Chapter 126 – Second Intersection

Despite Fifth Brother posting ads on almost every free local classifieds website—”High-paying game power leveling jobs! Earn easy money from home!”—and refreshing them daily to keep them at the top of the page, calls inquiring about the job remained few and far between, let alone anyone showing up in person to apply. And even when someone did come, nine out of ten would politely decline after hearing the terms, while the tenth would flip the table on the spot.

Later, the four of them sat down for a heartfelt discussion and, after much reflection, decided to abandon the high-end, prestigious tone of their previous job postings and go for a more approachable route—”Newly established gaming studio hiring power levelers. Monthly salary of 1,500, meals and lodging included. Must be 18 or older. Experience preferred.”

And so, with just half a month left before the New Year, they finally hired two employees.

The two employees didn’t know each other but coincidentally came to apply on the same day. Both were twenty years old—quite the coincidence—but their personalities couldn’t have been more different. One was named Hou Cong, who was polite, humble, and most importantly, had prior power leveling experience. A quick test run in the game showed nothing spectacular, but his performance was solid. In short, no matter how you looked at it, he was prime employee material. The other was named Chang Xiaohu. Throughout the entire interview, he kept his head down, barely interacting with his future boss, stammering and struggling to string together coherent sentences. His attitude wasn’t arrogant—if anything, he seemed nervous—but none of that could mask the air of delinquency that radiated from him, especially his unintentionally mismatched outfit and the row of healed-over ear piercings that betrayed his former “shamate¹Chinese subculture with aesthetics similar to punk/emo” roots.

Even if this guy was genuinely a reformed prodigal son, the four of them still valued their initial investment more, so they unanimously rejected him at first. Only after he insisted did they reluctantly give him a chance, letting him use Fifth Brother’s account to spar with Birdy. He mashed buttons wildly, failing to execute a single effective move before getting instantly KO’d. He explained that he had never played Huaxia before and wasn’t familiar with it. Fang Zheng was skeptical, but Birdy, surprisingly, agreed to give him ten minutes to get acquainted. Unexpectedly, in the second round, he managed to land a hit on Birdy. Though he still lost in the end, and though Birdy had only been fighting at half-effort, his rapid improvement and natural talent were undeniable. On top of that, he voluntarily lowered his salary demand by another 500, settling for just 1,000 yuan, making Fang Zheng feel like he had transmigrated into the skin of a greedy capitalist. After discussing it with Fifth Brother and the others, they decided to take him in.

Of course, the guilt didn’t loosen the bosses’ purse strings—they generously granted his request for a monthly salary of 1,000 yuan in the end.

The larger of the two living rooms in their three-bedroom apartment was converted into a partitioned space, and after purchasing beds and other necessities, the two new employees moved in smoothly. With that, the gaming company was officially established, consisting of Fang Zheng, Birdy, Horse (Fifth Brother), Bear (Diamond), Monkey (Hou Cong), and Tiger (Chang Xiaohu).

Since funds were tight, getting a business license was postponed until after the New Year. However, since Fang Zheng and the others had previously advertised in-game as “power leveling and currency exchange services,” now that they were a semi-legitimate company, they naturally needed a proper name. After rejecting Fifth Brother’s grandiose “Grand Ambition,” Diamond’s uninspired “Huaxia,” and Birdy’s absolutely uncreative “Ever Victorious,” the Commander (Fang Zheng) made the final call, settling on his own suggestion—a name that was friendly, fun, and festive all at once: “Happy Gaming Co.”

Though they only had two employees, thanks to the ample fixed assets transferred over from Lu Yue’s side, the two of them operated four computers, running alts in almost every Huaxia server to spam ads all day. The alt in Huaxia Summit was Fang Zheng’s responsibility, and though no one outside the Ghost Server Legion knew about the connection between the legion and this company, the cutesy name “Happy Gaming Co.” still attracted endless mockery. Led by Meteor Blitz’s Big H and cheered on by Five Peaks Pavilion’s White Dragon Horse, the entire server spent a whole day laughing at it.

The Commander was furious, lambasting these uncultured plebs for failing to appreciate artistic brilliance.

Ghost Server comrades vented on Weibo, condemning the Commander for using his tyrannical authority to suppress legion members from joining the “laughing” brigade. The Deputy Commander didn’t participate in the submissions, but he used multiple alt accounts to like the posts—thirty-two times.

As the saying goes, no shop stays closed forever. After enduring three full days of ridicule, Happy Gaming Co. landed its first business deal—and as if to compensate the Commander for his emotional trauma, it was a bulk order: two power leveling jobs and one piloting gig.

They say enemies are bound to cross paths. All three accounts were from Holy Light Sanctuary—not from White Chapel, where Thousand Mountains was, but from the Windmill Faction, which was still part of the same overarching Dutch Chamber of Commerce legion. The client was a single player who handed Fang Zheng two level 5 accounts and one level 70 account. The two level 5 accounts, he explained, were alts recently created by his legionmates—sort of side projects—to be leveled to 69 before being handed back to the owners for endgame dungeon runs. The level 70 healer account was his own, and he wanted someone to pilot it through an endgame dungeon with one additional condition: the pilot had to pretend to be him, ensuring no one in the party realized it was a stand-in.

Hou Cong took the job initially, but in the end, he and Chang Xiaohu each handled one of the power leveling accounts, while the piloting gig went to Fang Zheng, who was also a healer.

Later, after deeper discussion, Fang Zheng realized the client’s account had already cleared the trash mobs in the endgame dungeon, reaching level 70, but he kept failing at the final boss due to poor mechanics. While the joint legion had multiple healers, one underperforming healer was enough to doom the run. Eventually, teammates who wanted to farm purple gear from the boss started resenting him, and it escalated until the entire legion looked down on him. No one wanted to party with him for dungeon runs anymore. Recently, he’d finally found a team willing to take him—though “take him” was a stretch. The team was just short on members and couldn’t fill all thirty slots, so they lowered their standards and let him join. This was his only chance to redeem himself, so he decided to hire a pilot.

Power leveling had a transparent market rate, but piloting had no standard pricing. Professional power levelers usually didn’t bother with it because the profits were slim—most were just players idly advertising in World Chat with stuff like “Help clear XX dungeon, 500 Huaxia Coins” for extra cash.

Fang Zheng wouldn’t have taken the piloting job alone, but since it came bundled with two power leveling gigs, he threw it in as a bonus—20 yuan for a guaranteed clear, double refund if they failed.

The client repeatedly stressed, “You have to clear it. You’re not just clearing a dungeon—you’re conquering the mountain of my dignity!”

Fang Zheng suddenly felt the weight of responsibility. The next day, he logged in early, and by the time the official dungeon gathering at 4 p.m. rolled around, he had already melded seamlessly with the client’s healer account, Imperial Noob—man and account as one, indistinguishable.

The joint legion had thirty members. When Fang Zheng arrived at the dungeon entrance, a few people hadn’t shown up yet. About twenty-something players milled around the entrance, all from the three legions under Dutch Chamber of Commerce. They chatted idly, never letting the conversation die, but it was clear they weren’t particularly close. The leader was a Blood Warrior from White Chapel Legion, ID War Since Ancient Times, decked out in top-tier orange gear. According to the client, this guy was leading the dungeon run specifically to farm purple gear.

After reaching max level, the Ghost Server Legion had teamed up with Five Peaks Pavilion and Meteor Blitz to run the endgame dungeon a few more times, but all attempts ended in failure. The earlier stages were brutal, but after a few runs, players got used to them—even the trivia questions had been compiled into a cheat sheet. But the final boss remained un-cracked, with no guides available, and the only team that had cleared it—Dutch Chamber of Commerce—wasn’t sharing their secrets. So Fang Zheng had an ulterior motive for taking this piloting job: espionage.

“Earning money and going undercover—I’m a genius!” In the four-person booth reserved for Happy Gaming Co. at Overwinter Internet Cafe, the Ghost Server Commander, fully geared up, was in high spirits.

Fifth Brother, sitting across from him, shot him a look. “Wasn’t it Hou Cong who landed this job?”

The Commander downgraded his claim. “Well, Hou Cong was hired by me, which proves I still have good judgment!”

Diamond, sitting diagonally across, shot him a look. “Wasn’t Hou Cong hired by all four of us together?”

The Commander was backed into a corner. “That still doesn’t erase my 25% contribution!”

Birdy, sitting beside him, glanced over and received the Commander’s pitiful “Do you really have the heart to push me further? If you do, I’ll just crawl into the wall and become a gecko TAT” look. Originally planning to deliver the final, joyful stab, he suddenly remembered how the Commander had stubbornly stayed up late last night to keep up with him. His heart softened, and for once, he refrained from snark, turning his attention back to his monitor to continue sparring with Your Uncle.

It was the weekend, and Your Uncle wasn’t working, so he logged in early to challenge Birdy to duels. At first, Birdy didn’t take it seriously, but after a few rounds, he was actually caught off guard and killed once. Though Your Uncle’s victory was achieved through bizarre and highly situational means, his mechanical improvement was undeniable. If the old Your Uncle was all about sharp instincts but terrible execution, his execution now could keep up with about 70% of his instincts. As for when he’d reach 100%, Birdy had no idea—because the guy’s instincts were improving too. What used to be “sharp” was now evolving toward god-tier levels…

When Lucky Charm failed to pick Thousand Mountains, the Ghost Server comrades just treated it as a joke and moved on. Only Your Sister, who often teamed up with Your Uncle, sighed in regret—looking back, she was probably the first to notice his improvement.

Though he had put on a pitiful expression, the masochistic Commander was actually hoping for the Deputy’s signature snark. But after waiting half the day, the man just went back to gaming. This wounded the Commander deeply, suddenly filling him with sorrow: “Am I not important anymore? TAT”

Thankfully, a message popping up in the Team Chat diverted his attention—

[Team] War Since Ancient Times: 1857XXX, anyone not in yet, hurry up.

Fang Zheng was stunned. Running a major dungeon required joining YY, and he had completely forgotten about that. He quickly messaged the client on QQ, asking for the YY account and password, but the client’s status was offline, and no matter how much he poked, there was no response.

[Team] War Since Ancient Times: Who else isn’t in? Move it!

Compared to this leader, Fang Zheng suddenly missed Drink Till You Drop TAT

No choice. He could only grit his teeth, log into his own YY account, and quickly rename Milk is Mom to Imperial Noob. Then he entered the channel provided by War Since Ancient Times.

The moment he joined, Fang Zheng scanned the YY usernames. Sure enough, they all followed the format “[Dutch Chamber of Commerce] XXXX.” Thanks to his stubby but lightning-fast fingers, the Commander instantly edited his ID to match. After ensuring uniformity, he quickly disabled open mic and set it to push-to-talk (F2). With all potential hazards eliminated, he let out a long sigh—only to hear, amidst the chaotic chatter in YY, a particularly magnetic male voice.

The voice was like sunlight, piercing through even the thickest clouds. It was also like water droplets, eroding even the hardest stone.

Turns out, voices that could make ears pregnant really did exist, the Commander thought. But for such a voice to be wasted here instead of narrating “In the snowy Arctic Circle, there lives a group of animals…” on CCTV-10—

“Imperial Noob, where’s your tag? Why are you bare-assed?”

What a waste of a national treasure TAT

Over twenty people were in the channel, with several IDs flashing their mic indicators. Fang Zheng couldn’t tell who had spoken, so he braced himself and typed—

[Dutch Chamber of Commerce] Imperial Noob: Lost it.

“How do you even lose that? And why aren’t you talking?”

This time, Fang Zheng saw the speaker—and froze.

He blinked several times, then looked again. Nope, War Since Ancient Times’s ID wasn’t in the online list at all. The one who had been talking to him was unmistakably—No Birds Over a Thousand Mountains.

• 1
  Chinese subculture with aesthetics similar to punk/emo