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Zhi Wei’s gaze wavered slightly, her fingertips gripping the edges of the podium tightly, unmoving.
What savior? What pollution levels? What "One True God"? Was any of this even human language?
Where were the jeers and reprimands she’d expected? Why was everyone cheering and screaming instead?!
Was this normal? Could this possibly be normal?
She was spouting nonsense—why wasn’t anyone dragging her offstage? Why was everyone taking it so seriously? Help, did they all actually believe her?!
Before Zhi Wei could process it, people were already surging forward, crowding around her, pushing toward the stage.
An elderly woman with graying temples, dressed in a white uniform that screamed "academic," made her way from several rows back, leaning on a cane as she hurried to the front.
She braced herself against the towering podium and reached out to Zhi Wei.
Zhi Wei raised an eyebrow—oh, so she’s here to drag me off?
Suppressing a smirk, she feigned concern, stepping to the edge of the stage and crouching down to meet the scholar’s eyes. "You—"
Before she could finish, the woman seized her arms with both hands. "Such integrity! Such ambition! Such idealism… Now this is a proper campaign platform!"
She clutched Zhi Wei’s arms as if on the verge of tears.
Proper? What part of this was proper? Wasn’t it obviously a joke? Zhi Wei was stunned.
The scholar-like woman finished speaking, then reached to rub the back of her neck. She paused mid-motion and shot Zhi Wei a look of deep admiration.
Zhi Wei: "…"
What? If you’re itchy, just scratch—why are you staring at me?
As she stood there baffled, more people swarmed in behind her.
Some stretched their hands toward her from below the stage; others clambered up, scrambling to reach her.
They cheered as if witnessing a miracle, as if hearing a legend. They surrounded her, chanting her name in unison.
"Zhi Wei! Zhi Wei!"
Zhi Wei realized something was very wrong.
This didn’t look like an angry mob trying to chase her offstage at all!
She quickly stood and turned, spotting Hector leading security her way.
Right—he was her handler!
Seeing her lifeline, Zhi Wei hurried toward them.
True to form, Hector and the security team formed a protective circle around her, pushing through the crowd to escort her out.
Zhi Wei’s mind was still reeling, but the cheers around her never let up.
People touched the backs of their necks, and then—whether due to some unseen signal—their gazes toward her grew even more fervent.
Their praises brimmed with awe.
"Magnificent! This is the mark of a true savior!"
"I’ve never seen anything like this…"
"Such nobility! I’ve found this election’s finest candidate!"
Zhi Wei had no idea what they were so excited about!
Still dazed, she let the security team guide her through the crowd.
But somehow, hands slipped through gaps in the barricade, shoving slips of paper into her grasp.
Zhi Wei glanced down, pinching the material between her fingers—the unusual texture, intricate patterns, and printed numbers… Was this cash?
She shot a look at Hector beside her. His expression was utterly unreadable.
…She was sure he was doing this on purpose. Leaving deliberate gaps so people could slip money through.
Clutching the bills, she raised her hands. "Who’s throwing money at me?! Huh?!"
The moment she lifted her arms, her chest became an open target—and the crowd gleefully showered her with more cash.
"No, no, really—stop! Did someone just hit me in the head?!" Zhi Wei yanked her cape tight and tried to bolt.
But the crowd was too dense, too packed. There was no escape.
She’d severely underestimated the election’s reach.
Her speech had been broadcast live across the galaxy in real-time holograms.
Today was the preliminary round—the temple grounds were already packed with devotees, and now the streets were overflowing.
These people had just watched the broadcast, emotions at their peak, and wave after wave surged toward her.
"Zhi Wei! Zhi Wei!"
They chanted nothing else—just her name.
As a part-time idol, Zhi Wei had a conditioned reflex to fan chants. Wherever her name was called, she’d turn, wave, nod, and flash a practiced smile.
Then she realized—she’d been stuck here for five minutes.
Gritting her teeth, she jabbed Hector sharply in the ribs.
Her voice was a hissed whisper: "You did this on purpose? You want me trapped here?" She’d figured him out.
Hector blinked, feigning innocence. "I thought… you wanted more voter interaction?"
Zhi Wei’s lips curled into a flawless, dazzling smile—her eyes locked onto him like daggers.
Hector promptly began dispersing the crowd, even brandishing his weapon for emphasis. Within thirty seconds, the space around her cleared.
People lingered at the edges of the street, still watching her with burning enthusiasm.
At least she could finally breathe.
Looking down, Zhi Wei realized she’d somehow gathered her cape into a makeshift pouch—now overflowing with money.
She stared at the heap of cash, silent for a long moment, then narrowed her eyes.
Hector, eager to redeem himself, asked quickly, "Where are you staying? Let me escort you."
Zhi Wei smoothed her disheveled hair, adjusted the messy wad of bills in her arms, and fixed Hector with a long, deep look.
Hector smiled back, his amber eyes bright and warm.
His tone was patient, reassuring. "Don’t worry about inconveniencing me. As your handler, it’s my job—and my pleasure—to assist you."
"All of this is well-deserved. It’s been ages since I’ve heard such a magnificent campaign platform."
Zhi Wei: …Aaaah!!
She wanted to scream like a feral dog.
"Don’t you think this is insane? I—" She choked on her words.
Hector replied earnestly, "Unprecedented. But magnificent."
Zhi Wei was exhausted. How could she not be? She was on the verge of losing it.
She’d rambled nonsense, spun wild promises—and people believed her? Whose fault was that? Not hers! Blame the world!
Hector noted her weariness and suggested gently, "Let me take you to a nearby hotel. You can eat, recharge, and rest properly?"
Zhi Wei gave a listless nod.
She followed him—initially trailing behind, but after a few steps, Hector deftly sidestepped, subtly maneuvering her ahead.
Zhi Wei frowned. "What are you doing?"
"You should walk in front. I’m the handler; you’re the candidate."
Zhi Wei stared at him for a solid few seconds before nodding flatly. "Fine. Lead the way. I don’t know where we’re going, but sure, I’ll walk ahead."
Hector fell into step half a pace behind her, guiding her smoothly.
"You seem… unaccustomed to being served," he observed, his tone light but perceptive.
His gaze was deferential, chin slightly dipped, eyes upturned with a mix of respect and curiosity.
"You'll need to get used to this. After all, you’ve started campaigning to become a god."
Zhi Wei opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed her words and stayed silent.
Hector’s idea of "nearby" was indeed very nearby—after walking for less than five minutes and turning a corner, they arrived at the hotel entrance.
Hector guided her inside and went to handle the check-in procedures. Zhi Wei stood at the door, turning back to gaze at the distant temple.
From here, she could clearly see the temple in its entirety.
The temple was a towering skyscraper, its steel skeleton stretching straight into the sky. Its exterior was lined with neatly arranged circular and rectangular windows, while streams of data wrapped around its outer walls like a glowing skin.
The chaotic interplay of rainbow-colored neon lights gave it a tangled, intricate beauty, yet none of it detracted from the radiant halo it cast, visible to all who looked upon it.
Zhi Wei couldn’t help but murmur, "It’s very... temple-like. And beautiful."
When it came time to confirm her stay and pay, Zhi Wei pulled out a wad of cash from the folds of her cloak.
But the ever-smiling hotel owner suddenly began shaking his head.
Hesitantly, he asked, "You’re that Zhi Wei, right?"
Zhi Wei: "...Am I some kind of unmentionable figure? You’ve already said my name, so stop with the 'this and that' nonsense!"
"If you’re the candidate running for the position of the One God, then I won’t take your money," the owner muttered.
With eager eyes, he added, "Please stay here as long as you like. Consider it my gift to you."
Zhi Wei was too exhausted to even react.
After bidding farewell to Hector and inexplicably signing an autograph for the owner, she entered her hotel room—only to be startled by a small, bird-like AI robot fluttering toward her.
But she was far too tired.
Too tired to muster any curiosity about this strange interstellar era. She simply waved it off, collapsed onto the bed, and pulled out her phone to check.
As expected—no signal, no connection.
Of course. Earlier, she’d assumed it was just poor reception. But now, realizing she’d crossed worlds, it made sense her phone wouldn’t work.
Which also meant her Alipay, WeChat, and bank cards were useless.
All those years of grueling study to get into a top university, slaving away at a tech giant with 996 hours, even moonlighting as an underground idol—now, all her savings and career were gone in an instant.
Zhi Wei fell asleep immediately. Or rather, she wished she could just pass out.
When she woke, five hours had passed. She’d dozed off in the afternoon; now, it was night.
Sitting up in bed, Zhi Wei stared blankly at the ceiling.
It was a screen, displaying a swirling sky of stars and clouds, their colors so rich they looked like oil paintings trapped in digital pixels.
When she reached out, the screen expanded into a holographic display, crimson clouds curling around her fingertips.
"Not bad," she sighed with a faint laugh.
Earlier, on that stage, survival had been her only concern. Now that she’d made it, what more could she ask for?
So what if the world’s logic was bizarre and her knowledge utterly lacking?
Understanding her situation, Zhi Wei decided: As long as I’m not dead, I’ll keep living.
Hungry, she remembered the owner mentioning a hotel restaurant. Grabbing a handful of assorted bills, she headed out to eat.
At the door, the room’s security system screen showed a crowd gathered in the hallway.
...Were they waiting for her?
The events of the afternoon flashed in her mind. Zhi Wei had no desire for a repeat.
She took a step back, turned, and hurried to the floor-to-ceiling window. After some fiddling, she disabled the protective shield, pushed the window open, and found a connected balcony outside.
Without hesitation, she climbed onto the balcony and walked along, searching for an accessible room.
At the corner of the building, she spotted an open door. Peeking inside, she saw no one.
Zhi Wei hopped over the railing and slipped in, finally making her exit.
By the time she reached the restaurant, only a few patrons remained.
Her eyes landed on a man seated at the bar, his back to her, golden hair gleaming as he spoke.
"...Yeah, of course I watched the preliminaries. But one candidate’s platform was to become the One God."
"Outrageous. Absolutely outrageous!"
"It’s like I was happily sipping soup, and someone tossed in a chunk of scrap metal!"
Zhi Wei walked past him silently.
But he glanced up just then, their eyes meeting.
The air froze for a long moment before he stammered, "Hello. I’m Andre."
Zhi Wei nodded. "Hello. I’m scrap metal."
Andre stiffened, flushing as laughter rippled around him. He shot her a discreet glare.
While he stewed in embarrassment, Zhi Wei studied him.
The name Andre suited him perfectly.
He had golden hair and eyes like glass marbles—clear, translucent blue, reminiscent of Earth’s oceans.
His features were finely sculpted, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes that lent him a sharp, icy demeanor.
At first glance, he was a beauty carved from frost, exuding a cool, untouchable aura.
But his pout and crossed arms betrayed his irritation, putting up a defensive front.
The posture drew her attention to his arms and chest.
He was broad-shouldered and tall, his muscles well-defined even while seated—not lean, but full and sculpted, almost lush.
Despite his "scrap metal" comment, Zhi Wei wasn’t angry.
Not because Andre was stunning, nor because she was particularly patient.
It was his eyes—that deep, clear blue, the same shade as Earth.
For a moment, she remembered her normal life, before this morning’s absurd displacement.
But that was all. Sure, Andre was gorgeous—golden hair, sapphire eyes, broad shoulders, narrow waist, impressive chest—but what did that have to do with her?
She found a seat and was about to check the menu when Andre slid in beside her.
"You can’t run for One God. It’s... it’s just wrong," he said stiffly.
Zhi Wei arched a brow but stayed silent.
Andre blinked, his long, curled lashes framing those wide blue eyes.
Scowling, he added, "No one’s ever campaigned to be the One God before. It’s blasphemy. Sacrilege."
Zhi Wei shot him a sidelong glance.
"...Are you serious?" she deadpanned. "You’re all out here carving up a fallen god’s divinity, and I’m the sacrilegious one?"
