15. Handing Out Little Cakes
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Andre’s tone was full of pride, his head held high and chest thrust forward, as if he wanted to stretch back to a perfect 180 degrees, so delighted he might as well flip over backward.
Zhi Wei wanted to scold him to shut up as usual. But Andre was being abstract—he truly took pride in this. It left Zhi Wei speechless, almost amused.
He sat there, eyes sparkling with happiness, proud because of her.
Because he was Zhi Wei’s adjutant and believed himself victorious—that look was genuinely beautiful.
His blue eyes gleamed with crystal clarity. His normally cold and beautiful face now shone brightly with a radiant smile.
How could Zhi Wei scold him now?
She sighed helplessly and said, “Lower your voice.”
Andre’s voice dropped, muttering, “My commanding officer is Zhi Wei!”
Zhi Wei rested her chin in her hand, eyes slanting to look at him.
After all, this was aboard her own starship, and he was just shouting a bit beside her, a little proud.
She thought, it was fine.
-
The Lanmon Academy was located on the main planet of the Stiad Timothy electoral district.
It was nearly the most bustling place in the entire galaxy.
Looking out from the starship’s porthole, Zhi Wei saw neon lights and laser beams intertwining, with countless towering skyscrapers densely packed across the planet’s curved surface, piercing the clouds.
Various airships darted through the streets, leaving trails of fuel debris that drew white streaks through the layered sky.
Sky islands hovered in the atmosphere, blocking natural daylight.
Thus, there was almost no natural light on land; the cold artificial lights shone day and night, illuminating Stiad Timothy, the busiest electoral district in the galaxy.
People said it was prosperous, so this should be where wealthy nobles lived?
Zhi Wei thought this and asked, “Your family is quite rich, do you live here?”
Andre did not respond with the cheerful answer she expected.
He frowned, eyes lowered, gazing loftily beyond the starship’s control panel at the view below.
“Of course not. Here? What’s the difference between this place and a smart component factory?”
He seemed surprised by her question, answering by analogy: “A starship has bedrooms; who would live in the energy compartment of a starship?”
Listening to him, Zhi Wei’s gaze toward Stiad Timothy shifted slightly.
Andre continued to explain, “Stiad Timothy has another name: The Everlasting Consumer of Energy.”
An eternal radiant district, an undying starfire, a burning soul.
They did not linger but headed straight to Lanmon Academy.
Professor Xu served as Zhi Wei’s recommender, so she entered the school without obstruction.
Lanmon covered a vast area, almost like a small city. It offered many courses, with a large flow of students coming and going.
Zhi Wei was quite interested in the school and wanted to audit some classes to learn more about the galaxy.
Andre, however, had no interest in attending lectures; he was eager to start holding rallies immediately.
But since Zhi Wei wanted to tour the school, Andre accompanied her.
“Lanmon is a comprehensive academy, ranked quite high. Mecha, programming, and pharmaceuticals are Lanmon’s best faculties,” Andre introduced as he walked beside her.
Zhi Wei casually asked, “The students who graduate from here should find good jobs, right?”
According to Zhi Wei’s thinking, since Lanmon was in a prosperous district, graduates should easily find employment and become wage slaves.
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Andre looked puzzled when asked this.
The young master didn’t understand the concept of working a job.
Zhi Wei was about to tease him when a tall, skinny figure passed by not far away.
Normally, when Andre was beside her, his overwhelming handsomeness would crush others into insignificance, so Zhi Wei rarely paid attention to passersby.
But this time was different. The person was incredibly thin, unusually tall but with a frame so gaunt it seemed the wind might blow them away.
Their black hair fell to their shoulders, head bowed, gender indistinguishable, exuding gloom and melancholy. Clad entirely in black, they resembled a shadow passing by.
Zhi Wei’s eyebrows immediately raised.
She whispered to Andre, “What’s going on there?”
Andre was unsure but guessed.
From what he had seen at school before, probably hunger.
“Probably malnourished,” he said matter-of-factly. “Studying is expensive; students whose families can’t support them end up like that.”
“They have to care for their families and can’t find part-time jobs. The only way to save money is to eat less.”
Hearing this, Zhi Wei understood a little.
It was like when she had a part-time job before, earning money was hard and energy limited; she had to save strength to work. The only effective way to save money was to skip dinner.
When Zhi Wei crossed over, she entered the divine selection directly into a high-level game.
She had never witnessed the poverty of the interstellar era and saw herself suddenly acquiring so much money, so she thought this place was wealthy and prosperous.
But now, away from the temple, she was just beginning to glimpse the reality.
“Poor people are the majority!” Andre said naturally, as if commenting on the weather. “Otherwise, how would we become the rich nobles?”
Zhi Wei slowly looked back at him.
Andre wasn’t proud or boastful. He bore no malice or disdain, merely stating a truth as if it were fact.
This made Zhi Wei even more unsettled.
She looked at the thin, departing figure with some pity, lowering her eyes to hide it.
Zhi Wei felt uneasy, as if something was scratching at her insides, making her uncomfortable.
“People starving like that…” she murmured, “It’s never just one person’s problem.”
She actually had a hard time seeing people go hungry.
She always felt that eating was the primary need. No matter what humans need to survive, forcing oneself to starve always stirs anxiety in others.
Zhi Wei observed the passersby, clearly seeing some lived comfortably while others furrowed their brows from hardship.
“Is there no god who grants food?” she asked Andre.
“There is,” Andre said matter-of-course, “Like the god I prayed to before who governs chocolate—didn’t he grant me blueberry-flavored chocolate?”
“That’s a trade!” she said. “I mean free gifts!”
Zhi Wei hurried to clarify: “A god who grants food without charge, is there one?”
Andre’s expression twisted: “That would be disrespectful to the gods.”
The gaunt shadow just passed by, clothes faded and tattered. Looking around, many others wore robes with whitened edges. Asking about food somehow linked to respect for the gods?
Zhi Wei tried a different approach: “Is there a god who gives money for people to spend?”
Andre shook his head.
“That’s unearned income. That won’t do. That’s irreverent. One must think about what to offer the gods, not what to ask from them.”
Zhi Wei: …
Honestly, if she were a local and wanted to run for god, why not just campaign to be the god of wealth?
Who prayed to her, she’d just hand out money. That might even shoot her to number one in the rankings!
Who could beat the god of wealth?
Zhi Wei was silent for a moment, her thoughts running over and over in her mind.
The compassion and tenderness imprinted in her by her upbringing surged forth when faced with starving students.
She made a decision: “No rallies for now. Let’s take some money out and buy food to distribute.”
This wasn’t money she earned, so she neither cherished nor coveted it.
Now, as a candidate, she could do something. She truly intended to do something.
She would rather let rivers flow to her, then for a time act as the rain god, diverting water to drought-stricken places.
Andre perked up at having something to do and asked eagerly, “Which platform does this promote?”
Zhi Wei sighed, “It’s not my platform. It’s biological instinct and moral law—people should eat enough.”
Andre half-understood but obeyed.
Zhi Wei explained the task to Andre, who then took the money to make purchases and liaise with the Lanmon student council.
While he was busy, Zhi Wei wandered around.
Her candidate status was useful; she flashed it, gaining access to libraries, exhibition halls, and classrooms.
Since she was already a candidate, she might as well audit classes.
Zhi Wei attended classes for three days, while Andre distributed food supplies on campus for three days.
She had made the decision simply because she saw starving students.
Goodness, they were as thin as sticks.
Her money came easily; giving out food was a good deed, nothing more.
But she never expected that her kind of giving—without expecting returns or fame—was unlike any candidate the students had seen before.
Their three days of food distribution caused a three-day sensation at Lanmon.
Students had never seen candidates distribute goods before making speeches.
The divine selection always emphasized low cost and high returns. Each campaign team planned every stage carefully to ensure every cent brought returns to the candidate.
Lanmon wasn’t an independent district and had no voting rights. Simply giving out food there couldn’t win any hearts.
Though students thought this was ineffective, they still gladly accepted the grain cakes, meat pies, and nutrient drinks.
Holding the packages, they looked for the candidate’s name but found none.
No campaign slogans or donation info either.
The students whispered, puzzled.
“Such aid with no organization’s ad or candidate’s name?”
“Giving food to the whole school—wouldn’t it be better to give scholarships to top students? That’s what previous candidates did.”
“Right, what’s the point of giving food? Who still lacks a bite? What does hunger have to do with the divine selection?”
“She hasn’t contacted any consortium or joined any organization. No one guiding her. No wonder her campaign is off track.”
Is it off track?
For every voice of discussion, there were others silent.
Silently chewing grain cakes, drinking nutrient drinks, feeling fullness in their stomachs and strength rising within.
They gazed toward the horizon, imagining the mysterious and gentle Zhi Wei in Lanmon, whom they had yet to meet.
Bending down, tenderly caring for the grass shoots by the roadside—Zhi Wei.
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