“How did your first meeting go?”

Zhou Xi heard the door open and turned to see Su Wei stepping in. Su Wei shrugged helplessly. “Our brand-new company is already showing signs of internal friction.”

“Oh? Between the deputy manager and the manager?”

“Yes.”

Su Wei sank into the sofa, picked up her water cup, and took a sip. “I gave them a warning before I left—not sure if it stuck. But if they dare drag the company down, I’ll fire them on the spot.”

“Mm.”

Zhou Xi nodded. She wasn’t really into company matters. “When will the software launch?”

“Who knows? A few months, probably.”

“Good.”

Truth be told, Zhou Xi had little interest in the business. She’d only helped Su Wei at first because Su Wei wanted to earn money. She never expected the app to actually turn a profit—and hint at even bigger earnings ahead. That got Zhou Xi thinking. After all, who doesn’t like more money?

“Where should we go this afternoon? Hot springs?”

“I’ve got a major class.”

Su Wei skipped large lectures these days, but still attended her core courses.

“By the way, open electives are open for registration. Want to pick any?”

“What are you taking?”

“World Economic History, Eastern Art History, and Philosophy.”

“Then we’ll take the same ones.”

“Got it—I’ll handle it!”

In Grand Zhou, popular open electives were fiercely competitive. Freshmen often ended up with “decorative courses” like *Animation Appreciation* or *Film Appreciation*—classes that looked nice on paper but taught almost nothing. At an average third-tier university, they might be sought after. But at Grand Zhou Royal Academy? Students usually just wore headphones and self-studied. No one wasted time.

Courses like Economic History or Philosophy sat in that middle zone—not too crowded, not too empty. To most, they felt barely worthwhile. But for Su Wei and Zhou Xi? Highly useful.

Textbook in hand, Su Wei left the dorm. The moment class time neared, Grand Zhou Royal Academy transformed into a river of students flowing from dorms, cafeterias, and libraries—books clutched, bags slung over shoulders, heading to lecture halls. Most walked in small groups; solitary figures like Su Wei weren’t rare.

Normally, she’d stroll slowly, soaking in the campus vibe. But since her identity went public, she kept her head down and walked briskly, wary of being recognized. Thankfully, Grand Zhou Royal Academy students were well-mannered—no mobbing, no leaked photos online. Probably thanks to Grand Zhou’s strict laws.

*Guess this is the trouble that comes with success.*

Inside the computer lab, she settled into her usual front-row seat and opened her book. The girl who normally sat beside her was late. In her place sat an unfamiliar Western face. The moment the girl saw Su Wei, her eyes lit up—a flicker that sent a wary chill down Su Wei’s spine. The white girl spoke in Grand Zhou’s standard language, tinged with a Western accent:

“Chairwoman Su, I’m a senior in our department. Sorry to be bold—but is your company still hiring interns?”

“Huh?”

After a brief pause, Su Wei replied slowly, “Do seniors even need internships second semester?”

The senior chuckled awkwardly. “I meant… could I join after graduation?”

“Of course! Absolutely.” Su Wei smiled. “Don’t ask me—you just need ability and drive. Our company welcomes all ambitious talents.”

The girl caught the implication and sighed softly. “Honestly… I might not even graduate. Even if my delayed-graduation request passes, my family can’t afford the tuition. I’ve survived on work-study all these years.”

Su Wei let out a slight sigh. This girl had likely been a prodigy upon entry. But juggling studies and work-study under financial strain had worn her down. At Grand Zhou Royal Academy—where only about 60% passed graduation exams on the first try—her worry made sense.

“Here’s the deal,” Su Wei said after a quiet moment. “We’re developing a new product and need hands. Try out. If your skills check out, I’ll advance part of your salary. Even with delayed graduation, you won’t need work-study anymore.”

“Thank you!” Nina’s eyes shone with gratitude. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“No need.” Su Wei shook her head. “Wait—I don’t even know your name.”

“Nina Stoloka. I’m from Ukraine.”

“Ukraine? I’ve heard it’s a land of beautiful women. Meeting you proves it true.”

“No—you’re the beautiful one—” Nina gave a shy smile, checked the time, and pulled out her phone. “Could I add you on Chuanyin?”

“Sure.” Su Wei added her without hesitation—the app had a block function, after all. “Interview in the next two days. I’ll notify HR.”

“Thank you! Thank you for this chance!”

Nina left beaming. The moment she vanished, the usual seatmate materialized beside Su Wei as if from thin air.

“You shouldn’t have agreed.”

“Huh?” Su Wei blinked, puzzled. “Why? I didn’t promise anything—just kept it vague. And she’s Ukrainian. Studying here must be incredibly hard for her.”

Ukraine’s per capita annual income last year was barely over 2,300 Zhou Yuan—less than 20,000 Chinese yuan. With under 50 million people, it ranked among Eastern Europe’s poorest nations. For a family earning 2,300 Zhou Yuan yearly to cover Zhaoge Royal Academy’s 4,500 Zhou Yuan tuition? The pressure was crushing.

Su Wei wasn’t a pushover. But she’d always believed in giving a hardworking kid from a struggling background one real shot.