005
Now things were difficult—extremely difficult!
The current situation could only be described as a complete mess!
She had somehow been pushed into the spotlight, standing inexplicably in this position.
Zhi Wei’s first instinct was to withdraw. To extract herself from this bizarre god-election campaign as quickly as possible.
She never signed up to be some savior or the one true god—what kind of nonsense was this? She just wanted to go home!
But when she looked into withdrawing, she discovered that in the three-thousand-plus years and three-hundred-plus god-elections of this world, no one had ever withdrawn—nor was it even permitted.
That complicated things. Zhi Wei had no intention of being the first to try.
The nail that sticks out gets hammered down—and since actual gods existed here, who knew what consequences awaited her if she attempted to quit?
Zhi Wei distractedly scrolled through the Starnet, skimming news articles praising and analyzing her campaign platform while simultaneously plotting her exit strategy.
She couldn’t outright quit, but she could get eliminated.
Getting eliminated sounded easy—just stay silent on stage, act like a clown, or spout nonsense.
A few choice declarations like, "All gods are just manifestations of human greed," or "I don’t believe in gods, I believe in science," or even "You’re all little jellyfish, but I’m the Cat King," would surely get her banned from ever speaking at the temple again.
But Zhi Wei couldn’t actually resort to acting like a lunatic just to drop out.
This was a sacred, once-a-decade event that had been running for over three millennia. Actual gods existed here, and people took this seriously. If she turned the election into a joke, wouldn’t the fanatics come after her?
No, absolutely not! A person could afford to invite trouble, but not a death wish!
The best approach was to appear as though she had tried her best but simply lacked the ability. Then, if she got eliminated, no one could blame her!
That way, her exit would be smooth and face-saving.
After some deliberation, Zhi Wei settled on this plan.
Besides, she thought, she hadn’t even managed to debut in an idol competition—how could she possibly win a god-election so easily?
Think about it—all the other candidates were professionals in god-elections, with every advantage on their side. There was no way an amateur like her would actually get chosen.
If she lost and got eliminated, wouldn’t that be her way out?
So why worry? For now, she’d just coast along!
With her mind made up, she relaxed, and her stomach growled in response.
Zhi Wei ordered a full meal—meat, vegetables, staple food, drinks, and dessert.
The seared steak was juicy and tender, the vegetables slightly sweet, though she couldn’t identify the variety.
The staple was a few wheat-colored flatbreads. She took a bite, chewed, and stared at it in surprise.
The bread was spicy, though she saw no trace of chili. Curious, she took a few more bites, her expression thoughtful.
Andre sat across from her, dismissing his virtual screen.
But he didn’t eat. Perhaps noticing Zhi Wei’s curiosity, he cleared his throat and began explaining.
"This is wheat from the Sand Plains. The bread made from it never tastes the same twice."
"The pollution zones in the Sand Plains are still expanding, so arable land is scarce. This wheat is rare."
His tone was slightly haughty, bordering on annoying, but Zhi Wei didn’t mind the showiness.
Andre’s explanations helped her fill in gaps in her knowledge, so she listened to him like background commentary.
She picked up another piece of bread, took a bite, and found it sweet—though it was bread, the texture was almost like syrup.
Delicious, and fascinating.
Seeing her genuine interest, Andre brightened and proceeded to introduce everything else—the steak, vegetables, and drinks—with meticulous detail.
From regional customs to market prices, sprinkled with gossip about monopoly-holding conglomerates, Andre was surprisingly eloquent on these topics, despite his usual clumsiness when arguing with Zhi Wei.
As she listened, Zhi Wei began to think.
After a moment, her gaze shifted to Andre’s face.
With a thoughtful expression, she suddenly asked, "You seem pretty wealthy, but this hotel isn’t particularly high-end. Why are you staying here? Was our meeting really a coincidence?"
Andre’s eyes flickered slightly, avoiding direct contact.
"I came to see you," he admitted bluntly. "I was curious. No one in over three thousand years—since the gods fell—has dared to propose reclaiming divine authority to become the one true savior."
"You’re famous now. I wanted to meet you."
Zhi Wei replied earnestly, "I never wanted fame."
"And I never meant it like that—reclaiming divine authority, becoming the one true god, playing the savior. That wasn’t my intention."
Andre let out a soft scoff, clearly unconvinced. He still believed her campaign platform was blasphemous.
But after speaking with her, he also thought Zhi Wei was a decent person.
He was fickle, his opinions shifting easily, so he didn’t press further with accusations of heresy.
Instead, he just muttered stubbornly, "The gods will bear witness."
He seemed genuinely devout—his prayers, admonitions, and sermons flowed seamlessly, leaving Zhi Wei somewhat exasperated.
She took a sip of her drink, raised an eyebrow, and inspected the cup before swallowing the oddly ashy aftertaste.
Then she asked Andre, "If you’re so faithful, why didn’t you run for god-election yourself?"
At that, Andre’s face paled further.
Already as white as snow, his expression turned icy, brows knitting together. He looked even fiercer, his muscular frame hunched like a disgruntled little bear.
But his tone was pure complaint.
Andre sighed, lips twisting. "...I tried. But I couldn’t even pass the preliminaries. No one wanted to support me."
Zhi Wei studied him. His indignation, mixed with confusion, was vivid and almost endearing.
She even tried to help. "Couldn’t you join someone else’s campaign team? Getting a position there shouldn’t be too hard for you, right?"
Andre only grew more displeased.
"Plenty of teams wanted me," he said with a derisive snort. "But only as a token advisor—some hollow title."
The topic clearly rankled him. "They didn’t trust me at all. Never gave me anything important to do. What, am I some useless fool who just stands around gawking?"
His spoiled-young-master temper was on full display, and Zhi Wei saw it all.
Andre grumbled, "I refused! If I’m going to do it, I at least deserve a proper, respectable role."
He pondered.
"At the very least, a treasurer or guard captain! Honestly, I wouldn’t even mind being second-in-command!"
Zhi Wei nodded along. "Yes, yes! They were way out of line!"
But internally, she was reassessing.
If no one trusted Andre, his competence must be… questionable.
Not even trusted with minor responsibilities? Just how bad was he?
Yet despite his shortcomings, he wasn’t a bad person.
According to Zhi Wei's thinking, a neural terminal was something as important as a phone, if not more private.
But Andre simply placed his right in front of her and told her to take a look.
Zhi Wei could tell at a glance—this golden-haired, blue-eyed young master had a certain kind of naive foolishness about him.
Even though it was her first time meeting Andre, she could already deduce many things about him.
He definitely came from a well-off family, lived a comfortable life, carried a bit of superiority, and was stubbornly devoted to the gods.
Money was no object to him; he knew nothing of hardship and loved using his pretty but empty head to ponder silly questions.
Zhi Wei glanced at his clear blue eyes and quietly clicked her tongue in her heart.
Still, their conversation had been quite pleasant.
Andre, with his privileged upbringing—or in other words, his broad exposure to the world—possessed far more knowledge than she did.
At the very least, he understood the interstellar society much better than her, a supposed backwater bumpkin from a barren planet (and, in reality, a transmigrator).
Andre was also loose-lipped. The insights she desperately lacked about the interstellar world could all be gleaned from him.
Asking Andre was far easier than scouring the star network for information, probing strangers of unknown backgrounds, or piecing together clues on her own.
What’s more, Andre wasn’t particularly sharp or clever—just gullible enough and fond of showing off.
Most importantly, he was easy to fool and had zero sense of caution.
And right now, those blue eyes of his were brimming with curiosity and eagerness as he looked at her.
It was as if all she had to do was crook a finger, and he’d come bounding over, golden locks swaying, ready to be deceived.
Faced with such an opportunity, Zhi Wei felt that not taking advantage of him… would almost be a disservice.
As she ate, she stole occasional, inconspicuous glances at Andre, sizing him up.
She noticed him crossing his arms, the smooth lines of his muscles standing out even more.
After a while, bored, he slumped onto the table and began murmuring prayers to the gods.
Then, an idea struck her.
True, she couldn’t voluntarily withdraw from the election—she had to stay in the race for godhood, but not for long. Ideally, she’d flame out at just the right moment.
To avoid suspicion, she’d also need to assemble a campaign team and go through all the usual motions of a candidate.
But… what if she put together a team of incompetents?
Just imagine—if she had a bumbling deputy dragging her down, wouldn’t her exit from the race accelerate exponentially? A single stroke of luck, and she’d be done in no time!
A deputy was essentially a second-in-command, something like a chief of staff or special assistant.
They were supposed to handle all aspects of the campaign—managing relationships, organizing rallies, touring districts for votes, engaging with constituents…
If even one of those tasks was botched under the candidate’s tacit approval, the candidate could gracefully bow out.
Zhi Wei could already picture the beautiful scene in her mind.
This was exactly what she needed. If she missed this chance, she might never find someone so perfectly inept again.
With that thought, her decision was made.
Andre wanted to be her deputy? Perfect! She didn’t even have a campaign team yet!
Leaning forward, Zhi Wei flashed her most polished, professional smile, eyes brimming with sincerity.
Then, in the sweetest tone possible, she extended her invitation:
"So… how about becoming my deputy?"
