11 Collecting Large Pieces of Scrap

Page 1/3

Zhiwei went back to sleep without paying any more attention to Andre. But Andre was in the middle of work; when she ignored him, he reflected and worked even harder! Zhiwei actually hoped he would slack off, but Andre didn’t. She didn’t even pay him a salary, yet he remained energetic and diligent!

It was past two in the morning when the last reporters and staff who came to invite Zhiwei left, and it was almost three when he finally went to bed. Yet by nine-thirty in the morning, Andre was already at the door, knocking instead of climbing onto the balcony.

As soon as he knocked, the room’s AI started nagging Zhiwei. Still groggy, she got up, wiped her face, sat on the bed, and after a moment’s adjustment, fully woke herself up.

She grabbed a piece of clothing she had previously asked the hotel staff to buy and changed into it, yawning as she opened the door. Andre came in, waving a thick stack of papers.

If the room had been larger, he would have come in waving those papers like a newsboy selling papers. He entered, spread the papers on the table, and began unfolding them piece by piece in front of Zhiwei.

Looking down, she found it was a layout plan of a starship.

Most likely, Andre had stayed up all night. When Zhiwei mentioned wanting to buy a starship, the young master had done five or six hours of homework and brought over the most suitable starship he found.

Zhiwei sensed that interstellar humans probably had different physiques than she did. Andre hadn’t slept all night but was still spirited and energetic, while she yawned, forcing herself to focus and study the starship.

Due to budget constraints, the starship Andre found for her was naturally not a brand-new model.

It was a decommissioned warship that had served for fifty years in the guard fleet of the most prosperous district of the stars, Stiad Timothy.

It was retired and had been so for fifteen years now.

A sixty-five-year-old starship, with its serial number worn off; whoever bought it would have to give it a new name.

Zhiwei looked at the layout and felt the rooms were quite numerous.

“Looks... pretty good,” she said.

Though she said that, she understood very little. If buying a car, she could talk about the engine, transmission, chassis, and rearview camera, but buying a starship was another matter; she knew nothing.

But a military decommissioned starship felt much more reliable than a civilian one.

“How much?” she asked, concerned about the price.

Andre hesitated, “Five million eight hundred thousand, before taxes. Including taxes, probably six million five hundred thousand.”

This almost consumed all their funds, relying on the hope that Zhiwei’s future donations would keep growing, or else they wouldn’t have enough to pay.

Normally, no one would spend their entire fortune on a starship, even if it was a long-term necessity; it was just too expensive.

Most people rented because they didn’t have money; those who did, their organizations allocated ships for them.

But Andre was born into nobility, accustomed to the best from childhood—not a typical person. Zhiwei wanted to be eliminated and was even less normal.

Two abnormal people together made Andre seem somewhat normal.

Afraid Zhiwei might be displeased, he quickly explained.

“It’s a bit worn, but the warship’s equipment, weapons, and cruise systems are all complete.”

“Is it acceptable?” Andre cautiously watched Zhiwei’s expression.

She raised her eyebrows, not asking about Andre’s research or the questions she thought she should care about.

Instead, she asked, “Who do we pay the taxes to?”

She had wanted to ask this before. Without a unified government redistributing income, who collected taxes here, and who used the collected taxes?

“To the gods. It’s a god tax; otherwise, how would the temples be established?” Andre said matter-of-factly.

Zhiwei nodded, understanding.

Her original intention was to spend all the money so that later she would have no funds to hold rallies and could naturally be eliminated.

But a high-tech interstellar jump starship costing five million eight hundred thousand, with seventy thousand in taxes, even if she wanted to spend more, it hurt her deeply.

Page 2/3

Having been in the stars only four or five days, she was already thinking about legal tax avoidance; human potential was truly limitless.

“Let’s go see it,” Zhiwei said, beckoning Andre.

She had never seen a starship before! If possible, she wanted to go all out and get a large one!

After tidying up, she and Andre left to visit the used starship dealership.

Though called a secondhand shop, it seemed small from the outside, but in fact, it wasn’t.

Andre piloted the hovercraft along the sky route, ascending steadily.

Zhiwei looked up through the window and could see the planet’s curve clearly—it was already tens of thousands of meters above ground.

She fell silent for a moment, then tilted her head at Andre. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

This looked like they were heading to another planet.

Andre fiddled with the control panel and accelerated. “No mistake.”

Breaking through the atmosphere, the hovercraft headed toward the planet’s speed tower.

They entered the tower’s tunnel and were passively accelerated within it, moving toward space.

Inside the cabin, Zhiwei could clearly see the planet they came from and the three satellites, ships, and space stations slowly orbiting it.

“Where is this?” Zhiwei was a bit lost.

“It’s still the temple,” Andre replied.

Then she understood. The skyscraper she had visited earlier, that majestic, sacred, surreal cathedral wrapped in neon data streams, was just the temple’s core.

It was the temple, and it was called the temple, but the temple was more than just that.

The planet and its three orbiting satellites were all designated and built as parts of the temple.

Andre gestured that this was also within the temple’s territory. “This belongs to the Free City? That’s roughly what it means. No humans live here, and no one votes for gods here.”

Zhiwei didn’t understand.

“What about people who don’t stay long, like hotel owners and staff? Don’t they live here?”

So why weren’t there humans living here?

Zhiwei thought and asked, “The temple has been here for over three thousand years, right? Not counting the people who came later, just the original residents living around the temple for so long—aren’t they considered locals?”

Andre spoke firmly, “No. When it’s time to vote, they return to their hometowns to cast their ballots.”

“The temple is just and equal, without bias; it belongs only to the gods and is not contested by candidates.”

Everything is built around the temple as the core. No matter how devout the surrounding humans are, this is not their habitat.

This place cannot be called home, because it is the gods’ sanctuary.

Zhiwei seemed to grasp something.

She and Andre passed through the tunnel and reached the satellite. Andre found the used starship shop they were heading to.

The shop was located near the planet’s satellite, on a space station on the satellite’s outer side.

It was connected by transparent corridors to several starships for consignment, allowing people to observe and tour them closely.

Andre docked the hovercraft inside the shop and, together with Zhiwei, disembarked to enter.

Zhiwei walked through the shop, looking out at the “temple” and the vast universe beyond.

She had never seen the universe so close.

It was a deep, inky black that could absorb and lock down all human spirit.

Opposite it, she stood safely on a human-made space station, protected by a transparent shield, breathing freely.

The starship she was about to inspect, a massive human mechanical creation, was docked to one side.

Its hull was mottled silver, and in the distance behind it, twinkling lights scattered like stars amid flowing, river-like blue lines.

That was a sparkling star cluster, breathing cosmic dust.

A fleeting streak of iridescent purple light drifted through the misty air like a trembling fragment, not disturbing the cosmos but stunning and redefining humanity’s sense of grandeur.

Listening to the staff’s introduction, Zhiwei examined the starship carefully.

It was old and had seen service. Though its lines were smooth, it looked quite shabby.

The outer alloy nano-coating paint was obviously patchy, resembling zebra stripes. The rear end was crooked due to a previous docking accident, and it lacked the right rear section.

Page 3/3

The paint on its spine was raised in a bulge, making the once sleek starship appear somewhat puffed up.

It was equipped with basic shields and weapons, with military-grade protective shields and energy photon attack systems.

It had stealth coating, allowing it to evade detection and silently dock at any planet’s edge.

Dual engines included a gravity engine for long low-power hovering and a jump engine for rapid space travel.

It was a multifunctional integrated starship—worn but still the tallest among the short.

Because it was formerly a military ship, after decommissioning it was retrofitted toward civilian use with many suites added, plus household AI systems and robots installed.

In short, it was a worn, hybrid oddity with a mid-range price.

Many smaller civilian ships were much cheaper. With a bit more budget, one could buy the newest models.

Though old and outdated, and not cared for, it was still practical.

Zhiwei actually liked it.

She wasn’t a sucker; otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered spending money—that would be a waste.

This starship was quite practical; who cared about being ugly? She even liked things that might embarrass her!

For example, her personal fundraising website was rough and simple, and she planned to keep it that way.

Andre now had more money and time. He had just asked if he could spend money to polish the website and make it comparable to serious candidates’ sites.

She immediately refused, saying no need.

Zhiwei was wary—she feared that if Andre made more moves, some unknown event might come and help her succeed again...

A broken website and a broken starship—perfect match!

“I think it’s pretty good. What do you think?” Zhiwei asked Andre.

Andre was also satisfied but anxious.

This was his first time as an aide. Whenever he achieved something, he eagerly shared and bragged to Zhiwei, which made his view incomplete.

Only now did he realize he had forgotten something very important.

His face creased as he looked up at the huge starship, then lowered his gaze, enviously avoiding eye contact.

Zhiwei: “What’s wrong? Are you worried about money? It’s okay. When the funds are enough, we’ll buy it. Judging by the website’s fundraising speed, it should be sufficient by this afternoon or tomorrow at the latest.” Her tone was subtle.

Andre shook his head and quietly told her, “It’s too expensive. I forgot to consider the cost of the power source... This old military ship consumes energy like crazy. It’s like burning money—too costly!”

Zhiwei: …What? A money-burning big guy with unsustainable costs?

Perfect! Let’s buy it!

Andre kept muttering “too expensive, too expensive,” then circled the staff, trying to say something.

But because of Zhiwei’s strict order not to speak, he was nearly torn apart inside.

Zhiwei tugged his sleeve. “What are you thinking?”

“I... I really want to pull some strings,” Andre said awkwardly.

“Hm?”

Andre said awkwardly, “If I mention my parents’ names and flaunt my family’s reputation, we can save money.”

“If it can be used, why not? I mean, it’s free money.”

Zhiwei understood.

It was like when she went to a luxury store, and the owner saw that her assistant was the son of a partner and gave her a freebie.

This was a common and easily occurring situation, and it made Zhiwei immediately decide:

“Buy it. Buy it now. We can’t wait any longer!”

If they waited too long and people recognized Andre, giving her discounts or freebies would be a disaster!

She used to shop on budget platforms, but after crossing over, she was ready to compete with these rich folks!