Chapter 43: Sigh! Classes & Capitalism

“I’m all better now. Let’s go.”

Aiven’s voice sounded from behind her.

Lin Zhiyan pulled her attention away from her terminal and smiled in response.

She still had afternoon classes, so she returned directly to school.

Theory classes were always dry and boring.

As Lin Zhiyan listened, her thoughts drifted, and she couldn’t help calculating the time.

Universities in the Central District had relatively short semesters. Most of the year was vacation time, making it easier for students to intern or work.

One reason was that most students entering these schools already possessed complete knowledge systems and future plans. School was merely a sandbox game for networking and choosing factions.

Another reason was that since the New Era, human lifespans had generally lengthened, which also extended education periods. Students from ordinary families often worked while studying, and it wasn’t unusual for people to still be in school years after beginning their careers.

She only had about half a month left before her electives ended. Once electives ended, her major courses would finish too, and with that, her first semester would be over.

During that time, aside from substitute teaching and maintaining a long-distance relationship, she wouldn’t need to work anymore. She wouldn’t need to rush around lying to deal with Lemang and Li Siheng. Jiang Yi wouldn’t be grabbing hold of her mistakes anymore. Zefi wouldn’t be using her as a tool either—

And during break, she could even intern with the royal family to polish her résumé!

Her future was brighter than a bald head!

The more Lin Zhiyan thought about it, the more surreal it felt. Her life had become so good she almost couldn’t believe it, and a laugh escaped her throat before she realized it.

Aiven turned to look at her strangely. “What’s wrong?”

Lin Zhiyan giggled.

Seeing that, Aiven somehow started laughing too.

The entire afternoon passed amid Lin Zhiyan’s beautiful fantasies about the future—

For example, getting fought over by giant corporations with absurdly high salaries right after graduation.

Or impressing the royal family during her internship by proactively cleaning trash and getting specially cultivated.

Or passing the civil service exam, then being valued by leadership for being reliable and hardworking, marrying a superior’s child, and smoothly climbing through parliament or the cabinet—

Of course, what ended Lin Zhiyan’s fantasies wasn’t the bell signaling class dismissal.

It was the memory of a comment suddenly appearing in her mind after she rewarded herself with takeout:

Delete the videos flexing your cheap idol group meals before talking to me.

Damn it.

She’d been so busy dealing with those people that she forgot to deal with you!

Lin Zhiyan immediately opened the app, found the comment, and clicked into the profile of the person with the period username.

Very quickly, she saw the bio beneath the black profile picture:

Sick veteran grilling on the frontlines.

Did he think he was funny?

The poorer you are, the funnier you become, got it?!

Filled with righteous indignation, Lin Zhiyan kept scrolling. Soon, however, she noticed the account’s IP location was Audenlan.

Audenlan was one of the Central District’s cities and home to many famous universities, including the United Military-Political Academy.

Seriously, even people this bitter could get into university in Audenlan? No, thinking about it carefully, maybe he was just from some garbage diploma mill. Or maybe some stinky outsider begging for survival here!

There weren’t many videos on the account. She clicked the first one, intending to investigate carefully.

The video showed an aircraft.

A person wearing a helmet and visor sat in the pilot seat. The recording angle came from diagonally behind him, revealing only his sharply defined nose bridge beneath the mask and the camouflage paint between his goggles and face covering.

It was nighttime. Skyscrapers glittered brilliantly in the distance.

His well-defined fingers were covered in tactical gloves. One hand gave commands while the other pushed the control stick.

Soon, the aircraft lifted into the air. Wind roared endlessly, turning both his voice and the radio chatter hoarse and distorted.

The aircraft climbed high into the sky, rapidly accelerating to maximum speed. Frost even formed across the camera lens.

Then several similar aircraft appeared ahead, swaying through the air.

His voice crackled roughly through radio static.

“Offensive, hotas!”

A comment flew across the screen.

[Means they’re taking attack position and preparing immediate assault. Bro really knows his stuff.]

Assault what? Twin Towers?

Those had been gone forever.

If someone wanted to bomb something now, they’d have to go to the Sorente family instead.

Lin Zhiyan was baffled.

Soon, though, an aircraft behind them suddenly plummeted downward. Only then did she notice another aircraft of a completely different model in the distance.

Its tail flashed.

A tiny red light appeared far away.

Seconds later, it transformed into a brilliant streak of fire charging straight toward the camera.

The view flipped violently as the aircraft spiraled downward endlessly. Explosions thundered. White light consumed the screen. Aside from the shrieking wind and radio static, there was no sound.

Then the image abruptly returned—

The camera angle was upside down now.

Red bursts of fire suddenly shot toward the distant aircraft.

In an instant, black smoke exploded outward as the enemy aircraft disintegrated.

The pilot lifted his chin slightly. Firelight reflected in his dark goggles.

Then he laughed.

Not a quiet laugh. Not a joyful laugh either.

It was a wild, exaggerated:

“Hahahahahaha!”

“f*cking idiot. Tried to dogfight me.”

His voice was hoarse, arrogant like some wild stray dog nobody could leash.

The video ended abruptly.

Lin Zhiyan opened the comments.

[…Okay that was insanely cool. Was this tactical training?]

[.: What are those things attached to your ears? You think live fire exercises use real ammunition?]

[Are you a schoolmate? Secret code.]

[.: Don’t f*cking cling to me.]

[Can this even be posted? This looks like actual combat footage. Won’t you get punished?]

[.: Yeah.]

[Super handsome guy, but your temper seems a little intense. Just a suggestion (no offense), but could you maybe stop cursing so much? Watching your videos makes it seem like you’re trying to be friendly, but instead you feel really unapproachable sobs. Please ignore me if you dislike this.]

[.: You’ve got two eyeballs hanging under your eyebrows, don’t you? I am insulting people, I am unapproachable, now f*ck off too.]

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

The way this guy acted trashy somehow felt very familiar.

She scrolled back up to the “Round Table Conference” comment.

Right, the United Military-Political Academy’s forum section was called Round Table Conference. So maybe they were schoolmates?

With that sort of presence, he really did resemble one of those Military-Political Department celestial dragons.

But he denied it.

Was it a misunderstanding?

Or did he simply think the other person was trying to get close to him?

Thinking hurt Lin Zhiyan’s brain.

She kept scrolling.

There were only four or five videos total, all basically the same:

Screenshots of accounts getting banned across different platforms.

The reasons for the bans were almost always identical—

inciting hatred, provoking arguments, malicious attacks, insulting speech.

—Maybe he wasn’t from the Military-Political Department after all.

It was hard to imagine someone already born into that level of privilege still spending all day online flaming people.

Lin Zhiyan felt dazed.

Fortunately, her takeout arrived.

After happily finishing her meal, her curiosity about the world decreased significantly.

Still, there was something important she needed to do.

Lin Zhiyan opened her chat window, screenshotted her previous conversation history with the “doxxing guy,” then dropped it into editing software.

Afterward, she sent it to Lu Weixi.

Lu Weixi instantly replied with a single:

[?]

Lin Zhiyan’s heart skipped.

Crap. Had he figured it out?

The next second, Lu Weixi’s message arrived.

[.: Eight thousand credits? You think I’m an idiot?]

[.: I’m rich, not an ATM.]

Crap crap crap, he really figured it out. What do I do what do I do what do I do?!

Lin Zhiyan frantically started typing.

[yzy: This script was harder than usual.]

[yzy: So the price is a bit higher.]

After sending that, she immediately messaged the doxxing guy too.

But the moment she sent it, his message arrived simultaneously.

[yzy: Emergency emergency emergency don’t reply to Lu Weixi!]

[AAA Takes Any Job: ? 【image】]

[AAA Takes Any Job: You really had the balls to ask for that much?]

Lin Zhiyan covered her forehead.

Well, Lu Weixi had been pretty easy to fool before…

It’s over. Totally over. Once things get exposed, he’s definitely going to start checking all the past expenses too!

She replied immediately.

[yzy: I’ll give you another thousand.]

[yzy: Just say this script was genuinely difficult, okay?]

[yzy: Please bro, I have no choice. I’m too poor.]

Lin Zhiyan felt that all the personas she maintained in real life had completely shattered, leaving behind only humiliation.

Soon, the other side replied.

[AAA Takes Any Job: Deal.]

Lin Zhiyan let out a long breath of relief.

A moment later, Lu Weixi replied too.

[.: What the hell, it actually costs that much?]

[.: What kind of script is this? Hacking into the cabinet government network?]

[yzy: It just involved a lot of content.]

Lu Weixi seemed to run out of things to say and simply transferred the money directly.

Admiring the number 8000 with tearful eyes, Lin Zhiyan sorrowfully transferred 1000 to the doxxing guy.

[AAA Takes Any Job: For future fake reimbursements, my fee is 1000 each time.]

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

Seriously, this guy could turn anything into a business opportunity.

Wait.

Actually, this business model sounded pretty workable.

[yzy: You’re already making a lot, right? Why do you take literally every job?]

[AAA Takes Any Job: Casual chatting service. One hundred a day (instant replies not included).]

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

Never mind. She suddenly wasn’t that curious anymore.

Full and freshly showered, Lin Zhiyan quickly drifted into sleep.

Somewhere in the haze of half-consciousness, a thought flashed through her mind—

But she failed to catch it.

The next two days remained packed with classes, but Lin Zhiyan’s life became incredibly peaceful, like a machine restarting after maintenance.

Class. Dismissal. Home.

Everything followed a routine.

Another afternoon—

Warm sunlight spilled across the corridor.

Lin Zhiyan stepped across the square patches of sunlight cast onto the floor from the windows and walked into the classroom.

Immediately, she saw someone leaning casually against the podium while playing with his terminal.

His platinum-blond hair shimmered with broken light as he lowered his head. The eyebrow piercing beneath his brow glinted faintly too. Blue terminal light reflected against his deep, handsome features and tightly pressed lips.

Her mood instantly sank to rock bottom.

Logically speaking, Lu Weixi showing up was a good thing.

It meant she no longer needed to sign attendance for him.

But the problem was—

The classroom door suddenly opened.

A cold voice rang out.

“Why are you standing in the doorway?”

Lin Zhiyan shut her eyes tightly.

Help.

The problem was this was Jiang Yi’s class!

The instant Jiang Yi spoke, Lu Weixi heard him too.

He lifted his head. His gray-blue eyes, framed by golden hair, looked rich like gray-blue velvet as he turned toward Jiang Yi.

Jiang Yi said calmly, “I thought you’d be busy packing your bags and getting lost to investigate whatever Lu Suiyuan assigned you.”

“Yeah, but I’m leaving tomorrow. I still had to come hear your lecture today.” Lu Weixi smiled brightly, pupils widening with something aggressive and combative. “After all, it’s your last class, isn’t it?”

Lin Zhiyan quietly turned around, trying to silently escape the pincer attack forming around her.

Whenever celestial dragons fought, she was always the one caught in the blast zone.

“Lin Zhiyan.”

Jiang Yi stopped her and handed her a stack of materials.

“Pass these out later.”

As Lu Weixi walked toward his seat, he glanced back and raised a brow at her.

“I saved you a seat.”

Jiang Yi’s expression turned cold. “You’re very free lately?”

“What, is this the military? You think you can control everything?” Crossing his arms, Lu Weixi tilted his head with a provocative smile. “I should’ve brought my trench knife last time. Letting a little blood out of you probably would’ve taught you obedience.”

“Not necessarily.” Jiang Yi smiled faintly. “Some people still refuse to behave after failing several classes. Always trying to walk crooked paths.”

Lu Weixi sneered and headed toward the front row.

Jiang Yi looked at Lin Zhiyan. “Go take attendance.”

Then he raised a brow slightly.

“At least this time you won’t need to skip certain people’s names.”

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

Okay enough digging up old history already!

She obediently began roll call, but when she reached Lu Weixi’s name, she felt Jiang Yi glance at her again.

Seriously, what did he want from her? He stared when she read the name, and stared when she didn’t too!

Terrified, she finished attendance.

Yet Jiang Yi still didn’t let her return to her seat.

Instead, he said, “I’ll need your help organizing some material during this class.”

Frowning slightly, Lin Zhiyan asked softly, “Can I sit while doing it?”

She had overslept today and still hadn’t eaten lunch.

“You mean I stand here teaching while you sit?” Jiang Yi frowned, sounding amused as he lightly emphasized the last three words.

“Assistant Lin.”

Fine.

Even outsourced subcontractors apparently had no right to sit.

Lin Zhiyan sighed.

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