Note: I usually prefer not to censor curse words, but in this case, it made sense since it’s a game with a profanity filter. I didn’t want to change my workflow at first, but by the time I decided to change my mind, it was too late in the story to go back and add asterisks to the in-game profanity. For consistency and my own comfort, I decided to continue as usual. Just assume that whenever there is strong language in the game chat, the words are asterisked.
Chapter 1 – Professional Power Leveling
by Salted Fish[Whisper] Milk is Mom: 500 yuan, guaranteed to reach max level within a week.
(T/N: Milk = healing. His ID is actually “whoever has milk is your mom”, but that’s too long for a name that will be used often, so I decided to shorten it. His ID has two meanings: the first refers to the idiom “whoever feeds you milk is your mother,” describing someone opportunistic who easily switches loyalties, like a baby who only cares about being fed. The second meaning is a gaming reference; “milk mom” is Chinese gamer slang for a healer.)
[Whisper] Mad Lad: One week is too slow.
[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Can expedite. Extra 300 for rush service, guaranteed max level in three days.
[Whisper] Mad Lad: Can it be even faster?
[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Full payment of 1,200, guaranteed max level in one day.
[Whisper] Mad Lad: 1,200? That’s enough to buy a decent account.
[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Buying an account lacks emotional connection ^_^
Jiang Yang stared at that little smiley face, his expression darkening. So, accounts leveled by power levelers have emotional connections now?
[Whisper] Mad Lad: Fine, one week it is. 20% deposit first?
Fang Zheng nodded in satisfaction, smiling as if he were facing the client in person rather than a screen.
Max level in one day? Unless he was willing to sacrifice half his life. But if the guy was really willing to pay 1,200… well, it wasn’t entirely off the table.
[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Give me your phone number, I’ll text you the account details.
[Whisper] Mad Lad: Can’t you do it here?
[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Screenshots can be easily photoshopped. Gotta be cautious.
[Whisper] Mad Lad: So meticulous.
[Whisper] Milk is Mom: I’m a professional! ^_^
After receiving the phone number, Fang Zheng quickly sent over his account details. There was no reply, but three minutes later, a bank notification popped up—100 yuan had been deposited into his account ending in XXXX.
Efficient. Fang Zheng liked this kind of client.
“See that?” He turned around and waved his knockoff smartphone at Xu Di, who was lying half-dead on the bed. “Another 100 bucks in the bag.”
Xu Di forced a smile. “Yeah, yeah, you’re amazing.”
Fang Zheng grinned, basking in the praise as if it were genuine.
Xu Di couldn’t be bothered with him and rolled over to find a more comfortable position. “Wake me at eight.”
Fang Zheng was a shut-in. Gaming was his biggest hobby, and he’d turned it into a career—power leveling. This made his reclusive lifestyle seem almost high-end—self-sufficient without ever leaving the house.
Unfortunately, power leveling wasn’t as lucrative as stock trading, and as a solo operator without scaling benefits, his income only covered rent and basic living expenses. Sometimes, it didn’t even cover that, so he’d tighten his belt to avoid being blacklisted by his landlord. But his landlord wasn’t too hard on him either—this rundown, drafty apartment building had few long-term tenants, and someone like Fang Zheng, who had no vices or shady connections, was a rare find.
Just as he was about to log into his client’s account, his phone rang again.
Fang Zheng didn’t need to check the number—the ringtone alone told him it was Gou Xiaonian.
“Doggy1Guo[狗] Zi, a nickname for Gou[苟] Xiaonian using a different character for Gou. A double entendre – ‘Gou’ means ‘dog’ and ‘Zi’ is diminutive, making the name sound like ‘doggy’, what’s up?” Fang Zheng answered while deftly logging into the client’s account.
Gou Xiaonian skipped the small talk. “Is that Xu guy at your place?”
Fang Zheng glanced at the lump on the bed. “Yeah, sleeping.”
“That guy’s always fucking sleeping,” Gou Xiaonian cursed habitually before his tone turned sharp. “His phone’s out of credit. Tell him to hurry up and pay back the 2,000 he owes me.”
“Why do you two always have money dealings?” Fang Zheng yawned. “Doing business with friends is awkward.”
“Fuck you,” Gou Xiaonian shot back without hesitation. “If only two men could remain on Earth, I’d pick you over him.”
If only…
That hurt.
But after looking down at his pudgy belly, he quickly made peace with it.
A fatty with zero inner beauty—he wouldn’t like himself either.
Which was why games were the most beautiful paradise. If he wanted, he could instantly transform into someone as dazzling as Tony Leung or Andy Lau, making an entrance with roses in hand.
As soon as Fang Zheng hung up, Xu Di mumbled sleepily, “Who was that…?”
“Doggy,” Fang Zheng put down his phone and turned back to the monitor. “Telling you to hurry up and pay him back.”
“Fuck, that guy’s so stingy!”
“You could be too. Lend him like 100,000 someday and enjoy being the loan shark.”
“Easy for you to say. These days, women’s money is harder to earn than men’s!”
“Then switch careers!”
“No way. I don’t have his giant dick. Wouldn’t want to get wrecked to the point of prolapse—not worth it.”
“Doggy’s never bottomed?”
“Who knows? But if I were a client, I wouldn’t have the urge to top him.”
“You could try letting him top you. I heard it’s mind-blowing.”
“…I could kill you right now, you know that?”
As a seasoned shut-in, Fang Zheng’s social circle was limited. Gou Xiaonian and Xu Di each made up 50% of his friends—that was it. There was nothing remarkable about how they met—Xu Di was a high school classmate. Years later, they bumped into each other on the street, had a few drinks, reminisced, and discovered they’d both veered off the hetero path during their formative years. Classmates became friends, friends became shit-talking buddies. Gou Xiaonian, on the other hand, was someone Xu Di introduced. Fang Zheng wasn’t entirely clear on their messy history, but before he knew it, his place had become a pit stop where his friends came and went as they pleased.
Fang Zheng, Xu Di, and Gou Xiaonian were all gay, but they all had chosen different paths—power leveler, male escort (for women), and rent boy.
Here, “male escort” referred to Xu Di, who only catered to female clients.
“Rent boy,” as the name suggested, served male clients. And as a natural-born top, Gou Xiaonian’s earnings consistently made Xu Di green with envy.
None of this had anything to do with Fang Zheng. He couldn’t understand why they’d argue passionately about next year’s men’s fashion trends, just like they couldn’t understand why an orange-tier piece of gear excited Fang Zheng more than an Armani suit.
Seeing Xu Di drift back to sleep, Fang Zheng put on his headphones. He loved the game’s sound effects—howling winds, drizzling rain, even the combat noises of characters fighting mobs—all of it immersed him completely.
Few people could turn their hobbies into careers. Fang Zheng was content.
Fang Zheng had two computers—one for his own account and one for power leveling. This way, he could continue happily playing Milk is Mom even while grinding mobs for clients. Lately, though, Milk is Mom’s prospects weren’t looking great. Its server, Mirage, had turned into a ghost server, especially after the new Huaxia Summit server opened. Mirage was now as deserted as Orchid Temple. The days of queuing up for dungeons were long gone. Even forming a PUG2PUG=Pick-Up Group, means recruiting random players for a group activity rather than a group of friends or pre-arranged teammates required spamming the World Channel for ages, with no guarantee of success.
(T/N: The server name is actually “Flowers reflected in a mirror and the moon reflected on the water’s surface,” which essentially means “unrealistic” or “illusionary.” For my own sanity, I took the liberty of renaming it “Mirage.” I could have condensed it into four words, but the name will be used often and Mirage has better flow.)
Both Mad Lad and Milk is Mom were from Mirage, but the account Fang Zheng was power-leveling was on Huaxia Summit—clearly, this guy was also jumping ship.
As expected of a new server, logging in required queuing. It took about fifteen minutes before Fang Zheng got in.
The game Fang Zheng played was called Huaxia Online. It had been running for nearly a decade, with a map based on China’s geography. Initially, the max level was only 35, and the map only covered eastern provinces. But after multiple updates, the cap rose to 55, and the map expanded to include all of China, even Taiwan and the Nansha Islands.
The client’s new account was still named Mad Lad, and the class was still Assassin. Fang Zheng figured this guy was either deeply nostalgic or just lazy—unchanged from name to class. But the character was much better-looking than the sneaky, shifty-eyed Assassin on Mirage. Though still not tall (Assassins weren’t meant to be hulking), this one had a cute face. If the Mirage version resembled the thieving Shi Qian from Water Margin, this one was a full-on mixed-race bishounen.
Though the server had been open for over three months, the starter village was still packed. Every player disillusioned with old servers hoped to rediscover their passion here. “Huaxia Summit”—just the name screamed potential to become a god-tier server!
Fang Zheng expertly guided the level 0 Assassin through starter quests, quickly reaching level 5. From there, he used the green-tier dagger from quest rewards to grind mobs. Huaxia’s gear was divided into five tiers, from lowest to highest: white, green, blue, yellow, and orange. Quests gave more XP, but factoring in time, grinding mobs was more efficient. As a result, Mad Lad leveled from 5 to 10 faster than he had from 0 to 5.
At level 10, the character could head to the Main City, and the chat channels expanded from local to global. The lower-left corner of the screen buzzed with activity.
[Huaxia] Clouds Part Mist Remains: Heavenly Lake Dungeon, 5/6, just need a Healer to start!
[Huaxia] Summit of Mount Tai: Desert Stronghold battle at 7 PM, Five Peaks Pavilion brothers assemble!
[Huaxia] Harry Porret3Harry Porret is a play on Harry Potter, not a typo: Again? Didn’t get beaten enough last time?
[Huaxia] Summit of Mount Tai: Talk is cheap. Let’s settle this with blades.
[Huaxia] Harry Porret: Big words. But words alone are boring. How about this—if you lose again tonight, Five Peaks Pavilion should just merge into Huaxia Dominion.
[Huaxia] 2B42B is slang for fool. Fighter Jet: Broomstick, our legion isn’t a scrap collection center. Stop trying to recruit garbage.
[Huaxia] Summit of Mount Tai: Desert Stronghold battle at 7 PM, Five Peaks Pavilion brothers assemble!
[Huaxia] Drink Till You Drop: Mount Tai, just shout in the Legion Channel.
With the Five Peaks Pavilion Guild Leader’s command, Summit of Mount Tai disappeared from the World Channel, presumably switching to the Legion Channel. Huaxia Dominion’s Harry Porret and 2B Fighter Jet didn’t press further, tossing out a few more taunts before going silent.
Fang Zheng wasn’t in a legion—he was usually just a bystander. But after six years in the game, he knew most of the major happenings. Huaxia Dominion and Five Peaks Pavilion were two of Mirage’s top guilds. Three months ago, they’d migrated en masse to the new server, only to end up as rivals, clashing even more fiercely here.
Desert Stronghold was a unique dungeon in the game. A weekly Legion War determined which guild would control it for the next week, barring all non-guild members from entering. Consequently, the rewards weren’t individual—otherwise, a guild holding long-term control would gain massive advantages. Instead, the rewards were Legion Honor perks, like expanding guild capacity, increasing guild warehouse space, or boosting cross-server rankings. In short, the dungeon was more about prestige than tangible rewards.
Small guilds had no use for it; major guilds fought tooth and nail for it—that was Desert Stronghold in a nutshell.
Fang Zheng yawned and steered the level 10 Assassin toward Qiantang River.
Qiantang was a relatively safe scenic area, but few knew its shores hid an open-world miniboss—though it might just be because the boss was pathetically weak (level 11). Even when it spawned, high-level players visiting the area treated it as a mascot.
The riverbank was quiet, possibly because evening dungeon runs had drawn players away. The Qiantang tide surged, cresting waves taller than a person before receding, over and over.
Fang Zheng parked the Assassin by the river, thinking of switching back to Milk is Mom and returning when the miniboss spawned. A week was plenty of time. But just as he was about to move away from the computer, familiar names popped up in the chat.
[Local] Harry Porret: Damn, that move was dirty. Who taught you that?
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: Losing in PVP5PVP=Player vs Player. Fighting against real players as opposed fighting against AI enemies just means you suck. Stop making excuses.
[Local] Harry Porret: I can’t PK6PK=Player Kill. Player killing player you? Bullshit! Again!
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: Same result no matter how many times. No one’s beaten me yet.
[Local] Harry Porret: Polly
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: …
So their World Channel spat had moved to a private date by Qiantang River.
[Local] Harry Porret: What, cat got your tongue?
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: What’s there to say? You just had to bring that up.
[Local] Harry Porret: Such a badass account, and we ganked it into oblivion.
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: Say that to Xuanyuan.
[Local] Harry Porret: Can’t blame him. Polly’s character was doomed from the start.
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: Don’t drag morals into this. It was just gear sniping.
[Local] Harry Porret: Correction—he sniped the Five Peaks Pavilion Vice Leader’s wife. Stabbed her in the back right as she was about to kill the boss, then took not just the boss’s epic necklace but also the orange-tier gear she dropped.
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: You believe the ‘wife’ bit? Could’ve been a dude.
[Local] Harry Porret: Even if it was a dude, he still has rights. Sniping like that was scummy.
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: Fuck, playing a damn game like it’s some noble cause!
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: Back when Mirage was new, could our guild have risen without him? In every Stronghold battle, he was always on the front lines, never missed a single one! Sure, he was an asshole to outsiders, but when was he ever an asshole to his own guild?
[Local] Harry Porret: …Tell that to Xuanyuan.
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: Can’t be bothered talking to that scumbag!
[Local] Harry Porret: Uh… what do you mean?
[Local] 2B Fighter Jet: None of your business, kid. Whatever, gotta go—Stronghold time!
The moment they left, the boss spawned. Fang Zheng suspected it had been annoyed into existence by their bickering.
The Qiantang River miniboss was essentially a personification of the tide, though it looked more like a lucky cloud, with cute little swirls at its feet.
The level 10 Assassin only had two skills: basic attack and Backstab, which required attacking from behind for maximum effect. Whether by Fang Zheng’s luck or Mad Lad’s karma, the first hit was a crit, halving the boss’s HP. But the boss had pride too—it counterattacked immediately. Fang Zheng dodged but still lost a third of his HP. He quickly downed an HP potion, refilling his health bar, then charged in like a Berserker, hacking away until the boss fell. Mad Lad instantly leveled up twice.
Mission accomplished, Fang Zheng looted the little cloud’s corpse out of habit. Unsurprisingly, it dropped a “Qiantang River Souvenir Certificate” issued by Zhejiang Tourism Bureau. Rumor had it there were 27 such certificates scattered across Huaxia’s map. Collecting them all triggered a special quest, though the specifics were random. The oldest server, Illusory Peach Blossom Spring, supposedly had two players who’d collected all 27. One got a quest to capture a dragon in the East Sea—he never succeeded before deleting his account, so the reward remained a mystery. The other was luckier—his quest was the familiar Shennongjia Wildman boss, which allegedly dropped an epic orange-tier weapon.
With the initial goal complete, Fang Zheng sent the Assassin to the Blacksmith to train Forging, a Life Skill that offered meager XP but was better than nothing while AFK.
Once everything was set, Fang Zheng finally returned to Milk is Mom’s computer. It was 7: 30 PM, peak gaming hours, but Mirage was still as quiet as ruins. Milk is Mom stood where he’d last negotiated with the client—Nanjing Road, once the busiest street, now populated only by NPCs.
The World Channel had someone spamming their loneliness.
[Huaxia] Your Uncle: Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~
[Huaxia] Your Uncle: Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~
[Huaxia] Your Uncle: Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~ Anyone there~~
[Huaxia] Diamond Seller: Boat’s here~~ Boat’s here~~ Boat’s here~~ Boat’s here~~ Buying game currency long-term~~
[Huaxia] Your Uncle: Fuck!
[Huaxia] Your Uncle: Scammer, stay the hell away from me!
[Huaxia] Diamond Seller: Sigh, I’m the only one who tolerates you~~ Buying game currency long-term~~
[Huaxia] Your Uncle: This server’s completely dead.
[Huaxia] Diamond Seller: New server~ boom~ decline~ ghost~ standard game lifecycle~~ Buying game currency long-term~~
[Huaxia] Your Uncle: Boring. I’m playing QQ Mahjong.
[Huaxia] Diamond Seller: …Buying game currency long-term~~
Fang Zheng checked the Auction House. Sure enough, the materials he’d listed days ago remained untouched. Ghost servers didn’t just lack players—they lacked an economy too. This wasn’t good for someone like Fang Zheng, who relied on the game for income. But honestly, he had feelings for Mirage—four and a half of his six years in Huaxia had been spent here.
The Teleport Master sent Milk is Mom to Mount Emei.
Milk is Mom’s class was Wandering Physician, essential for dungeons but miserable for solo play. Damage output was pathetic—others slaughtered mobs like cutting melons, while he wore them down through sheer persistence. By the time the mob died, he’d be half-dead too. So Fang Zheng’s level 55 was mostly earned through dungeon runs with PUGs. When alone, he focused on Life Skills.
(T/N: Wandering Physician is the official class name for the primary healer, but the author will use ‘healer’ more often to refer to them. They’re the same thing)
But as a Healer whose life creed was “sneaky is best,” he wouldn’t pass up a chance to ambush someone.
Quietly targeting an unsuspecting player who was farming monkeys with his back turned, Milk is Mom used his full MP to cast the Healer’s only offensive ultimate—Crimson Lotus Holy Fire.
The fireball shot toward its target, exploding into a dazzling display of flames upon impact, like fireworks.
The game’s effects were so realistic that Fang Zheng was momentarily blinded by the red blaze. But the status bar in the top-left corner confirmed Milk is Mom still had the target locked, so he immediately followed up with Zephyr Jinx.
Two hits like that should’ve left the target either dead or near death. As a Healer, Fang Zheng could easily outlast anyone in a prolonged fight. But then a figure burst through the flames, lunging at Milk is Mom with a claw strike!
Fang Zheng realized too late—he was screwed.
Damn it, who still plays a Zombie?!
That’s right—the guy Fang Zheng had ambushed was a Zombie, the class with the highest magic resistance. Those two attacks would’ve nearly killed a Spirit Master or Demon Refiner and taken half the HP of a tanky Berserker. But a Zombie? Fang Zheng thought this useless class had gone extinct in Huaxia!
While Fang Zheng was internally panicking, the Zombie didn’t care. After Netherworld Ghostly Claws, he cast Miasma, an AoE7AoE=area of effect. A skill that affects a certain area around it and anyone within it. Every applicable target within that area would be affected by that skill. A potentially multi-target skill. poison that drained HP until it dropped below 50%. Now Fang Zheng couldn’t heal—doing so would only prolong the poison’s duration. Better to wait until his HP stabilized below 50% before healing.
But the Zombie kept attacking. Soon, Milk is Mom’s HP hit 50%, and the Miasma debuff faded. Fang Zheng immediately cast Revival of the Withered, but this single-target mega-heal required channeling. The Zombie seized the moment to interrupt with another claw, followed by a barrage of physical attacks—Hellfire, Netherworld Ghostly Claws—all aimed at Milk is Mom. Even a Blood Warrior wouldn’t survive this onslaught, let alone a Healer.
And so, Milk is Mom fell, embodying the adage “harm set, harm get.”
As the screen turned grayscale, Fang Zheng finally saw his killer’s adorable ID—Polly.
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