Shang Jianli frowned.
“I remember telling you it could be used as a reference, but that Path to Stardom’s revenue figures might not be accurate.”
In the document Ji Shileng had provided, revenue from every category in Path to Stardom had been calculated in detail—from one-credit daily check-in bundles to top-tier weapons costing millions of star credits to craft.
If the figures were genuine, then Path to Stardom’s internal data had been leaked.
It had never occurred to Shang Jianli that Tang would simply use the whole thing unchanged.
“I had someone estimate the figures from the taxes Joker Studio paid. The overall numbers matched perfectly.”
Tang grabbed Shang Jianli’s sleeve and spoke in a panic.
“So you have to help me, General.”
“Where did the data come from? Do you know?”
After he published the spreadsheet, Joker Studio in the Federation had not confirmed its accuracy. Yet its silence had prompted the public to suspect the Empire of stealing confidential information.
Relations between the two countries’ gaming industries had reached an impasse.
“You made this mess. Deal with it yourself.”
Shang Jianli shook off Tang’s hand.
“Before giving you those figures, I told you the source was unverified.”
Tang had brought the current situation entirely upon himself.
“I remember now. It was Ji Shileng! You said Ji Shileng gave you the data.”
Tang seized on the thought like a drowning man clutching a lifeline.
“I’ll shift the blame onto him and direct the public’s attention toward Ji Shileng. What do you think, General?”
Ji Shileng did not matter anyway.
And he was already dead.
Sacrifice one Ji Shileng to preserve both the Tang family’s reputation and the Empire’s standing—two birds with one stone.
Why wouldn’t they?
Tang had not expected Shang Jianli to refuse.
“Why should Ji Shileng take the blame for the consequences of your actions?”
Shang Jianli’s words seemed edged with ice, carrying a chill Tang had never heard before.
“I…”
Tang stared at him as though he had seen a ghost.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never used him as a scapegoat. Why is it suddenly unacceptable when I want to do it?”
They all looked down on Ji Shileng.
No one respected him.
“Take the most blatantly unfair incident, for instance. Wasn’t that the one about him gaming?”
During the transfer of a group of space pirates, negligence on the part of the Royal Guard had allowed the prisoners to escape en route.
As the news spread, Shang Jianli had barely given it a thought before using photographs of Ji Shileng gaming to stir up controversy and bury the original story.
That was when Ji Shileng’s reputation had begun its precipitous decline.
“Back then, Ji Shileng even wondered who had taken the pictures. He never guessed it was you, did he?”
“Come on, Shang. Now that he’s dead, you’ve suddenly changed?”
When it came to cold-heartedness, Tang knew he was no match for Shang Jianli.
He spat.
“Don’t forget. You’re the one who ruined his reputation.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
An uneasy flutter rose in Shang Jianli’s chest. He dug his fingers into his palm.
“So what if I did? So what if I didn’t?”
“Ji Shileng is going to be buried in the Royal Cemetery. I don’t want any trouble at a time like this.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Tang gaped at him, unable to stop himself from swearing.
“Did he put a spell on you before he died? Are you seriously going to put his fucking clothes in the Royal Cemetery?”
They had not even found Ji Shileng’s body. All they could establish was an empty grave containing his belongings.
To put it harshly, what sort of place was the Royal Cemetery? Did Ji Shileng deserve to be buried there?
It was not as though they had missed the rumors. But as far as they were concerned, this was Shang Jianli.
He had no heart.
How could love possibly hold him captive?
“Yes.”
Shang Jianli felt as though he might indeed have lost his mind.
An inexplicable emptiness lingered inside him.
Why had the person who made the first move been the first to leave?
Then again, it made sense. After tending a flower for so many years, one would naturally find it difficult to adjust when it suddenly withered.
“All right. If there’s nothing else, leave. Stop bothering me.”
He had yet to decide which outfit to put in the grave.
He did not know which clothes Ji Shileng had worn most often.
Rebuffed and humiliated, Tang gritted his teeth and sent a message to his public relations team.
Whatever happened, Ji Shileng would take the blame.
Whether he wanted to or not.
“Tch!”
Su Ke slammed his communicator onto the table in anger.
Ji Shileng looked up from the latest in-game costume designs and regarded him in bewilderment.
“Who’s upset you this time?”
For a while after returning home, Ji Shileng had constantly looked exhausted, collapsing wherever he went as though he had no bones.
He could let go of what he had once committed to. He simply needed time to adjust.
Whenever he had nothing to do, his mind would wander. When he came back to himself, all he could see was Shang Jianli’s cold, dismissive expression.
Recently, Su Ke had been forcibly dragging him out, and his spirits had improved considerably.
Su Ke was so angry he could barely speak. Gritting his teeth, he stiffly insisted that nothing had happened.
Ji Shileng put down the designs and reached for his communicator.
“What are you afraid of? What is it you can’t just tell me?”
Su Ke did not dare stop him. Given Ji Shileng’s current frailty, he was afraid a single careless movement might send him flying.
“Those shameless bastards have dragged you out to take the fall again.”
“Let me see.”
【Shocking Twist!! The General’s Former Spouse Exposed as a Thief???】
Ji Shileng fell silent.
He did not need to read closely to guess what it said.
The Empire’s recent draft reforms for the gaming industry had placed it at the center of controversy.
In particular, when senior Imperial officials presented detailed figures, Path to Stardom’s revenue had been plainly listed.
The public suspected the Empire of deliberately stealing data to sanction and suppress Federation games.
Now they had pushed Ji Shileng forward.
Their intentions could not have been more obvious.
After scrolling through some comments, Ji Shileng lowered his eyes and let out a soft laugh.
“I think I understand now.”
“Understand?”
Su Ke frowned, struggling to contain his anger.
“Understand what?”
“I always wondered why, whenever something happened in the Empire, I would get dragged out to be criticized.”
He slowly took a sip of water.
Now he understood.
They had been doing it deliberately.
The people in the Empire did not care about sharing honor or disgrace. To them, Ji Shileng was merely a foil for Shang Jianli.
The worse he looked, the more exceptional Shang Jianli appeared.
What a peculiar way of thinking.
Perhaps they had never considered Ji Shileng one of their own in the first place.
That year, for example, he had already been exceptionally careful about gaming, afraid Shang Jianli would accuse him of neglecting more worthwhile pursuits.
Yet someone had photographed him precisely when he was playing a guild battle on his tablet in a café.
All those years, he had never played games with public opinion.
Others, however, had constantly used public opinion to play games with him.
Seeing that Su Ke intended to press the matter, Ji Shileng picked out a few incidents and briefly recounted them.
But to Su Ke, each one represented a profound insult and an appalling lack of respect.
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