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    Manager Sal

    What appeared before everyone’s eyes was an enormous lake — its pink-purple waters mirroring a pink-purple sky, clouds drifting within the water’s surface, soft and yielding like a dream not yet woken from.

    Without realizing it, they had wandered to the lakeshore and sat down. The green lawn spread out like a vast carpet, and the willow trees along the bank were bathed in a halo of pink-purple light that brushed gently across the visitors’ cheeks, like the flowing hair of a beautiful woman. Among a cluster of lavender at the water’s edge, colorful butterflies fluttered to and fro. The fragrance of flowers and grass drifted over on a gentle breeze, like a cask of mellow wine that left every visitor who lingered there feeling dizzy and dreamy, as though drunk.

    Cao Xiaoliang and his classmates sat back-to-back at the lakeshore. He squinted at the clouds drifting lazily across the water’s surface, and for a moment could no longer tell whether the sky was above or below. He even found himself worrying — if he dozed off and toppled over, would he crush the clouds beneath him?

    Every single pore of his body radiated a feeling of happiness and ease. Cao Xiaoliang broke into a foolish grin without realizing it, because he had suddenly recalled countless beautiful memories he had long since forgotten…

    While the visitors sat by the lake, peacefully and joyfully savoring this moment of leisure, a girl with bangs so long they covered her eyes shuffled in, head drooping, shoulders slumped.

    Her name was Zhao Xiaomei. Today was her birthday — a birthday that only she remembered.

    To her, a birthday was nothing special. In the seventeen years of her life, she had never once eaten birthday cake, let alone received a gift. A so-called birthday seemed no different from any other day. The only thing that made it remarkable was that she had grown another year older. But growing older was nothing to rejoice over, because it meant the day of her marriage was drawing closer. That was simply how it was for girls who left the countryside to work in the city — you worked a few years to save money, then, while you were still young and had options, you married the kind of man the adults in the village called steady and hardworking, a man she did not love.

    But when she passed by the entrance of Fantasy Amusement Park, when she saw the smiles on the faces of those waiting in line, when she saw the joy of people calling out to friends and gathering together, she stopped in her tracks. A dusty string somewhere deep inside her was plucked without warning, and before she knew it, she had taken her place at the end of the queue.

    Why are they all so happy? Can an amusement park really bring people joy? Aren’t TV dramas all just make-believe? The ticket costs fifty yuan — that’s expensive. And you can only go in once. Apparently there are plenty of other paid attractions inside too. If fifty yuan is just the entrance fee, isn’t that throwing money away? What could an ordinary amusement park possibly have worth seeing? Fifty yuan was enough to cover two weeks of her living expenses.

    Forget it. Just leave. She had already seen amusement parks on TV anyway — balloons, merry-go-rounds, Ferris wheels, roller coasters… She had seen it all on television. Nothing new or interesting.

    Thinking this, she was about to step out of the queue — when someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. Zhao Xiaomei flinched and spun around in a panic, though even turning around she didn’t dare meet the other person’s eyes. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a very tall girl with a gentle voice, who said to her, “It’s your turn to buy a ticket.”

    It turned out that without her noticing, everyone ahead of her had already bought their tickets. There was even a long gap that had opened up in front of her — yet no one had rushed forward to cut in line. They were all simply watching her from behind. Feeling the impatient weight of everyone’s stares, Zhao Xiaomei’s face flushed crimson. Without even thinking, she began to apologize. “Sorry, sorry — I was just thinking about something and didn’t notice…”

    She stumbled over a rambling explanation, but the tall girl simply smiled, her voice growing even gentler. “Aww, you’re so adorable — go get your ticket!”

    “You’re so adorable” — those words were like a little hammer that gave her heart a soft tap, and in an instant she felt dazed. In the dim and timid stretch of her life, no one had ever called her adorable in such a gentle voice, and no one had ever praised her.

    In a daze, Zhao Xiaomei bought her ticket. It was only when she stepped inside the park that she came back to herself, and she stared at the ticket in her hand with a twinge of regret, silently scolding herself. How pathetic. How could she lose herself completely just because someone called her adorable?

    Zhao Xiaomei realized she was desperately starved of affection — but there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to ask for a refund, glanced from a distance at the staff member, then found herself unable to bring it up. She could only carry her guilt and follow the crowd.

    There were so many people here! But the surrounding noise and liveliness felt like a pot of boiling water — she was afraid that if she reached in even a little, she would be scalded down to the bone.

    She could only hunch her shoulders, keep her eyes on the ground, and try to move toward wherever the crowds were thinnest.

    She walked into the Purple Lake Experience Zone.

    There were no words to describe the awe of seeing this place for the first time.

    So there really was a sky like this in the world. And a lake this color.

    “What’s so good about traveling? It’s nothing but spending money to suffer. The scenery is the same everywhere. Isn’t it the same as what you see from the window when you’re riding the bus to work? At least that way you earn money!”

    Her father’s words seemed to echo in her ears — but in this moment, a tiny flicker of something bright stirred in Zhao Xiaomei’s chest. It’s not the same! It’s not the same at all! Now she had proof!

    She wanted to take a few photos, but the moment she drew close to the water’s edge, she forgot everything. She only knew that she felt good — so, so good. Like a warm quilt on a winter morning you couldn’t bear to leave, like an ice lolly on a summer day that you licked again and again…

    Without realizing it, Zhao Xiaomei had sat down by the lakeshore. Her mind relaxed in a way it never had before, and it was in that very moment that she suddenly began to remember things from early childhood she had long since forgotten.

    The dreamlike ripples of the Purple Lake seemed to reach straight down into the deep sea of her memory, turning over layer after layer of the most cherished moments buried at the very bottom, rolling them up into surging waves that swallowed her whole.

    She remembered her tiny self toddling through a garden, turning to look back every few steps at her parents walking hand-in-hand behind her. She remembered her tiny self sitting before a towering cake wearing a pretty princess crown, the bright candles glowing all around her, many grown-ups gathered close, calling her their darling, singing her a birthday song — and even when she blew out the candles with too much force and toppled face-first into the cake, turning the expensive creation into a ruined, soggy mess, not one of them scolded her. They only let out warm, fond laughter, then gathered her up and called to her with tender concern. “Oh, our darling Lanlan — let’s get our Lanlan cleaned up, no crying, no crying…”

    Zhao Xiaomei froze.

    A nameless emotion surged back and forth inside her chest. All at once, she burst into loud, heaving sobs.

    The sound of her crying shattered the stillness and serenity of the Purple Lake. Visitors were pulled back from that pleasurable haze and looked up in surprise at the girl sitting by the water’s edge, weeping.

    Cao Xiaoliang and the others were the closest to her. They glanced around and, noticing the strange looks being cast their way from all sides, felt their scalps prickle. Good heavens — could someone please come and confirm that they had done absolutely nothing to this girl?!

    But there was no staff member in sight. Just as they were growing frantic, Cao Xiaoliang suddenly spotted a familiar tall figure not far away. He blinked, then lit up with relief. “Manager Sal!”

    He leapt to his feet and rushed over, grabbing Sal — who seemed, for some reason, not yet fully aware of the situation — and said to him urgently, “Go take a look — something’s happened to that girl over there, I don’t know what’s wrong! You’re a staff member, so you must have access to the surveillance footage, right?! You have to prove that the few of us had nothing to do with this!”

    Sal stared at him for a moment, then glanced toward the girl crying in the distance. He let out a soft sound of acknowledgment, and his smile took on an expression that was difficult to read.

    At the same time, back in the security room, Chi Yizhen suddenly received a game notification:

    [Player, please secure your character card. Player, please secure your character card.]

    Chi Yizhen hadn’t thought about the character card in a very long time. Baffled by the sudden alert, he opened his personal panel — only to find his inventory completely empty. Both character cards were gone.

    Gone.

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