“I’m NOT a capitalist.”

Zhou Sicheng stood frozen on the spot, stubbornly refusing to let go of Xiang Zhen’s hand.

Yet Xiang Zhen looked so utterly miserable in his arms, as though Zhou Sicheng were some filthy merchant oozing with the stench of money—a creature that turned his stomach.

Zhou Sicheng had longed for a lover who wouldn’t fall for him because of his wealth.

His wish had come true: Xiang Zhen loved him simply for the person he was.

And now, because of his wealth, Xiang Zhen hated him.

Love and hate reversed, flipping heaven into hell.

If he had never experienced Xiang Zhen’s wholehearted devotion, if he had never possessed a sun that shone solely on him, if he had never lived through those ordinary, blissful days…

Then President Zhou of Zhou Fu Corporation could easily have spent his entire life emotionless, untouched by joy or sorrow.

Zhou Sicheng looked straight ahead, eyes level. “Our country doesn’t have capitalists. I am merely a young entrepreneur.”

Xiang Zhen covered his mouth, every breath a struggle. Zhou Sicheng’s words were like a gale whipping up a raging sea in his stomach. “Don’t… don’t talk anymore.”

Zhou Sicheng shut his eyes and glanced at Xiang Zhen. In the past, he had never understood why some people chose to stay silent in love.

Now he knew: every single word he spoke made Xiang Zhen want to vomit, so how could he dare say another word?

Even attempting an explanation required hardening his heart.

As someone in a high position, Zhou Sicheng possessed a wealth of knowledge; whether it was economics, politics, or philosophy, he could deliver an eloquent lecture at a moment’s notice.

Only this time, he hadn’t been invited to speak.

Zhou Sicheng asked one final question: “Who told you this?”

He didn’t believe this naive, sweet little thing could have reached such a conclusion on his own.

Xiang Zhen muttered, “I read the Adult… I read Das Kapital.”

Zhou Sicheng recalled the casual remarks they had exchanged earlier—now returning like a boomerang, driving straight into his main artery.

Did Xiang Zhen go off to study Das Kapital because of that?

Zhou Sicheng composed himself. Fine. Identifying the root cause was half the battle.

There was no dilemma in this world that couldn’t be resolved.

As long as Xiang Zhen still loved him.

And Xiang Zhen had said he still loved him.

Zhou Sicheng released his grip and took two steps back like a warrior making a painful sacrifice. “If looking at me makes you sick, I won’t show my face in front of you. But you must stay here.”

“Wait for me to solve this.”

Xiang Zhen drew in a soft breath, clutching his stomach with one hand while looking at Zhou Sicheng with aggrieved, tearful eyes.

He had been waiting for these exact words.

His husband was someone capable of solving any problem.

Husband will definitely find a way.

Even as he thought this, his body’s physical reaction grew even stronger—it was as though every cell in his organism were condemning him for betraying the proletariat and clinging to lingering illusions about a capitalist.

Under Xiang Zhen’s aggrieved, urging gaze, Zhou Sicheng practically fled the room.

Every extra second he lingered was another second of misery for Xiang Zhen.

Xiang Zhen had been fine chatting with Uncle Zhang and Dou Manning, and he’d even been in the mood to play mind games with little Xiao Kui.

The only person he couldn’t speak to was him.

Zhou Sicheng ground his teeth together, the bitter taste in his mouth so strong he felt ready to cough up blood.

Yet his mind remained sharp, swiftly listing out a series of logical steps.

It wasn’t that his wife didn’t need him anymore—on the contrary, Xiang Zhen needed him desperately right now.

He couldn’t afford to lose his composure.

Zhou Sicheng immediately pulled up his alma mater’s official website and navigated to the School of Marxism, his cool, sharp gaze scanning line by line through the faculty profiles, researching each professor’s background and core focus.

Ten minutes later, his eyes locked onto Professor Xu, whose primary research field was the Sinicization of Marxism.

Highly respected, an authoritative scholar.

Most importantly, student reviews noted that his lectures were flexible, engaging, and witty.

Zhou Sicheng personally placed the call: “Professor Xu, I would like to invite you to give a lecture for my spouse.”

Professor Xu adjusted his glasses, thoroughly taken aback by the request. As a pure academic, unlike professors in engineering or business, he had almost zero dealings with corporate executives.

“What would be the topic of this lecture?”

Zhou Sicheng answered, “The difference between traditional capitalists in old capitalist nations and emerging leaders of high-tech industries in our country.”

Professor Xu processed this for a moment. “I see. And who is the intended audience?”

He couldn’t just lend his endorsement lightly.

Zhou Sicheng: “My spouse. Just one person. As long as you can explain it clearly and thoroughly to my spouse, that will suffice.”

Professor Xu asked, “I imagine you could explain it quite clearly yourself?”

Zhou Sicheng replied, “He won’t listen to me.”

This was truly a bizarre request. Professor Xu asked out of curiosity, “Why is that? I don’t recall hearing any news of your marriage.”

Zhou Sicheng was completely sincere and disclosed the truth candidly.

Professor Xu hadn’t felt particularly inclined to give a private lecture, but upon hearing the full story, he felt ready to book a plane ticket on the spot.

Zhou Sicheng’s spouse was so sickened by the realization that he was a capitalist that he threw up?!

Utterly mind-boggling! He simply had to meet this steadfast proletarian warrior!

To remain so true to one’s original aspirations—the young man was practically built to be his graduate student!

That night, Xiang Zhen tossed and turned on Zhou Sicheng’s massive bed—a bed several meters wide where no matter how he rolled, he couldn’t reach the edge.

It was so impossibly huge. Had Zhou Sicheng always slept on a bed this big? The blanket definitely wouldn’t fall onto the floor at night.

Zhou Sicheng had such a wonderful bed, yet he had still been willing to sleep in a cramped rental apartment with him and even let him step on his abs.

Xiang Zhen kicked his feet under the covers.

When he couldn’t see his husband, he missed him; when he did see him, he felt like throwing up. Why did Zhou Sicheng have to be a capitalist instead of a ride-hailing driver?

Lying on his side, Xiang Zhen sent a voice message to Dou Manning: “Manning, I really envy the husband you found.”

Little Xiao Kui glided over to the bedside, behaving like a total brown-noser. “Before chatting with your friend, have a sip of water to moisten your throat first!”

In the study, the dark expression on Zhou Sicheng’s face almost made him crush the water glass in his hand.

Anyone whose spouse praised another man’s husband would blow their top.

Shen Ku had, in the end, still managed to become his enemy.

In what way was he inferior to Shen Ku?!

Xiang Zhen took the glass from Xiao Kui, quenched his thirst, and after a moment sent another voice message: “At least your Shen Ku is a hardworking factory worker.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…”

Huh?

It was merely a difference in job type! Did he really think Zhou Sicheng couldn’t turn Shen Ku into a capitalist too?!

Dou Manning replied: “Zhenzhen, are you feeling any better tonight?”

Xiang Zhen: “Much better as long as I don’t see Zhou Sicheng.”

Dou Manning: “Then do you want to move back here?”

Hearing this, Zhou Sicheng’s eyes darkened. Move back where? The rent for the place Dou Manning was staying in had been paid for a full year by him!

Zhou Sicheng suddenly remembered that when Dou Manning came over earlier today, he seemed to be carrying a book. That book had lacked any sense of presence, so he hadn’t paid it much mind—but thinking back now, it must have been the copy of Das Kapital Dou Manning brought over!

They had been conducting an on-site study seminar!

Xiang Zhen didn’t understand how the human world worked; he believed whatever short videos told him, and he trusted Marx’s words without a shadow of a doubt.

Originally, Xiang Zhen had simply struggled to adapt to the sudden shift in his identity, combined with a stress reaction to the summer heat—something that could be gradually nursed back to health.

Now, great. He’d been categorized directly as the main villain.

He had let his guard down. From now on, anyone entering his house would have to pass through security inspection.

Why couldn’t Xiang Zhen make a few friends who actually wished him well?

Wait.

Zhou Sicheng pondered for two seconds, then decisively assigned Fan Hao a task.

The situation couldn’t possibly get any worse than it already was anyway. Whether one friend advised separation or two friends advised separation made no difference to him.

Receiving the assignment late at night, Fan Hao didn’t dare mock Zhou Sicheng’s catastrophic failure right now. When people’s relationships were smooth, one could crack cheeky jokes, but when a relationship was on the rocks, one had better shut up—Zhou Sicheng was currently looking for a target to vent his frustration on.

A minute later, Fan Hao ostentatiously created a group chat with Xiang Zhen’s two colleagues.

[Group Chat: Fan Hao, Yu Yueyue, Liu Xiaofang]

Fan Hao: Just letting you guys know, Xiang Zhen is taking a temporary leave from work. Something came up at home, so don’t worry.

Yu Yueyue: Can I ask what happened?

Yu Yueyue had every reason to suspect Fan Hao had poached Xiang Zhen’s husband’s territory, causing total chaos in the household.

Fan Hao: Sigh.

Fan Hao: I’ll tell you guys, but don’t go spreading it around—it’s private.

Fan Hao: Actually, Xiang Zhen’s husband is Zhou Sicheng. If you don’t know who that is, you can look him up online. He previously hid his identity while dating Xiang Zhen, and now that Xiang Zhen found out who he really is, he’s making a fuss to break up with him.

Yu Yueyue: ?

His stingy husband? Look up what online? Did he have a prior criminal record or something?!

Xiang Zhen was just about to scroll through some short videos when Yu Yueyue suddenly bombarded him with over a dozen messages.

[Yu Yueyue: Baike_Image.jpg]

[Yu Yueyue: THIS IS YOUR HUSBAND?!]

[Yu Yueyue: !!!! YOUR HUSBAND IS ZHOU SICHENG??!! THAT MAN??!!]

[Xiang Zhen: Mm.]

[Yu Yueyue: HOW CAN I EVEN BELIEVE THIS?! Zhenzhen, you actually scored a super-tycoon! Where are you right now?!]

Xiang Zhen took a photo of the bedroom and sent it to her.

[Yu Yueyue: HOLY SHIT!!! How on earth did you manage to keep this completely under wraps?! If it were me, I would’ve blabbed about it on day one!]

[Xiang Zhen: I told you before, my husband is very handsome.]

[Yu Yueyue: He’s not just handsome! He’s insanely rich! THE RICH PART IS THE POINT! Goodness, does Papa Zhou Sicheng know about the bad things I said about him before? He’s way too nice—he even bestowed a job upon me!]

[Xiang Zhen: I didn’t know he was rich either.]

[Yu Yueyue: No wonder Feng Chujun went bankrupt so inexplicably! Turns out the wealthiest man in the city spent lavishly just for you! Zhou Sicheng’s protective rage was insanely handsome!]

Xiang Zhen froze. Hadn’t Feng Chujun just gone into debt? What did that have to do with his husband?

Suddenly, it clicked: it wasn’t a matter of simple debt at all. Zhou Sicheng had launched a commercial war and completely crushed Feng Chujun.

Looking at the phrases “spent lavishly” and “protective rage,” Xiang Zhen’s heart suddenly began to pound violently—so violently that he felt an urge to throw up.

Xiang Zhen hastily took a few deep breaths. Oh, he wasn’t moved; he was terrified by the capitalist’s heavy-handed tactics.

A capitalist spending lavishly for his sake was hideous to behold, and a capitalist flying into a protective rage for his sake was downright chilling.

…Yet the handsome foundation of his husband remained impossible to cover up completely.

[Xiang Zhen: Yueyue, stop talking, I feel a bit like throwing up.]

Yu Yueyue finally remembered the main point: [Bestie, I’m literally on my knees begging you, NEVER EVER EVER let go of this tycoon!]

What kind of lucky person meets a undercover-poor billionaire on a blind date?!

[Xiang Zhen: Yueyue, you’ve changed. You didn’t talk like this before.]

[Yu Yueyue: Before, I legitimately thought he was a ride-hailing driver!]

Xiang Zhen pouted. What was wrong with being a ride-hailing driver?

I’d rather laugh in a BYD than cry in a BMW.

[Yu Yueyue: Zhou Sicheng doesn’t just have a BMW, he has Ferraris, Maybachs, Rolls-Royces, and Maseratis! If you don’t like the BMW, you can rotate through the rest!]

[Xiang Zhen: I get carsick in Ferraris.]

[Yu Yueyue: Baby, you might be stuck in an emotional mudpit right now, so don’t make any hasty decisions. Sleep on it first. It’s not that you hate Zhou Sicheng for having money; you just can’t stand his deception. Let him make it up to you properly.]

Xiang Zhen paused. Was that so? No, no—humans help humans, spirits help spirits. Yueyue was on Zhou Sicheng’s side. The analysis he and Manning did made far more sense.

The next morning.

Professor Xu arrived on an early flight.

Zhou Sicheng personally went to the entrance of the residential estate to greet him. Dressed impeccably and looking distinguished, there were nonetheless faint bloodshot lines in his eyes—a clear sign he hadn’t slept all night.

“Professor Xu, thank you for making the trip.”

Professor Xu replied, “Not at all, not at all! Being able to help relieve President Zhou’s worries is my honor.”

The travel honorarium was by no means small; had the flight schedule not been so tight that clearance couldn’t be granted in time, he almost would have been flown over on a private jet overnight.

Zhou Sicheng accompanied Professor Xu to an empty room fitted with a projector, a whiteboard, and student desks—with nothing else added, fearing that an overly luxurious classroom environment might trigger Xiang Zhen’s stress reaction as well.

“Please wait a moment while I fetch him,” Zhou Sicheng said politely. “The session will be audio and video recorded with the doors open for instruction. I hope you won’t mind.”

Professor Xu said, “As it should be. We have regulations requiring open-door instruction anyway.”

Zhou Sicheng instructed the housekeeper to invite Xiang Zhen down.

Xiang Zhen felt somewhat nervous as he followed the housekeeper toward the classroom. After all, as a sunflower spirit, he had only ever audited compulsory education classes before; this was his very first time taking a class taught by a renowned professor.

Auntie Guihua, I’m attending university now.

He sat obediently with his hands neatly folded on the desk, looking up at the white-bearded old professor.

Facing a student who seemed so thirsty for knowledge, Professor Xu grew doubly warm and amiable—it was rare these days to find a university student who didn’t play on their phone during a Marxist theory class.

“The writing of Das Kapital took place within a specific historical context. Today, we shall begin our discussion with the violent and bloody Enclosure Movement in 15th-century England. How much do you know about the Enclosure Movement? Feel free to speak openly—mentioning a key detail earns you two bonus participation points!”

Xiang Zhen answered honestly, “Professor, I’ve never been to school.”

Professor Xu froze on the spot: “…”

Forget recruiting a graduate student—this kid was completely uneducated.