FPE Chapter 29

Chi Yizhen had still been in a daze, but the moment he caught sight of that couple in the distance, everything became clear to him. He had only taken a few steps in their direction when the couple hurried over to meet him.

The couple shared the same surname, Lin. The husband was named Lin Jianghai, and the wife was named Lin Chuling. Both were natives of Jiangsu. As the old saying goes, “Above there is heaven, below there are Suzhou and Hangzhou” — the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region had been a land of prosperity since ancient times, producing no shortage of notable figures.

The Lin surname had long been a prominent family name in the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region. Though the husband and wife shared the same surname, they had no blood relation whatsoever. It just so happened that both families ran successful local businesses, and twenty years ago, at the wishes of both sets of parents, the two had been matched and married. They had originally assumed that an arranged marriage would leave their feelings for each other somewhat lukewarm, but to their surprise, they grew closer and closer after the wedding. Add to that the fact that both families were well-matched in social standing, free of financial strain, and nearly identical in their outlook on life — the marriage only flourished with time, and within two years, their daughter Lan Lan was born.

During that period, the country was enforcing its family planning policy. On top of that, the two families’ combined business had grown even larger than before. The couple, caught between the demands of running their enterprise and their desire to heed the national call while not neglecting their daughter, had the husband undergo a sterilization procedure. Both families had intended to pour all their energy into raising their daughter — but who could have predicted that their only child, just three years old, would vanish without a trace?

“All these years, we searched every corner of the country — no place was too far. If only we had known sooner that she was in Jin’an City, our daughter wouldn’t have had to suffer for so many years.” Though it had already been several days since their daughter had been found, Mrs. Lin still couldn’t hold back her tears the moment the subject came up. She gripped her daughter’s hand tightly, as though afraid that the moment she let go, her daughter would disappear again.

“Mr. Chi, we truly don’t know how to thank you.” Mrs. Lin couldn’t forget the first moment she had laid eyes on her daughter. The paternity test hadn’t been done yet at the time, but perhaps there truly was some strange instinct between mother and daughter — from the very first glance, she had been certain that this child was hers and her husband’s. When the results of the paternity test finally came in, she had rushed to pull her daughter into her arms, only to feel her heart break the instant she held her.

She was so thin. The child was thin as a bamboo pole — Mrs. Lin had been afraid that if she squeezed too hard, she would snap. And her hands — the knuckles were rough, callused, marked by the scars of frostbite. And this was the south! For a child to be reduced to this state, what kind of heartless people must that family have been? If they had no love for the child, why had they bought someone else’s daughter in the first place?

The couple was so wracked with grief they didn’t quite know how to treat their daughter. They handled her with the utmost care, worried that the child might feel distant from them, and worried too that after so many years apart, a daughter who surely had no memory of them might have grown attached to her “adoptive parents.” Fortunately, none of their fears came to pass. Everything went so smoothly it felt almost like a dream.

“My wife is right. If it weren’t for you, we don’t know how much longer it would have taken us to find our daughter. You are our entire family’s benefactor.” Lin Jianghai was only in his forties, yet his hair was already shot through with white, and a deep furrow was carved between his brows — clear signs that these years had not been easy. But today, his spirit was bright and his whole bearing radiated the kind of youthful vitality he must have carried in younger days.

Chi Yizhen had simply done a good deed in passing — not for anyone’s gratitude, but because it had felt right to him. Seeing the couple make such a grand occasion of it, he waved his hands repeatedly. “Benefactor is far too generous a word. Any ordinary person walking by who saw a little girl crying like that would have gone over to ask what was wrong. I just helped report it to the police — that was nothing. Even without me, Lan Lan would have gone to the police herself.”

Lin Jianghai shook his head and said, “If you hadn’t told the police to look toward Jiangsu, we don’t know how much longer we would have been going around in circles. Kindness deserves kindness in return — you are a lifelong benefactor to our family…” Then, mid-sentence, Lin Jianghai suddenly said, “Oh, that’s right — Mr. Chi, when exactly did you come to Jiangsu and meet us? I’m terribly sorry — we don’t have the faintest recollection of it.”

Both Lin Jianghai and Lin Chuling wore expressions of embarrassment. Chi Yizhen felt even more awkward than they did on the inside — after all, he had made the whole thing up. He let out a breezy laugh and steered the conversation away from the topic, then invited them into the office.

Fantasy Amusement Park had only been open for three weeks in total. Chi Yizhen had spent his points and energy on the experience zones, and the office was nothing more than the old building from years past with a fresh coat of paint slapped on the walls. It had been kept tidy, but it was still a structure from twenty or thirty years ago, and it looked, frankly, quite shabby.

Chi Yizhen didn’t mind. The visitors who bought tickets and came into the park didn’t mind. But the moment the Lin couple stepped inside, they minded very much.

Before coming, the couple had done a bit of looking into Chi Yizhen — nothing intrusive, just a brief search online for news articles and interviews about him. They knew that inheriting the family business and keeping the park running had been no easy feat, that he had even sold his house and car (?) to fulfill his grandmother’s dying wish. Seeing how young he was — barely older than their own daughter — they felt a pang of sympathy, and announced that they wished to donate ten million yuan to Fantasy Amusement Park.

Ten million yuan!

At that figure, Chi Yizhen’s fingers trembled slightly as he poured water for his guests.

At the same time, he also sensed the game system give a faint shudder.

But after a few seconds of thought, he declined the Lin couple’s offer.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Lin were taken aback. Mr. Lin assumed it must be a matter of a young man’s pride, and quickly said, “Mr. Chi, my wife and I are completely sincere. Ten million yuan is no small sum for us, but if it means getting our daughter back, we would gladly give a hundred million. Lan Lan said she had always believed she was that couple’s child, and it was only after entering your park that she suddenly remembered — if she hadn’t come in, she might have gone through her entire life in a fog, and we would have spent the rest of ours having lost our only treasure. This money is rightfully yours.”

Zhao Xiaomei — who was now to be called Lan Lan — though still timid and introverted due to her upbringing, was already a different person compared to before. She looked at the park director with earnest eyes and said, “Director, please accept it. This is my mother and father’s heartfelt wish.”

But Chi Yizhen shook his head firmly. “The lion dance, the flower baskets, and the commemorative banner I’ll accept — but ten million is absolutely out of the question. I understand your intentions, but the park’s development is already planned out, and we’re not short on funding. If you truly want to make a donation, please give it to a charitable cause.” Chi Yizhen fantasized about getting rich every single day, but only on money he had earned through his own efforts. The Lin family was wealthy, but their money hadn’t fallen from the sky either. Besides, he had built the park mostly through points — he didn’t need that much money. He was already shackled to the game and dragged along for the ride. What would he even do with so much money? And it wasn’t as though he had time to spend it. If he ended up getting killed one day by an otherworldly evil god from another world, whoever inherited that money sitting in his account would be getting a windfall they hadn’t earned.

The Lin couple had no idea what was running through Chi Yizhen’s mind. They were left dazzled by the halo of his nobility. After much back-and-forth, Chi Yizhen finally said, “How about this — you donate ten thousand yuan. What do you say?”

……

Not long after, the Lin couple took their leave. Before they had even made it out of the park gate, Lin Jianghai remarked with feeling, “This park director — so young, yet possessed of such remarkable self-restraint. Truly rare.”

Lin Chuling said, “It’s not just self-restraint. That boy has a good heart.”

The couple walked on, talking, when they suddenly heard their daughter say, “I want to go to school here in Jin’an City.”

Both of them paused. Their original plan had naturally been for her to return to Jiangsu for school — she was still young, and falling behind in her education would be a setback.

But for a daughter so recently recovered, there was no demand they could bring themselves to refuse. They looked around at the lively, extraordinary park, and it seemed as though they too had been swept up in its cheerful sounds and laughter — their spirits lifted without them quite knowing when. “Lan Lan,” they said, “how do you feel about us opening a branch company here in Jin’an?”

……

After the Lin couple’s departure, Chi Yizhen heard that cold, mechanical voice ring out for the first time without a task prompt or a question — entirely of its own accord.

[Why did you not accept that ten million.]

Chi Yizhen shrugged. “I simply felt that such a large sum should go to people who need it more. I may be poor, but I have enough for food and shelter. The park’s development doesn’t need that money either — taking it would feel wrong. Besides, you don’t receive a reward without deserving it. My contribution wasn’t worth that much.”

[If not for you, that couple might have perished in the car accident. There would have been no family reunion to speak of.]

Chi Yizhen turned the question back on it. “Then why did you bind yourself to me in the first place?”

The game gave no answer. Chi Yizhen continued on his own. “I know — it was a selection process. If I had failed the preliminary task, you would have bound yourself to someone else. What has unfolded to this point has involved any number of twists and turns, and my answer is the same: Lan Lan bought a ticket and came in, and for her own reasons she didn’t choose the most popular experience zone — she went to Purple Lake instead. And I happened to have already reached Level 5 at that moment. In order to resolve the matter quickly, I used the Foresight skill to see her future… All of this may look like coincidence, but it was in fact inevitable. Lan Lan’s introverted nature meant she never would have chosen a crowded experience zone, and I, in my desire to clear my schedule and upgrade the park as quickly as possible, was inevitably going to use that skill to look ahead. That’s just who I am — if I saw that bleak future of hers, there was no way I wasn’t going to intervene. Since all of it was bound to happen, I have no interest in asking ‘what if I hadn’t been there.’ Game — I remember you telling me, again and again, that the park is a place that brings people joy, happiness, and hope. I didn’t want the future I foresaw to become reality. I didn’t want Lan Lan to regret ever having come.”

He sat down at the desk, took a sip of water, and said slowly, “My park brought a girl with a difficult fate back to the side of the people who love her. It gave a family of three the chance to be together. Isn’t that something beautiful? Isn’t that something wonderful?” He shook his head. “And here you are, talking to me about money at a time like this. You really are terribly vulgar.”

At the same time, he laughed quietly to himself on the inside. What a rare moment. After all this time, I’ve finally found an excuse to criticize the game openly and without shame.

The game system fell silent for a long while. Just as Chi Yizhen was wondering whether it had been offended or whether it had seen right through him, the game suddenly spoke: [At this moment, I acknowledge that you are a worthy master of the park.]

Chi Yizhen was caught off guard. After a moment, he nodded. “Well. You’ve finally come around.”

The office had barely had a moment of quiet when Meng Xiaodai stepped in and said, “Director, someone from the television station is here. They want to interview you.”

Chi Yizhen raised an eyebrow. Another interview? He stood up, straightened his clothes, and headed outside, where he found the familiar face of reporter Fang Jiu waiting for him.

****

At eight o’clock that evening, Meng Le had just finished an online class and was grimly flipping open a workbook to do practice problems. But no sooner had the sound of her online teacher’s voice faded from her earphones than the noise from the living room came through loud and clear. Her parents were talking boisterously with relatives, and no matter how many times she had told them she was trying to study, they carried on as though they hadn’t heard a word.

“Ha, my kid works so hard — studying every single day, up till late every night!” That was her mother’s voice, with a hint of pride underneath it.

“Isn’t your Le Le already graduated and working? What’s she still studying for?” That was a relative’s voice.

“She’s going through civil service exam books — planning to sit for this year’s national exam.” That was her father, doing a poor job of hiding his eagerness to boast.

“Oh, now that’s a proper iron rice bowl if she passes. Your kid’s really going places.” That was the relative, playing along.

(TL: “铁饭碗 (tiě fànwǎn)” literally means “iron rice bowl” and is a Chinese idiom for a stable, secure job with guaranteed income, usually referring to government or public-sector positions.)

“Hah, who knows if she’ll pass. That brain of hers isn’t the sharpest — she can only grind away at books. Not like your kid, making so much money running a business.” That was her mother, volume raised a notch.

……

Meng Le rolled her eyes, gave up on studying, put her earphones back on, opened the video app, and out of habit clicked into Fantasy Amusement Park’s official account.

Ever since she had, under her parents’ nudging — both direct and indirect — indicated she would be sitting for the civil service exam, Meng Le hadn’t visited Fantasy Amusement Park in several days.

The two newly opened experience zones she had only visited once on the first day; after that, she’d had no time to go back. Thinking now of Jasmine Town with its sorrowful past, and of Purple Lake with its scenery as beautiful as a dream, Meng Le felt her heart ache to be somewhere else. Too bad she couldn’t go.

Fantasy Amusement Park’s official account posted a new and interesting video every day — sometimes introducing a new attraction, sometimes a compilation of funny moments, sometimes a feature on the magic beasts. Today’s was… an interview!

Meng Le clicked on it and found that it was a joint release from Fantasy Amusement Park and Jin’an City Television.

Wow — how quickly they’d come around again. Jin’an City Television was back interviewing Fantasy Amusement Park already!

The video opened on the familiar face of reporter Fang Jiu and the bespectacled, scholarly-looking park director.

Fang Jiu held up the microphone. “Director Chi, we’ve heard that Fantasy Amusement Park’s Purple Lake possesses a mysterious power — that people who draw near to it are able to recover memories they had forgotten. Is this true? And what is the principle behind it?”

The young director smiled and said, “That’s just an effect our team produced through technology. The original intention was to give visitors who had already gone through the other three attractions and were feeling a little tired a place to rest and unwind. It certainly doesn’t have any kind of magical power.”

Fang Jiu smiled back. “And yet, in the highly talked-about family reunion case of the past few days, the long-lost daughter of the Lin family — who had been separated from her parents for fifteen years — mentioned to our reporters that it was Fantasy Amusement Park’s Purple Lake that brought back her childhood memories, which led her to realize she had been trafficked and ultimately led to her reunion with her birth parents. We’ve also spoken to quite a few other visitors before this, and they’ve mentioned that the experience at Purple Lake was exceptional — that it genuinely brought back memories of beautiful moments from their past. They said it felt just like having a wonderful dream.”

The director replied, “That must be down to the environment and atmosphere at Purple Lake — when visitors are in that kind of setting, their minds relax, and naturally they begin to recall happy memories. If Purple Lake really did have some sort of magical power, I would absolutely be advertising it as the Dream Lake or Dream-Making Lake or something like that — that would make a lot more money… Oh, you’re asking why it’s simply called Purple Lake? We actually brainstormed quite a few grand, lofty names at the start, but eventually I felt that a park is a place for people to relax and enjoy themselves. If the name is too elevated and inaccessible, it won’t leave much of an impression. Purple Lake suits the place perfectly — one glance at the name and it spreads itself around, which means more visitors, which means more money.”

Reading this, Meng Le couldn’t help but smile to herself. The director is as refreshingly candid as ever. Just then, a comment drifted across the screen: “Everyone go watch the Lin couple’s interview — this director is full of lies and you’ve all been fooled by him!” And behind that comment came a string of replies agreeing with it. Meng Le blinked in confusion for a moment, then felt a knot tighten in her chest.

Surely not — had something the director said been taken out of context and turned into a smear?

Despite having met him only once or twice, Meng Le was convinced that a person who had persisted in running this park, and who had gone so far as to preserve its old ruined landscape as the Abandoned Park, could never be that kind of person.

She quickly clicked on the video link in the comments section, which turned out to be the Lin couple’s interview. When she saw they were talking about the director having refused a ten-million-yuan thank-you gift, Meng Le let out a breath of relief.

Comment: “The director goes around saying he wants to make money, then turns around and refuses ten million. Hah. You lying man — you’ve successfully caught my attention.”

“Oh my goodness, I only just saw the family reunion program yesterday and these very people were on it. The Lin family enterprise is so wealthy — they’ve taken out advertisements every year looking for their daughter, and they’ve appeared on reunion programs so many times. They finally found her. I’m so happy for them.”

“Going from a rural girl to the heiress of a major corporation — thank goodness she was found. If she hadn’t been, her whole life would have been ruined.”

“Exactly — and that couple was already planning to marry her off for a bride price. Thank goodness Lan Lan found her birth parents.”

“I really don’t understand why people who don’t even love a child would buy one in the first place.”

“I’m from that area myself. There’s always been this feudal superstition that if a family can’t produce a son, bringing a little girl home will somehow bring a son along. I’ve heard of this family — they worked that little girl to the bone and treated her like she was less than human.”

“Thank goodness Lan Lan found her birth parents. She’s sure to have a happy life from here on.”

“By the way, is this actually just an advertisement? Is Purple Lake really that magical?”

“The Lin family enterprise has nothing to do with Fantasy Amusement Park — there’s no reason for them to advertise.”

“To the person above — Purple Lake is the real deal. That place is something else. One visit and you won’t regret it!”

Meng Le nodded along repeatedly. I want to say the same thing. Thinking this, she casually searched up the Lin family reunion case and found that the couple who had bought Lan Lan had actually shown up to make a scene, claiming that after raising her all these years they had grown attached and begging the birth parents not to take her away. Meng Le let out a scoff. As if anyone doesn’t know they just want to attach themselves to a wealthy family. At the same time, she worried that the Lins might feel obligated, for Lan Lan’s sake, to maintain some kind of relationship with the buyers. She had seen that happen plenty of times in other reunion cases — people trapped in an unbearably awkward arrangement. She dragged the progress bar to the end of the video and found that Lan Lan had firmly cut off all contact and filed a lawsuit against the buyers. Meng Le exhaled, quietly hit the like button, and murmured, “Lan Lan, well done.”

As she posted that comment, something stirred quietly in her heart. A rural girl who had been mistreated for years still found the courage to break free. And what about me? Am I really going to spend my whole life living in my parents’ shadow? My original dream was never to work as a receptionist — and it was certainly never to sit for a government exam just to give them something to show off about.

Meng Le sat there in a daze, lost in thought.

****

Over at Fantasy Amusement Park, Chi Yizhen was also lost in thought — specifically, thinking about how to build a children’s play area.

Setting up bumper cars or a merry-go-round might pass muster, but there would be nothing distinctive about it, and it wouldn’t fit the tone of Fantasy Amusement Park at all.

He didn’t even need to think about it to know exactly what would happen. After experiencing those four attractions, visitors who came across a perfectly ordinary children’s play area would be deeply puzzled, and they would come up and ask him, “Doesn’t the park have holographic technology? Why not give the kids some adorable spirit pets to interact with?”

Chi Yizhen wasn’t being paranoid. Over the past few days, as he had been going through the comments and messages left by visitors, he had already come across quite a few questions along those lines. Many visitors had expressed dissatisfaction with the park’s current policy of keeping young children out.

So what was to be done? How could he create something that had a fantastical quality, didn’t rely on magic beasts, and would still bring joy to little children? His points weren’t something to be spent carelessly. If only there were something as convenient, affordable, and endlessly renewable as the magic beasts.

Hm?

Chi Yizhen’s footsteps suddenly stopped. Wait… why couldn’t there be?