Captain Mike, dressed in pajamas, holding a glass of whiskey, was leaning in the shadows of the cabin door. He had clearly been awake for a while but had not come up to intervene.
"Excellent teamwork."
Mike downed the whiskey in his glass in one go, slowly stepped onto the deck, and his voice carried a hint of hoarseness but more of heartfelt admiration.
"Lin, your idea of using lift to reduce friction, to be honest, even I couldn't think of that in such a situation. You're using airplane piloting logic to sail a yacht."
He then turned his gaze to Riven, who had just opened the cabin door and was about to change clothes.
"And you, Riven, my dear." His tone became incredibly proud and gratified.
"Your decisions were decisive and accurate, from judging the squall line to deciding on the compression sails, every command was impeccable."
"My daughter, you've... grown up, you're already a captain who can stand on her own."
