MWITA CH2

Just a few casual words plunged the auditorium into dead silence. Everyone thought they were hearing things.

What kind of move was that?!

Even the high-ranking military officers and school leaders in the front rows were momentarily stunned.

In the thousand-year history of the Central Military Academy, never had there been such a bold freshman president!

As if unaware of the awkward atmosphere, Rong Shi continued to improvise, speaking nonsense in a calm, steady tone:
“Compared to the battlefield, I yearn more for a peaceful family life. I hope to spend the next four years quietly in school, take the civil service exam after graduation, marry a gentle wife, and live happily ever after. That is my ultimate life goal. That’s all.”

Finishing, he nodded politely in Qian Fan’s direction without sparing a single glance toward the military leaders in front, and stepped down from the stage with clean efficiency.

Once he left, the audience finally snapped out of their stupor and reacted with sharp intakes of breath. Everyone looked like they’d seen a ghost—only one thought echoed in their minds:

Holy sh*t! There’s gonna be a show!

Surrounded by school leaders, Qian Fan:
“…” You little brat. You’re dead.

In the freshman section, Lu Ming’s gloomy mood from the past two days instantly lifted. He glanced at the front row of officers and clearly saw expressions of disappointment on their faces.

Even if he was ranked first, someone with questionable ideological awareness couldn’t possibly remain student council president.

He opened his terminal and sent out a message:

[Expose the dirt.]

Meanwhile, Rong Shi, who was planning to sneak away, failed in his escape and got caught by Qian Fan at the side door. He was lectured for a full half hour.

“No motivation in your speech, your ideology is off! Opportunity came too easy, so now you don’t value it?! Who knows when the next chance will come? I warned you again and again, but you—you actually—!”

Qian Fan’s hands were shaking with anger, his mouth dry from ranting, and his eyes turned red from frustration when he saw Rong Shi unmoved.
“Do you even realize how big a mistake this was?!”

Rong Shi: “Oh.”

It was like punching a cloud—Qian Fan felt a deep tightness in his chest.
“If I’d known you were like this, I’d have let someone else go. What a golden opportunity, and you just ruined it—ahhh, my heart hurts so bad—”

Rong Shi: “…” Still ended up crying.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue he had prepared in advance. With practiced ease, he handed it over:
“You’ve got wrinkles.”

The sobbing stopped instantly. Qian Fan quickly snatched the tissue and carefully pressed it to the corners of his eyes, sniffing.
“Is it obvious? Do I need more?”

Rong Shi: “Looks better now.”

“Phew, thank goodness.” Qian Fan let out a breath in relief, gently dabbing his eyes—then suddenly realized what had just happened. He glared.
“Don’t think you can change the subject! What happened today was a huge mistake! You must—”

“…” Rong Shi looked past him, his tone respectful:
“Professor Qin, are you here to pick up Mr. Qian?”

At the mention of Professor Qin, Qian Fan’s anger vanished. He turned around with a huge grin.
“Darling, wait a minute—I’m still—”

The hallway was empty. Not a soul in sight.

When he turned back, the spot in front of him was also empty—Rong Shi had already fled.

“Rong Shi!!”

On the military academy’s anonymous forum, a flood of new threads instantly went viral. The post exposing Lu Ming was drowned out in seconds. The front page was filled with nothing but threads about Rong Shi, the freshman president, and the discussion count was skyrocketing.

“Freshman president’s speech summary: I just wanna coast, stop pushing me.”

“The guy with a perfect score told me he’s here to slack off! Could someone please first explain how you even slack your way to a perfect score?! (sobbing flat on floor)”

“Only he could say that at the opening ceremony. Wild. I’m in love.”

“AHHHH! Rong Shi’s so hot I can’t even—those legs, that waist, those hands, that look! I sense a wave of romantic rivals incoming. Hate it!”

“Just for that face, I’m alive again!”

“Hey military-politics Omegas, top-quality Alphas don’t stop at Rong Shi. I can sing, play guitar, and bring you breakfast. Look at me, please!”

Most people were discussing Rong Shi’s ridiculous speech. If it had been anyone else, they would’ve been laughed off the stage. Joining the military and dreaming of civil service and a sweet wife? Playing house much? Might as well transfer to the nearby liberal arts university.

But this was Rong Shi. The only student in a hundred years to get a perfect entrance exam score! His kind of “coasting” wasn’t the same as anyone else’s.

The Alphas joked bitterly with jealousy, the Omegas were collectively thirsting over him, and the Betas—lacking the need to compete—just enjoyed the drama.

Most Omegas who joined the military were pretty bold. Even the shy little wallflowers would be transformed into blazing roses within six months.

A whole group began openly plotting how to kidnap Rong Shi in the comments. In just thirty minutes, the post had over five thousand replies.

Near dinner time, a strange new thread suddenly popped up among the trending ones.

[Insider Scoop! Rong Shi cheated on the entrance exam—perfect score is fake! Evidence inside!]

---

Back in his dorm, Rong Shi had just finished showering and was drying his hair as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Military academy dorms were apartment-style—three bedrooms, one living room, usually shared by two students, with the extra room used for training.

But as freshman president, Rong Shi had the privilege of living alone.

He tossed his towel aside and clipped his terminal back onto his wrist.
“Zero-One, come out.”

Click.
The decorative clip on the terminal glowed, and its silver claw opened. The dark blue gem floated into the air, instantly transforming into a life-sized mecha.

The deep blue mecha was severely damaged—its shell was covered in scratches, its left leg, right shoulder, and faceplate completely shattered.

The bloodstains had been cleaned by the auto-wash system, but the strong metallic smell of blood still lingered.

Rong Shi waved a hand near the terminal, and a holographic model identical to the armor appeared next to it.

With every flick of his fingers, the model’s parts began disassembling. Data popped up in floating windows one by one.

This mecha had crossed over with him from that battlefield fifteen years in the future. But something had gone wrong: he’d reverted to his eighteen-year-old self, while the mecha remained in a war-damaged state.

Rong Shi quickly scanned the data, asking casually,
“Can you shift into another form?”

[Core damaged. Transformation currently unavailable. I can self-repair gradually, but—]

Rong Shi: “But what?”

[I’m starving. Feed meeeeee sob sob sob]

Rong Shi: “……”

This was a new model from fifteen years in the future. The energy crystals it used were different from today’s military equipment.

The current standard was B381. This mecha required B384—a super-energy type developed ten years in the future and only officially catalogued thirteen years later.

Right now, it wasn’t just unavailable on the market—even the military likely didn’t have it. The only place worth trying was the black market. There, anything was for sale—if you had the money.

Rong Shi checked his balance. He was poorer than expected.

With something this costly, maybe he should just scrap it.

[I can cook, clean, babysit, do laundry and dishes—I’m the most domestic mecha you’ll ever find~ sob sob]

Rong Shi: “……”
Maybe he should rewrite the entire program.

Suddenly, his terminal chimed with a notification. He paused and opened a program labeled Surveillance. A live feed immediately appeared.

It showed a child-themed room, with four bunk beds lined up against the wall. The lighting was dim, but the camera clearly captured everything inside.

Rong Shi switched to the upper bunk on the far left.

A three- or four-year-old boy lay there, his blanket kicked to the foot of the bed. A stuffed rabbit, almost as big as he was, lay near the headboard.

Maybe cold, the child curled into a tight ball, whimpering in his sleep.

The sound was as soft as a kitten’s cry—but Rong Shi still clearly heard the word “gege” (“big brother”).

He tapped a button in the bottom-right corner of the screen. A round, egg-shaped robot at the foot of the bed activated.

Under his remote command, the little robot dragged the stuffed rabbit next to the child, then slowly pulled the blanket up. Once done, it retracted back into its compartment.

The child must’ve sensed it. He hugged the rabbit, rubbed his face against its ear, and his little frown finally relaxed.

Rong Shi leaned on the sofa armrest, staring at the screen until he was sure the boy was sound asleep. Then he tapped another button, revealing a window showing his account balance—enough to pay for only fifteen more days of childcare services.

He ran his hand back through his damp hair, closed the window, retracted 01 into the accessory, and opened up the Galactic Warfare game.

This was the empire’s classic full-immersion combat game, offering every kind of battle imaginable—mecha duels, starship dogfights, survival missions on hostile planets.

Hooking into pain-simulation nerves meant you could fully experience every gruesome way to die.

In the military, everybody played. High rankings were a badge of honor. But to Rong Shi, it was just a way to make fast money.

After logging in, he entered a fully immersive replica of the real world. In one corner of the street stood a rabbit in a black jumpsuit—his in-game avatar.

Messages and DMs were coming in nonstop. He turned on Do Not Disturb, switched to first-person view, and walked over to the giant announcement screen to check tonight’s bounty matches.

The 1v1 mecha ranking matches and the survival-on-hostile-planets mode were currently the most popular. Highest viewers, biggest bets, best payouts.

The latter took longer, so Rong Shi chose the mecha match without hesitation.

Just as he clicked to register, someone tapped his shoulder from behind. He turned—and found himself face-to-face with a fluffy white Persian cat.

The Persian cat’s fur was plush, wearing black trousers and a white shirt. With sultry cat eyes and a smirking mouth, it drawled:

“Lying in wait for the rabbit… success.”