Zhou Sicheng stood just outside, separated only by a thin wall as he listened in.

A long time ago, the thought of sending Xiang Zhen to school to study had crossed his mind.

It wasn’t that he looked down on Xiang Zhen’s lack of a formal degree. On the contrary, Xiang Zhen was remarkably intelligent: he had a sharp memory, picked things up quickly, and could master surprisingly complex tasks just by watching short online videos.

Above all, Xiang Zhen genuinely held higher education in deep reverence.

Zhou Sicheng didn’t know what circumstances had prevented Xiang Zhen from even completing elementary school. Regardless, since he possessed the means to send Xiang Zhen to the finest academic halls, why shouldn’t he?

He had even privately worried that once Xiang Zhen broadened his horizons and developed a more independent mind, he might no longer spend every waking moment revolving around his husband—calling out “husband this” and “husband that” all day long.

Back then, he had fretted like a parent sending a child off to school for the first time, terrified that once the child grew up, he would no longer rely on him.

He had never anticipated that the very first professor he brought in for Xiang Zhen would be under circumstances like this.

Caught completely off guard, Zhou Sicheng had no choice but to maneuver cautiously, taking it one careful step at a time.

Inside the classroom, the housekeeper served a plate of soft, pillowy xuemeiniang daifuku. Each piece was no larger than a sweet glutinous rice ball, featuring a paper-thin, chewy translucent wrapper and a distinct filling—taro paste, sweet red bean, fresh mango, rich ice cream, and even a savory pickled mustard and bamboo shoot mix.

This was Xiang Zhen’s “class participation reward”—answer a question correctly, get a treat.

Zhou Sicheng had already observed that Xiang Zhen’s appetite hadn’t suffered at all; if anything, it had grown larger.

Sure enough, the moment Xiang Zhen laid eyes on the plate of plump, snowy pastries, his stomach began to rumble before the lesson had even begun.

Having taught Marxist theory for decades, Professor Xu knew the curriculum inside out. He could break down any complex concept into simple, accessible terms off the top of his head. His only weakness was his notoriously questionable PowerPoint aesthetic, which students routinely poked fun at.

Thus, the slide deck for today’s session had been crafted directly by Zhou Sicheng. The depth of the background research Zhou Sicheng had provided on the topic was borderline intimidating.

Reviewing the slides on his way over, Professor Xu had been momentarily stunned by how seamlessly the CEO’s analytical thought process aligned with his own academic logic.

How could a man so immensely knowledgeable, articulate, and logically rigorous fail to win an argument against his own wife?

This had inadvertently led Professor Xu to hold overly high expectations regarding the wife’s educational background.

Ah well, Professor Xu thought to himself. Spreading Marxist thought to an uneducated youth makes the endeavor all the more meaningful.

Professor Xu clicked to open the presentation. Almost every slide featured clear, striking visuals illustrating the miserable conditions of peasants under the oppression of the 15th-century English aristocracy.

“In the 15th century, driven by the expansion of the textile industry, the price of wool skyrocketed. To expand sheep pastures, the British nobility forcefully seized peasant lands, leaving countless farmers homeless and destitute.”

“The state colluded with the nobility—not only expropriating land but also enacting brutal laws to control displaced peasants. If vagrants were caught by the authorities, they were whipped, branded, mutilated, or even executed. Factory owners who picked up a vagrant could claim him as a slave, buying and selling him at will.”

Xiang Zhen gasped softly. What a terrifying place! If a penniless spirit had been born back then, wouldn’t they have been forced into human slavery?!

Professor Xu continued: “Stripped of their land, peasants were forced into hard labor for the aristocracy, enabling the early ruling class to achieve the primitive accumulation of capital.”

“During the era of primitive capital accumulation, American capitalists were equally violent and bloody. They carried out massive massacres of the indigenous Native Americans to seize land, and then used the transatlantic slave trade to transport forced labor.”

“This is precisely why Karl Marx wrote that when capital comes into the world, every pore from head to toe drips with blood and dirt.”

Xiang Zhen nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’ve read that sentence before!”

It was the phrase recorded by Senior Honeysuckle. When he first read it, he hadn’t fully understood it; he only knew capitalists were awful, but he hadn’t realized they were this sinister.

Professor Xu nodded, recognizing that this specific line was the core of the issue.

He clicked to the next slide. It displayed photos of long-standing capitalist dynasties in the Western world whose glory persisted into the modern era—their descendants dressed in bespoke suits, posing as refined, enigmatic elites.

This was where Zhou Sicheng had subtly inserted his personal critique.

Professor Xu explained in the simplest terms: “You see, the family in this picture represents an authentic capitalist dynasty that has endured for centuries.”

For reasons unstated, the family portrait Zhou Sicheng had chosen made the figures look strikingly cold and grim.

Professor Xu switched slides. “On the other hand, the founding journey of the Zhou Fu Group was entirely different.”

Here, Zhou Sicheng had included historic documentation of his family’s multi-generational entrepreneurial journey: his great-grandfather manually machining equipment parts in freezing snowstorms, his hands covered in severe chilblains; his grandfather driving supply trucks himself as a young man, only to flip over on a dirt road and be robbed clean by bandits; and his father engaging in fierce negotiations with foreign capital to protect Zhou Fu from a hostile takeover.

These historical milestones were recorded in Zhou Fu’s corporate culture handbook—a book given to every employee, though hardly anyone actually read it.

Zhou Sicheng had never imagined a day would come where he would dig up his family history across four generations just to prove to his wife that he wasn’t a ruthless capitalist.

Before the Reform and Opening-Up period, Zhou Sicheng’s great-grandfather was merely an ordinary machine tool worker who later ventured into private business. By his grandfather Zhou Qingyun’s era, the family remained focused on manufacturing and real economy sectors. Later, his father seized the internet boom, guiding Zhou Fu’s transition until Zhou Sicheng took the reins, ultimately building Zhou Fu Group into a modern tech giant.

Professor Xu felt the slides were exceptionally well-crafted, carrying a moving narrative that brought tears to Xiang Zhen’s eyes.

Professor Xu asked, “Do you see the difference now?”

Xiang Zhen nodded earnestly.

“What is the difference?” Professor Xu asked.

Xiang Zhen answered, “My husband didn’t steal anyone’s land, nor did he buy or sell slaves! He built everything step by step through hard work!”

Professor Xu smiled. “Correct answer. You earn a sweet treat.”

Xiang Zhen couldn’t wait. He selected a taro and mango flavored xuemeiniang, popping the whole piece into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out as he chewed happily, a tiny trace of smooth cream slipping onto the corner of his lips.

Professor Xu pressed on: “Anything else?”

Xiang Zhen answered immediately: “My husband is way handsomer!”

Professor Xu: “…”

Bizarre. How did we jump straight back to his handsome looks? Where on earth is the relationship rift here?!

“Have another one,” Professor Xu offered, pushing the plate closer.

Xiang Zhen’s quick hands snatched up a green tea ice cream flavor. The taste was so delightful his eyes crinkled into sweet crescents.

He just earned another treat purely off his husband’s good looks! See? A handsome husband really could be turned into food!

Professor Xu proceeded to read through the remaining slides, which were heavily laced with Zhou Sicheng’s personal talking points: “We live in a socialist country where land belongs to the state, and rural residents hold land rights that no individual can arbitrarily revoke.”

Xiang Zhen chimed in: “That’s right! My Auntie Guihua… my family owns land in the countryside!”

Professor Xu continued: “You see, Zhou Sicheng is a city dweller, meaning he doesn’t own land with permanent rights either. Even this luxury villa only carries a 70-year residential lease.”

Xiang Zhen blinked in surprise. Is that how it works? They’ll be kicked out in 70 years? Where will Husband sleep when that happens?

Professor Xu asked, “Would you be willing to take your husband in to live with you in your self-built house in the countryside?”

Xiang Zhen replied without hesitation: “I’m willing!”

“Eat,” Professor Xu said.

Xiang Zhen happily took another bite.

Professor Xu recited from the slide: “[1] Our nation maintains public ownership as the mainstay while allowing diverse forms of ownership to develop side by side. The state actively encourages the private economy to inject vitality into the market.”

“In fact, the Zhou Fu Group is partially state-owned by the Shanghai State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission! It doesn’t belong entirely to him as a private individual.”

Zhou Sicheng had cleverly manipulated the pie chart on the slide—enlarging the 6.6% equity held by the state assets commission until it visually resembled 66%, rendering the decimal point suspiciously blurry.

Xiang Zhen realized: “Oh! So a huge chunk belongs to the state, which means it belongs to the people!”

Professor Xu, slightly stretching the truth for the cause, remarked: “A pupil worthy of instruction. Eat.”

Xiang Zhen happily devoured a red bean pastry.

Professor Xu added: “Zhou Fu Group is the number one taxpayer in Shanghai. The public buses you ride and the streetlights that illuminate the roads are all funded by tax revenue.”

Xiang Zhen’s eyes lit up. “No wonder the streetlights in the city are so much brighter than in the countryside—it’s because my husband pays his taxes here!”

He knew it—Husband really was like a sun!

Professor Xu thought to himself: This boy’s entire heart and mind are completely filled with his husband. “Well said. Eat.”

Professor Xu continued: “Zhou Fu Group provides tens of thousands of jobs. Many young people who join the company have completely transformed their lives.”

He cited an example: an orphan who relied on village aid grew up, went to university, joined Zhou Fu after graduation, earned Zhou Sicheng’s recognition, and now earns a salary of five million yuan a year while donating funds back to his hometown to build paved roads.

“Five million…” Xiang Zhen gasped softly.

In the spirit world, earning five million could rewrite a person’s entire destiny!

Who wouldn’t want to make five million to give back to the Spirit Foundation?

Professor Xu was growing a little winded from all the praise: “Furthermore, Zhou Sicheng has consistently engaged in philanthropic work…”

Xiang Zhen listened with bright, glistening eyes, not tired in the slightest. Through this lecture, he felt he understood his husband far better, along with the family history his husband had never brought up before.

Zhou’s father was very handsome, and Zhou’s mother was very beautiful—no wonder his husband turned out so striking. His husband’s family possessed incredible genetics.

Professor Xu concluded the presentation: “Being a CEO, an engineer, a teacher, a ride-hailing driver, a delivery worker, or a customer service representative is simply a division of labor within society. Society requires leaders, and Zhou Sicheng merely fulfills that leadership role.”

Xiang Zhen nodded in agreement. My husband is a born leader.

“However,” Professor Xu noted, taking a more serious tone, “that does not mean there is no distinction. A leader holds greater power, and power requires oversight to ensure it is used properly.”

Professor Xu looked at Xiang Zhen intently, blending a touch of theatrical performance with genuine sincerity: “As his spouse, you are the person best suited to supervise him.”

“I heard that back when Zhou Sicheng was living with you, he registered as a ride-hailing driver. While driving, he discovered a platform loophole that permitted excessively long shifts, which led to driver fatigue.”

“The moment he uncovered it, he immediately eliminated the issue, prioritizing the safety of passengers and drivers above all else. Other ride-hailing platforms lacked that vigilance, which resulted in severe accidents.”

Professor Xu said gently, “He didn’t deceive you out of malice. He simply needed to experience real life so his vision wouldn’t be blinded by raw corporate balance sheets.”

“Xiang Zhen, that improvement was actually your contribution.”

Xiang Zhen looked up at Professor Xu, pointing at himself in disbelief: “M-Me?”

He hadn’t done anything at all!

Professor Xu emphasized: “That is precisely why you must never leave him.”

Xiang Zhen froze. Yueyue had said the exact same thing.

“You are a brave warrior placed by us, the proletariat, right beside Zhou Sicheng. To keep him under proper supervision, you must never divorce him.”

Professor Xu had been somewhat confused as to why Zhou Sicheng’s script contained the word “divorce”—they didn’t even have a formal marriage certificate yet.

Xiang Zhen replied earnestly: “O-Okay!”

With Xiang Zhen full and satisfied, the lesson naturally came to a close. Professor Xu felt he had impeccably fulfilled the task entrusted to him by President Zhou.

Outside the door, Zhou Sicheng closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept a wink all night—spending the hours catching up on daytime work, looking up various medical materials, and building the slide deck until dawn broke.

Xiang Zhen’s positive reactions during the lecture filled him with relief and hope.

This time… they should finally be able to meet face to face, right?

As Professor Xu stepped out of the room, Zhou Sicheng stood straight and extended his right hand. “Thank you for your hard work, Professor.”

Professor Xu bowed slightly with modest polite grace. “Not hard work at all. President Zhou, you are the one who has had it tough.”

Xiang Zhen followed closely behind Professor Xu.

Zhou Sicheng’s gaze swept past the professor and landed directly on Xiang Zhen’s face. He called out softly, “Zhenzhen.”

Xiang Zhen looked up and saw a different Zhou Sicheng—a touch of exhaustion in his eyes, giving him a trace of weary, brooding charm.

Husband didn’t sleep well at all. I really want to hold him and comfort him to sleep.

Yet the moment the thought surfaced, a sudden wave of nausea surged violently up his throat.

The excessive quantity of xuemeiniang pastries in his stomach revolted all at once.

Xiang Zhen quickly covered his mouth and bolted straight for the bathroom.

Zhou Sicheng: “…”

Professor Xu: “…”

Zhou Sicheng wasn’t lying—his wife literally vomits the second he sees him!

Professor Xu suddenly felt the generous honorarium burning a hole in his pocket. “Could… could this perhaps not be a psychological barrier, but an actual physical health issue?”

Zhou Sicheng stood rooted to the spot, his expression completely numb, save for the bloodshot veins deepening in his eyes.

It wasn’t a physical issue. When Xiang Zhen fainted earlier, the doctors had run a comprehensive checkup on him.

If gentle methods failed to resolve this… he had far more radical measures at his disposal.

Zhou Sicheng asked in a quiet, flat voice: “Professor Xu, tell me… does traditional Chinese medicine actually work for this?”