001 The Heartbroken Youth

“...No matter how much you say, it’s useless. I’ve made my position clear: I won’t take a single delivery job tomorrow... Why? Does a broken heart count as a reason? You still don’t believe me? Who would joke about something like this... You, you fatso, listen carefully—if you ever doubt my character again, don’t expect me to do any more work for you! Huh? Uh... you ask if I still want the wages you owe me? Of course I do... Hey, wait, hold on, hello? Hello!”

The man threw the communication orb onto the floor, then slumped dejectedly into the sofa.

This was a standard room, well-furnished and fully equipped. Even the sofa in the living room was made of adaptable synthetic materials. Yet, in the twenty-second century’s low-rent housing, this was already the cheapest configuration available. The casually dressed man buried himself motionless in the sofa for a while, then suddenly jumped up, slapped his cheeks, and walked over to a strange device nearby.

Duan Qing had just experienced heartbreak.

Even the strongest-willed find it hard to appear calm, indifferent, or unaffected when the subject of a broken heart arises, maintaining a jovial conversation with others as if nothing happened. Ordinary people inevitably suffer from such pain, some even sinking into despair, unable to recover. But Duan Qing was no ordinary man—he was used to failure. And as for a woman chasing money, he felt even buying her a drink was a waste of his money.

Yet, the emotional slump was unavoidable.

Many things weighed on Duan Qing’s spirits: heartbreak, career stagnation, and nearly three years of intermittent failures—life’s trajectory often so, dragged down by consecutive setbacks, then despair, then either deliberately or unwittingly creating further failures, repeating the cycle, living in gloom. Just moments ago, he had probably just gotten himself fired by his boss, marking the start of another vicious cycle.

Duan Qing’s situation wasn’t so much a crisis as a natural consequence; after all, his life these past years was not what he wanted. Temp jobs, sales gigs, odd jobs—he’d been struggling to survive. Merely staying alive was already grueling, so how could he spare money to please the women who treated him as a means to an end?

Now, reflecting on his pain, he resolved to break the cycle. So, he blew the savings he had—now meaningless—and bought a game setup. Later that night, he entered the game pod, determined to do something he truly desired.

[December 9, 2134, 8:17 PM]

[Identity verification complete.]

[All physical parameters normal. Mental link stable.]

[Please create character.]

Before Duan Qing appeared a crystal world bathed in white light, empty on all sides, stretching endlessly. A vague humanoid figure stood before him—same height, build, and even hairstyle—but its face was blurred.

“Not bad design...” Duan Qing murmured, then began selecting his facial features, the so-called character shaping.

To be fair, Duan Qing wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t misshapen either. He had regular eyebrows, ordinary eyes, nose, and mouth. The only notable feature was the weary look often hidden in his narrow eyes. If he had a cigarette and grew a beard, he’d fit the archetype of a middle-aged man.

But he didn’t do that. He simply changed his “standard” face to another type, examined it, then, satisfied that no one would associate it with his real self, confirmed the choice.

[Character generation in progress... Character creation successful.]

[Scanning player’s physical status, please wait.]

Time seemed frozen in the empty world, flowing silently for a while. Duan Qing watched for the system’s next prompt, his eyes glazing over, lost in thought, seemingly unaware of the ongoing scan. Only when a chime sounded did he snap out of his daze.

[Player physical status verified. Initial character stats as follows:]

[Strength: 4 Dexterity: 5 Intelligence: 7 Spirit: 6]

Duan Qing stared at the stats, a twitch forming at the corner of his mouth.

[Character setup complete. Please enter a name.]

“Th-this...” Duan Qing didn’t respond immediately, then finally exhaled, “What a ripoff...”

Though long disconnected from gaming, out of responsibility he had looked up the most popular game’s background and settings. He recalled that the initial attributes were supposedly based on the player’s real-life physical condition. This wasn’t officially stated by the game company, but many players deduced it after repeated character recreations and comparing data.

He was confident in his physical fitness—after all, in his youth, he once ran ten kilometers straight to escape home and even took part in school sports meets, earning participation prizes at least. His recent difficult life had only strengthened his belief in his body’s capabilities. So, barring intelligence, the other stats failed to impress him.

Like many newcomers, Duan Qing was angry, then helpless—history of those who came before, who failed repeatedly, was a bloody lesson. He could only follow the system’s prompts to the part that troubled most new players: choosing a name.

He looked around, up to the sky, scratched his head, pounded his chest, and after wrestling with it, he shakily typed four characters: “Green Mountains and Clear Waters,” then slapped his own face with his left hand and hastily erased them with his right.

Naming was always such a torment.

“What am I even thinking...” Duan Qing silently shouted inside before falling silent.

In the quiet crystal space, the bright white light, the faceless figure watching him, time seemed frozen. He closed his eyes, feeling an invisible breeze sweeping through this infinite space, stirring his hair and soul alike.

Brilliant lights, roaring applause like mountains and seas, silent empty alleys, and cold winds. Three years had passed since that event... What had once been etched deepest in his heart—and later, what he most wanted to forget—were not the glory or dazzling achievements, but the friends he could truly connect with, and the focused, determined self he once was. Though he had “disappeared,” severing ties with his former self, those others, by their own abilities, likely hadn’t fared badly these years. As for the grand ambitions once discussed—the dreams, blueprints, models—they might have been realized or abandoned...

Duan Qing chuckled bitterly, reached into his pocket, but then remembered he was in a virtual state and suppressed the urge to smoke.

Three years had taught him much and made him forget much. The once utterly absorbed, confident, and radiant self... all faded like smoke after the bloom. Since he had let go of everything, retracing his steps—such an unmanly act—was out of the question. This was just taking an opportunity to relax; he wouldn’t become his old self again.

“Better to take it easy,” he sighed, typed four characters: “Green Mountains on the Road,” and confirmed.

[Name verification in progress... Name confirmed, player generation underway.]

[Birthplace selection in progress...]

[Data loading...]

[Welcome to the Free World.]

A rhythmic female electronic voice pronounced those eight words. Duan Qing watched as his created character was clad in simple clothes, gradually swallowed by the white light creeping in from the horizon of the crystal land. His vision was soon engulfed by the boundless white.

When his sight returned, Duan Qing found himself lying on a patch of grass—as the character he had just created.

---

The green grass swayed gently with the breeze beneath a clear blue sky and fresh air—something rare to experience in this era’s reality. The rustling of grass, the babble of a nearby stream, and faint bird songs filled the air, thick with nature’s essence. Duan Qing sat up and realized he wasn’t in the imagined open grassland but rather in a countryside with trees, streams, and various unfamiliar plants.

Yes, this was the outskirts, for within his sight not far away stood a village.

Simple bricks, gray walls, and faint smoke rising from some chimneys. The land where he lay had some elevation, allowing him to see moving figures—likely NPC villagers.

Or perhaps players? Newbies like himself? Regardless, he decided to check it out. Rising and stretching to ensure his body felt normal, he began walking slowly toward the village.

The breeze followed his path, flattening the grass, fluttering his clothes, and drifting over the peaceful village. Smoke columns bent in the wind, drifting skyward. Beyond the village lay shadowy mountains, their foliage sparse but with patches of greenery from peak to base, dotted with scattered trees. A faint, earth-colored line stretched from the greenery toward the village—the road beckoning in that direction.

As a starting area for new players, the environment exceeded Duan Qing’s expectations. Gazing at the winding road leading into the distance, intersected by fields and waterways, he understood why this game was so popular—just the scenery alone could captivate most players. If first impressions between strangers depend heavily on appearance and attire, then this mountain village surely delivered an excellent first impression for new gamers.

Closer inspection revealed leafy trees becoming distinguishable, stretching into what looked like a forest. As Duan Qing walked, he scanned the surroundings, his gaze drifting along the forest’s edge, head turning slightly to one side.

At that moment, something happened.

Footsteps approached rapidly from behind. Duan Qing, glancing away from nature’s embrace, turned his head.

A scream pierced the air, followed by a beast’s howl and a heavy thud. A figure burst from the woods, rolled across the grass, then lay still, never rising again.

Heavy breathing echoed from the trees. Duan Qing stopped and looked up, spotting another patch of woods nearby. A massive shadow emerged between the trees. As it stepped into sunlight filtering through the leaves, Duan Qing saw it was a wild boar.

The boar had a mane, protruding tusks, and blackish-brown fur—typical of the wild boars he knew. The only difference was its enormous size, towering over a person’s height, with huge, exposed tusks and an intimidating presence.

The boar’s nostrils flared with anger, its mane bristling, eyes sharp as it glared at the fallen figure. Slowly, it approached.

The fallen figure cried out in terror and struggled, but the boar raised its tusks and lightly shoved it, silencing it instantly. The figure then vanished into thin air.

So a player had died at the claws of a wild monster... But this creature seemed strong—was this really the difficulty level for a newbie village?

Duan Qing frowned, instinctively analyzing the scene.

Then, his expression exaggeratedly shifted.

The wild boar looked down at the fading figure turning into white light, then happily spun around several times in place, even hopping a few times. It snorted disdainfully as if to say, “Humans are so weak,” then swaggered off.

W-what... was that? Looking down on players?

Two leaves fluttered past Duan Qing on the breeze as he stared dumbfounded. After a long pause, he muttered, “Truly a harmonious world...”