009
Zhi Wei didn’t actually choke Andre by the neck.
She merely grabbed his collar, yanking the damn little bear closer to her.
“Say that again,” she said, her voice trembling.
What did he mean by raising six million in half a day? And what was this about already paying the 100,000-credit deposit?
Was this even human language? She felt a chill in her heart, as if she might faint on the spot!
Andre clutched his collar, cautiously eyeing Zhi Wei’s expression before speaking. “The website went live this afternoon, open to the public. We raised six million in half a day.”
“Once we hit 100,000, I transferred the deposit to the temple. That’s how the payment went through.”
Zhi Wei hurriedly scrolled through the website’s comment section.
Before looking, she had been somewhat hopeful—maybe the crude website would shatter people’s illusions about her, make them realize she wasn’t some divine savior.
But after reading, she nearly choked on her own breath.
[Such a simple website… The aesthetics are really basic, though the functions are all there. Just not very polished.]
Zhi Wei: Yes, yes! That’s the right mindset! Everyone, think like this, please!
[Looking at this site and remembering Zhi Wei’s speech… I’m so moved.]
[Other organized candidates have sleek personal websites, but Zhi Wei is different! She’s an independent candidate from a backwater planet—this is the best she can give us!]
[Even her official campaign website is this barebones. She’s truly putting donations to good use!]
[She refuses to waste supporters’ money on flashy self-promotion. Now that’s the mark of a true savior!]
Zhi Wei: …???
Hold on! Are you all serious? How does this turn into praise? How is this even praiseworthy?
She stared at the comments dripping with sympathy and pity, the words practically screaming, “She only has us!”
The shabby website made people feel sorry for her—she only has us… The more she read, the more familiar this scenario felt.
Good grief, wasn’t this the classic “pitiful underdog” playbook?
Other candidates had gorgeous websites, while hers was a mess. The contrast alone was enough to tug at heartstrings.
She had no backing, already at a disadvantage. Add her earlier speech about lofty ideals, yet she wouldn’t even bother with her own website? Clearly, she refused to waste funds on superficial things!
She disdained vanity—she was a candidate who truly cared about her supporters!
And so, people saw her and thought, Wow, she’s got it rough. But Zhi Wei was also good-looking, and her speech had been compelling. This wasn’t just “pitiful”—it was “beautiful, strong, and tragic.”
No one—let’s be clear, no one, not in modern times, not even in the interstellar era—could resist the allure of a “beautiful, strong, tragic” archetype.
She was pretty, idealistic, and using this rickety website. How could supporters not feel for her? How could they not donate?
They threw money at her like there was no tomorrow!
On top of that, she had an organic PR boost.
Earlier, she’d sent drinks to the reporters camped outside her door. They felt respected and were happy to sing her praises.
Unprecedented! Most candidates barely tolerated the press, let alone treated them with courtesy. What a considerate, polite, gentle, yet formidable candidate!
So, at the top of the comment section, pinned by upvotes, was a reporter’s firsthand account.
The journalist briefly explained the situation, praising her character.
[I know our stakeout was intrusive, but she didn’t mind at all—even sent us drinks… I regret not meeting her, but her kindness warmed me. She’s the most thoughtful candidate I’ve ever encountered…]
Andre, by sheer accident, had timed everything perfectly.
If Zhi Wei had launched the donation site right after her speech, it would’ve undermined her righteous image.
But Andre had tinkered for two days before releasing it.
Two days—just enough for the speech’s impact to linger while keeping her in the public eye.
Now, reporters could share their stories, and the donation site could go live without seeming desperate.
She got the money without sacrificing her reputation. Everything fell into place.
Little did she know, rival campaigns were scrambling to analyze her, convinced her “sophisticated strategy” meant she had powerful backing.
Meanwhile, Zhi Wei stared at the comments, her face frozen in disbelief.
She whirled around, glaring at Andre. “I told you not to spend money! How much did you use?”
How did things spiral like this? She’d been ready to quit—who was propping up her campaign now?
Andre—! She screamed internally.
Andre had obeyed. No spending meant no spending.
He pouted, explaining, “You said not to use my money, so I didn’t. I asked an old classmate to do it. Didn’t pay her, so technically, I didn’t spend anything on you.”
Andre might look refined—and he was nobility—but his connections alone could secure favors. Paying was beneath him; he got things for free.
Zhi Wei massaged her temples, feeling a vein throb.
Even in the interstellar age, nepotism still thrived!
She took a deep breath, seething but unable to show it.
After all, any normal candidate would be thrilled or relieved after their deputy solved such a crisis.
So, despite her internal meltdown, Zhi Wei forced a smile. “You’re… such a capable assistant. A truly dedicated deputy!”
“I know I’m dedicated!” Andre beamed, then frowned. “…But why do you sound like you’re gritting your teeth?”
Zhi Wei clenched her jaw, on the verge of collapsing.
“Just pay your classmate,” she muttered, slumping onto the couch. “Since you’ve got six million now…”
Why did she have six million in donations? This was absurd!
Andre hovered nearby, not daring to sit beside her. Instead, he bent slightly, peering at her face to gauge her mood.
He added, “I know this was all part of your strategy—testing me. Everything went exactly as you planned, boss!”
Zhi Wei asked mechanically, “What?”
"You hinted that I shouldn’t spend money, yet you also forbade me from organizing offline gatherings. You’ve practically eliminated all the wrong options and pointed me straight toward the path of setting up an online donation platform. It’s like you’re spoon-feeding me the correct answer!"
Andre clumsily flattered her: "It’s all thanks to your brilliant guidance that we managed to escape the crisis and secure our first major donation!"
Huh?? What?!
Wait, so maybe it’s not Andre’s fault—maybe it’s hers?!
But when did she ever give him any sort of test? He’s just making it all up in his head!
Zhi Wei took a deep breath and raised her voice: "Andre, I know your intentions are good, but could you maybe not act on them just yet?"
Andre looked confused: "What do you mean?"
"You’re just… so enthusiastic…" Zhi Wei sighed, rubbing her forehead.
Andre quickly pledged his loyalty: "Since you trust me so much, I won’t let you down, Chief."
Zhi Wei lowered her hand and stared straight into Andre’s eyes.
She tried to drill it into his head: "Listen, Andre. I chose you because of your sincerity, your naivety, your freedom—do you understand? You have to stay that way. You can’t change, got it?"
Andre pressed his lips together, his eyes widening slightly. His blue eyes looked rounder, even more beautiful—and even less intelligent.
Andre sniffled: "You… you’re so good to me. No one’s ever acknowledged my talent and brilliance before."
Zhi Wei: "…Uh, that kind of thing…"
That kind of thing—well, he might not even have it, so why bother seeking validation?
Watching him bask in his own emotions, Zhi Wei sighed again.
She couldn’t stay mad at him.
He meant well. He’d tried his best. How could she blame him? He looked so crumpled and pitiful, like a rose squeezed dry in the icy wilderness—still stunning, though.
Zhi Wei steeled herself. It’s fine, it’s fine. The selection process had so many hurdles and elimination rounds!
Each level was tough, but surely one of them would trip her up!
Why lose heart now? She had plenty of chances ahead!
Hastily, she reminded Andre: "Anyway, from now on, make sure you discuss everything with me first."
Andre nodded vigorously: "Yes! Absolutely!"
Seeing how earnest he was, the last of her anger dissipated.
"In the future, I’ll still need to rely on you," she said sincerely. "After all, my skills are useless here."
Andre perked up with curiosity: "What skills? Mecha piloting? Potion-making? Structural engineering?"
Zhi Wei let out a dry laugh: "Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Photoshop, Premiere, 135, 365, XMind, ChatGPT…"
She closed her eyes in despair: "Here, I’m like a fish that knows how to ride a bicycle."
Andre didn’t understand a single word. He had a million questions, so he picked the most pressing one: "What’s a bicycle?"
Zhi Wei: "…A mode of transportation."
Mentioning transportation reminded Andre of what they were currently lacking.
Counting on his fingers, he blurted out: "We need to buy a starship. We can use it to travel across districts for rallies and canvassing."
Zhi Wei slumped onto the couch and exhaled: "Whatever. I’ve made my peace with it…"
She asked: "Do we have enough money? If not, tell me. Don’t dip into your own funds—I hate bosses who make their subordinates pay out of pocket."
Andre cheerfully replied: "No worries, I’ll use my charm! I’ll buy it from my family’s shop and haggle!"
Zhi Wei’s expression turned indescribable.
She looked at him, shook her head, and said helplessly: "How did a perfectly good young master end up like this… Do you ever regret following me? Eating poorly, living rough, never enough money."
Andre didn’t get it.
He said: "I’m your deputy. You’re my first chief—and my only chief."
When Andre’s face softened, it carried a cold yet breathtaking beauty, as if his soul were burning right before Zhi Wei’s eyes.
"For the cause!" he suddenly raised his right hand and shouted, just as Zhi Wei was starting to feel moved.
Zhi Wei: …But she had no cause. She just wanted to drop out of the race!
