Big Trouble!

Chapter 35: Big Trouble!

Zhang Yuan had no interest in socializing with anyone. He was about to run away from Earth, so why should he care who anyone was? Taking a nap was far more practical.

For some reason, he could never fall asleep in his dormitory, yet in classrooms or public places like this, he found it easy to doze off.

Half an hour passed in a flash...

Award ceremonies usually started with the lowest tier, the third-place prizes. Otherwise, if they handed out the first-place prize right away, what would be the point of the rest?

The atmosphere in the venue was excellent. The host was professional and humorous, and since this was the most prestigious award in the country, the applause was like a tidal wave.

"Next, the winner of the Galaxy Award 'First Prize' is..." The host deliberately built up suspense, glanced at Zhang Yuan, who was still sleeping, and paused in slight surprise.

Zhang Yuan suddenly heard his father's name. He jolted, waking up from his slumber in a hurry.

A video was playing on the big screen: it was an introduction to his father's life—renowned mathematician, engineer, lead spacecraft control system designer, nuclear engine engineer, and so on...

Looking at the lines of text on the screen, the audience below began to whisper and gasp in amazement.

Any single one of these achievements would be enough for an ordinary person to brag about for a lifetime.

Amidst the gasps of the crowd, a sorrowful piece of music began to play. Due to overwork, Professor Zhang had passed away prematurely at the age of 60... and thus, his family member would accept the award on his behalf.

After the host finished speaking, Zhang Yuan walked onto the stage, bowed slightly, and accepted the gold medal.

A microphone was handed over to him.

The host wanted him to say a few words of acceptance.

The venue gradually quieted down.

Zhang Yuan had prepared his speech long ago and felt no nervousness.

"I am honored to accept the Galaxy Award First Prize on behalf of my father."

"First, please allow me to thank the judging panel, the Science Committee, and..."

It was very formulaic language. In any case, three "thanks" were usually enough; any more would sound redundant, and any fewer would sound insufficiently formal.

Normally, the First Prize was a sensational event. Adhering to the principle of quality over quantity, there were often years without a winner, with the spot long held by a "vacancy."

But now, because the recipient had passed away and a family member was accepting it in his stead, the significance was somewhat diminished, and the reporters didn't have much interest in interviewing him.

What could you possibly get out of interviewing a family member?

Zhang Yuan sighed inwardly, thinking that if he had won this award himself, that would be true glory...

He thanked his father for letting him experience the feeling of being surrounded by various halos.

It was a lot of pressure, but also a great source of motivation.

However, the next part of his speech was something Zhang Yuan had actually intended to say.

"...In accordance with my father's final wishes, I would like to donate the entire prize money—ten million in cash—to the Deep Space Foundation to support the development of the aerospace industry!"

This was like poking a hornet's nest; a buzzing sound of whispers erupted from the audience.

Although Zhang Yuan was only accepting the award on behalf of another, this act of donating the entire prize money still triggered a massive wave of discussion.

Nobody believed the bit about "final wishes." No matter how much of a genius Zhang Qiming was, he couldn't have known he would win an award after his death.

Therefore, this was undoubtedly the young man's own personal decision.

Ten million!

This was by no means a small sum; it was enough for an ordinary person to live the rest of their life in great comfort.

And he had just given it all away.

Clap, clap, clap!

The audience erupted into unprecedented, enthusiastic applause.

"Thank you, everyone!"

Bowing slightly, Zhang Yuan handed the microphone back to the host and prepared to walk off the stage. He saw Professor Wang Zhong and several other bigwigs sitting nearby, beaming with joy at this surprise.

"Mr. Zhang, could you please accept an interview?"

A swarm of reporters rushed over like dogs catching the scent of a bone, looking anxious and desperate.

"Mr. Zhang, I have a question I'd like to ask you..."

"Mr. Zhang, please come over here!"

"May I ask why you..."

Zhang Yuan felt dizzy.

Oh no, it seemed his good intentions had backfired. How did he accidentally attract so many reporters!

The host cleared his throat, knowing exactly what this group of reporters wanted to ask.

He quickly stepped in to mediate: "Dear members of the press, due to time constraints, only one question is allowed."

"Let's go with this lady. What would you like to ask?" He pointed to a woman in the front row.

Zhang Yuan's heart sank.

As luck would have it, it was that blonde reporter Angelica, the one he had bullied before. Yes, the one from that Humanities Association whom he had teased.

Would she try to make a fool of him in a setting like this?

Angelica looked at Zhang Yuan with a complex expression. She actually wanted to take revenge on him, but in an occasion like this, she didn't dare to truly do so.

However, she quickly adjusted her emotions, deliberated for a moment, and said in fluent Xia language, "Hello everyone, my name is Angelica, and I am from the Lan Kingdom."

"My ambition is to travel the entire world. I have visited many corners of the globe: the prosperous Xia Kingdom, the beautiful Mi Kingdom, but there are also some poor, small nations..."

"...I once visited a small country and met a wealthy man there. He wore clothes made of burlap—a, um, withered yellow plant fiber—which was the finest clothing available there. He had eight wives. Please do not mock this; in their country, polygamy is a legal practice."

"To what extent was he wealthy? He owned a cassava processing plant with two machines capable of grinding cassava into powder."

"Just because of this, he became a famous millionaire far and wide. Almost all the girls in the village were willing to marry him."

"Everyone can imagine that such poverty still exists in every corner of the world, not just in one place, and not just for one person, but for many, many people..."

The venue was silent for a moment.

Immediately afterward, whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

Zhang Yuan could already imagine what she was going to ask.

Angelica continued, "What I want to ask is, Mr. Zhang Yuan, why do you not donate this money to those who need it more?"

"There are still far too many poor people in the world who need our help. The Deep Space Foundation is already wealthy enough, with annual investments in aerospace numbering in the hundreds of trillions—I apologize, I cannot recall the exact figure. Yet, the funds donated to impoverished people are so meager. Is this not putting the cart before the horse?"

This question was very sharp, even carrying a hint of political sensitivity.

Several political bigwigs had already furrowed their brows slightly, fearing that this young man might not answer well.

The entire award ceremony was being broadcast live; every word and action would be recorded and would trigger widespread discussion among the public.

In particular, a matter like donating the full prize money was bound to be debated.

The atmosphere in the entire venue quieted down, and all eyes focused on Zhang Yuan, waiting to see how this young man would handle it.