37: Chapter 37 The Führer's Salary? First, give myself 50,000 dollars!

Beijing, the Presidential Suite of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

Qin Yue, dressed in a well-tailored business suit, strode quickly down the corridor in her high heels.

Four assistants carrying folders followed behind her, each moving with efficiency and without a moment's pause.

On both sides of the corridor, several men in black suits stood guard at the doors with expressionless faces.

This was no longer just an ordinary hotel suite.

It was the temporary heart of the Cyber Freedom Republic.

Liaising with embassies of various countries, drafting the initial constitution, and recruiting top-tier lawyers.

The once-quiet executive floor was now filled with the sounds of international phone calls in various languages and the whirring of printers.

Lin Zhou leaned back in the large leather swivel chair, watching the bustle outside through the frosted glass.

He held a cup of black tea in his hand, his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the mahogany desk.

The feeling of dumping all the troublesome tasks on others and only being responsible for reviewing reports.

It was truly satisfying.

He finally understood why ancient emperors liked to refer to themselves as "the lonely one."

This sense of detachment, of holding the big picture while being removed from the trivialities, was indeed addictive.

Qin Yue pushed the door open, bringing with her a cool scent of perfume.

She handed over an electronic screen, her voice calm and professional.

"Head of State, this is the breakdown of the first batch of diplomatic expenses, totaling one hundred million U.S. dollars."

"It is mainly used for leasing offices in New York, Paris, and London, as well as paying the advance fees for lobbying groups."

"Please sign."

Lin Zhou didn't even look at that astonishingly long string of numbers.

He took the stylus and pressed it against the fingerprint recognition area.

"Approved."

Qin Yue nodded, swiftly put away the screen, and turned to leave.

Before leaving, she remembered something and stopped in her tracks.

"Head of State, for lunch today, would you like the air-freighted Kobe beef, or shall we just grab something downstairs?"

Lin Zhou waved his hand.

"I'm not hungry, you all go ahead and work."

The office door closed gently.

After making sure he was the only one in the room, Lin Zhou let out a long sigh and took out his mobile phone.

The calm demeanor he had displayed just moments ago vanished completely.

He skillfully swiped open a ticketing app, his fingertips trembling slightly.

He hadn't been home for two months.

His mother, Wang Xiue, had left a long queue of voice messages bombarding his WeChat.

From complaining that the rapeseed flowers back home in Sichuan had already withered, to suspecting that he had been arrested in Beijing for running a pyramid scheme.

In the last voice message, Wang Xiue even sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"Child, if you really can't make it out there, just come back and farm. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Your Second Uncle said he saw someone on TV who looked like you, saying they founded a country. It scared your Uncle so much he almost went to the police."

Lin Zhou rubbed his temples.

It was time to go back.

Even if only to prove that he hadn't ended up in jail sewing clothes.

He entered the high-speed rail route from Beijing to Chengdu into the ticketing app.

His finger habitually slid toward the first-class seat option.

He clicked pay.

The screen transitioned, and a bright red exclamation mark popped up.

[Insufficient balance, please choose another payment method.]

The corner of Lin Zhou's eye twitched.

He opened his personal banking app.

Balance: 852.34 Yuan.

This was just the spare change left after selling the last "Count" title and paying the hotel bill.

The more dashing he had been while signing off on that one hundred million U.S. dollars earlier, the uglier his expression was now.

He, Lin Zhou.

A head of state with a net worth of 1.1 billion U.S. dollars.

A man who possessed alien black technology.

Yet now, he couldn't even afford a high-speed rail ticket back to his hometown in Sichuan.

He thought about the severance pay he hadn't touched yet, but dismissed the idea; that was his fallback plan in case everything failed.

That intense sense of disconnection left him stunned.

Should he sell another title?

Lin Zhou immediately dismissed this thought.

It would look too desperate.

Selling a title at a time like this, how was that any different from a telecom fraud gang frantically scamming people when they fell short of their quotas?

As a head of state, his pride would not allow him to do such a thing.

Use that last bit of severance pay?

That was the last line of defense he had saved for "ordinary person Lin Zhou."

In case this so-called Cyber Republic collapsed, that was the money he would need to save his life.

He couldn't touch it.

Lin Zhou suddenly realized something.

He stared at that pitifully small string of numbers on his phone screen.

"Wait a minute..."

He slapped his thigh, the sound echoing in the empty room.

"I am the Head of State!"

"What kind of king works for his country without taking a salary?"

He immediately walked quickly to the desk and opened the specially made terminal computer.

The blue light from the screen reflected in his eyes.

He quickly logged into that extremely primitive government OA system.

This system was activated along with the "territory" and looked like a product of the last century.

He searched frantically through the intricate modules.

[Population Management]... Not that.

[Territory Construction]... Not that.

Finally, at the very bottom of [Fiscal Management], he found a hidden sub-menu.

[Salary Management].

He clicked to enter.

A primitive setting interface popped up.

In his mind, the system that had been playing dead all this time finally popped up a notification.

[Monarch Annual Salary Setting Module Activated.]

[Current setting: 0 USD/year.]

Below was a line of extremely small gray text, as if mocking his ignorance:

[According to the "General Guidelines for the Development and Governance of Interstellar Micro-nations" v1.3.]

[The annual salary cap for the head of state of a micro-nation (population less than 100,000) may not exceed 50,000 USD.]

[Note: This restriction is intended to prevent the monarch from embezzling national assets, leading to the collapse of the regime in its early stages.]

Fifty thousand U.S. dollars?

Lin Zhou quickly calculated the exchange rate in his head.

About three hundred and fifty thousand RMB.

As the head of state of the smallest country in the world, this amount of money wasn't even the average salary of a programmer in Silicon Valley.

But he let out a long sigh of relief.

This money was legitimate.

This was the legal remuneration given to the head of state by the national treasury.

This was income from labor!

He filled in the maximum value without hesitation: 50000.

He linked his personal bank account.

Confirmed with his fingerprint.

The system popped up a soft light screen:

[Setting successful.]

[Monarch annual salary has been set to 50,000 USD, to be issued monthly.]

[Current national treasury detected as sufficient; would you like to advance the entire annual salary?]

Such a feature existed?

Lin Zhou almost poked a hole through the "Yes" button.

Three seconds later.

Ding.

His phone vibrated violently.

[Your savings card ending in XXXX has received a deposit of CNY 358,450.00. Current balance: 359,302.34 Yuan.]

Looking at that string of numbers that brought him peace of mind, Lin Zhou slumped back in his swivel chair.

That was the fragrance of what is called "financial freedom."

He reopened the ticketing app, his gaze firm.

"First-class seat?"

He let out a cold snort and swiped his fingertip directly to the top option.

First-class flight ticket.

By the way, he also added the names of Qin Yue, Zhang Zhe, and others into the salary system.

"As for how much to fill in, let them struggle with that themselves."

Lin Zhou turned off the computer and walked out of the office, whistling.

The dignity of a head of state begins with booking a first-class ticket home.

...

At the same time.

In a secret center in Beijing, the monitoring hall.

The large screen was covered with complex flowing code.

"Boss, the target has had some unusual activity."

The young technician adjusted his glasses, his expression somewhat strange.

"Did he use that 1.1 billion U.S. dollar account?"

Director Zhou put down the teacup in his hand, his brow furrowing tightly.

That was his biggest concern.

If Lin Zhou started squandering that money, it would mean he was just a nouveau riche who had stumbled upon power.

Such a person was controllable but wouldn't get very far.

"No... he didn't use public funds."

The technician projected a transaction record onto the center of the large screen.

"He just issued himself a salary through his own government system."

"The amount is 50,000 USD, which is over 350,000 RMB."

Director Zhou stared at the clear flow of the "salary" and was stunned.

The hall fell into an eerie silence.

After a long while, Director Zhou let out a laugh.

He shook his head, his fingers tapping gently on the desk.

"Interesting."

"Leaving 1.1 billion U.S. dollars untouched, and to pay for a plane ticket home, he sets an annual salary for himself first?"

"This little guy is even more disciplined than I imagined."

This kind of discipline wasn't the cowardice of fearing arrest.

It was a clear awareness of the boundaries of power that was engraved in his bones.

A head of state who knows how to restrain his desires is ten times more terrifying than a greedy dictator.

"Boss, he booked a flight to Chengdu for tomorrow."

"Should we arrange for local authorities to meet him at the airport? Or have the authorities in Sichuan clear the area?"

Director Zhou waved his hand, his gaze calm.

"Send a capable team to keep an eye on him in secret, that's all."

"Remember, do not disturb him, and definitely do not let the local officials know his identity."

"Since he wants this kind of decency, we will give him that decency."

"Let him accompany his parents in peace."

Director Zhou stood up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

The setting sun cast his shadow very long.

"After all..."

"The next time he returns, I'm afraid it will be in the capacity of a player in the great power game."

On the screen, Lin Zhou was happily searching online for "what New Year's goods to bring home that look more impressive."

He had absolutely no self-awareness of being a "Head of State."