Adrian, who was now twenty-seven and had spent seven years struggling in a chaotic, lawless star zone, suddenly heard someone call him “classmate.”

If it were an old professor who had taught him, he might have felt touched. Unfortunately, it was Zhong Yan, also twenty-seven, and Adrian instantly felt a chill run down his spine, certain Zhong Yan was deliberately trying to gross him out. He snapped, “Are you sick?”

Zhong Yan, now fully recovered, shot back effortlessly, “Yes, just took my meds. Almost better. Thanks for your humanitarian aid. Could you pour me a glass of water? Or should I go get it myself?”

Years ago, during a class break, Adrian had watched a few of Zhong Yan’s debate matches on campus. Zhong Yan had a unique style as a debater—cool and calculated. He typically took the role of the second or third debater, responsible for the offense. Adrian remembered watching him sit there calmly while his opponents became fervent and flushed, his expression never changing, like an undisturbed lake. Even when he spoke quickly, he seemed utterly poised, radiating a sense of calm.

It was strange; in private, when they were in the dorm, Zhong Yan was far more animated, warmer even. But on that debate stage, his detached facade as he went for the opponent’s jugular transfixed Adrian at the time.

The more Adrian had been fascinated with this person back then, the more foolish he felt now.

Adrian wanted to call a subordinate to fetch the water, but unfortunately, he had brought only a few people with him on this trip, and most of them were likely asleep by now. He got up with a displeased look and went to get the water himself.

Adrian placed the cup heavily on the bedside cabinet and looked at Zhong Yan. “Just remembered, back in your sophomore year, there was a debate on the pros and cons of Artificial Intelligence. You invited me to watch.”

Zhong Yan nodded, unsure why Adrian suddenly brought this up. “Yeah. I was on the opposing side in that match, and we ended up winning. Why?”

Adrian, irritated, pressed on, “Were you already planning to mislead me back then?”

Only then did Zhong Yan realize Adrian had recalled that event and somehow twisted it into a meticulously planned deception.

“The debate topics and sides were drawn thirty minutes before each match. I invited you to every debate, but you were always busy rallying people, only made it to a few. It was a coincidence that you happened to watch that particular topic. How can you blame me?”

“You spoke so passionately against AI back then, every point hitting home. I wasn’t half as convincing as you. Why does what you say never match what you do?”

“It was a debate match.” Zhong Yan frowned, “If I had drawn the opposite side, I would have led my team to victory all the same. Don’t be so naive. Debate is about the speaker’s articulation and quick thinking, not their personal beliefs. Performing well only shows skill, nothing more.”

Adrian sneered, “Yeah, I was naive. I thought you were just acting on stage, never suspected you were performing offstage too.”

Zhong Yan’s expression grew colder. “I wasn’t.”

“Really.”

There was no point in denying it. By now, Adrian likely saw him as a complete fraud, an ambitious schemer willing to do whatever it took for power.

Fine. Zhong Yan gripped the water cup tightly. Fine, let him think that way. It wasn’t entirely wrong; after all, that’s exactly who he was.

As Zhong Yan prepared to drink, Adrian said coolly, “That cup of water is three hundred thousand credits. Considering our years of history, I’ll give you a discount—thirty-six thousand. Drink it, and remember to pay.”

Zhong Yan, pretending not to hear, took a slow sip, examined the cup, and replied, “I don’t have the money. Those sips were worth four thousand, right?”

“What good is four thousand?” Adrian snapped, “Why don’t you just refuse to drink it?”

“Impossible. I don’t have thirty-six thousand.”

“You’re so broke you can’t pull out thirty-six thousand?” Adrian mocked. “Even the official base salary of an Associate Council Member is over forty thousand a year, not to mention your benefits. And don’t pretend you don’t have under-the-table income—I won’t believe anyone as clean as you could climb the ranks so quickly. You yourself said there’s no such thing as a clean council member.”

It was late, and Zhong Yan, feeling drowsy, relaxed as there were no cameras around to monitor him. He downed the supposedly thirty-thousand-credit glass of water and said bluntly, “No money. I’m going to sleep.”

He pulled his jacket over his head, effectively ending the conversation.

After watching him fall asleep, Adrian left the clinic, locking the door from the outside. He lay in his own bed, unable to sleep as his mind raced—only someone as cold-hearted as Zhong Yan could sleep so peacefully after all that had happened. He scrolled through the news feed on his terminal, finding it hard to blame Fein, given that the graduation coverage was almost entirely swamped by his and Zhong Yan’s marriage news. He finally found a few official articles discussing campus political trends at the Highest Academy, but there were few of them, and it didn’t take long to read through.

Finally, he got up and headed alone to the surveillance room.

Since only a few officers were traveling, no one was stationed in the surveillance room overnight. Adrian manually reactivated the camera in the room they had just left.

He didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish, but at least there was no one around to ask questions.

He reasoned with himself, I can’t sleep anyway. What if Zhong Yan was only pretending to sleep and actually doing something? After all, Adrian had brought an “enemy” aboard his own ship. It was only right that he kept a close watch.

When the feed reconnected, Adrian’s lazy expression froze.

Zhong Yan was indeed faking sleep. The chair Adrian had sat on was now beside the bed, and Zhong Yan sat on it, apparently lost in thought.

What’s he doing up so late? Adrian watched intently. Was Zhong Yan carrying a small listening device and looking for a spot to plant it? But he had brought Zhong Yan here forcibly, and it seemed unlikely Zhong Yan would have anticipated this.

Was he planning to repurpose that broken camera as a listening device? But Zhong Yan’s skills in electronics and mechanics were practically non-existent; Adrian doubted he could restore the damaged equipment.

After a long while, Zhong Yan finally moved, and Adrian sat up straight, watching him…start folding clothes.

He was folding Adrian’s jacket.

The way he went about it was excruciatingly slow, tugging and smoothing as he went. It took him two full minutes to fold a simple jacket, and the result was soft and shapeless, lacking any neat edges. If a new recruit folded like this during inspection, Adrian would leave him covered in bruises.

Yet Zhong Yan didn’t seem to mind; he placed the jacket on the bed and picked up the broken camera, inspecting it with a puzzled look. Unable to make sense of it, he put it back on the jacket, letting it rest in peace.

After finishing these pointless tasks, he went to the bathroom. Adrian thought, Surely he’ll sleep now.

But no. Instead, he returned to the chair, gazing at the folded jacket in a daze. After a while, he took off his slippers, curled up on the chair, hugging his legs, and buried his head into his knees, curling up into a small ball.

In this secluded clinic, thinking it was completely cut off from outside view, Zhong Yan showed a side Adrian had never seen—fragile, despondent, and defeated.

Adrian stared at the curled-up man for a long time, his expression complicated, and he sat there in the surveillance room until dawn.

“Commander?”

Early in the morning, a supply department ensign entered the surveillance room and was startled to find Adrian there. “Is something wrong with the ship?”

He wasn’t very high-ranking and wouldn’t normally be invited to the academy event, but he had publicly declared his allegiance to the Navi Military District three years ago, inspired by Adrian, making a small splash at the time. Now a trusted subordinate, Adrian brought him along as part of the team.

“Nothing, just woke up early. Go ahead and handle your duties—the clinic’s camera can stay off.”

With that, Adrian left the surveillance room and knocked on Fein’s door, pushing it open.

“What the—what are you doing?” Fein scrambled to cover his chest with the blanket, feigning shock. “Are you here to rape me?”

Adrian pulled the blanket away. “Not even for money. Get up.”

Grumbling, Fein got out of bed. Adrian said, “In a while, you’re going to drive Zhong Yan back to his ship. Tell everyone it’s me in the car, going to discuss breach penalties.”

Fein nearly choked on his mouthwash. He sputtered, “I have to take him back?! No way, the guy hated me back in school! What if I never come back?”

“Only you and the medical officer know he’s here. The medical officer doesn’t recognize him and isn’t good at self-defense. Who else should take him back?”

“Just two people know?” Fein protested, pointing angrily. “Aren’t you a person?”

Adrian ignored the protests and simply ordered, “Get going.”

Fein made one last attempt. “Wouldn’t it be better if you carried him out again with his head covered? He’s with the Supreme Council now—what if he spies on the ship’s layout?”

“This is a standard-issue small, high-spec Federation battleship. What’s there to spy on?”

Fein was livid. Seven or eight years ago, he had told Adrian that Zhong Yan seemed to have it out for him. During the few meals they’d had together, whenever Adrian left the table for any reason, Fein would try to make conversation, only to be met with silence, or worse, a cold look from Zhong Yan. It left Fein utterly baffled.

Adrian had brushed it off, saying he was too sensitive, that Zhong Yan was just cold to people he didn’t know well.

…Adrian should come and see the state of things now! Fein thought bitterly, piloting the shuttle. Zhong Yan sat silently in the back, busy with a call, likely with his assistant. Earlier, Fein had offered him the front seat, but Zhong Yan had acted as if he hadn’t heard and opened the rear door instead.

Feigning nonchalance, Fein cleared his throat and muttered to himself, “So, yeah, Adrian asked me to take you back. You know, since I’m his best friend from school and all. The medical officer doesn’t—”

“Excuse me,” Zhong Yan cut in.

Fein blinked, momentarily stunned. This was the first time Zhong Yan had spoken to him since Fein fetched him from the clinic. With a calm tone, Zhong Yan said, “It’s widely known across the Federation that the current Commander of the Navi Military District’s best friend in his student days was me. When did that change?”