Chapter Five: The Most Expensive Meal on the Moon

The Homecoming Hotel became famous overnight. Seventy-three thousand applications flooded in. Some offered fortunes to recover dead pets or missed weddings; others wanted losing stock trades replayed. Zhou rejected them and opened only twelve screening slots. “Regret is not entertainment,” he told the broadcast. “We do not sell the dead or guarantee dreams.” Prices tripled. The Laurel Restaurant had no chef. It rebuilt flavors from emotional crystals. Gu sat at its only table before a cup of hot chocolate—the one his twelve-year-old son had made while waiting for him, then poured away. He drank once, eyes wet, and did not ask for another. “The costliest meal isn't one you can't afford,” he said. “It's one you arrive too late to share.”