted, yet unable to fall asleep. His back ached terribly, his head felt suffocated, and his symptoms resembled a severe cold, yet he had no cold symptoms whatsoever. His heart was pounding faster than usual, his blood seemed to be surging wildly throughout his body. He suddenly longed for the comfort of a pillow under his head, and the warmth of a blanket wrapped around his body. But in space, there was only a sleeping bag, and this sleeping bag was far too large. He felt himself swaying back and forth inside, and every time he moved, the layer of warm air that had painstakingly accumulated on his skin in the microgravity was squeezed out of the sleeping bag, making him shiver with cold.

When he finally relaxed, he felt a sense of falling. He felt dizzy and almost lost consciousness. Then, his arms involuntarily rose up, and one hand gently touched his face...

He opened his eyes again.

He was currently lying in the sleeping area at the bottom of the mission module. This small compartment was only slightly larger than a regular locker, and was surrounded by folding isolation screens. Above his head, there were neatly arranged lights, a communication station, and an exhaust fan. Below were drawers for storing personal items such as underwear. When the drawers were opened, they were covered with a layer of blue plastic mesh to prevent small items from floating around.

Light and noise seeped in through the gaps in the folding screen. Song Xingye could hear the hum of various devices in the mission cabin, as well as the faint sound of the attitude control thrusters automatically igniting. These devices constantly adjusted the "Search God's" attitude to ensure it always faced the sun. The cabin was brightly lit with sterile, cold light sources, mixed with the unique smell of metal, making one feel as if they were sleeping in a refrigerator.

Clearly, the original designer intended to equip the sleep pods with solid doors. He recalled reading a memo that mentioned the need to provide privacy for astronauts, using all sorts of NASA bureaucratic jargon, especially when describing the physiological functions of these "living people" they had spent a fortune sending into space. But ultimately, to reduce the weight of the spacecraft, these budgets were cut, and the so-called "humanistic care" came to an end.

To make matters worse, he needed to urinate.

He tried to hold it in, but the bloating in his bladder continued to worsen. Damn it, it was his own fault. The space toilet in the mission module, which was called the "waste disposal station," was such a terrible experience that he had been putting it off. Plus, his urination frequency had increased significantly after entering the microgravity environment.

There was no escaping it. He twisted his body and crawled out of the sleeping bag, turned on the overhead light, and pushed open the isolation barrier, but as soon as he moved, his back started to hurt terribly.

After completing the TOI (orbit initiation) engine ignition, the "Soul Searcher" rocket underwent its first busy operation since launch. Under the command of Sheng Tianhong, the command module carrying the crew separated from the upper stage of the rocket, then turned around and completed a head-to-head docking with the mission module.

When Song Xingye first heard the mission plan report, he found it utterly absurd to schedule the separation and docking after booster ignition. Why abandon the main rocket's boosters halfway through the journey to Mars? However, from the perspective of the mission planners—with their deep thought and foresight—it made perfect sense. If the MS-II rocket exploded during booster ignition, the astronauts in the command module could eject in time, and the rocket could ignite again to return to Earth; your portable library contains more than ten thousand volumes. And if booster ignition succeeded but docking failed, the astronauts could still use the service module's main engines to propel the spacecraft back to Earth at full speed.

Fortunately, the docking was successfully completed. The astronauts passed through the docking tunnel and entered the mission module, which would be their interstellar home away from Earth.

As long as he didn't dwell on whether dismantling a spaceship in deep space was a wise move, Song Xingye didn't care.

He floated and moved lightly through the cabin, his body as light as a feather, as if in a dream. The mission cabin was certainly much more spacious than the old command cabin, but he was still getting used to the environment and learning how to move. He discovered that he couldn't move too fast, otherwise he would bump into equipment, knock off switches, or damage instruments. Such reckless behavior was obviously extremely unprofessional. He was slowly mastering the knack, learning to move gracefully and slowly, like underwater.

This isn't a big problem. Microgravity is just another special environmental condition. He'll get used to working here sooner or later.

Inside the cabin, a small plastic table and three chairs with seatbelts are placed. Under the illumination of strip lighting, the entire space appears very clean, spacious, and bright. The walls and floors are not flat solid surfaces, but rather gray "mosaic" tiles made of blue plastic buckles, consisting of labeled storage drawers and leg anchors. The remaining areas are decorated with practical blue rectangular Velcro straps. Visual cues, signage, lighting, and color coding are all present throughout the space, clearly indicating that the entire design has been deeply optimized for a zero-gravity environment.

Song Xingye felt that this place was just like the crew rest area of ​​a commercial airliner—comfortable, compact, and cleverly designed, with everything neatly organized, resembling a mobile villa in space. Of course, everything was still brand new, without any signs of wear and tear. After a few months of use, the environment here would certainly be very different. Currently, most of the equipment in the mission cabin remained sealed, and the crew would have to move things around the cabin for the next few days to complete various preparations for the long-haul flight.

This so-called "waste disposal station" was nothing more than a small cubicle containing a toilet, some steel bolts and a simple metal nameplate, as well as some sophisticated equipment that looked like it had a military-grade feel. He floated over the isolation screen, turned around in mid-air, took off his trousers and shorts, and then pulled himself down, as the thick, soft thigh brace pressed down on his legs, firmly securing him to the toilet seat.

He pulled a flexible tube from in front of the toilet; this contraption was responsible for collecting urine into a storage tank so it could be released into the vastness of space at any time. Astronauts still habitually refer to this treatment station by its old-fashioned nickname, "excrement pipe," and the tube's outdated design confirms the origin of that name. In the locker beside him lay a set of funnels, all marked with different colors to avoid confusion. The locker already emitted a faint odor, and the transparent plastic of the funnels had yellowed slightly. After all, these devices had been tested and stored on Earth for eighteen months.

He fitted the funnel onto the tubing, making sure it fit snugly against his private parts, and then opened the valve of the urine collection tank.

Using this device requires strategy to minimize physical pain. If the valve is opened too early, the powerful negative pressure of the suction device will tightly grip the skin; and when the valve closes automatically, it can easily pinch and injure delicate tissue. The trick to avoiding this risk is to start urinating immediately after opening the valve, but this introduces another risk: if the funnel slips, the urine will turn into tiny golden droplets and float around inside the chamber.

He operated the device with bated breath, and it took him several seconds before he finally let go.

After urinating, he wondered if he should also try defecating. From a purely mechanical standpoint, this was actually simpler than urinating; he only needed to activate the waste suction device, which was a rotating roller under the toilet. The feces would be thrown against the inner wall of the roller, and then a switch would be flipped, creating a vacuum inside the roller to dry and solidify the waste.

Although he felt a bit bloated in his lower abdomen, it wasn't too intense. He estimated it would take him a few more days to fully relax and relieve himself in space. Besides, as his predecessors had gloatedly warned him, without the aid of gravity, it was definitely not an experience to look forward to.

He pulled out a few wet wipes and cleaned the inside of the funnel. The packaging of these wipes looked like cheap stuff sold in any pharmacy in his hometown, but the pungent smell of disinfectant on them constantly reminded him of their special purpose.

He untied the retaining rod and floated up from the toilet seat. He put his hands into the sink, which was actually a plastic disc that sprayed a fine mist of water onto his skin while using suction to draw the water into the drain. A couple of playful drops of water escaped from the basin, swirling lightly around the toilet before he casually slapped them away. A row of towel racks was embedded in the wall; they were actually color-coded rubber diaphragms, with the corners of the towels firmly tucked inside, fluttering in mid-air like little flags. He pulled out a towel and dried his hands.

Just then, he heard a noise and turned around.

Mila, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, hovered in the living area of ​​the cabin. She held a plastic Coke can in one hand and a silver-gray lithium hydroxide filter can in the other, fiddling with them as she floated in mid-air. The lithium hydroxide can was used to filter carbon dioxide from the circulating air and needed to be inspected and replaced regularly. The familiar red and white Coke can, except for the microgravity straw on top resembling a baby nipple, was no different in size and shape from a regular aluminum can.

Mira put her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture, clearly indicating that Sheng Tianhong was still fast asleep, and then handed him the can of Coke.

He shook his head: "My stomach is painfully bloated."

She alternated her hands, making the filter can and the cola can spin and tumble between the two of them. Song Xingye had already discovered that the weightless environment was simply a three-dimensional playground for these guys. As soon as they entered the open area of ​​the mission cabin, Sheng Tianhong and Mira couldn't wait to start doing somersaults and side flips, tossing equipment parts to each other like throwing frisbees.

Mira stopped what she was doing, turned her head and took a sip of her cola.

"What's the deal with that lithium hydroxide container?" Song Xingye asked softly.

She shrugged. "You know me, I just took a nap, but I'm not sleepy anymore. I think it's best to find something to do first." She chuckled. "You know what? I actually fell asleep during the docking."