110: Chapter 110 Space Tourism Craze! Ordinary People Can Now Look Down on Earth

"Space tourism? You're saying one hundred and thirty-seven countries want to start space tourism?"

Lin Yun held the joint application, which was half a meter thick, and felt his blood pressure rising as sharply as the height of the "star bridge."

"To be precise, it was jointly submitted by the tourism departments of one hundred and thirty-seven countries, twenty-six multinational travel agencies, and ninety-three non-governmental tourism organizations on the 'Dragon Net.'" Xiao Zhang's data pad was densely packed with names and official seals.

"Their core demand is simple—open a civilian tourism channel for the space elevator. Let ordinary citizens take the 'Tianwen' cabin into space to see the Earth."

Lin Yun put down the application and fell into deep thought.

Space tourism.

In the old era, this was a dream only billionaires could touch. A suborbital flight ticket on 'Virgin Galactic' cost four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And true orbital flight—such as taking a Crew Dragon to the International Space Station—was unthinkable without twenty or thirty million dollars.

But now, the transport cost of the space elevator was twelve dragon coins per kilogram.

An adult weighing seventy kilograms, plus life support equipment and seat weight—about one hundred and fifty kilograms in total.

Transport cost: one thousand eight hundred dragon coins.

Converted to old US dollars—less than three hundred bucks.

Three hundred dollars from the ground to space.

It was cheaper than a plane ticket from the capital to New York.

"'Nuwa,' if we open civilian tourism channels, how many tourists can we host at most per day?"

"Under the 'five-cable parallel' structure, two of the five cabins can be allocated for a dedicated tourism line. Each cabin would be modified into a large sightseeing module capable of holding one hundred passengers. Operating two trips a day—one ascent and one descent—we can host four hundred tourists daily."

"The annual capacity would be approximately one hundred and forty thousand people."

One hundred and forty thousand people.

It didn't sound like much.

But this was space tourism—the first time in human history that "going to see space" had become something achievable for ordinary people.

"How should we set the ticket price?"

"Based on a comprehensive calculation of operating costs, maintenance fees, and reasonable profit, the recommended ticket price is—five thousand dragon coins per person."

Five thousand dragon coins.

According to the current exchange rate, that was about eight hundred old US dollars.

Eight hundred dollars—for a trip to space.

For most of the world's middle class, this price was already a travel expense that could be saved up for by being a bit frugal.

"Open it," Lin Yun made the decision.

"But there are conditions."

"First, all tourist passengers must pass a physical examination at the 'Hive' Medical Center to confirm their physical condition is suitable for space travel."

"Second, twenty percent of the ticket price will be incorporated into the 'Interstellar Development Fund.'"

"Third—" Lin Yun looked out the window at the "star bridge" emitting a faint orange glow.

"On every tourist flight, ten free spots must be reserved. These ten spots are specifically for those—who have struggled at the bottom their entire lives. Farmers, workers, cleaners, delivery drivers... those who have never been on a plane, never even left their own province."

"Let them see the Earth from space too."

"Let them know that the land beneath their feet, which has caused them endless hardship, is actually the most beautiful blue jewel in the universe when seen from space."

The command tent fell silent for three seconds.

Song Mingyue looked up and glanced at Lin Yun.

She didn't say anything, but the curve of her lips betrayed her current mood.

After the news was announced, the world—once again—exploded.

The "Dragon Net" servers crashed six times within thirty seconds under the flood of reservations.

"Nuwa" urgently deployed ten times the computing power to cope.

The final statistics—within the first hour after the reservation channel opened, global registrations exceeded—eight hundred million.

Eight hundred million people wanted to take the space elevator to see the Earth.

Yet the space elevator could only host one hundred and forty thousand people per year.

This meant the queue—if capacity wasn't increased—would take five thousand seven hundred years.

"Five thousand seven hundred years?" Lin Yun looked at the data, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"Commander, I suggest increasing the number of cables and cabins," Red Queen suggested. "With the production capacity of the carbon nanotube weaving factory, the 'star bridge' can be expanded from five cables to twenty within six months, and the number of simultaneously operating cabins can be increased to sixteen."

"The annual capacity could be increased to one million people."

One million people.

The waiting time would be shortened from five thousand seven hundred years to eight hundred years.

Still too slow.

"We can't rely on just one 'star bridge.'" Lin Yun's gaze swept across the equator on the holographic globe.

"We need a second one. A third. Even more."

"Build multiple space elevators at different locations along the global equator. Form an—equatorial space elevator network."

"By then, our annual space transport capacity—whether for materials or personnel—will be elevated to a true 'interstellar civilization' level."

This concept was massive. But with the successful experience of the first "star bridge" and the support of mass-produced carbon nanotube technology, the construction period for the second and third would be greatly shortened.

"Let's get the first batch of tourist flights running first," Lin Yun ordered. "Let the world see what the space tourism experience is actually like."

Two weeks later.

The first batch of space tourism flights—codenamed "Blue Planet One"—officially set sail.

Among the hundred passengers, ninety were ordinary tourists who had obtained their seats through normal ticketing channels—hailing from forty-seven countries, ranging in age from eighteen to eighty-two, and from all walks of life: university professors, delivery guys, retired nurses, farmers, and street painters.

And there were ten—who were the recipients of the free spots designated by Lin Yun.

Among them was a sixty-three-year-old female farmer from the mountains of Yunnan-Guizhou, named Yang Xiuying. She had never left her village in her life; the furthest she had ever been was the county town. She was chosen because of a comment she posted on the "Dragon Net"—

"I've farmed all my life. My hands have been covered in mud for a lifetime. I don't know what the Earth looks like. But I want to see—what color the crops I grew look like from the sky."

This comment was liked by eight hundred million people.

The moment Yang Xiuying stepped into the "Tianwen-4" tourism cabin, she was wearing a blue cloth shirt washed until it was pale, and a pair of traditional cloth shoes with layered soles. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were etched with the hardships of sixty-three years.

She looked at the streamlined seats, the holographic viewing windows, and the exquisite food laid out on the buffet table, feeling as if she had walked into a dream.

"Is this... is this really something that goes to heaven?" she said to the nearby staff in a thick local dialect.

"Yes, ma'am. In six hours, you'll be able to see the Earth from space."

Yang Xiuying sat down cautiously in the seat, her rough fingers not daring to touch any buttons.

The cabin took off.

The speed was climbing.

The blue sky outside was deepening.

The clouds were left beneath them.

Height—ten thousand meters. Thirty thousand meters. Fifty thousand meters.

Yang Xiuying gripped the armrest tightly, not saying a word.

Seventy kilometers. Eighty kilometers.

The sky turned ink-black. Stars appeared.

One hundred kilometers—the Kármán line.

The holographic viewing window switched to maximum transparency mode.

The Earth appeared beneath Yang Xiuying's feet.

That blue planet, covered in swirling white clouds, shining in the pitch-black void.

Yang Xiuying released the armrest.

She slowly stood up and walked to the viewing window.

Her rough fingers pressed against the transparent pane.

Her lips were trembling.

"Is that... is that our land?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Those green parts... are they crops?"

"Possibly. That green area is roughly in the direction of the Indochina Peninsula... it might not be crops, it could be forests."

Yang Xiuying's tears began to fall.

They weren't tears of sadness.

It was an indescribable, massive emotion like an ocean wave—crashing through all the perceptions she had built over sixty-three years.

Her whole life, her face had been to the yellow earth and her back to the sky.

She thought the world was just those few acres of land beneath her feet and that patch of sky overhead.

But now she saw—her few acres were just a tiny dot on this blue planet. And this planet was just a tiny dot in this endless void.

"Beautiful..." Yang Xiuying sobbed, her voice so small it was almost inaudible.

"It's so beautiful..."

A young passenger next to her—a backpacker from Europe—also stood up, looking at the Earth outside the window.

Two strangers, an old farmer from the mountains of Yunnan-Guizhou and a university student from Berlin, stood in space, side by side, overlooking the same planet.

They didn't speak the same language.

But the glimmer of tears in their eyes was the same.

This scene was fully recorded by the holographic live broadcast system.

On Earth, billions of people saw this scene through their screens.

The comment section was devoid of its usual clamor.

There were only two words—

"Beautiful."

"Beautiful."

"Beautiful."

Countless "Beautifuls" flooded the comment sections of every live broadcast platform across the globe.

And in the control center of the Equatorial Base Station, Lin Yun watched the elderly woman on the monitor pressing against the window and weeping, and he remained silent for a long time.

He remembered the first time he had seen the Earth from space.

Captain Long Ying had asked then—"What are you thinking?"

He had said—"I'm thinking that the Earth is really too small."

But now he felt—the Earth isn't small.

It is the greatest treasure in the universe.

Because eight billion people like Yang Xiuying live on it—people who might never know their entire lives that they live on such a beautiful planet.

The significance of building the space elevator—wasn't just to transport materials, mine ores, or provide logistical support for the "Hundred Sons Plan."

The more important meaning was—to let every single person see this planet.

To see its beauty.

And then—be willing to fight to protect it.

"Tourism flight 'Blue Planet One' is operating normally. All passengers' vital signs are normal. Estimated arrival at the 'Tiangong' platform in three hours."

Nuwa's routine report came in.

Lin Yun nodded.

"Engineer Song," he called out.

"Hmm?" Song Mingyue looked up, still holding Shi Bao in her arms.

"The next trip—you're coming up with me."

Song Mingyue's phoenix eyes blinked.

"Didn't you say you wanted me to rest more?"

"You've been resting for over two weeks. Professor Zhao says you've recovered very well."

"Then why wouldn't you let me go up before, no matter what?"

"Because back then, we hadn't confirmed if the gravity adjustment device was safe for the bodies of postpartum women. Now the data is in—it's safe."

Song Mingyue glanced at him, her lips slowly curling upward.

"Okay."

She looked down and kissed Shi Bao's forehead. In his sleep, Shi Bao reached out a small hand and gripped her collar.

"Xiao Qiao, Mommy is going to see the ladder she built."

Shi Bao let out a soft mumble in his sleep.

Song Mingyue smiled—the kind of smile only a mother could have, gentle to the core.

Just at this heartwarming moment—

"Emergency report!"

Red Queen's voice exploded in the command center without warning.

Everyone's smiles instantly froze.

"The energy fluctuations in the fifth channel of the 'Moon Gate' have intensified violently again! The intensity is... a hundred times what it was during the previous 'tentative scan'!"

"At the same time—the sixth and seventh channels—"

Red Queen's voice showed an extremely rare tremor.

"They have all lit up."

"Of the seven channels of the 'Moon Gate,' six are now in an activated state!"

"The only one remaining—the third golden channel—the one 'Tia' pointed to as 'not in this universe'—a new line of text has appeared on its outer wall."

"What text?" Lin Yun's voice was as cold as a blade.

Red Queen was silent for a second.

"'On the day the hundredth scion is born, the chains shall break.'"

"'Your children shall be the keys.'"

"'They shall also be the battlefield.'"

Lin Yun's pupils constricted.

Ten children.

Ninety more to go.

And of the seven channels of the "Moon Gate," six were already lit.

The countdown—had already begun.

"Brother Lin..." Xiao Zhang's voice trembled.

"The fifth channel—it's not just releasing gravitational waves—"

"It's releasing a... coordinate signal."

"Pointing to..."

Xiao Zhang's face was as white as paper.

"Pointing to the 'star bridge'."