Chapter 50: Sigh! Governance & Capitalism

Before long, the venue was almost fully prepared.

The stage and presentation equipment had been set up, with crowd barriers and rows of seating gradually arranged in front.

Students occasionally passed by, stopped to take a look, then hurried off.

Meanwhile, Lin Zhiyan sat on a flowerbed playing on her terminal while waiting for the fundraising speech to begin so she could thoroughly embarrass Lu Weixi.

After all, their debts had already been settled. It wasn’t as though he could abuse his authority against her just because she barked at him a few times.

If he really tried that, she could always agree to Zefi’s request and become Li Siheng’s human-shaped emotional support toy. Borrow strength to fight strength.

Still, that was a last resort.

While considering her battle plan, she noticed several people setting up cameras and recording equipment nearby.

She immediately understood.

Since this was an event, there would naturally be photos and videos for publicity materials. Some of those people were probably already preparing promotional articles and social media posts.

After a long while, only a sparse number of students took seats.

The rest were clearly planted audience members brought by the organizers.

Compared to the massive crowd that had nearly caused a stampede earlier, the difference was stark.

Several of the high school organizers looked disappointed.

Lin Zhiyan clearly heard Lu Weixi standing beside them, speaking with his usual impatience.

“You really think you’re celebrities? Those people only crowded around because they’d never seen outsiders get permission to hold an event on campus. Once they figured out what you were doing, they left. Hurry up and finish this so you can leave and stop causing trouble.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Curiosity itself was always the attraction.

Once something was revealed, it ceased being interesting.

Still, Lin Zhiyan was curious about these students.

How had they managed to obtain permission to hold an event inside the academy?

The United Military-Political Academy only opened to outsiders during designated open days. Events normally underwent extensive screening. Activities organized by students seeking to pad their résumés rarely received approval.

Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, she reminded herself that when she attacked Lu Weixi later, she should keep it measured.

Not too much.

Not too little.

Eventually, a student stepped onto the stage.

He shouted a slogan and swept his gaze across the audience with determined eyes.

Then he began:

“Students of the Military-Political Academy. Students who have come to the Central District from all corners of the world. Young people. Ladies and gentlemen.”

“I want to ask you a question.”

“How much did your lunch cost?”

The planted audience members immediately began responding enthusiastically.

Several real students stood up and left.

The speaker pretended not to notice.

His voice turned mournful.

“Can you imagine that the cost of a single lunch could pay an entire month’s rent somewhere else?”

“When you’re thinking about whether the colors of a LenoDi handbag look good, whether a pair of LaEx sneakers has a stylish design, or whether a custom gemstone-encrusted terminal is too heavy…”

“Can you imagine that some impoverished students sleep on hard wooden boards every night and have to do their homework lying down because they’re too poor to afford a house with a study room?”

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

What kind of nonsense is this?

The empress bakes flatbread in the palace while poor people shop for study rooms.

Surely that makes sense.

Her fists clenched.

Fortunately, after finishing that ridiculous speech, the student immediately launched into his main presentation.

“We will now begin a fundraising speech for students in underdeveloped educational regions.”

“Before that, we’d like to invite Mr. Lu Weixi to say a few words as the school’s representative.”

“He has helped us maintain order today and will also participate in our fundraising efforts. We thank him and thank the United Military-Political Academy for its support.”

Camera shutters clicked everywhere.

Lu Weixi soon walked onto the stage.

Normally, he either buried his face in his terminal and ignored the world, or wore an expression suggesting everything and everyone annoyed him.

Today was no different.

Running a hand through his gleaming platinum hair, he stepped forward.

“I hope everyone pays attention to educational inequality.”

“There are too many poor people in the world.”

“Eliminating poverty isn’t something that can be accomplished overnight.”

“I’m working toward that goal too.”

After saying that, he seemed to realize it sounded too brief.

He quickly added:

“Uh… I donate online regularly. While at school, I also provide targeted assistance to disadvantaged students. Additionally, every week I donate part of my allowance to charitable organizations.”

Online donations.

Meaning spending money on game microtransactions.

Targeted assistance.

Meaning making Lin Zhiyan tutor him.

Charitable donations.

Meaning buying mystery-box donuts to complete collectible card sets.

Lin Zhiyan opened the screenshot folder on her terminal titled [Stalking Notes].

Inside were old posts from Lu Weixi:

Damn it, I’m practically getting diabetes and I still haven’t completed the collection. This stupid donut shop has over 4,000 cards. Every time I complain, people tell me it’s for charity donations. Just send all of you to District Twelve and let you start a cult.

@NovaDonuts Did your boss die today? If not, tell him I have plenty of bullets.

My chest is getting bigger from eating so many donuts. Did they put lactation drugs in these things?

Lin Zhiyan slowly realized that her understanding of Lu Weixi had become alarmingly comprehensive.

Then she glanced at his chest.

Hmm.

Still okay.

Not as big as Kui Furen’s.

She thought coldly.

---

After Lu Weixi stepped aside, the fundraising team took over.

Their division of labor was obvious.

Several students stood on stage while one controlled presentation materials, another delivered the speech, and a holographic screen displayed live feeds from the others.

The presenter walked to a display case.

“These exhibit boxes contain items collected during our field investigations.”

He pointed dramatically.

“As everyone can see, this is just a can.”

The audience stared.

The presenter continued solemnly.

“It costs only eight star credits.”

“It contains beans, quinoa, and noodles.”

“Someone ate this every meal for five consecutive years.”

Lin Zhiyan twitched.

The feeling was similar to watching television dramas where characters somehow needed eight tissues every time they cried.

The display cases contained old stationery, worn books, cheap counterfeit products, and similar items.

The holographic presentation was filled with colorful charts, graphs, photographs, and videos.

The images all felt strangely familiar.

A silent father.

A mother forcing an awkward smile.

Embarrassed children.

Unappetizing meals.

Old books.

Cramped rooms.

The presenter cried several times.

Expertly.

Professionally.

The presentation itself wasn’t long.

Yet Lin Zhiyan sat through it like someone sitting on needles.

Only her determination to humiliate Lu Weixi kept her going.

Finally—

The Q&A session arrived.

She immediately raised her hand.

Unfortunately, the organizers prioritized their planted audience members first.

Only after the prearranged questions ended and many people had already begun packing their equipment did her turn finally come.

She cleared her throat.

Asked one or two harmless questions.

Then she turned toward Lu Weixi as though suddenly remembering he existed.

“Oh, what a coincidence.”

She smiled.

“Thank you for your answer.”

“However, after hearing Senior Lu Weixi’s remarks, I became curious about something.”

Lu Weixi frowned suspiciously.

Several students seemed convinced she was simply another fan.

Some even stepped offstage.

Others retreated slightly to watch the show.

Looking resigned, Lu Weixi walked forward.

“What?”

Lin Zhiyan smiled politely.

“I heard that you’re deeply involved in charitable work.”

“You must have extensive experience.”

“Why not tell everyone exactly what kinds of things you usually do?”

“I’m sure many people here want to help disadvantaged students but don’t know where to start.”

One of Lu Weixi’s eyebrows rose.

Even his eyebrow piercing seemed to move.

Several seconds passed.

Then he replied:

“Can’t they look it up themselves?”

“Information isn’t difficult to access.”

“If you want to do something, research it.”

“If someone genuinely cares, they’ll find a way.”

“If they don’t care, giving them a plan won’t help.”

As always, he was excellent at verbal sparring.

Unfortunately for him—

So was Lin Zhiyan.

She nodded seriously.

“Many people only experience a fleeting impulse to help before deciding it’s too troublesome.”

“But if you’re willing to share your experiences, then the next time that impulse appears, helping becomes something convenient.”

She pressed forward.

“Isn’t the essence of charity repeatedly awakening those fleeting impulses?”

“What do you think?”

Lu Weixi visibly choked.

His brows knotted together.

Several seconds later:

“Wait—”

“Isn’t this literally a fundraising event?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“What if I like being niche and don’t want to share my personal experiences?”

He finally lost composure and snapped.

What exactly is she trying to do?!

“Oh…”

Lin Zhiyan bit her lip.

Her eyes widened.

She looked genuinely startled.

“I wasn’t criticizing you.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I was just curious.”

It felt like punching a pillow.

Grinding his teeth, Lu Weixi said:

“Then are you done being curious? Stop wasting everyone’s time.”

Lin Zhiyan immediately shook her head.

Lu Weixi: “…”

“No.”

His jaw visibly tightened.

Ignoring his glare, she continued:

“As the school’s liaison and official representative for this event, are you familiar with the planning process, the speech content, and the sources of the data being presented?”

Several seconds passed.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“My point is simple.”

Lin Zhiyan stared directly at him.

“Do you endorse them?”

“More importantly—”

“Are you willing to take responsibility for them?”

“Please answer.”

The atmosphere exploded.

Whispers spread through the audience.

Passing students stopped to watch.

Even the invited media personnel looked surprised.

The organizers’ expressions darkened.

Lu Weixi tapped the podium.

“This event was assigned by the school.”

“My responsibility is to help them conduct a successful fundraiser.”

“I believe it’s a meaningful activity.”

“I believe the school, the students, and I are all working toward a worthwhile goal.”

“That effort is exactly what the academy encourages.”

Not bad.

When it came to avoiding scams, he was hopeless.

But in other areas, he was quick-witted.

In a few sentences, he’d shifted attention toward the institution itself.

Lin Zhiyan gritted her teeth.

Her knife was too long.

Her plan too short.

The impatience disappeared from Lu Weixi’s face.

In its place appeared a perfect public-relations smile.

Golden hair.

Blue eyes.

Military uniform.

Every inch the promising young officer.

“Thank you all for attending.”

“Thank you for supporting this fundraiser.”

“We are all contributing to making the world a better place.”

Clearly, he intended to end things.

Unfortunately—

Lin Zhiyan wasn’t finished.

“What contribution?”

Her voice suddenly cut through the air.

“A performance?”

She slowly looked across everyone on stage.

“You claim to have conducted real investigations.”

“You claim to have worked tirelessly for this fundraiser.”

“You claim donations will be used for books and school supplies.”

“But all of your effort exists only in your claims.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Finally, her gaze settled on Lu Weixi.

“Is this also what the academy advocates?”

His gray-blue eyes trembled.

His pupils widened.

Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to drag the academy into it too.

Before anyone else could intervene, the lead presenter hurriedly seized control.

“I don’t understand where your evidence comes from.”

“Why are you insulting our work?”

“Perhaps we’re young and inexperienced, but at least we’re trying. At least we’re acting.”

“We haven’t falsified anything.”

“Every impoverished household shown in our presentation was personally visited.”

Lin Zhiyan smiled.

Then she asked:

“Then tell me.”

“Why can someone only do homework while lying on a bed?”

The presenter froze.

Several seconds later:

“Are you criticizing our opening example?”

“If so, I admit it may have been an inappropriate joke.”

“I apologize.”

She continued.

“The reality is very simple.”

“Some families don’t have enough space.”

“They don’t have proper study facilities.”

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“I personally visited homes like that.”

“They had only one bed.”

“One tiny dining table.”

“No kitchen.”

“No bathroom.”

“So I think the person who doesn’t understand reality is you.”

Lin Zhiyan laughed.

Actually laughed.

Her eyes curved into crescents.

“That’s a classic trick question.”

“I can tell you right now.”

“No one can only do homework lying down.”

“Unless they enjoy it.”

“A normal person without a desk can sit on the floor.”

“They can write with a notebook on their knees.”

“They can finish homework at school.”

“They can use a bed as a table.”

She continued relentlessly.

“You say poverty means eating canned food.”

“Do you know market prices?”

“Do you know what eight star credits can actually buy?”

“Vegetables.”

“Bread.”

“And more.”

“And don’t even get me started on the pencil case.”

She almost laughed from disbelief.

“Do you know how much that model costs?”

“Is poverty really just old belongings, poor parents, and small houses?”

The presenter looked completely overwhelmed.

The crowd had grown noticeably larger.

Sensing disaster, Lu Weixi stepped forward.

“You’ve raised valid concerns.”

“However, charity isn’t a competition over who is poorer.”

“You’ve pointed out even more disadvantaged groups, but that doesn’t invalidate students who are still struggling.”

Then he attempted to conclude.

“Thank you for your question. I’m sure everyone here has gained valuable insight—”

“No.”

Lin Zhiyan cut him off.

“This isn’t about comparing poverty.”

“It’s about assumptions.”

She looked directly at him.

“You don’t want to truly engage with poverty.”

“But you still want to display it.”

“So you construct an imagined version using your own common sense.”

“That’s all.”

Maintaining his official smile through sheer force of will, Lu Weixi asked:

“Then what exactly is your definition of making assumptions?”

Internally, he already wanted to kill someone.

The crowd kept growing.

The event was visibly collapsing.

Awkwardly, he added:

“I personally think misunderstandings happen because everyone is an individual.”

The moment he finished—

Someone booed.

Then another.

Then many more.

Lin Zhiyan nearly laughed out loud.

“You want to know what assumptions are?”

She pointed at him.

“When you hold a gun to someone’s head to make them do something, your common sense tells you that you won’t actually shoot.”

“You only want results.”

“So threatening them seems efficient.”

“But the other person’s common sense says that a sword is hanging above their head.”

“Death is one mistake away.”

“So they must escape at all costs.”

“That’s what assumptions are.”

Lu Weixi’s mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

He swallowed every curse word.

She’s insane.

Last time she’d suddenly strangled and punched him.

Now she was publicly dismantling him.

What does she even want?!

Forcing a smile, he listened as she continued.

“Assuming poor people must wear patched clothes.”

“Assuming spies must wear skintight suits and climb skyscrapers.”

“Assuming sexy means red dresses and high heels.”

“In movies, those assumptions are shortcuts.”

“They help audiences immediately understand a role.”

“But here—”

She swept her gaze across the stage.

“When the upper class speaks on behalf of the lower class—”

“They use their own voices to crush everyone else’s.”

A surprising number of people laughed.

Even some spectators joined in.

Lin Zhiyan knew she was reaching dangerous territory.

So she finally eased off.

“Because I came from poverty, this makes me angry.”

“My intention isn’t to attack anyone.”

“Not you.”

“Not the students.”

“I only wanted to discuss the issue.”

She smiled brightly.

“I’m happy to see young people caring about the world.”

“I wish you great success—”

She paused.

“Oops.”

“I mean, I wish you many future contributions to society.”

Before anyone could respond, she spun around and dove into the crowd.

Then she ran.

Fast.

The secret to insulting people online was blocking them afterward.

The secret to insulting people in real life wasn’t much different.

As she fled, she imagined Lu Weixi standing awkwardly onstage trying to recover from everything she’d just done.

The thought made her laugh even harder.

---

Back at the fundraiser, several students looked as though they were about to cry.

The event organizer hurriedly comforted them.

“It’s okay.”

“There weren’t many people.”

“No one will know.”

“We already got the photos and videos we needed.”

“The media contacts promised to publish the agreed articles.”

One student stomped his foot.

“But everyone saw us get torn apart!”

“What if somebody uploads a video?”

“What if it spreads?”

“It won’t.”

The organizer patted his shoulder.

“It’ll be handled.”

“He let us host this event here.”

“That means he’ll pay attention.”

“Don’t worry.”

Only then did the students relax.

---

By that point, Lu Weixi had already left.

He was searching everywhere for Lin Zhiyan.

He wanted answers.

Before he found her, however, a message arrived from the academy administration.

Why is the event a complete mess?

Why is the school forum full of complaints?

“Damn it!”

None of this had been his idea.

Who could have predicted that a tiny, insignificant event would first nearly cause a crowd accident and then get publicly dismantled by Lin Zhiyan?

His head hurt.

After receiving orders to report to the administration building, he had no choice but to comply.

---

Meanwhile, Jiang Yi wasn’t having a better day.

Wearing casual clothes, he sat inside a senior activity center reading aloud to elderly residents.

His voice was loud.

Slow.

Each word landed like hailstones.

Earlier, people had complained that he read too quickly, too quietly, and too monotonously.

This was his adjustment.

Unfortunately, they now complained that he didn’t smile enough.

And lacked enthusiasm.

Jiang Yi inhaled deeply.

Then continued reading with a smile that never reached his eyes.

His terminal vibrated.

A schedule reminder.

Next he needed to direct traffic.

In the evening he would assist hospital security.

Late at night he was scheduled for a special welfare program helping vulnerable groups.

Today’s assignment:

Food delivery.

Jiang Yi closed his eyes.

His temples throbbed.

Then an elderly man suddenly pointed at him.

“Using your terminal during work hours! Dereliction of duty! I’m reporting you!”

Jiang Yi: “…”

---

The afternoon light deepened toward dusk.

A young employee removed his apron and looked gratefully at Kui Furen.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Mr. Kui.”

“I learned a lot.”

Kui Furen stood at his workbench trimming flowers.

His hair was tied loosely over one shoulder.

His smile remained gentle.

“I told you, we’re about the same age.”

“You don’t need to be so formal.”

“But I’m glad you’ve gained something from the experience.”

The young man smiled.

“Thanks to your guidance, I’ve learned so much about floral design.”

“Really?”

Kui Furen looked surprised.

For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in his amber eyes.

Then he said:

“You work hard.”

“You’ll get even better.”

The young man’s smile faltered.

He forced it back.

“I know I’m not talented.”

“My arrangements aren’t very good.”

“You’ve always encouraged me.”

“I’ll keep working harder.”

After a pause, he added hopefully:

“I hope one day I can create truly beautiful bouquets.”

Kui Furen smiled.

His words sounded like a blessing disguised as a curse.

Or perhaps a curse disguised as a blessing.

His voice was soft and sincere.

Silver scissors snipped away a flower bud.

“I believe your hard work will overcome the limits of talent.”

“I wish you success in creating beautiful bouquets.”

The hidden meaning landed perfectly.

You have no talent. No aesthetic sense.

Only diligence.

The young man’s face turned pale.

Still smiling, he said goodbye and left.

Kui Furen set down the scissors.

The flower before him bloomed beautifully.

No excess buds.

No unnecessary leaves.

Its beauty was refined.

Unique.

The terminal suddenly vibrated.

He activated speaker mode and continued trimming.

A subordinate’s voice reported the day’s work.

Eventually, they said:

“The task you assigned went smoothly overall.”

“There was only one minor problem.”

Without speaking, Kui Furen lifted the flower.

Then abruptly cut away its most beautiful bloom.

It had become beautiful in too ordinary a way.

“What problem?”

“Everything proceeded smoothly.”

“However, one person raised objections.”

“The audience reacted strongly.”

“We’ve ordered everyone with original footage not to release it, but some students may have recorded their own videos.”

“That can be controlled.”

Kui Furen crushed the flower between his fingers.

Red petals stained his skin like blood.

“The favor has already been repaid.”

He smiled.

“But what kind of objection could leave that group unable to respond?”

“Weren’t the materials thoroughly prepared?”

His subordinate hesitated.

“The argument was somewhat complicated.”

“Basically…”

“The person claimed their portrayal of poverty was an imagined poverty.”

Kui Furen raised an eyebrow.

Interest finally appeared on his elegant face.

“Send me the original recording.”

Outside, the wind stirred the flower shop’s wind chimes.

Again.

And again.

Who had decided that every flower shop needed wind chimes?

Passing a flower shop near her home, Lin Zhiyan briefly pondered this great mystery.

Then she happily continued walking.

The last traces of sunset faded from the sky.

Yet her satisfaction remained.

Holding her terminal, she scrolled through Lu Weixi’s increasingly unhinged online posts.

She had never felt better.

---