The island naval base covers five square kilometers and is home to more than three hundred shipgirls.
There are also eight factions, over a dozen alliances of shared interests, more than twenty power brokers representing their own factions, and over forty different facilities. The number of two-faced backstabbers among them is beyond counting. The system logs show more than 9,400 group chats alone, and those are just on the port district's internal messaging app, not counting all the others.
"My authority as commander may be unlimited, but my energy isn't... Shipgirls are downright demons." Ying Hui said this while lying in the port district's bathhouse, then quite naturally asked Belfast, the head maid who was giving him a shoulder massage, to press a little harder.
Three women make a drama; three hundred shipgirls make a palace intrigue. Commander Ying Hui had transmigrated with dreams of freedom, but the shipgirls' tangled relationships spun a vast web that kept him bound to the naval base. The sparrow trapped deep within the palace turned out to be me. Though, by the end, he was actually quite willing to stay.
