Chapter One: A Drop in the Vast Ocean

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Returning specifically from the early days of a hundred thousand words to deposit my thoughts:

All the settings in this work are purely fictional. Any resemblance to real people, events, groups, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Chapters with negative reviews are preceded by warnings to help readers avoid pitfalls.

Due to habits left from writing on other platforms, there may be author’s notes in the preface, and two separate explanatory chapters are interspersed within the main text—this will not happen again, and I apologize for any inconvenience.

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When Shen Xing opened his eyes once more, he found himself adrift in an endless stretch of starry sky.

“What… is this?”

His mind, still shrouded in confusion, gradually grew clear. In his final memory, the front of a truck had barreled straight toward him—

But now, he had become a rock in the midst of space.

Though he was keenly aware of his newfound insignificance, Shen Xing mused that should he return to Earth in this meager form, his tiny body would be enough to turn his beloved hometown into a dead world.

He was endlessly spinning through space, drawn by an unknown force.

Though he no longer possessed eyes, a strange form of vision unfolded before him, much like the cosmic sandbox games he had once played on obscure platforms.

He sensed a colossal blue star in the distance exerting the strongest pull upon him, far outstripping the other gravitational forces he could perceive.

It was as gentle as a spring breeze.

After watching for a while, perhaps out of lingering human habit, he began to feel a trace of sleepiness.

Sending out a ripple, like a stretch after waking, Shen Xing drifted into slumber.

…

He had no idea how long he slept—perhaps years, or even longer.

When he finally awakened, he realized he had reached the far side of the star, having completed a great arc.

He couldn’t determine his orbital period, nor could he translate it into Earth time, and an overwhelming fatigue settled over him.

He would sleep for years on end, only to awaken to the same cosmic scenery, occasionally glimpsing planets colliding in silent bursts of blinding light.

“I can’t just drift endlessly like this, can I? What sort of eternal prison is this?”

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Just as Shen Xing was about to abandon all thought, a peculiar sensation emerged in his consciousness.

[Unnamed]

[Level: Microplanet]

[Primary Force: Ability to manipulate gravity]

[Unity of All Things: Can fuse with any tangible matter upon contact]

[Civilization Level: (Inactive)]

“I can accept a system, but why does it feel as if I’ve slept for tens of thousands of years?” Shen Xing wondered. Upon waking, he noticed some distant stars had dimmed and died.

Perhaps such things were normal from a planet’s perspective, yet from a human’s, it was utterly absurd.

“Since I’m here, I may as well make the best of it. Civilization level… could that mean something akin to human civilization? If such a system exists, perhaps I can try to create life…”

Excitement stirred within him. After drifting through space for so long, witnessing countless celestial bodies reduced to dust, he had resigned himself to someday fading away as well.

But now, with the system’s presence, there was a chance he could nurture life and become a creator.

At least, he would no longer be condemned to endless solitude in this silent, boundless expanse.

…

In the days that followed, Shen Xing busied himself with using his Primary Force to capture passing asteroids and fragments of shattered planets.

With every capture and fusion, his body grew larger.

The Primary Force resembled a kind of telekinesis: he’d lock onto a target and gradually draw it to his surface.

A mysterious energy would envelop and assimilate the matter, making it part of him.

As he continued to merge with more material, Shen Xing realized he could extend his Primary Force over a wider range.

“It seems the larger my mass and volume, the farther I can reach and the stronger my Primary Force becomes.”

Patiently, he nurtured his growth, feeling his size multiply several times over.

Compared to the celestial siblings around him—none quite as large as Earth, but not far off—he was rapidly approaching half their size.

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During this period, Shen Xing managed to calculate his orbital period.

With nothing else to do, and an inexhaustible energy since awakening his consciousness, he could multitask without restraint. He counted every second, every moment, until he arrived at a precise answer.

One hundred and seventy-three years.

Omitting unnecessary units, his revolution around the star took one hundred and seventy-three years, while his rotation period was about ten hours per day.

Perhaps because he originated from Earth, he found himself more comfortable with a rotation period of around twenty-six hours.

The previous ten-hour days left him dizzy and queasy, as if his consciousness still reeled with inertia—a distinctly unpleasant sensation.

Now, with a twenty-six-hour day, it was as soothing as an old man in a rocking chair listening to the trial of Galileo.

Having adjusted his rotation, Shen Xing continued to quietly orbit, gathering fragments as if collecting daily log-in rewards—a little bit at a time.

After completing 6,666 orbits around the massive blue star (a number chosen out of some whimsical superstition, though the idea came to him around the 3,029th orbit), Shen Xing resolved to put a plan into action:

The Wandering… Shen Xing!

The blue star had an ill temper, sometimes erupting in violent storms, and its blue light was far from aesthetically pleasing—he preferred the familiar warmth of Earth’s sun.

By now, his planetary body had surpassed his celestial siblings in size, and his vast consciousness could easily picture Earth’s continents spread across his own surface.

In fact, he was now even larger than Earth—so much so that he could allocate extra land where the previous ocean once lay.

Satisfied with his size, Shen Xing’s plan was to wander in search of a suitable sun-like star, while compressing his mass to recapture the sensation of gravity from his days on Earth.

As a planet, time had lost all meaning for him.

His consciousness was no longer as fragile as a human’s. He needed no computers or phones—just the occasional inward gaze to survey his own surface and rearrange his continents for amusement.

“It’s done. It’s time to bid farewell to Little Blue.”