EARTH SENIOR PLAYER
Part Two
3
The taxi driver lounged against the steering wheel, looking like he hadn't woken up yet. "Where to?"
"Pinnacle Tower! Fast!" Cheryl shouted. "You've got two minutes!"
"Uh?" The driver hadn't processed what was happening. He turned to look at her.
"Didn't you hear me? Go! Pinnacle Tower!" Cheryl screamed like a lioness in fury.
The driver jolted as if she'd startled him into action. Without another word, he shifted gears and floored it. The car lurched violently forward, and I slammed into the front seat, clutching my head. "Cheryl, I really think you owe me an explanation for all of this."
Cheryl fixed me with a deeply serious gaze. "Right now, I need you to join me on a mission to save the world. Are you willing?"
"Willing to what? I'm completely in the dark here! You say we're in some kind of game, but I don't feel anything different!"
"The greatest appeal of a game is making the player forget they're in a game. I was just like you—I didn't know anything either, but yesterday, the NPC awakened me, and it told me your identity as well."
"Why awaken you?"
"Because it's urgent. You might not know this, but out of the Earth's seven billion people, only a few million are 'players'—less than 0.01% of the total population. Because this game is so massive, the system isn't entirely stable, and some players have become self-aware within the game, becoming essentially cheat-code wielders—people like Bill Gates, Buffett. Of course, it's also possible they simply chose 'Easy' mode when they started playing..."
"Wait, you're saying those people are so wildly successful because they're using cheat codes?"
"Obviously. What did you think?"
"Uh, nothing. Keep going."
"But recently, another player has also awakened, and he's not content with just using cheats. He wants to destroy the connection between the game and the real world, trapping all of us inside 'Glory of Earth' forever!"
I started. "That person—is it Victor Cross, the CEO of Pinnacle Electronics?"
"That's right! Once the connection system is severed, our consciousness can never return to the real world. Victor Cross wants to stay in this virtual world、calling the shots、living in decadent luxury—dragging millions of players down with him!" Cheryl locked eyes with me. "The real world is our true home. It has our family, our friends, our loved ones—they're the irreplaceable parts of our lives. That's why we have to stop Victor Cross's plot. Are you willing to help me?"
I looked into her eyes. Her gaze was so profound, like a sea of stars.
Something vast and colorful surged through my chest, like a tidal wave crashing against my heart.
I had always thought of myself as someone so insignificant that I'd be born in obscurity, live in obscurity, and die in obscurity, my existence swallowed by the river of time without a trace. But now, Cheryl was telling me the world wasn't like that. An opportunity lay before me—to become the savior of all living beings.
"You are my little apple..." At that moment, my phone rang. I checked the caller ID—it was the sales director. After a moment's hesitation, I answered.
"Hello, Owen Quinn. Do you know there's a department meeting today? Look what time it is—how late are you? Your performance this month is already abysmal, and now you're late to a meeting too. What kind of attitude is this? Do you even still want this job..."
"You know what—FUCK THIS!" I suddenly screamed into the phone. "Fuck going to work, fuck these meetings, fuck performance targets—day in, day out, what's the fucking point of any of it? Let me tell you something, you mortals—I'm going to save the Earth!"
With that, I snapped the phone in half and hurled it out the window.
"Owen Quinn, you..." Cheryl looked at me with surprise.
"A'lin," I said, looking at her, taking a deep breath. "I'm willing to save the world with you."
4
The taxi pulled up in front of Pinnacle Tower and stopped. The driver turned around cautiously: "Is...is this the place?"
Cheryl glanced out the window. "That's right. How much?"
"No, no—no charge. Just get out quickly, please."
Looking at the driver's fearful eyes, a wave of melancholy washed over me. He clearly thought we were crazy. Little did he know, he was witnessing one of the greatest moments in history.
Well, he couldn't possibly appreciate that—because unlike me, he wasn't a player. He was just one of billions of virtual characters created by the game.
I tossed a hundred-yuan bill onto the seat. "Keep the change."
Money had already lost its meaning. All those things that everyone in this world chased after—money, careers, prospects, school-district apartments—they were all meaningless to me now.
We got out of the car and looked up at the towering Pinnacle Tower, our hearts filled with soaring determination. I asked her: "A'lin, do you have a plan?"
"Plan?"
"Yeah—aren't we supposed to stop Victor Cross?"
"No plan. We just charge straight in!"
"Charge?"
Before I could finish, she'd grabbed my hand and we were charging into Pinnacle Tower, bowling over two security guards in the process, piling into the elevator, and heading straight for the top floor. The elevator doors opened onto a corridor leading to a room marked "CEO Office." A staff member blocked our path: "What do you want? Mr. Chu is in the middle of a hadron collider signing ceremony with European experts—no unauthorized personnel!"
"You're the unauthorized personnel!" I leapt up and kicked him over, then hand in hand with Cheryl burst into the room. Before us hung a magnificent landscape painting that made Victor Cross look even more like a brilliant young tycoon, full of vigor and ambition. In person, he was even better-looking than his photos in business magazines—mid-twenties, tall, fair-skinned, refined features. The very model of a charming billionaire playboy. A man this rich, powerful, and handsome had to be using cheats.
He was holding a glass of red wine, chatting amiably with several foreigners. Seeing us barge in, he paused in surprise. Cheryl, quick as lightning, dashed forward and went straight for the king—she grabbed Victor Cross and pressed her knife against his throat, shouting: "Tell your men to stand down!"
Several security guards who'd been about to rush in stopped in their tracks, not daring to provoke her. The foreigners exchanged bewildered glances, having no idea what was happening.
Victor Cross, however, remained unflustered. Calm and collected, he even wore a faint smile on his face. "Young lady, you look unfamiliar. Do we know each other? Oh, I remember—some girl called me a couple days ago claiming she was pregnant. That wasn't you, was it?"
"Stop being glib!" Cheryl hissed in his ear. "I'm the same as you—a 'player'!"
Victor Cross's face registered a brief flicker of surprise, but it was gone in an instant. "What 'player'? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Still playing dumb! Tell them to hand over the contract agreement, or I'll kill you right now!"
"Miss, let's talk this through. What do you even need the contract for? It's of no use to you. How about this—if it's money you want, name a price. I won't haggle."
I shouted: "Who wants your dirty money? What's the point? Only losers in the real world try to play god in a game!"
Victor Cross gave a wry smile. "Sorry, I genuinely don't understand what you two are talking about."
"You don't need to understand. Just hand over the contract agreement!" Cheryl pressed harder with the knife, the blade breaking the skin of Victor Cross's neck. A bead of blood oozed out. The security guards at the door gasped: "Young Master—"
"Don't do anything rash." Victor Cross calmly raised his hands. "You want the contract agreement? Fine, I'll give it to you, but it can only be retrieved by my hand—the safe requires fingerprint authentication."
"Then stop wasting time and move!" Cheryl ordered.
At knifepoint, Victor Cross slowly turned, walked to the safe, entered a code, and pressed his index finger to the scanner. A moment later, the door clicked open.
Victor Cross took out the contract. "What do you want to do with it?"
Cheryl pointed at me. "Give it to him."
I stepped forward and took the contract from Victor Cross's hand. His fingers were long and pale, like a pianist's, and he carried the scent of cologne. I genuinely suspected he'd used idol-drama protagonist standards to optimize himself.
At that moment, the foreign businessmen finally understood what was happening. They pointed at the contract and shouted: "NO! NO!"
"NO is right!" I whipped out a lighter and set the contract on fire, reducing it to a pile of ash in seconds. The foreigners beat their chests and wailed as if their parents had died. This was a massive deal, and with the contract gone, the partnership would have to be put on hold. A project like this would take months just to renegotiate.
"Are you satisfied now?" Victor Cross arched an eyebrow. "Can you let me go?"