Chapter 1: Becoming the Internet Café Legend After Being Laid Off
Year of Turmoil—the global economy faltered, unemployment soared. The internet economy, now driven by artificial intelligence, absorbed vast surpluses of capital and, building on the basic algorithms of traditional cryptocurrency mining, launched a wildly popular fantasy business-adventure game: “Global Mining: Golden Continent.” Mining coins could be exchanged for real currency with unprecedented ease; players could earn a living by mining even while sleeping or at work. A brand new, colossal industry was rising to lead the future.
...
“Xiaoqin, I’m heading out. Xiaofan, while Daddy’s away on this business trip, listen to your mother and no playing games...”
Suppressing his anxiety, Dachun waited at the bus stop. In truth, he had already been laid off, but pride wouldn’t let him confide in anyone. He continued to don his suit, clutch his tablet and briefcase, and pretend to go to work each day.
He had tried submitting résumés and attending interviews, but the less said about the results, the better. Eventually, he ended up renting a monthly pod at a high-end 6G internet café to mine in the world’s hottest game, which would officially launch at midnight after its public beta concluded. His so-called business trip was actually a weeklong overnight stint at the café, hoping to carve out a lucrative side gig.
A small, futuristic black car stopped in front of Dachun, its window rolling down.
“Well, if it isn’t Brother Chun! Waiting for the bus?”
Just Dachun’s luck—running into a flashy, well-off old classmate at his lowest point...
Dachun forced a smile. “Another new car, President Jiang?”
Old Jiang beamed with pride. “Limited edition BNB Tang from the Shenjiang Super Factory. Want a lift?”
Dachun obliged him. “I suppose I should experience this legendary world-class ride for myself...”
Inside, the lighting and ambience shifted; it felt like stepping into a cosmic spaceship.
Old Jiang mused, “The rise of high-end tech is bound to reshape industries. I heard your big company had layoffs—surely you weren’t affected?”
Dachun gave an awkward sigh. “I was let go. Now one person has to do the work of several. You tell me—was I affected?”
Old Jiang roared with laughter. “Come on! Back in the day, you swept all the scholarships, married the campus beauty, and now you’re a top-tier engineer. You’re the winner in life—they wouldn’t dare lay you off!”
Dachun changed the subject. “She’s not exactly a campus beauty, just from an ordinary family. What about you, President Jiang? Still no plans to marry?”
Old Jiang grinned. “I’m too busy supporting all my streamer girlfriends—how could I find the time?”
Damn!
The car’s computer chimed—System message: Congratulations! With the festival’s lucky boost, you’ve successfully mined a Mithril Vein. Your mining skill has advanced to Expert! Talent reward: Expert’s Mastery of the Mining Pick...
Old Jiang laughed heartily. “No wonder! The final day of the beta’s festival event, and I hit expert level!”
Dachun was surprised—he played too?
Old Jiang waved at his display. “Global Mining! The world’s hottest game, instant mining coin exchanges. Are you playing, Brother Chun?”
Dachun spotted his ID—Jiang the Slacker.
So it really was him! Ranked among the top 1,000 global players during beta, always surrounded by female gamers, always in the spotlight...
Dachun was a little taken aback. “With your wealth, President Jiang, do you really care about game income?”
Old Jiang grinned. “Don’t underestimate it! Take this car for example—high-end, soon to be sold in Europe and America. But they have to sell us something in return, right? Yet there’s little we want from them, so they get anxious, claim a trade imbalance, and we get anxious too—can’t let them just print money unchecked! What’s the solution? Surely we’re not about to wage another Opium War?”
Dachun chuckled. “So they sell us games?”
Old Jiang laughed. “Exactly! Besides, if there’s no tech breakthrough, you get layoffs and endless competition—tons out of work! But even with breakthroughs, you need fewer people, so layoffs and unemployment again! What then? You have to find a way to distribute money and create jobs. So, with all that extra foreign currency, they produce this game—distributing money while pushing their digital currency strategy. And now, sales of chip-enabled cockpits are booming—win-win! Not to mention, the developers are pushing for brain-machine interfaces and digital immortality—the business potential is huge!”
Dachun truly felt a twinge of respect. “So, you’re planning a big project, President Jiang?”
Old Jiang was all seriousness. “I’m thinking of integrating my streamer girlfriends into a girl group studio. All I need is a technical director. If your big company’s too much, why not join me?”
Caught off guard! That’s it?
Dachun forced a wry smile. “You’re joking, President Jiang. If the so-called love guru shows up, wouldn’t that be chaos? If you have equipment or network issues, I can help, but that’s about it...”
As they neared a noodle shop, Dachun pointed it out. “I’ll get off here—the kidney noodle soup is great.”
Old Jiang smiled. “Stay in touch. Drinks another time.”
Dachun squared his shoulders and strode off without looking back, exuding an air of officialdom.
Just a hundred meters past the noodle shop was the internet café, with a street cam catching the whole area. His outstanding demeanor and nine-to-five schedule had led the café’s front desk girl to suspect he was some kind of official or inspector, prompting endless questions. Hence the need to put on a show. It wasn’t about vanity—it was about projecting confidence, especially when times were tough. Otherwise, poverty would only invite harsher blows from society.
Meanwhile, Old Jiang, closing his window, spat in Dachun’s direction. “You’ve sent your résumé to my agency, still pretending? Even as classmates, I can’t help you...”
...
After his meal, Dachun walked calmly into the café.
The front desk girl smiled as she took his membership card. “Welcome, Mr. Ding. Your suite on the second floor has been disinfected and tidied, and the water dispenser’s been refilled. Please enjoy.”
She was more respectful today, as pure as the flower-selling girls in the game.
Dachun didn’t head straight to his suite; as usual, he lingered on the first floor with a cup of goji-chrysanthemum tea, “patrolling” the regular seats. There was also a mysterious third floor, rumored to be reserved for a certain professional esports team—no outsiders allowed.
Once, cafes had declined with the rise of home computers, but “Global Mining” brought them roaring back. First, the game’s pod upgrades were expensive. Second, it required a 6G central server—otherwise, the main city would be flooded with players, overwhelming ordinary networks.
The regulars here were long-term, monthly-renting experts. By questioning and observing them, Dachun could quickly learn and keep track of global trends among players.
These experts were used to Dachun and often teased him. “The boss is here for an inspection again? No female gaming companions here—this is a proper café!”
“What’s the plan, Brother Chun? The official servers are about to launch—I can take you to higher-level mines!”
“Are you kidding? Brother Chun’s a leader with his own suite—he should be out fishing with mermaids, not mining...”
“Testing Brother Chun’s weakness, are we?”
Dachun actually enjoyed this banter. “Wei, how much have you earned?”
“At least enough to cover the monthly fee. Once the official server opens and we fight for villages, it’ll be much more.”
...
Another expert chimed in, “That’s what the Japanese and Indians think too. Wait till their brains explode in the ten-thousand-player wars...”
Truth be told, all the strategies for solo or group starts had been thoroughly mastered by the beta experts. Dachun had no chance competing with these youngsters in terms of skill, speed, or sheer effort.
His only shot was the hidden quest route that no beta expert recommended. If he succeeded—if he could get even half a step ahead of ordinary players—he’d stand out among hundreds of millions worldwide. If not, he’d settle for being a part-time mining bot while job hunting.
Returning to his suite, Dachun launched the game.
The backstory was simple: five pioneer fleets from the old world discovered a supercontinent teeming with monsters and minerals. They could initially only land and defend the coast, then gradually expand, eventually building five prosperous port city-states—the five major starting cities for new players.
These old cities had long since been mined out of valuable resources, so newbies had little chance of striking it rich there. They’d have to follow the pioneers’ footsteps into the dangerous, monster-filled, mineral-rich hinterlands, where transportation was difficult. Those who didn’t want to mine could fish, trade, or try the pirate path.
The cities’ financial systems were both advanced and conservative: players carried no cash; all transactions went through bank accounts, including exchanges for real currency—no pickpocketing or theft possible. But banks did not support player-to-player transfers, preventing instant conglomerate wealth via pooled resources. Street markets operated on barter.
Compared to the mysterious Golden Continent, the old world was even more enigmatic—players, as pioneers, knew little about it.
...
Dachun logged into the city—fireworks and festivities everywhere.
—System message: Welcome to the game. It is 8:10 PM Golden Continent time. You are blessed with the “Black Iron Pioneer City” festival luck! May your wishes come true.
—System message: While offline, you auto-mined and sold ores, earning 83 coins. The public beta will end today and all data will be wiped. Please exchange your coins at the city bank to avoid loss.
...
Game time matched real world time, set to the Western Hemisphere. Chinese players had to play “day for night,” but it wasn’t an issue.
Most players were celebrating, cashing out. But Dachun was about to risk his entire 6,000-coin savings on the hidden questline involving the “Flower Girl” and the “Bar Dancer.” Throughout beta, he had focused solely on three things: mining for coins, buying flowers, and giving them to the bar dancer—ignoring all else.
Based on his understanding of the developers’ AI, which relied on massive datasets, he realized that female shopping and emotional topics formed the world’s largest database—the birthplace of “love assistant” and “scumbag detector” AIs. So he targeted the two female NPCs who embodied “shopping” and “emotion.”
He also knew the developers were notorious for NPC scams, using “fraud games” to outwit players and advance AI—why all the beta experts avoided hidden quest lines. The NPCs were ruthless! Or perhaps the moral compass of the Golden Continent was just that low.
But Dachun had his own philosophy: among friends, nine out of ten are fake, but every enemy is real. In a sense, enemies are more reliable—so why not gamble?
...
He first visited the flower shop to see the night-shift girl, Sherry. Only one way to raise her favor: buy the products she recommended, so she’d earn commission.
She recommended the high-end “Royal Crystal Frost Rose,” shrouded in chill, costing 3,000 coins—over three thousand yuan in real money.
Dachun confirmed, “There’s only one?”
The girl smiled. “Yes, scarce and precious. It’s Miss Vivian’s favorite.”
“I’ll buy it!”
—System message: You spent 3,000 coins at the flower shop... Your favor with clerk Sherry increased greatly.
The girl beamed. “Thank you for your patronage. May you have unexpected good luck this festival!”
But there was no festival luck. Even buying the priciest flower didn’t trigger a hidden event.
On to the next step.
Instead of heading straight to the bar, Dachun first took the flower to the blacksmith’s forge to heat it—a crucial step.
When moisture began to bead on the petals, he hurried to the harbor nightclub to find Vivian, the bar dancer. Her defining trait: she was a “heartbreaker”—ambitious, treacherous, obsessed with power, most likely to trigger an event.
The dancer lazily accepted the flower, giving Dachun a second glance. “Then I’ll dance a song just for you...”
After her performance, still nothing happened.
Even with festival luck and the most expensive, beloved flower, neither NPC was moved. This was failure—the pitfall all the beta experts had warned of.
He’d have to go all in and provoke her—enemies are more reliable! But he couldn’t really fall out with her; the line had to be carefully managed.
Dachun said, “Miss Vivian, though I’m not a noble yet, since I admire you so much, could you help me get a liquor license...?”
The dancer was impatient. “The farther your dreams, the farther you should go!”
Dachun played to her cruel sense of humor and apologized. “What if I bark like a dog to amuse you?”
She laughed. “Let’s hear you bark.”
This was what he’d been waiting for!
Dachun mimicked her earlier tone. “The farther your dreams, the farther you should go!”
The dancer was stunned!
Dachun waited nervously. With her intelligence, she’d realize it was an insult. Normally, he’d be tossed out by bouncers and lose all favor. But this wasn’t normal—he hadn’t sworn at her outright.
Sure enough, the dancer laughed angrily. “You’ve got guts. Just wait for me after my shift!”
Dachun breathed a sigh of relief—event triggered! But it was likely the “wait till after work to fight” type, so he’d better trigger another for safety.
...
He returned to the flower shop and checked the display: there was a frost rose—slightly wilted.
Dachun smiled. Either it was newly stocked, or it was the one he’d just given away—his forging trick had worked as a mark.
Now he knew: one NPC sold the pricy flower, the other accepted it, then returned it to the shop for resale—a backdoor transaction chain between them. Imagine how vast this city’s underground economy must be. Far more intricate than mining and monster hunting.
Time to win over the girl! Same logic—enemies more reliable, but no falling out.
Dachun feigned distress. “I joked with Miss Vivian earlier, but she seems upset. What flower should I buy to soothe her?”
The girl smiled. “Of course, another frost rose for her!”
What a “love assistant”...
...
Dachun exposed her. “But this isn’t new stock—it’s the one I just bought!”
The girl panicked. “It’s new, really!”
Exposing her would lower favor; normally, he’d have to buy another to make up for it. But this wasn’t normal—so he couldn’t just buy as usual.
Dachun played his trump card. “How about I buy this for you instead? If you want it, I’ll buy it. If not, I’ll complain to the boss. So, do you want it?”
The dancer could accept gifts, but Sherry, as staff, couldn’t—gifting wouldn’t work. But she did get commission for sales—a huge loophole! If it worked, he’d have broken the rules wide open.
The girl looked around nervously. “That’s a bit embarrassing; you mustn’t tell anyone.”
Dachun was thrilled. “I won’t. I’ll buy!”
He bet his last 3,000 coins. That’s why he’d saved 6,000.
—System message: You spent 3,000 coins buying from Sherry... Your favor with Sherry went from ‘Enthusiastic’ to ‘In Sync’!
Damn! The system message changed! Before, it was “from the flower shop,” now it was “from her”! The flower hadn’t moved, but she pocketed the money—skimming from the register, and the boss couldn’t reconcile the books!
So, it meant he could keep “gifting” her money in this way, endlessly? Was this sponsorship, even patronage?
Dachun asked, “Dear Sherry, what’s your dream?”
Sherry was both excited and nervous. “I may look ordinary, but I’m actually an apprentice mage. My dream is to become a court archmage, but academy tuition is expensive! Working here barely covers it...”
He’d suspected she had magical talent! Player mages were all underpowered; NPC mages were the real deal. If he could bankroll one, even if it meant giving up the lead, it’d be worth it. Plus, this frost rose was actually the product of the celebrity noble mage, Fafnir—Sherry must know her...
Dachun confirmed, “Our Black Iron City excels in warriors; Gemstone City is for mages—”
Sherry quickly added, “But Black Iron’s beginner classes are cheaper. Once I have the basics, I’ll go to Gemstone City for advanced studies.”
So that’s how it was! With the mood set, Dachun didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll mine hard to fund your studies—how about that?”
Sherry exclaimed, “Wonderful! I’ll be sure to repay you! In fact, I can help you now. After my midnight shift ends, let’s visit Miss Vivian together! I can even use my extra money to buy you a mage’s companion slot...”
So direct! In a single sentence, she fulfilled all his hopes. A bright future as a long-term patron—even if it was a scam, he was happy. Maybe this was the joy Old Jiang found in being a top supporter...
...
Now, all that remained was to wait for her shift to end. Dachun stayed outside the shop, doing nothing, wary of complications.
Across the plaza, players performed festival dog-training acts, surrounded by tipping NPCs. The performer was Tata the Warlord, a high-level Indian player who’d unlocked the hidden Beastmaster class—his day’s tips could match a month of mining, and festival income was unthinkable.
Could this hidden event close the gap?
Lost in thought, Dachun’s headset crackled with a system warning: Network unstable...
Lights flickered in his suite, the game screen glitched—it looked like a blackout was imminent.
Dachun was alarmed—he couldn’t lose power at this crucial moment!
No, this was the latest worm virus attack—capable of spiking voltage to fry machines. Thanks to circuit breakers, nothing burned, but the power kept tripping... The café must’ve angered someone.
Soon, the café was plunged into darkness—power out!
The place erupted in chaos, the front desk girl shouted, “Tech guy, help!”
This was beyond the tech guy’s skill!
Panic-stricken, the technician called frantically, “What? Xinghui Café, Tianlong Café—over thirty major cafés lost power?”
The experts were furious. “It must be the Japanese! They just don’t want us to break through during the festival...”
With no other choice, Dachun calmly took out his work tablet and approached the front desk. “Let me handle this. Bring me to the server room—and fetch three data cables.”
The place instantly fell silent. The front desk girl didn’t hesitate. “Please, Mr. Ding!”
The experts crowded outside the server room to watch.
Seeing this, Dachun remembered something and handed his phone to the front desk girl. “Record a work video for me.”
She seemed to understand. “Of course.”
Understand what? Just something to show his wife—proof he was doing important work...
Dachun hooked up his tablet to the server. Troublesome, but he could handle it. In the past, he’d have charged thousands for such freelance fixes. Now, he had to do it to survive...
After a flurry of modular tool work, Dachun left his tablet hooked to the server and warned the tech. “There’s a chip in there acting as a backdoor—tell your boss to replace the machine ASAP. Leave my tablet running here, lock the room, and don’t touch anything. You can bring the power back up now.”
At once, the café blazed with light.
Everyone cheered. “Knew Brother Chun was with SHIELD! Awesome!”
The tech guy was in awe. “You’re a true expert, Brother Chun! If something had gone wrong, I could’ve been fired...”
Dachun was used to the respect, but this time felt different.
Maybe he understood now why he’d been laid off—not just age, salary, or reliability, but because he was starting to outshine his boss...
...
Back in his suite, he reopened the game—worldwide outrage filled the chat. It turned out it wasn’t just a few local cafés hit; almost every major café nationwide had been targeted.
He muted the chat, set the game to idle, and went to sleep.
...