015
Zhi Wei: "...What are you so smug about?"
Andre's voice was brimming with pride, his head held high and chest puffed out, as if he might tip backward from sheer self-satisfaction.
Zhi Wei wanted to snap at him to shut up as usual. But Andre—Andre was truly something else. He genuinely took pride in this, leaving Zhi Wei torn between exasperation and amusement.
He sat there, eyes sparkling with joy, glowing with pride—for Zhi Wei.
The look on his face, as if he'd won some grand victory simply by being her adjutant, was undeniably striking.
His blue eyes shone with crystalline brilliance, and though his features leaned toward the cold beauty of a porcelain doll, his smile now was radiant and alive.
How could she possibly scold him?
With a sigh, she relented, muttering, "Keep it down."
Andre immediately lowered his voice, though it dissolved into a gleeful mumble: "My commanding officer is Zhi Wei!"
Zhi Wei propped her chin on her hand, eyeing him sidelong.
But this was her own starship. If he wanted to crow a little, bask in his triumph by her side—well, she supposed it didn’t matter.
---
The Lanmeng Academy was situated on the primary planet of the Stiyad-Timothy Sector.
This was arguably the most prosperous corner of the galaxy.
Peering out from the starship’s viewport, Zhi Wei saw a planet bathed in neon and laser light, its curved surface dense with towering skyscrapers that pierced the clouds.
Streets teemed with hovercraft, their high-speed passage leaving behind faint trails of fuel residue that streaked the layered sky with wisps of white.
Floating sky islands obscured natural sunlight, leaving the surface perpetually illuminated by the cold, artificial glow that never dimmed, day or night—Stiyad-Timothy, the brightest jewel of the interstellar sectors.
If this place was so prosperous, did that mean the wealthy nobility lived here?
Zhi Wei thought as much, and so she asked.
"Your family’s pretty well-off, right? Do they live here?" she inquired curiously.
But Andre didn’t respond with the cheerful affirmation she expected.
Instead, his brows furrowed, his gaze dropping past the starship’s control panel to survey the scene below with something like disdain.
"Of course not. This place? It’s no different from a smart-component factory."
He seemed almost surprised by her question, offering an analogy: "Starships have bedrooms—who’d live in the energy chamber?"
Hearing this, Zhi Wei’s view of Stiyad-Timothy shifted slightly.
Andre went on, explaining, "Stiyad-Timothy has another name: The Ever-Burning Human Fuel."
The perpetually lit sector. The undying starlight. The souls set aflame.
They didn’t linger to explore, heading straight for Lanmeng Academy instead.
Professor Xu acted as Zhi Wei’s reference, so she bypassed any formalities and entered the school without issue.
Lanmeng’s campus was vast, almost like a small city unto itself. Its curriculum was extensive, and the student population was enormous.
Zhi Wei was quite interested in the school, eager to audit a few classes and learn more about the interstellar world.
Andre, however, had no interest in lectures. He was practically vibrating with excitement, itching to organize a rally right then and there.
Still, since Zhi Wei wanted to tour the campus, he accompanied her.
"Lanmeng is a comprehensive institution, and it ranks near the top. Their best schools are Mecha Engineering, Programming, and Pharmaceuticals," Andre explained as they walked.
Zhi Wei asked offhandedly, "Students who graduate from here probably land decent jobs, right?"
In her mind, Lanmeng was a prestigious school in a wealthy sector—surely its graduates had an easier time finding work?
But Andre looked blank at the question.
The young master had no concept of "jobs" or "working for a living."
Just as Zhi Wei was about to tease him, she spotted a gaunt figure in the distance.
Normally, when Andre was by her side, his overwhelming beauty eclipsed everyone else, making it hard for her to notice passersby.
But this time was different.
The person was painfully thin—tall, yet with a frame so emaciated it seemed concave in places, as if a strong breeze might carry them away.
Their black hair fell to their shoulders, their face downturned, making it impossible to discern gender. Dressed entirely in black, they moved like a shadow slipping past.
Zhi Wei’s brows shot up.
She murmured to Andre, "What’s going on with them?"
Andre didn’t know, but he could guess.
Based on what he’d seen during his own school days, the answer was simple: starvation.
"Probably malnutrition," he said matter-of-factly. "Education is expensive. Students whose families can’t support them sometimes end up like that."
"Trying to support their households while struggling to find part-time work—the only way to save money is to eat less."
Hearing this, Zhi Wei understood.
It was like when she’d worked part-time jobs before—earning money cost energy, and energy was finite. If you needed that energy for work, the easiest way to cut expenses was to skip meals.
After crossing into this world, she’d been thrust straight into the high-stakes game of the Selection.
She hadn’t witnessed the lower rungs of interstellar poverty, nor had she questioned the sudden wealth she’d stumbled into, assuming this era was one of universal prosperity.
But now, stepping outside the temple, she was seeing it for the first time.
"The poor are the majority," Andre said casually, as if commenting on the weather. "How else would we be the wealthy nobles?"
Zhi Wei turned slowly to look at him.
Andre wasn’t gloating. There was no malice in his words, no condescension—just a simple statement of fact.
Which made it all the more unsettling.
Her gaze lingered on the retreating skeletal figure, her eyes clouded with something like pity.
A restless discomfort prickled under her skin.
"People starving like this…" she murmured to herself. "It can’t just be their own fault."
Zhi Wei couldn’t stand seeing people go hungry.
To her, food was the most basic need. No matter what drove a person to starve themselves, it always left others unsettled.
Scanning the passersby, she noted the stark contrasts—some clearly lived in comfort, while others were so strained their brows were permanently creased.
"Isn’t there a god who provides food?" she asked Andre.
"There is," he replied, as if it were obvious. "Like the chocolate deity I prayed to before—didn’t they grant me blueberry-flavored chocolate?"
That was a transaction! She meant free food!
Hastily clarifying, she said, "A god who gives food without charging. Does that exist?"
Andre’s expression twisted in discomfort. "That sounds… really disrespectful to the gods."
The lingering ghosts of the past had withered to mere bamboo stalks, and at a glance, there were many around with faded robes and frayed hems. When asked about meals, how had the conversation veered toward reverence?
Zhi Wei took an unconventional approach: "Are there any deities who give money to humans to spend?"
Andre shook his head.
"That’s unearned gain. That’s no good—it’s impious. You should think about what to offer the gods, not what to demand from them."
Zhi Wei: "…"
Honestly, if she were truly a local and wanted to run for divinity, why not just campaign as the God of Wealth?
Whoever prayed to her, she’d hand out money—surely that would rocket her to the top of the rankings in no time.
Who could compete with the God of Wealth?
Zhi Wei fell silent for a moment, turning the thought over in her mind.
The soft-heartedness and compassion ingrained in her since childhood, etched into her very flesh and blood, now roared to life at the sight of starving students.
She made her decision: "Cancel the rally for now. Withdraw some funds and buy food to distribute."
This wasn’t money she’d earned, so she felt no attachment to it, no greed.
Zhi Wei was now a candidate—she could do something, and she fully intended to.
She’d rather let the rivers flow to her, only for her to act as a temporary Rain God, redirecting the waters to parched lands.
Andre, seeing work to be done, perked up immediately. "Which part of your campaign platform does this promote?"
Zhi Wei sighed. "It’s not part of my platform. It’s biological instinct and moral law—people should eat."
Andre didn’t quite understand, but he obeyed.
Zhi Wei delegated the task to Andre, who took the money to procure supplies and negotiate with Lanmeng’s student council.
While he busied himself, so did Zhi Wei—by wandering aimlessly.
Her candidate status was incredibly useful; flashing it granted her access to any library, exhibition hall, or classroom.
Since she was already a candidate, she might as well use the privilege to audit lectures.
Zhi Wei spent three days attending classes, while Andre spent three days distributing food on campus.
She’d made the decision simply because she’d seen students going hungry.
Good grief, they were as thin as sticks.
Her money came so easily—giving some away for food was the least she could do. She hadn’t thought much beyond that.
But Zhi Wei never expected that her complete lack of concern for returns, her near-desperate avoidance of fame or recognition, would set her apart from every other candidate the students had encountered.
Their three days of distributing supplies at Lanmeng caused three days of uproar.
Lanmeng’s students had never seen a candidate who handed out goods before even giving a speech.
Divine elections were all about low investment, high returns. Every campaign team had meticulous plans for each phase, ensuring every penny spent would yield results for the candidate.
Lanmeng wasn’t even an independent voting district—what hearts could be won here by handing out food?
Though the students found the move inefficient, they were happy to take the wheat cakes, meat pies, and nutrient packs.
Once in hand, they turned over the packaging, searching for any trace of a candidate’s name.
There was none—no campaign slogans, no donation links.
The students were baffled. Murmurs of discussion spread.
"This kind of charity doesn’t even have the organization’s logo or the candidate’s name on it?"
"Feeding the whole school is worse than giving scholarships to the top students. Didn’t past candidates all do that?"
"Exactly. Why hand out food? Who’s short a meal? And what does someone who’s missing a meal have to do with divine elections anyway?"
"She hasn’t reached out to any financial groups or joined any organizations. No wonder her campaign strategy is off."
Was it off?
For every voice in discussion, there were those who stayed silent.
Silently chewing their wheat cakes, drinking their nutrient packs, feeling the fullness in their stomachs and the strength returning to their bodies.
Their gazes lifted to the sky, imagining Zhi Wei—somewhere in Lanmeng yet unseen.
Mysterious and gentle, bending to pity even the grass by the roadside.
