Chapter 8: Dreams Shattered, Despair Deepens

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Andrei naturally adhered to Zhīwēi’s low-profile approach, faithfully implementing her philosophy and anxiously heeding her words.
Stay low-key, no rallies, no trips to the constituencies.
The deadline for paying the deposit was in three days.
For the past couple of days, Zhīwēi had been like a startled bird, constantly fearing someone might sabotage her plan.
If she could just get through these three days, she would be free—completely detached from this whole godly election nonsense!
These three days were critical; she had to fall smoothly and be eliminated outright.
Seeing she really made no move, Andrei quieted down as well.
Zhīwēi, noticing his silence, felt a bit uneasy inside.
She always suspected that, now that Andrei had become her adjutant, he might be excited enough to secretly use his own money to help cover her deposit.
She repeatedly warned Andrei not to spend money on her, which made him somewhat annoyed.
Andrei grew impatient: “I heard you, I heard you—both ears are listening, brain and heart know it too!”
He shouted, “So you look down on my money!”
Zhīwēi smiled helplessly at him.
Andrei looked a little aggrieved. After a moment of silence, he muttered softly—if Zhīwēi hadn’t been leaning close, she might not have heard what he said.
“…I know, besides money, I have nothing to offer you. It’s only right you look down on me.”
His mouth twitched downward, unhappy, almost wounded. “I can’t think of any way to win voters over, my temper’s average, my character’s no good, I’m not charming in speech. My rare advantage is some money, but you don’t want that either.”
Zhīwēi gazed earnestly into his blue eyes: “I truly don’t want it.”
Andrei anxiously tugged at his golden hair: “Then what am I supposed to do? I just got this job, and I’m about to be out of work?”
Zhīwēi stifled a laugh and said nothing.
Was this even employment? She hadn’t paid Andrei a salary, nor contributed to his social insurance. Andrei was still using her personal hovercraft for official business.
Under such harsh conditions, Andrei still wanted to offer his money to this unscrupulous company—what innate 996 work deity was he?
A pity the times weren’t right; otherwise, Andrei could have outworked everyone in a big corporation.
Zhīwēi casually coaxed him: “It’s not that I look down on you, or on the money; I just can’t let your money be used as a campaign donation.”
“But everyone else does it, many people do,” Andrei insisted.
Zhīwēi: “But I don’t.”
Andrei was still upset, though less so than before.
He paced angrily in a small circle, then stopped, hands on hips, staring at Zhīwēi.
“You… you really are different from the other candidates,” he said softly.
Andrei’s gaze toward Zhīwēi grew more complicated.
Of course, Zhīwēi was unlike those other candidates—while they wanted to become gods, she wanted to quit the race.
Zhīwēi confirmed her lightbrain’s quick payment channel was off and stayed inside, browsing the StarNet from her room, having meals delivered by waitstaff.
No public appearances meant no donations, and with Andrei forbidden from using his money, everything was perfect!
Just waiting for the three-day deadline to pass and be disqualified.
She was delighted, while Andrei was quietly moved.
Ah, what a good candidate—doesn’t even need his money! Never seen such a candidate, with self-restraint and charisma.
She was a bit stubborn, but sticking to principles was certainly not a bad thing.
This was Andrei’s first time as an adjutant; he had seen many before. The adjutant was second-in-command, an important figure in the campaign team.
He was nervous taking the role and wanted to do well all the more.

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Now that the principal was in trouble, he could not remain aloof, so he racked his brain, desperately thinking of ideas.
As he pondered, he paused.
Wait a minute… Andrei’s brow furrowed. Could this be the candidate’s test for him, the adjutant?
This mysterious candidate, lofty in ideals, erudite, whose words he barely understood before—could her actions be judged by ordinary logic?
Indeed, Zhīwēi seemed completely unhurried, totally confident!
She must have her own solution, just not revealed yet.
For what purpose? Only one possibility: she was testing and training him!
Thinking this, Andrei took a deep breath, feeling more motivated.
Yes, he would bravely meet Zhīwēi’s test and be a qualified adjutant!
—
Meanwhile, Zhīwēi happily enjoyed some interstellar delicacies, watching movies and dramas from the Galactic Era.
She also kept an eye on Andrei’s movements.
Finding him staying quietly in his room every day, not wandering around or organizing rallies on his own, she felt relieved.
As the days passed and the three-day deadline neared, Zhīwēi couldn’t help laughing, even during sad love stories.
Finally, on the morning of the third day, Hector came by specially.
He sat opposite Zhīwēi, looking even more anxious than she was. “The deadline is midnight tonight.”
His address was formal but caring: “Candidate Zhīwēi, your deposit has not been paid. If the clock strikes zero, your qualification will be revoked by the temple.”
“You are an independent candidate. Many organizations have already contacted the temple, hoping to recruit you as their sole candidate.”
He patiently explained: “Organizations can pay your deposit, hold regular rallies, retweet loyal voters, and usually have their own stronghold constituencies, all giving candidates an advantage.”
“Why not join an organization? Your challenges would be solved.”
Zhīwēi declined politely: “No, thank you.”
Hector: “But…”
“Thank you, you truly have my best interests at heart,” Zhīwēi sincerely replied.
Did temple operatives really have to go this far? She didn’t understand.
Or was Hector trying to buy shares in her? If she won and entered the temple, he might be transferred away from his post?
Zhīwēi was puzzled but sent the reluctant Hector on his way.
That night, she had a honey-glazed tender steak, which she found was raised from an evolved pig species, no longer called pigs but still delicious.
After finishing, she happily leaned back on the sofa, drowsy.
Had she known it would be so easy, she wouldn’t have tricked Andrei into being her adjutant.
Now, if Andrei joined another campaign team, he would be a secondhand adjutant.
People valued loyalty, so as a secondhand adjutant, finding a job would be harder for him.
She decided to write a recommendation letter for Andrei before leaving the next day.
Saying he was reliable during these three days as her adjutant.
After all, ranked seventh and trending across the network, her fame was considerable; a recommendation from her counted as a celebrity endorsement, which might help him find work.
So, wishing Andrei joyful unemployment! And wishing herself restored freedom to roam and figure out how to get home!
At ten o’clock at night, Zhīwēi was dozing on the sofa when clattering sounds came from the terrace.
Startled awake, she deactivated the room’s defense system and pressed a button. The curtains automatically opened.
Peering out, she saw Andrei clumsily climbing over the terrace railing.
Zhīwēi, feeling tender toward the soon-to-be-unemployed Andrei, didn’t question why he came but waved to him.
Andrei ran over, eyes bright, standing obediently beside her.
Zhīwēi softly began, intending to say farewell: “Thank you for your company and help these past few days.”

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She was just about to mention the recommendation letter when Andrei pursed his lips and smiled smugly.
He was as cheerful as a golden retriever who had just found six hundred pounds of wild boar, happily showing off to his owner.
Andrei smiled foolishly, scratching the back of his head, tousling his golden hair into a messy tuft.
He joyfully said, “I knew you couldn’t keep anything from me. You—you knew everything?”
A bad premonition welled up inside Zhīwēi.
When she spoke again, her voice trembled slightly.
“What do I know?”
Andrei pulled out his virtual screen and tapped a few times, expertly opening a website.
Excitedly, he said, “I had people build our campaign website these past two days! Look, your name—”
Zhīwēi saw her name emblazoned in huge letters at the center, followed by the so-called campaign platform: “Run for the Only God.”
She snatched the screen toward her and looked down quickly.
At first, she relaxed.
Well, it wasn’t that great. A truly immature, incomplete, imperfect campaign site.
Many oversights were obvious even to a newcomer like her.
For example, it looked somewhat crude, with some overlapping modules in the corners, garbled text, and a main color scheme half blue and half gold, with some edges having blurred patches.
It was clear they tried for a nice look but failed to achieve it.
Zhīwēi appraised it and thought it was mediocre.
She had a keen aesthetic sense; back when she was an underground idol, she did her own makeup and styling.
The more she admired Andrei’s handsome face, the more she felt this website was just so-so.
Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Andrei lost some of his cheer.
He grew a bit sulky, half embarrassed anger, though not truly mad—seemingly putting on a show to test her.
“It was rushed; can’t compare to other candidates who spent three, five, seven, or eight years on their sites… Ours took only two days.”
Zhīwēi didn’t mind much.
What struck her was the giant font of her name and the big banner “Run for the Only God” that left her momentarily speechless.
After recovering, she was actually quite pleased!
Think about it: such a shabby website, once released, anyone who still had a savior illusion about her would check it out.
And upon seeing it, they’d think, wow, how ugly! No savior aura whatsoever!
Anyone’s illusions about her would shatter, and she could blend into the crowd.
Zhīwēi even smiled, comforting Andrei: “It’s okay, after midnight…”
After midnight, I’ll be eliminated. You can revise and perfect this site later for your future leadership roles.
When she mentioned midnight, Andrei suddenly slapped his head, remembering something, and said to Zhīwēi:
“Oh right, I already paid the hundred thousand deposit.”
Zhīwēi: …??
Her mind blanked, breath stopped, and after a moment, she barely managed, “Huh?”
Huh?! Had she just hallucinated? How did she hear the sound of her freedom slipping away?!
Andrei proudly boasted, “In half a day, we raised six million!” He pointed at the website.
Zhīwēi: “...What! What did you say?”
Andrei waved his hand modestly: “No need to get excited, commander, I know I’m amazing, hehe… Eh? Why are you grabbing my neck?”