"Dragons are born to fly in the sky." I touched the photo of my mother, stuck next to the instrument panel, and recited softly. She disliked being photographed because the unique physical structure of our family's scales reflects almost all wavelengths of light, making it very difficult to take good photos. But she still smiled brightly for me, her yellow-green scales shining like a rainbow.

"Are you already preparing your famous quote for posterity?" A serene voice came from the chip next to my ear, the joking tone making me smile.

"It's just a quote from Darkfang’s song." Wise Pathfinder Darkfang, who led the dragons to soar into the unknown void and explore new worlds filled with stars. When he took the first step onto the surface of Ceres, covered in ice, white crystals, and clay, he sang this, setting the tone for future symphonies. "If the mission doesn't fail and blow the spaceship to pieces, I'll think of a quote for posterity then." I could hear some unhappy murmurs in the background, even imagine them making warding gestures to avoid bad luck. It’s strange how scientists can still be so superstitious.

"If the mission succeeds, I think it will surely earn you a third name." There was a touch of admiration in the serene voice, making me feel a bit embarrassed. "But if it fails, at least it will be the most spectacular fireworks show of my life."

I couldn’t help but laugh, but the protests from the others in the command center were very obvious this time.

"Let's not test everyone's patience any further." I said, making a final check of the instrument panel.

"Command Center Operator - Serene Thinker confirms all systems are normal and ready for launch. Navigator of Farview - Fearless Challenger, please confirm status." She switched to a professional tone, and the sarcastic thanks from someone in the background made me smile again.

"Fearless Challenger confirms all systems are normal and ready for launch." I completed the check and gave my response, and other commanders at their stations also gave the green light.

"Preparing for launch countdown." There was a hint of hesitation in her voice. "May your song endure and harmonize with all things," she sang.

"May the song endure and harmonize with all things," I responded in the same tune. It was interesting to know she had such a traditional side.

"Initiating ignition sequence, countdown begins. Ten, nine, eight..."

The hull vibrated slightly, and I took a deep breath.

"Launch!"



"Launch!" Mud, the same temperature as the environment, didn't trigger my infrared vision, and the wet, sticky sensation clung to my body.

"Kill that monster!" They shouted and jumped around, letting me judge their movements, avoiding thrown objects, and seizing the opportunity to grab something hard from the ground to throw back in retaliation.

"The monster is angry!" They laughed and ran away, at least not bothering me anymore.

Although my pride was truly hurt, and I should probably be used to this special treatment by now, I sat in the mud for a while, the dirt flowing down from the gaps in my scales.

"Are you okay?" An adult passerby seemed to notice something was wrong, walking over and trying to help me up from the ground. His expression showed clear shock when he touched my back, and he slightly recoiled.

"I'm fine." Mixed with shame and inferiority, I pushed his hand away and ran home without looking back.



Our home is one of the units in a hive-like apartment complex, like most residents on Ceres. I've always been curious about what a hive is. The heater in the living room emitted a steady warmth, and I lay on my mother's lap as she hummed a soothing tune, finally allowing me to relax.

Flipping through the photo album in my hands, looking at the previously taken photos always calmed me. The magnificent and solemn Occator Crater, the occasionally shimmering Mithril Light of Ahura Mountain, the volcanoes periodically spewing giant ice crystals, the symmetrical straight lines of the Urvara Pit Chain, and the Great Red Spot on Zeus occasionally being able to see.

In addition to various landscapes, my collection sometimes included people. Friendly apartment managers, neighbors who eagerly taught me photography skills, or unnoticed places, capturing crowds. I tried hard to convince my mother to leave physical records, and as always, she replied that she would consider it carefully.

As for myself, perhaps one day I will be willing to leave a photographic record of my existence. But not now.

"I want to travel the world and document things never seen before." I murmured, and my mother gently patted my head, her nails making a slight sound on my scales.

A long time ago, during these low moments when I was hurt, I always asked her, "Why am I different?" Later, I gradually realized this was also an undeniable hurt for my mother, as if blaming her.

"To explore the unknown universe, to understand all possible existences." So after my father finally couldn’t bear the shame and left for a long time, I started trying, in these most vulnerable moments, not to be stuck in helplessness but to speak of my hopes for the future—all possible forms.

"I want to fly higher and farther than any of them." Mostly out of defiance, I think, a kind of childish defense mechanism. But it gave me direction and strength, enabling me to stop being troubled by my own weakness, and it seemed to make my mother feel less guilty. "To introduce to everyone those existences that have never been imagined."

"That's great." My mother said with a smile, her tone carrying a melody of encouragement. I've heard that fewer and fewer dragons are mastering this skill, and eventually, we will inevitably lose our song. "Dragons are born to fly in the sky."

I buried my head, not wanting my mother to see this weak side of me. But I knew that the tear sliding down from the gap between my scales, shining with light, was a glimpse of future possibilities.