Jiang Ye went offline.
A-Xing messaged her, saying her goods had arrived.
Jiang Ye guessed it was the game pod and immediately logged off, rushing to check her delivery. This item had changed hands several times before reaching Jiang Ye.
When A-Xing arrived with the item in a beat-up, cobbled-together car, Jiang Ye was dumbfounded. Just the outer packaging alone was enormous. Jiang Ye estimated it by eye; the thing was as big as a double-door refrigerator.
Was it necessary for a mere game pod to be so large? Or were game pods in this era like the single-person enclosed resting pods she’d seen at airports back on Blue Star?
Jiang Ye, with a hint of anticipation, helped A-Xing unload the cargo. As they lifted the large item together, A-Xing seemed surprised.
“Xiao Jiang, your strength has really improved?”
“Has it?” Jiang Ye looked down at her arms in confusion. They were still slender, not a hint of muscle to be found, let alone excess flesh. She’d gotten that way from starving on the Wasteland after crossing over. What could the inferior nutrient solution she drank daily do? It only sustained the bare minimum bodily needs.
She felt a pang of regret for the muscles she’d built and the beautiful lines she’d cultivated back on Blue Star.
“I think your strength has increased,” Jiang Ye tilted her chin slightly towards A-Xing. “Look at yourself.”
A-Xing chuckled and rubbed his hair. He had actually grown quite a bit. Perhaps it was because he’d increased his height in the game, giving him some psychological suggestion that his body finally realized he was only seventeen and still developing, not yet a dried-up husk, and could still bask in the sun and grow. After moving to Deegou Star, A-Xing had miraculously shot up.
Jiang Ye thought this was quite normal. Children’s growth spurts could happen in an instant. You wouldn't notice it at first, and then suddenly, you’d look closely and realize the person who was once your height was now starting to surpass you.
A-Xing was quite proud of this. Happily, he went to find a knife and handed it to Jiang Ye.
Jiang Ye took it, raised it, and with a rip, cut through the packing tape. Then she began to pry it open with brute force.
Clang.
The outer casing fell away, revealing a pure white game pod inside.
Jiang Ye blinked, quite surprised. A-Xing was also stunned.
After a while, suppressing his excitement, he turned to Jiang Ye. “Xiao Jiang, did you buy this for me?”
“No…” Jiang Ye was still bewildered.
“I’m so touched,” A-Xing said, tears welling up. He quickly wiped them away with his hand, blew his nose, and looked at Jiang Ye with teary eyes. “Xiao Jiang, I didn’t expect you to be so good to me.”
“I always thought you were stingy, but… but I never imagined you’d be willing to buy this for me.” A-Xing’s voice choked up again as he spoke. “I only mentioned it once, and you remembered everything I wanted. Xiao Jiang, you’re so kind.”
“No one has ever treated me like this before.”
Jiang Ye felt helpless, wanting to speak, but A-Xing wouldn’t stop talking, one sentence after another, leaving Jiang Ye no room to interject.
“I haven’t felt this warmth in a long time.” A-Xing squatted down pitifully on the ground, and just as he did, he noticed an inscription in interstellar script on the game pod in front of him: ‘A-Xing, Happy Birthday.’
These six words broke through all of A-Xing’s composure. He burst into tears, like a child who had never tasted candy suddenly receiving one from Santa Claus.
“No, it’s not that serious,” Jiang Ye was terrible at handling such sudden emotional outbursts. She didn’t know whether to step forward or back. Looking around in a panic, she found a relatively clean handkerchief and handed it to A-Xing. “Don’t… don’t cry,” she said reluctantly.
“A man shouldn’t cry,” Jiang Ye couldn’t think of any better words of comfort and resorted to a rather stereotypical traditional comforting phrase from her hometown.
“I’m not a man!” A-Xing wailed. “I’m not worthy of being a man!”
The child was crying so hard he was gasping for breath, his words slurred.
Jiang Ye sighed softly and squatted down beside him, patting his shoulder wordlessly.
“Xiao Jiang, even though I just made up my birthday, I can’t believe how thoughtful you are to give me a birthday gift,” A-Xing said, his emotions calming down as he spoke slowly. “This is the first birthday gift anyone has ever given me in all these years.”
“I will cherish your friendship.”
“I’ve decided! From now on, you’ll be the boss, and I’ll be your subordinate!”
“Together, we’ll conquer the world! Venture into the stars!”
A-Xing stood up, full of passion, raising his fist and shouting towards the ceiling.
Jiang Ye almost got hit in the face by that punch.
“Why can’t I be the big sister and you the little sister?” she countered casually to lighten the mood.
Her flippant remark actually made A-Xing ponder.
Jiang Ye, afraid that A-Xing’s peculiar thought process might lead to further misunderstandings, quickly explained, “A-Xing, I didn’t buy this game pod for you. I think the game company sent it. Don’t you remember I told you the game company was going to send me one? I suspect they just sent two in the same batch.”
“I understand, I understand,” A-Xing winked at Jiang Ye. “Boss, don’t be shy, I get it.”
“What do you get…” Jiang Ye smiled helplessly.
Seeing A-Xing like this, she knew he wouldn’t change his mind anytime soon, so she stopped arguing and went to examine the two game pods sent by the game company. One was inscribed with blessings for A-Xing’s birthday, while the other was blank.
While A-Xing saw it as a gift, Jiang Ye was more cautious, suspecting it was a warning. The game company was using this method to inform her that they knew the player’s real information. Game registration was linked to the Neural Network, and although the Neural Network didn't record addresses, the game company could see all player information, including A-Xing’s casually filled-in birthday. Jiang Ye hated when games blurred the lines with reality, and she especially disliked getting into disputes with game companies.
Now, unable to figure out their intentions, she felt a slight unease.
Jiang Ye laid the game pod flat, plugged in the power, and activated it. The originally pure white game pod now pulsed with flowing electronic light, looking particularly dreamy and beautiful, exuding a high-tech aura. The capsule-shaped game pod slowly opened halfway, revealing comfortable velvet cushions inside.
“Please lie down in the game pod, close the hatch, and begin your gaming journey,” a mechanical female voice instructed. Jiang Ye followed the voice’s instructions, took off her shoes, and lay down inside. The hatch slowly closed, and darkness enveloped her.
At that moment, Jiang Ye felt enveloped by a warm embrace, as if she were in her mother’s womb, or returning to the very beginning of life, where everything was chaotic and void.
Light suddenly appeared, the brilliance of the galaxy. Then everything flowed, and in a flash, Jiang Ye found herself back in the game.
Ming Lian stood not far from her. He looked up slightly and smiled. “It seems you received it,” he said.
“Mm.” Jiang Ye raised her hand and felt the game pod. It was indeed different from the inferior in-ear login device she had used before. When playing games before, she could occasionally feel a disconnect between her soul and body, but now, there was no such sensation. Everything was perfectly integrated, as if she were born to exist in this world.
When the sea breeze gently blew, Jiang Ye could feel the faint hairs on her face rustling. She could hear the soft sound of mud and sand on the shore being soaked by the waves crashing nearby.
Everything around her became more real, clearer. Her senses had become more acute.
Without a word, Jiang Ye summoned her Blood-Red Small Knife and immediately performed a set of movements. She found the transitions between actions were more natural and fluid, everything stemming from her heart, from instinct.
Realizing this, Jiang Ye truly smiled. “Thank you,” she said to Ming Lian.
Even so, Jiang Ye still felt that the game pod’s price was a bit steep.
“I promised you,” Ming Lian’s gaze was calm and undisturbed.
“I have a question,” Jiang Ye hadn’t forgotten her suspicions. “Why did you send me an extra game pod?”
“It was incidental,” Ming Lian replied.
“Then why leave an inscription on it?” Jiang Ye asked, puzzled.
“What inscription?” Ming Lian looked taken aback.
After Jiang Ye explained the situation, Ming Lian made a brief inquiry and discovered it was an act of overzealousness by a subordinate. The misunderstanding cleared, Jiang Ye felt a bit embarrassed, as if she had judged a noble person with petty thoughts. She cleared her throat and said to Ming Lian again, “Thank you anyway.”
“I said, I promised you, no need to thank me,” Ming Lian’s eyes held a hint of a smile, but it quickly vanished, returning to indifference. “Similarly, I hope you will keep your promise to me.”
“Of course,” Jiang Ye understood what Ming Lian was implying. “When the time comes, I will delete my account,” she said generously.
After chatting with Ming Lian, Jiang Ye noticed that the game customer service had sent her a private message.
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Hello, player. Congratulations on successfully completing the novice trial on this server. You have received a reward of 300,000 star coins. We intend to disburse this reward, please choose your payment method.]
[Private Chat · A Leaf Boat: You can directly transfer it to my Neural Network account.]
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Understood. We will confirm with you. May we confirm that Angelina Yingxue Ling is your name? Neural Network IDX741741527kk?]
[Private Chat · A Leaf Boat: Yes.]
This ID and name were what Jiang Ye had casually given when A-Xing had helped her get fake identification when she first arrived. Since she had crossed over, why wouldn’t she pick a slightly more Mary Sue alias to do justice to her transmigration?
Even though Jiang Ye was now a woman who was ruthless to others and even more so to herself, it couldn’t stop her youthful dreams of having rainbow-colored hair and tears that could bloom on the ground.
About three minutes later.
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Hello, dear player. 300,000 star coins have been deposited into your account. Please check.]
Jiang Ye immediately switched screens to check and found that only 130,000 star coins had arrived.
[Private Chat · A Leaf Boat: Is this after tax? Are bonuses taxed?]
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Yes, dear player!]
Jiang Ye was a bit angry. This wretched star system offered no protections yet had the audacity to tax her. Why?
No medical insurance, no provident fund, and the people on the Wasteland had even less. She hadn’t seen a single public facility, yet this Empire dared to charge fees!
It was truly better to earn money in the game, where there were only withdrawal fees and revenue sharing. Jiang Ye was so angry her teeth itched, and she had to take a few deep breaths to calm down.
[Private Chat · A Leaf Boat: Alright, thank you.]
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: You’re welcome. Do you have any other questions, player? If not, little customer will bid you farewell now!]
[Private Chat · A Leaf Boat: I have a small question. Is Guide 233 doing well? Is she unemployed?]
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Little customer doesn’t know what you’re talking about!]
[Private Chat · A Leaf Boat: I mean your real GM, game administrator!]
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Little customer really doesn’t know what you’re talking about!]
Seeing the messages from the other party, Jiang Ye was speechless. Such obvious perfunctory dismissal, was the game customer service afraid people wouldn’t notice?
However, since they were unwilling to speak, Jiang Ye didn’t want to press them, lest she appear like a spy trying to gather intelligence. This game company was truly strange.
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Dear player, do you have any other questions? If not, little customer will bid you farewell now!]
[Private Chat · A Leaf Boat: Goodbye, 88!]
It was pointless asking anyway, it was like asking nothing!
[Private Chat · Game Customer Service: Roger! Goodbye!]
After clearing this message, Jiang Ye noticed a friend request from someone named Xian Feng.
The content read: “Great God, I have already punished Ji Shanshui for you and disgusted him into deleting his account and quitting the game. Can this be considered a gesture of loyalty, allowing me to befriend you?”
Jiang Ye was quite curious upon seeing this. How did this person manage to disgust Ji Shanshui so much that he deleted his account?
Feeling intrigued, she accepted the friend request but did not share any account information with the sender. Jiang Ye was very careful about this; she didn’t want anyone to know her in-game information through her friends list.
[Private Chat · Xian Feng: Great God!! Hello!!!! / Worship]
[Private Chat · Xian Feng: Please enjoy.]
[Private Chat · Xian Feng: Video.]
Jiang Ye clicked on it and found it was a game recording. It turned out that after being blocked and harassed by Ji Shanshui, Xian Feng couldn't let it go. After some thought and discussion with others, he felt that since Ji Shanshui’s reputation was already so bad, and he had opposed Jiang Ye, it would be better to completely destroy this guy to vent his anger and also to curry favor with Jiang Ye.
Ji Shanshui had truly kicked a steel plate this time. Unlike Jiang Ye, who didn’t have the inclination to bother with Ji Shanshui, Xian Feng was the opposite. Having done a lot of dirty work, he knew these things best.
As soon as Xian Feng thought of it, he took action, rallying his friends and family to cause trouble for Ji Shanshui in the game. The guy was so harassed and annoyed that he couldn’t even accept NPC quests, let alone fight monsters. Although he couldn't be directly attacked due to PK Protection, this feeling of being severely restricted in his freedom to play the game made Ji Shanshui feel worse than death.
Soon, the guy couldn't stand the harassment anymore and deleted his account. Ji Shanshui wasn't like Jiang Ye, who had a secondary account bestowed by Boss Yi. If he wanted to play again, he would have to wait for a new server to open, which was uncertain and could take a long time.
It seemed this Ji Shanshui was just all bark and no bite, a useless person.
In the video, he was still kowtowing and begging for mercy, shouting, “A Ye, I was wrong, please spare me.”
Xian Feng also took screenshots. Ji Shanshui was still apologizing profusely in the World Channel, spamming messages. Just as he had insulted Jiang Ye in the public channel before, he was now begging so humbly.
Jiang Ye looked at these messages and shook her head, smiling. Honestly, she hadn’t paid much attention to Ji Shanshui. There were plenty of people like him in the game, and she didn’t care.
“Is there something happy happening?” Ming Lian inquired.
“No, I’m just being silly,” Jiang Ye looked at Ming Lian. “I’m going to do one last thing, one final live stream, and then I’ll delete my account, okay?”
“Of course,” Ming Lian nodded. “In fact, the time we agreed upon hasn’t arrived yet.”
“I know,” Jiang Ye sighed. “I’m just afraid that the longer I stay, the more reluctant I’ll be to leave.”
Watching this small, desolate island gradually grow larger, slowly transforming from uninhabited to having a hint of life, Jiang Ye had developed some feelings for it. Even though this was a game, everything here was built by her own hands. To destroy it all at once, scatter it to the wind, and lose it in the data…
Huff.
Jiang Ye took a deep breath. ‘What is destined to be yours will be yours; what is not, you cannot force.’ This was a lesson learned from over a decade of life on Blue Star. She couldn’t contend with fate. When destiny arrived, it was like a tidal wave, unstoppable. She could only grit her teeth and accept it, then live even stronger.
Ming Lian sensed the powerful spiritual power and perseverance emanating from Jiang Ye. Though low in volume, it carried a resilient tenacity like a stubborn blade of grass that was impossible to ignore. No wonder his avatar, the giant python in the pet egg, had been unexpectedly activated by her spiritual power. He needed to delete Jiang Ye’s game account as quickly as possible before her spiritual power bound with her avatar. Therefore, Jiang Ye’s current plan suited Ming Lian’s intentions perfectly.
Sensing Ming Lian’s gaze, Jiang Ye flashed a smile. “Why are you looking at me?”
“Nothing,” Ming Lian lowered his eyes slightly. “For this last thing, what do you want to do?”
“I want to go find a whale,” Jiang Ye said without hesitation. “It’s my dream.”
A dream planted in her young heart by a broadcast on Blue Star. To become a marine biologist like her parents, to coexist with all living creatures in the ocean, to understand them and create a better living environment for them—that was Jiang Ye’s dream. However, due to sudden family changes and her sister’s accident, the dream couldn’t earn money to support the family. Jiang Ye had never seen a whale again, not even a glimpse in her dreams. Now, she wanted to see a whale in the game one last time. To see it swim freely in the vast ocean, to hear its ethereal yet mournful cry. That would be enough.
Moreover, what could be more sensational than searching for whales in the ocean? Jiang Ye was confident that her stream viewers would go wild for it!