012
Zhi Wei paid the deposit.
She planned to come back in the afternoon or the next day to finalize the purchase once she had enough money.
Andre was muttering complaints, grumbling about how little campaign donations they were receiving.
"We should reach out to financial syndicates. The donations collected through websites and rallies are minimal," he murmured. "Scattered contributions from voters won’t amount to much. But syndicates can pour significant funds into a campaign."
Zhi Wei shot him a glance.
She could tell Andre was hinting at her joining an organization.
Going solo was a disadvantage. Now that the deity selection had begun, running as an independent candidate put her at a severe disadvantage.
Sure enough, after studying her expression, Andre began circling the topic. "But syndicate donations usually go to organizations, not directly to individual candidates."
His implication was clear—he wanted Zhi Wei to align with an organization.
Preferably a major one, inheriting its voter base and stronghold districts to ease her own burden.
Zhi Wei ignored him.
To her, Andre came across as a privileged young master, clueless about real struggles yet earnestly trying—and failing—to help.
The kind of "help" she wanted was genuine sabotage, not this half-hearted meddling that went against her wishes!
This was nothing like what she had envisioned when she first invited Andre to be her deputy.
Since they were already on the satellite city, Zhi Wei decided to explore.
The satellite’s temple district resembled the main planet she had stayed on before, except with more shops and bustling crowds.
She and Andre parked their hovercraft and wandered on foot, soaking in the lively atmosphere.
Before long, they spotted a dense crowd gathered nearby.
"That must be a campaign rally," Andre guessed. "This satellite attracts tourists, so holding rallies here means reaching more districts."
They edged closer, joining the outer fringes of the crowd.
Upon approaching, they realized it wasn’t a rally for a single candidate or organization.
Instead, several smaller groups had pooled resources to host a joint event.
Zhi Wei was intrigued. Andre explained, "Rallies are expensive, so small organizations often collaborate like this."
"Some groups don’t have candidates who passed the preliminary selection this cycle, but they still need visibility. Otherwise, they’ll fade into obscurity."
"Losing districts is one thing, but being forgotten means losing funding—that’s the real problem."
Zhi Wei understood. It was all about staying relevant.
She skimmed the promotional banners, noting the names of these organizations.
Most had grandiose titles like "Celestial Revelation," "Divine Blessing," or "Sanctuary." Among them, "Rust Gear" stood out starkly.
Zhi Wei found it oddly amusing. "There’s an organization with that name?"
The rally resembled an idol fan meet-and-greet or autograph session.
Staff handed out flyers and pamphlets featuring campaign platforms and candidate photos.
A few figures sat behind a long table onstage, interacting with donors.
As Zhi Wei approached, she witnessed a little girl, no older than five or six, posing for a photo with a female candidate.
The candidate had striking red hair, delicate features, and a gentle demeanor.
Noticing the child’s request, she stepped out from behind the table, crouched to the girl’s level, and wrapped a light arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a warm embrace.
Andre checked his datapad and whispered, "A candidate from Celestial Revelation. Her ranking is low, but her platform focuses on protecting children’s emotional and mental well-being."
Zhi Wei crossed her arms, watching the tender scene. "That’s actually meaningful."
"Protecting kids is more substantive than your ‘Chocolate Deity’ nonsense."
"Visionary candidates can’t compete with pragmatic deities," Andre retorted dryly, his tone laced with cynicism. "What they offer children isn’t even worth a piece of chocolate."
The little girl, dressed in worn but clean clothes, gazed at the candidate with starry-eyed admiration, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
Clutching the candidate’s skirt, she asked in a small, earnest voice, "When I grow up, can I be like you? Can I join Celestial Revelation and run for deity too?"
The woman smiled warmly and hugged her. "Of course. You’re the future of the cosmos."
The crowd erupted in applause, capturing the moment on cameras, celebrating the birth of a child’s dream.
Nearby, the girl’s mother fought back tears, murmuring grateful words. When the child dashed back to her, the mother’s teardrops landed on her hair.
Zhi Wei stood still, her breath soft, her eyes crinkling with a faint smile. "See? Isn’t this nice?"
Andre’s expression remained neutral, silent.
As Zhi Wei turned to leave, a voice called out hesitantly behind her.
"Excuse me… are you that Zhi Wei?"
The speaker’s uncertainty vanished the moment Zhi Wei turned around.
"Yes! You are Zhi Wei! Hello!"
Zhi Wei sighed inwardly. Which ‘that’ Zhi Wei? Why does everyone keep calling me that?
The person who recognized her was a staff member from an organization, her chest adorned with an embroidered badge: [Rust Gear].
Her porcelain-like complexion was flawless, her voice feather-light.
"Would you like to give a speech onstage?" she asked politely.
Normally, no one got stage time without paying. But Zhi Wei was different—the hottest candidate right now. Her presence would boost the rally’s visibility.
Zhi Wei waved her off. "No, thanks."
She really, really didn’t want to improvise another campaign pitch.
Just then, the little girl’s voice piped up again.
"Mom, I forgot to give the flower to the sister!" She held up a bright orange-red bloom, but the candidate’s slot had ended, and the woman was already gone.
Her mother soothed her. "She left already. We’ll come back next time, okay?"
The child’s disappointment was palpable. The flower drooped in her tiny hand, but she forced a brave smile and nodded. "Okay."
Zhi Wei didn’t need to look back—the girl’s heartache was evident in her voice.
With a quiet sigh, Zhi Wei turned—only to find Andre already crouched down, comforting the child.
She blinked in surprise. Since when did the young master know how to console kids?
Then again, men with a nurturing side were the best. And right now, Andre’s "dad vibes" made him even more attractive than usual.
As it turned out, her beautiful fantasy lasted barely five seconds before she heard Andre speak.
Andre reached out toward the bouquet held by the little girl, his expression utterly natural. "My superior is also a candidate. You should give it to her instead."
Zhi Wei: …Andre, what kind of nonsense are you spouting?!
She jabbed him hard in the lower back.
Andre straightened up, giving the little girl a long, solemn look.
"She’s the best candidate," Andre told the child matter-of-factly. "If you don’t give her the flowers, you have terrible taste."
Zhi Wei—Zhi Wei was about to faint on the spot.
The little girl tilted her head up, studying Zhi Wei carefully before breaking into a giggle.
"I know you," she said. "You’re Zhi Wei, the one running for the position of the One God."
With surprising seriousness, she added, "You want to be the One God and stop the people behind you from running, but I want to run for godhood someday too. That means we have different platforms. So, I can’t give you the flowers."
Zhi Wei, amused by how articulate the child was despite her age, asked, "You even know about political platforms? How old are you?"
"Five," the girl declared proudly, puffing out her chest like a little duckling fluffing its yellow down.
Zhi Wei thought for a moment, then turned to the staff member nearby. "If I don’t go on stage to speak, can I still go backstage to greet everyone?"
Her words were an implicit agreement—she was allowing herself to be photographed, letting these small organizations ride on her coattails for publicity.
The staff member’s gaze flickered. She nodded. "Of course. It would be our honor."
Permission granted, Zhi Wei crouched down and patted the little girl’s shoulder.
"How about I take you to give those flowers to the other candidate?" Zhi Wei asked, then glanced at the mother. "Would that be alright? You’re welcome to come along."
The mother looked flustered. "Ah, I—thank you…"
"Am I that scary?" Zhi Wei teased. "I’m not so bad, am I?"
The mother relaxed slightly. "No, of course not. I just didn’t expect you to be so… considerate. We’ve never even donated to your campaign, yet you’re being so kind to us."
Zhi Wei didn’t think this counted as kindness.
To her, it was just a small, effortless gesture.
The walk to the backstage was quiet, the staff member leading the way while they followed closely behind.
But it was too quiet.
And so, voices drifted over on the wind.
"Did you get the shot?"
"Of course. Perfect angle. I’ll upload it to the star-net later and have the media draft an article for you."
"Then it was worth it. Is she photogenic? The pictures won’t turn out badly, will they?"
"Ugly. But her mom cried beautifully. The emotional family angle will work."
Zhi Wei’s instincts prickled.
Then, that familiar voice spoke again.
The same voice that had earlier declared, "You are the future of the galaxy," now said coldly, "That kid’s filthy. She’s got candy slime all over her hands."
With a sneer, she added, "Disgusting. A little beggar tagging along with her beggar mother, daring to ask me if she can run for godhood someday."
Zhi Wei immediately lifted her hands, covering the little girl’s ears.
But it was too late. The child was sharp—her articulate speech proved she was no fool.
How could she not understand?
The little girl’s face went deathly pale.
The staff member up ahead quickened her pace, hurrying into the backstage area. Silence followed.
As it should, Zhi Wei thought.
The platform was about protecting children’s emotional well-being—it belonged to the Celestial Dawn faction. This staff member was from Rusted Gears.
Different factions. With outsiders present, of course they’d hide their true colors and shut up.
But the silence now didn’t erase what had already happened.
Zhi Wei turned around, abandoning any thought of meeting those people. She led the stiff, shell-shocked child a distance away before stopping and letting out a soft sigh.
Deliberately ignoring the mother’s ashen face, she gently ruffled the silent girl’s hair.
Zhi Wei murmured, "You’re amazing, really. I was nowhere near as impressive at five."
"If running for godhood is what you truly want, if it’s your life’s goal, then don’t let anyone’s words stop you."
Her voice was tender, like a snowflake melting into a parched puddle—clear and luminous.
"Don’t worry about my platform. If you think I’m spouting nonsense, then go your own way."
Zhi Wei bent down, whispering into the girl’s ear so only she could hear: "And think that woman was spouting nonsense too. Think everyone is spouting nonsense. Okay?"
Her words were feather-light, yet profoundly moving.
The little girl was silent. Then, abruptly, she looked up.
She shoved the entire armful of orange flowers into Zhi Wei’s hands. "I’ll support you."
Eyes red-rimmed, she insisted stubbornly, "This isn’t something nobody wanted, so I’m giving it to you. You defeated everyone else to earn this."
"You’re the winner. You’ll be the winner till the very end." With that, she grabbed her mother’s hand and ran off.
Zhi Wei: …Huh.
She’d been nothing but kind, and the kid had just cursed her with victory!
