Chapter 54: Zhou Yunchen Wants Something

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

The media’s insinuations were blunt, practically pointing at Lu Yao and accusing him outright. Yet, the first thought that came to his mind wasn’t anger or indignation—it was: why is Zhou Yunchen so concerned about this news?

As Lu Yao pondered, Zhou Yunchen continued opening other news and forum links. The Steel Titans documentary had catapulted Lu Yao’s image to a surge of online attention, bringing with it a flood of discussions, speculations, and debates of uncertain truth or intent.

The first reporting media claimed in their article that they had originally intended to feature a special report on Chief Engineer Lu. To do so, they investigated his time at Morningstar Military Academy. The mecha design program at the academy was a five-year course. During the four years Lu Yao attended, he consistently ranked first in his field. But in the fifth year, the top graduate was Jiang Wei, who became the current Chief Mecha Designer at Jaeger Industries.

The investigative journalists were surprised. After checking the officially released top ten graduates, they found that Lu Yao’s name was completely absent. Has there been some anomaly in his graduation results?

They tried contacting his teachers at Morningstar Military Academy, but were refused on the grounds of confidentiality. Fortunately, a fellow graduate from Lu Yao’s year provided them some information. In fact, Lu Yao’s name didn’t appear among the top ten, nor did it appear on the complete list of graduates. He had dropped out a year prior and had never received a graduation certificate.

The article concluded with the author speculating, in a tone of faint lament, that Lu Yao might have faced some personal or academic difficulty that year, leading to this unfortunate outcome. But this became the spark that ignited public opinion. People could not allow a “perfect icon” to show the slightest flaw.

Soon, netizens dug up every past recruitment announcement from the Mecha Research Institute for mecha design engineers. Every notice clearly required applicants to hold a mecha design degree. Even if someone held a degree in starship design, which was more difficult than mecha design, they would be rejected for that position and redirected to integrated research in weapons and strategy.

Lu Yao had joined the First Research Base as a mecha design engineer, and according to his credentials, without a Morningstar Military Academy diploma, he should have been screened out in the first round of applications. Yet, the normal procedure had not occurred. Lu Yao had not only joined the research base but had risen all the way to Chief Engineer. How absurd. A top-tier mecha engineer who had never graduated?

Some netizens even volunteered, claiming they had already sent complaint emails to the Mecha Research Institute. Opinions were divided: some thought there must be another explanation, while others assumed it was an internal cover-up, and complaints to the institute were useless—they should report to higher authorities. The news had already gone viral online.

Lu Yao furrowed his brow and opened his personal AI assistant, previously in “Do Not Disturb” mode. Countless messages flooded the interface.

First came a barrage from Wang Chuanshan. The documentary’s streaming platform comments were the first to be affected by online public opinion. He urgently asked Lu Yao how to handle the situation, whether his cooperation was needed—after all, without the documentary’s attention, netizens wouldn’t have scrutinized Lu Yao’s past so relentlessly.

Then came messages from the relevant military authorities and Director Cheng of the Mecha Research Institute. The matter had clearly affected the institute’s reputation and credibility. As netizens speculated, the Mecha Research Institute already knew about Lu Yao’s past, and so did the military. They wanted Lu Yao to step forward and explain, calming the tide of debate.

Lu Yao was about to respond when his personal AI assistant suddenly went black, unresponsive. The next moment, text appeared: “You cannot reveal the truth. We have an agreement.”

Zhou Yunchen noticed Lu Yao’s hand pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lu Yao shook his head. He pressed the external button on his AI assistant. The black screen fractured into scattered points of light before disappearing, replaced by the AI D’s reboot interface and blue text:

External traces cleared.

Traceback.

Traceback address confirmed.

Lu Yao traced the sender’s identity and sent a message, “Teng, I told you not to intrude on my personal AI assistant. The firewall countermeasure will be triggered.”

A reply came soon after, “Got it. The Federation Intelligence Bureau’s internal system crashed because of your Deus. Technicians are repairing it.”

“Do you need my help?” Zhou Yunchen asked. Lu Yao looked at him. The General seemed entirely unaffected by the so-called online revelations, his gaze steady and sincere. The last time, Zhou Yunchen had asked the same question. To always care for and watch over an ex-husband with no romantic connection—was this normal behavior? Lu Yao found it hard to judge. If one set aside the complicated past between them and only considered Zhou Yunchen’s recent attitude, Lu Yao could feel that Zhou Yunchen… had an intention.

“I’m thinking about making an announcement or holding a press conference, but…” Lu Yao paused, glancing back. “If they probe too much, they might touch on military secrets. I want to avoid that possibility.”

Zhou Yunchen considered for a moment. “You want to continue using the documentary platform?”

“Yes. This is a personal matter, but I can’t face the questioning alone—I need them to hear me.” The documentary, viewed from a god’s-eye perspective, was perfect for shaping his image. “I do need help, General Zhou. Can you contact Mr. Carriedo, the starship engineer of the Ares?”

Carriedo had been one of the Chief Engineers who designed and built the flagship of the Silver Halberd Fleet, the Ares. The mountain villa Lu Yao now lived in had originally been Carriedo’s property.

“How does this relate to the current issue?”

“Engineer Carriedo retired years ago and is now traveling the stars. I can try to contact him,” Zhou Yunchen said. “But can he really help you?”

“He can connect me to another person—Yan Jiujiang, the previous Chief Engineer of the First Research Base, and the one who originally recruited me.”

After Lu Yao assumed the role of Chief Engineer at the First Research Base, Yan Jiujiang happily retired, likely weary of a life surrounded by machinery and AI. He abandoned all electronics, changed all his contact information, and went solo into deep space.

Lu Yao hadn’t heard from him in years, until recently, when a real estate agent mentioned Carriedo’s intention to sell his villa—a sale prompted by Carriedo starting a late-in-life romance during his star-faring travels. His partner? Yan Jiujiang, the former head of the First Research Base.

Their story was intertwined with Lu Yao’s own life. Reportedly, the two had bought a small uninhabited planet, working on modifying its soil and atmosphere to cultivate crops. Lu Yao needed Yan Jiujiang as a narrator.

Carriedo and Yan Jiujiang quickly replied to Zhou Yunchen’s message. Yan Jiujiang was willing to return and assist, but traveling back to New Blue Star from their planet would take several days. Meanwhile, online opinion continued to ferment. Discussions on social platforms were especially chaotic.

The First Research Base and Lu Yao had no social media accounts. Mo Feng suggested posting an announcement on the institute’s official website, but suddenly photos circulated online showing Lu Yao dining with Director Cheng, implying possible shady deals or nepotism.

“Now isn’t the time for an official statement,” Lu Yao said. Mo Feng looked to the staff of the PR and Technical Intelligence departments, who nodded in agreement. Mo Feng could only sigh anxiously.

Indeed, Lu Yao had never graduated from Morningstar Military Academy, and he hadn’t entered the Research Base through the conventional hiring process. Mo Feng knew only that Lu Yao had withdrawn due to an accident during his military internship, nothing to do with cheating or academic pressure as netizens speculated. But the details of that accident involved Federation secrets, making the explanation extraordinarily complicated.

Lu Yao’s personal AI assistant vibrated. He glanced at the caller, then walked to a secluded spot to answer. “Hello, General.”

“Chief Engineer Lu, three days have passed. You still haven’t managed the online controversy?” The voice on the other end was deep and rough, from a military official clearly displeased with Lu Yao’s lack of action.

“This is just public opinion,” Lu Yao said.

“You’re overconfident,” the General said.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Lu Yao, you can’t always do this. If this were an ordinary PR crisis, the military could suppress the news. But this discussion can’t be silenced. If you don’t provide the public with an explanation, they’ll remember this forever.”

“Yes, you have integrity, and the military and Research Institute won’t fire you over unfounded accusations. But that’s no excuse for inaction!”

“Your image has already left a deep impression on the public, linking you to the Federation Mecha Research and even the Beast Wars. You must maintain that image.”

“If the military were willing to declassify the CROSS Laboratory incident, I could immediately provide an explanation.”

“You know that’s impossible.”

“I know. So please, I ask the military for a little more patience.” After ending the call, Lu Yao felt something soft and warm brush against his leg, as if offering comfort. He petted the snow leopard’s ears, and his tightly furrowed brow relaxed slightly.

On the fourth day, Yan Jiujiang and Carriedo arrived on New Blue Star. Lu Yao contacted Director Wang in advance, and via email coordinated with Yan Jiujiang to finalize the script and lines for the documentary’s extra episode. The extra remained part of the Steel Titans series—it was not purely to address public opinion.

After hearing Lu Yao’s concept, Wang Chuanshan fell silent for a long moment. “I don’t know if I should say this, but without this crisis, I might have missed this fantastic story.”

“All observers will think it’s exciting. Only Lu Yao himself won’t,” a familiar voice interjected. Lu Yao turned to see the long-absent Yan Jiujiang. Middle-aged now, his skin sun-kissed, casually dressed in a vest and checked shirt, stepping in worn leather boots, with a half-person-high burlap sack slung over his shoulder.

He came to Lu Yao and placed the bag on the ground. “Come, Little Lu, see the corn I brought you. Just harvested this year.”

Lu Yao: “?”

Author’s note:

Lu Yao: So the fate of a retired Chief Engineer is… farming?

Lu Yao refuses; he chooses to go up the mountain and let the snow leopard enjoy it.

 

 

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