007
"Of course." Andre gave her a firm look, agreeing to Zhi Wei's request.
But his agreement and Zhi Wei's agreement were two entirely different things.
Andre was highly motivated and immediately began making plans.
"We'll hold several rallies in January to fully promote your manifesto! Your current ranking is good, but it's not stable—only first place is secure. If you want to be chosen as a god, you must aim for the top spot!"
Zhi Wei barely understood the selection process at all.
Hearing that rankings were involved, her inner idol-show instincts kicked in.
Curious, she asked Andre, "So what's my rank?"
Andre responded in a tone mixed with exasperation, disbelief, a hint of frustration, and a touch of pride at finally being useful as an aide: "Here, let me."
He leaned over, tapped on Zhi Wei's holoscreen, and pulled up the real-time ranking statistics on the StarNet.
Zhi Wei scanned the list, her eyes naturally landing on the first name.
She read aloud, "Vinova, Matteo Stivie... Wow, that's a really long name!"
Andre snapped, exasperated, "Vinova is the name of his faction! The part after is his actual name!"
Zhi Wei made an acknowledging sound and continued down the list until she found herself.
[7th Place, Independent Candidate, No Affiliation, Zhi Wei.]
Unfamiliar with god-selection protocols, Zhi Wei assumed seventh place was impressive.
She panicked slightly, thinking, Oh no, could I actually get chosen?!
But Andre explained that rankings mattered—and yet, they didn’t.
Having previously aspired to work in a campaign team, Andre had done his homework and now spoke with authority.
"The real-time rankings on StarNet and the final vote tally are two different things."
"StarNet rankings fluctuate wildly. You might do something that excites people, and suddenly you’re first—but that doesn’t mean you can hold the position."
As he spoke, Andre took notes for Zhi Wei.
"On the first of every month, the Temple holds a holographic elimination round, setting a cutoff line—those below it are immediately disqualified. This continues until the end of the year, when only two candidates remain."
"Those two then advance to the final voting phase, decided by regional ballots."
Zhi Wei repeated, "Regional ballots?"
Andre nodded, growing more animated.
"God-selection votes aren’t counted per person. There are 301 divine ballots across the galaxy, allocated unevenly by interstellar region."
"If a region supports you, you win all its ballots. In the finals, the two candidates compete, and the one with the most ballots enters the Temple, receives divinity, and becomes the new god."
Muttering, Andre couldn’t hide his concern.
"Today’s only January 1st. They love you now, and you’re seventh. If they stop loving you by year’s end, you won’t even make the finals."
Zhi Wei thought: That’s... perfect!
Andre, however, remained enthusiastic.
Zhi Wei glanced at him, recognizing his excitement and understanding its source.
She mentally reframed the selection process.
Countless factions existed across the stars—each with its own regional following, like long-established entertainment agencies.
Affiliated candidates had built-in fanbases, securing higher rankings.
But Zhi Wei, an independent, had surged in popularity as a dark horse.
Thus, Andre had come to invest in her.
With this perspective, everything made sense.
God-selection was like a hybrid of idol competitions and elections—rankings and eliminations until the final two, then regional votes deciding the winner.
Now that she grasped the system, Zhi Wei relaxed.
The multi-layered screening seemed convoluted and difficult. Surely, she’d be filtered out somewhere—so why worry?
Andre eagerly asked, "So what’s our next move?"
"Should we visit an unclaimed free district to hold a rally? Or hire a writer to compile your manifesto into a book? Or compose a catchy anthem summarizing your ideals?"
Whoa, hold on—what kind of ideas are these?!
Earlier, he’d claimed he couldn’t come up with strategies and got rejected by other teams. But now, he’s full of suggestions!
He had ideas, but Zhi Wei had no intention of following them.
These plans sounded effective—what if they actually boosted her popularity?
She was here to lose!
So she fed him a line: "My current strategy is to remain unchanged while adapting to change."
Andre blinked, emitting a confused noise from his throat. "Huh?"
Zhi Wei had a likable, approachable charm. When she spoke earnestly, people listened—and believed her.
And she wasn’t just spouting nonsense; her reasoning was sound!
"Think about it," she said. "I have no faction, no backing, and my manifesto is radical. I’m an easy target! So, we should lay low."
"Do nothing," she emphasized.
Andre was swayed by her calm aura. He opened his mouth, struggled for words, and finally managed a strained nod.
"Mm. You must have your reasons," he conceded haltingly.
Zhi Wei was thrilled!
He answered her questions, lacked competence, and was pretty and obedient—what a perfect companion!
She hadn’t yet grasped her role as a leader, but Andre was ready. Officially pledging loyalty, he became her deputy.
Proud yet devoted, he’d latched onto her the moment she chose him—despite having far better options.
With a slightly awkward cough, Andre stepped closer, kneeling beside her. The taut fabric of his fitted pants outlined the muscles in his legs.
Tilting his chin up, his sapphire-blue eyes fixed on Zhi Wei.
Softly, he murmured, "Chief."
Meeting his gaze, Zhi Wei felt a pang of guilt. She patted his shoulder distractedly, squeezed his firm bicep, and brushed him off.
The next day, however, brought news that delighted her.
Hector, the Temple liaison, came to see her.
Zhi Wei sat on the sofa, Andre standing dutifully behind her.
After listening to Hector’s polite, lengthy spiel, she stared into his honey-brown eyes and repeated in disbelief:
"I have to pay a campaign fee?"
Standing behind Zhi Wei, Andre let out an indignant squeak.
Andre: "What money? I had no idea about this! Don’t think you can take advantage of me just because I’m young. I’ve worked with several campaign teams before. Some of them passed the preliminary rounds—why didn’t they have to pay anything? Why is my candidate the only one being asked for money?"
Hector calmly explained, "Of course, a certain fee must be collected. Otherwise, anyone could just waltz in and join the Divine Selection for fun."
"In fact, all candidates who pass the preliminaries are required to pay a deposit. The temple won’t misuse it—it’s simply proof."
He gave Zhi Wei a meaningful look. "Proof that the candidate has the ability and influence to raise such funds."
"As for the amount, it decreases based on ranking." Hector offered a polite smile. "If this…"
Zhi Wei interjected, "Deputy. He’s my deputy."
Hector continued slowly, "If the teams this deputy previously worked with paid little to no deposit after passing the preliminaries… well, their rankings must not have been particularly memorable."
Andre shrank back, still unconvinced.
Zhi Wei, however, couldn’t hide a mischievous glint of anticipation as she asked, "So, how much does the seventh-ranked candidate have to pay?"
Hector: "100,000 credits."
"If it isn’t paid within three days, the candidate’s status will be revoked, and they’ll lose their eligibility."
Zhi Wei was overjoyed—so much so that she nearly laughed out loud.
Just yesterday, she’d been handed piles of campaign donations, but after treating people to meals, hosting gatherings, and even covering vaccination costs, she’d burned through most of it. Now, she had barely over 5,000 credits left.
If she couldn’t pay, she’d be disqualified—which was… perfect!
After seeing Hector off, she immediately turned to Andre, who looked uneasy, and warned him, "Don’t you dare use your own money to cover my deposit. Understand?"
She feigned distress. "I haven’t sunk so low that I’d take personal funds from you!"
Andre blinked in confusion. "What personal funds?"
His clear blue eyes met hers. "Once I became your deputy, I stopped having personal assets. Everything I have is yours now."
Zhi Wei: "……??"
"You mean…" she said hesitantly.
Andre stated matter-of-factly, "Pooling the resources of the entire campaign team is the candidate’s first round of donations. Many candidates do this. Offering everything for the Divine Selection is an honor for any human."
"No." Zhi Wei looked at him seriously. "I don’t care what others do—I won’t take your money."
"But—" Andre still wanted to argue.
Her voice was gentle, carrying a hint of barely concealed delight. "If I can’t pay the deposit, I’ll be eliminated. That’s the rule, isn’t it? I’ll abide by it."
Andre couldn’t understand why, even in such a dire situation—with Zhi Wei seemingly on the brink of disaster—she still had a faint smile on her lips and spoke so softly.
He was practically dying of anxiety for her!
Yet here she was, speaking with amusement, treating him with such kindness.
As her deputy—especially for a candidate from a backwater planet—he should have explained the campaign process thoroughly and ensured she was prepared for every requirement.
But he hadn’t.
Instead, he’d foolishly waited with her until the temple’s envoy showed up to demand payment.
And yet, Zhi Wei didn’t blame him at all—not for failing to warn her in advance, nor for not having the money ready.
Perhaps this was what they called charisma and unwavering principles, he thought.
She truly didn’t want his money. She truly wasn’t like the other candidates.
Andre was deeply moved. His gaze softened, his voice almost dreamy. "You’re so good to me."
Zhi Wei raised a hand, studied him for a moment, then casually patted his puffed-up chest in reassurance.
"Good. Then keep a low profile," she instructed.
Keeping a low profile meant doing nothing—just waiting to be eliminated. She couldn’t say it outright, so she resorted to frantically signaling Andre with her eyes.
"Got it?" she asked hopefully.
Andre nodded vigorously, his fluffy golden hair bouncing. "Got it, got it!"
