“You just fought with… who was it again?”

“No.” Adrian sat down next to Fein, frowning. “Why do you always think I’m going to fight him?”

The principal was still giving a speech. Fein covered his mouth with the program booklet to avoid having his lip movements caught on camera. “I’m not the only one who thinks so! The second the principal started talking, that guy came in with red eyes, looking like he’d been crying. Barely two minutes later, you walked in too… So what happened between you two outside?”

Adrian snorted. “Red eyes? Your imagination’s way too wild.”

Fein rolled his eyes. “Everyone saw it! If you don’t believe me, check the recording later; several cameras caught him walking in, from all angles. I’m telling you, the virtual community is already in a frenzy. No one cares about the principal’s speech anymore; they’re all guessing what the two of you were doing just now. You really didn’t fight him? So why was he crying?”

Adrian frowned, resisting the urge to say, “No way. Hitting him wouldn’t make him cry.” Zhong Yan was not the type to shed tears over something as simple as physical pain.

But he swallowed those words.

“No, we just ran into each other and exchanged a couple of words.”

Thinking back, it really had been just two sentences—two from him, one from Zhong Yan. In fact, his two sentences weren’t even directed at Zhong Yan specifically.

Fein looked skeptical, scoffing, “Yeah, right. You just said two words, and that was enough to make a guest councilor cry?”

Adrian shot Fein a cold glare, his icy silver eyes sending a chill down Fein’s spine, making him suddenly realize his mistake—bringing up Zhong Yan over and over.

“Why should I care if he’s crying or laughing? Have you forgotten? Seven years ago, on this exact day, at this exact place, what he did to me? Fein, you were sitting right beside me then, just like today! Zhong Yan,” Adrian ground out each word through clenched teeth, “has no heart!”

Fein nodded meekly. All around them were Adrian’s close aides, officers from the Navi Military District. They had all been listening with interest, but seeing their commander lose his temper, each of them immediately put on an expression of intense focus on the principal’s speech.

Finally, with silence around him, Adrian couldn’t help but think… Had Zhong Yan really been crying? What could he be crying about?

Adrian knew Zhong Yan was a highly sensitive person who could agonize over the smallest details. But Zhong Yan rarely had strong emotional outbursts. At least during their three years at the academy, Adrian had never seen him cry, laugh heartily, or rage. This black-haired, black-eyed young man seemed perpetually calm, reserved, and dignified, hard to believe he had been raised in an orphanage.

Adrian subconsciously glanced toward the guest seats of the Social Academy.

Seated at the head of the row was his maternal grandfather, Steven Atte, the old patriarch of the Atte Family. The Atte Family was a traditionally pro-AI family, and for over two centuries, they had played a significant role in the history of AI development. About ninety years ago, when the first-generation AI “Cocoon” was retired and replaced by the newer, more powerful “Butterfly,” the Atte Family reached the height of their influence as AI gained unprecedented control over human society.

To many, however, the family’s time seemed to be up. The current family head, Steven, had only received one child-bearing suggestion from “Butterfly” in his youth. Following that advice, he and his wife had a daughter—Adrian’s mother. After following “Butterfly’s” guidance to marry and have a child, Adrian’s father, who had married into the family, disappeared, and his mother, who had lived in sorrow, passed away early. Adrian became the sole direct descendant. And this only heir went off course, abandoning his family’s resources and stellar academic record to self-destructively pursue a career in the Federation’s poorest star zone.

Of course, no one back then could have imagined that anything was possible in this world. In just seven years, a storm of public opinion swept through the virtual community, and the remote Navi Star Zone had become a force even Capital Star had to respect.

This left the Atte Family, who had a strained relationship with the Navi Military District’s commander, in an awkward position. Steven Atte had been the head of the twelve guest councilors, until three years ago when he retired from the Supreme Council, leaving an empty seat that, after a lengthy evaluation, was finally filled by Zhong Yan, then only twenty-six, who won the favor of “Butterfly.”

Rumor had it that Steven Atte had personally recommended Zhong Yan to “Butterfly,” influencing its final decision. Supposedly, the young councilor’s meteoric rise was due to the Atte Family’s extensive support, seemingly aimed at creating a counterforce against Adrian, who was stationed on the far side of the Federation and posed a potential threat.

Adrian hadn’t seen his grandfather in nearly ten years. Since taking a different path, his social circle on Capital Star had shunned him, and his family was thoroughly disappointed in him. His grandfather looked visibly older now as he conversed gently with Zhong Yan, who listened attentively and respectfully. Adrian’s grandfather had never been this gentle with him—sitting there, Steven and Zhong Yan looked for all the world like a harmonious grandfather and grandson.

Adrian sneered. Bringing a wolf into the fold like this—it was almost impressive his grandfather could manage it. And as for Zhong Yan, who’d listened to Adrian criticize this old fossil for three years straight, now he could turn around and work hand-in-hand with him. Definitely perfect material for a politician.

Not much later, Zhong Yan sat quietly in his seat, dressed in a black formal suit, apparently engrossed in the principal’s speech. His face was calm, with no visible sign of distress.

What a phony. Adrian thought.

But some people, even when they were putting on an act, just looked good doing it. Time seemed especially kind to this young man. At twenty-seven, he still had that flawless, porcelain-like face, with cool, delicate features. Sitting there, he still looked like the twenty-year-old waiting to receive “Butterfly’s” career advice on graduation day.

What had Zhong Yan been feeling in this auditorium back then? He was someone who only made moves after careful consideration and planning; Adrian knew that all too well, which is why he understood that the betrayal on their last day together wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision but a well-calculated plan. How far back did that plan go? Adrian couldn’t say.

When he had walked into this hall seven years ago, affectionately wrapping an arm around Zhong Yan’s shoulders, Zhong Yan must have known that hours later, they’d break apart. Yet at the time, his expression had been as flawless as it was now. And before that? When Adrian spread a virtual star map across their dorm room, passionately sharing his dreams with Zhong Yan, had Zhong Yan already foreseen their eventual split? Or further back, when they huddled under the same blanket in the early hours, swapping childhood stories? Had Zhong Yan already started gathering intelligence on the Atte Family to pave his own path? Further back, when they’d first met?

It was laughable. He had given more than mere friendship, only to realize, when Zhong Yan publicly humiliated him, that he’d likely never had a speck of sincerity from him.

Those red eyes earlier—he was probably upset over that rabbit specimen. Adrian scoffed internally. Who knew why Zhong Yan was so obsessed with furry animals, especially the Interstellar Giant Rabbit. To Adrian, those giant rabbits, which could live both in space and on land, were nothing but dumb and lazy.

Adrian zoned out. The graduation ceremony dragged on, as tedious as ever. Nowadays, the anti-AI and pro-AI factions were at each other’s throats, and most of the younger generation leaned towards change. Even this ancient academy wasn’t exempt; over half of the graduates had declined “Butterfly’s” career advice, opting to pay a fine instead—a trend that had become common in recent years.

Finally, after several hours, there was only one student left. Following tradition, the order of appearance on stage was arranged by ranking, with the student council president going last.

A commotion erupted from the student section, with whispers and chatter growing louder, prompting many guests in the front to turn around and see what was happening among the students.

“What’s this about,” Adrian muttered irritably, “Is this year’s student council president some kind of big shot?”

Fein waved over a student who had recently rejected “Butterfly” and announced his intent to seek employment in the Navi Star Zone. The student looked around, and seeing the audience already in disarray with everyone murmuring, ran up to the guest seats.

Before Fein could ask, the student gave him a strange look and said, “Deputy Xyster, it’s like this. A girl from the Social Academy got bored and used a jammer to sneak onto the virtual community, right when ‘Butterfly’ announced this week’s top marriage pairings, you know, loads of people are always waiting for that…”

Fein, surprised by how long-winded he was, interrupted, “Get to the point!”

“Councilor Zhong Yan’s name is on the list this week.”

The words hit Adrian like a hard punch to the chest, leaving him stunned, like he’d been stung by a bee or had stepped off a ledge.

Fein was speechless. As one of the few who knew the deeper truth behind the events seven years ago, he glanced at his friend, concerned.

“Why are you looking at me!” Adrian snapped, that look in Fein’s eyes pushing him to the edge of his composure. “What kind of idiot would have the worst luck in the universe to end up marrying Zhong Yan? What’s it got to do with me?”

The student looked at Adrian, dumbfounded, with a hesitant expression.