“Wang Shenmu said, ‘Because people like you, who see things so clearly, are really rare.’ His tone was unclear, whether it was sympathy or sarcasm. Su Yao was silent for a moment before countering, ‘Can’t you see things clearly too?’ Now it was Wang Shenmu’s turn to be silent. Su Yao smiled, ‘True, that’s why you can create the human world. The glory and solitude of a creator… you’ve created the world, yet you’re not part of it, hence your pain.’
.Perhaps you should go back and understand the drama of the human world.’ These were the last words Wang Shenmu threw at her that afternoon.
The engine roared as the King of Yan soared to an altitude of thirty thousand feet. Gazing at the drifting white clouds outside the cabin window, Nan Bo Wan began to recall his dreams from the human world. He remembered once asking Luo Zi Shang, ‘What do you think the space above the nine heavens looks like?’ ‘The Celestial Realm, the White Jade Capital, the Palace of Marriage, isn’t that it?’ ‘But we can only get there through teleportation, missing out on the thrill of flight. And besides, the White Jade City is just a tiny corner of the vast expanse above. What about the rest? We’ve never explored it.’ Luo Zi Shang glanced at him, ‘If the king wants to cheat and fly up, I bet you won’t get ten meters before the GM comes with a ban notice.’ ‘I’m just thinking,’ Nan Bo Wan mused, watching the changing colors of the sky, ‘the human world, with its vastness, pioneered many features in online games, yet we still can’t fly.
The most enduring game was still ‘The Human World’.
‘Maybe one day we’ll have a flight feature,’ Luo Zi Shang said indifferently. ‘Instead of worrying about that, Your Majesty should be concerned about your church.’ Outside the royal city, the church priests were again jointly impeaching the strategist Luo Zi Shang. Looking down from the city wall, Nan Bo Wan felt a headache coming on. He missed the days when Luo Zi Shang was by his side.
In S City, Gu Chaoyan, carrying a box of a new computer, exhaled a breath of cold air as he opened the door to his home, then entered his room. Outside, it was bitterly cold, but inside, it was bustling with activity. Five or six young men were intensely playing ‘The Human World’ on their computers. He set up his new computer on a side table; a new recruit would join them to work. Gu Chaoyan had shed his past, striving for a fresh start. He opened a gaming studio, helping players level up, selling in-game currency and equipment, earning money through honest labor. Now, he was anyone and no one in the game; he was simply there to level up for every client with his own hands, no longer needing to steal accounts, just working legitimately on various accounts.
If his encounter with the thief leader Ah Cao showed him the prowess of top-tier players, pushing him to strive towards that goal, then meeting Wang Shenmu was like a cleansing of his muddled life, showing him that his dreams could be achieved with his own hands. Since leaving home that year, this was the first time he felt an unprecedented lightness and clarity in his soul, as if all the sunshine of the world had poured in. In just one month, he had managed to make his small studio thrive. He was surprised at how enthusiastic his new hires were, so much so that he could hardly join in, becoming more of a hands-off manager. However, finding a rental in this season was tough, so he had to temporarily set up the studio at home, dealing with the cramped conditions until spring when he could rent a more suitable space. He would never intrude into his sister’s room, no matter how his parents encouraged him, saying how proud she would be of his progress.
After scheduling the orders and workload for the next week, Gu Chaoyan quietly closed the door to the makeshift computer room. In the kitchen, he fetched a glass of water. His parents were watching TV in the living room; they had aged significantly since his sister’s death. He had left in anger to drift north, only returning years later to find they had aged even more. Gu Chaoyan realized he no longer harbored hatred.
Back then, he had sworn never to see his parents again – who had been forced into early retirement and who had another child after his sister but could only afford to educate him, pushing his sister to work. He never liked studying, and his sister had more potential for university. Gu Chaoyan would never forget seeing his sister lying cold in the emergency room after her suicide; that moment changed his life. He left in anger, drifted north, became a drifter, a scammer, made his first money by deceiving others, and saw the folly of the rich in games, spending lavishly on virtual items. He thought of his sister and all the children still struggling with poverty. Later, he began donating to charity, hoping to ease his sister’s pain in the afterlife. But he hadn’t considered that his parents had suffered and regretted too.
Walking through the living room, at the corner to the right, was his sister’s room, so serene and unchanged since the day he left. It seemed as if he could still see his sister sitting at her desk, teaching him how to do his homework. It felt as though the years he had been away were just a fleeting illusion. Now, he was back.
The old college entrance examination papers still lay on the desk. Gu Chao Yan sighed, tidied up the desk and the bookshelf, and went through the drawers. In one drawer, he found an album of their childhood photos. Flipping through it from cover to cover, his eyes reddened. After returning the album, he discovered a diary at the bottom of the drawer. Holding it for a moment, he hesitated several times before deciding not to open it, but as he was about to put it back, a photograph fell out.
The photo was yellowed, showing a group of students in a computer lab. His sister stood in the middle, wearing a popular turtleneck T-shirt of the time, her smile as pure and beautiful as sunshine. This was the first time Gu Chao Yan had seen this photo. In fact, his sister was two grades above him, and he often skipped school to play games, making her school life somewhat of a blur to him. Looking at the people in the photo, Gu Chao Yan suddenly realized he recognized the two boys on either side of his sister; time hadn’t changed their appearances at all! Yes, he remembered now; one was named Luo Zishang, the military strategist of Yan, whom he met once when he and Ji Canghai went to install cheats in the computer lab. The other was a man whose presence was no less imposing than Wang Shenmu. Shaking his head, Gu Chao Yan locked the photo and diary back in the drawer.
Whether it was old news or people long gone, he didn’t want to revisit them. Now, the only thing he needed to do was to manage the studio well, make a lot of money, support his parents, and help the children who yearned for education.
“Big brother, come quick, is this Gu Chao Yan on the news you?” One of his underlings ran over to call him. On the news? Gu Chao Yan was incredulous; what merit did he have to be on the news? He always donated anonymously. Could it be that his past scams had been exposed? Back in the computer lab, he was shocked to see his own graduation photo from school days on the news. This… what is this? He admitted he had been too busy setting up the studio to browse forums or watch the news since returning from the North, but… for his name, photo, and details to be exposed like this was too terrifying! Quickly scanning through the news, Gu Chao Yan realized he was being exposed as “the younger brother of the deceased Gu Xinyan.” Gu Chao Yan flipped the table in anger! What the hell! He was furious! Were these internet lunatics sick in the head? His sister had been dead for ten years, and they were still digging up her past to expose her? Had his sister wronged them after all these years?