Now that the materials and equipment had arrived, along with a fresh workforce, Mr. Xie led everyone in tackling the ship's most serious and troublesome wound: the enormous breach torn open by a spatial bubble torpedo.
Mr. Duba was a man of his word. He'd said he would arrive in three days, and he'd made it within three days. Yu Lian, of course, had to keep his word too, so he'd prepared a fragrant hot pot in the captain's quarters. And since the Toronians couldn't handle spicy food, he'd switched to a seafood broth simmered with dried bamboo shoots, shiitake mushrooms, and salted fish.
To manage a meal like that aboard a ship short on food and supplies, Yu Lian felt he'd done pretty damn well. No wonder he was the handsome grandson of the Liu family, heir to fifteen hundred years of culinary mastery.
Of course, he also had to admit that the other handsome grandson-in-law, who shared that same fifteen-hundred-year culinary inheritance, had helped quite a bit.
Mr. Duba, leader of the convoy and a representative of the Tors Trade Consortium, looked deeply moved. He had the air of a man thinking, "My idol invited me to dinner. Even if I jumped into outer space right now and drifted around like a zombie, I'd have no regrets in this life."
In fact, he'd been just as enthusiastic from the moment he stepped off his ship.
He was nothing like a buttoned-up professional salesman. He grabbed Yu Lian's hands and wouldn't let go, then called over the photographer he'd brought along and had him snap a whole series of pictures.
"Please sign one for me later. It'll become a family heirloom." He kept smiling with disarming, simple warmth, as if every strand of fur on his face radiated joy.