FPE Chapter 28

Before the park opened today, Chi Yizhen’s points — which had numbered over forty thousand — were down to seven thousand nine hundred after he’d spent them building the perimeter wall and setting up the “naked-eye holographic” system.

Those seven thousand nine hundred points were more than enough to build two experience zones from scratch, each roughly the size of the Abandoned Park, which would both increase the park’s visitor capacity and deliver on the promises he’d made on Weibo. But just as he was about to click confirm, he paused while staring at the park map, because he had thought of a game he used to play — and remembered how the game had always emphasized to him what a park was supposed to be.

At first, he had wanted to transplant the mechanics of online games into the park. After all, his park was unlike an ordinary one — it sat on top of a breach in the world’s barrier, and that breach was continuously expanding at a rate he couldn’t handle alone. Using the guise of a game, treating the magical beasts as game creatures, mobilizing the entire population to participate in the monster-fighting cause, dissolving the crisis within the joy of gameplay, everyone growing stronger together — by the time the otherworldly evil gods noticed the breach, Earth would at least stand a fighting chance. That was the ideal.

As it turned out, that step had not been a mistake. The park was indeed heading in a good direction, and his level had effortlessly risen to Level 4.

But if things stayed this way, Fantasy Amusement Park would only barely qualify as “fantasy” — it wouldn’t really resemble a park at all. Rather than calling it a park, it would be more accurate to call it a large-scale offline live-action competitive gaming arena. The former could encompass the latter, but the latter could never stand in for the former.

“Hiss! Game — if I keep going down this path, won’t I be seriously going off-topic?”

[Yes.]

“What happens if I go off-topic?” Chi Yizhen’s imagination ran wild. “Going off-topic in an essay means a serious fail — if I go off-topic running a park, will I just drop dead?”

[No.]

Chi Yizhen had just breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the game continue: [The player will likely become an underdeveloped pseudo-deity.]

A question mark hung over Chi Yizhen’s head. “And what does that mean?”

[You will probably turn into something very strange.]

Chi Yizhen had a revelation. So the game was taking a Lovecraftian route. He imagined himself collapsing into a pile of pixelated mosaic, and without thinking, clutched his throw pillow tighter. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

The game did not answer, but Chi Yizhen already understood what it meant. Just like the prerequisite game at the very beginning, this was a screening — it only counted if he passed on his own. If he couldn’t pass the test, then dying was exactly what he deserved.

He’d drag this wretched game out and beat it sooner or later.

With that thought in mind, Chi Yizhen deleted with a single click the experience zones he’d spent no small number of brain cells designing, then opened the game’s CG that he had watched at the very beginning.

The CG for God Cultivation Strategy was exquisitely crafted — otherwise Chi Yizhen wouldn’t have been lured into completing the prerequisite tasks in the first place — but ever since he’d learned that the contents of the game’s CG were drawn from the actual history of another world, his mindset had been completely different from before.

In his former life as a gaming streamer, Chi Yizhen had played plenty of games on the market. He himself was the type who couldn’t be bothered to watch cutscenes or look into character backstories and just preferred to dive straight in — but he also knew that the players most devoted to a game were always those who had carefully watched every cutscene and thoroughly explored every character’s background. Because no matter how stunning the animation or how dazzling the special effects, they could only deliver a fleeting sense of wonder. The moment better content appeared on the market, players would quickly be pulled away. Only a story that touched the heart could sustain a game’s lasting popularity.

That was also why most online games on the market went to great lengths to craft their stories and narratives. And it wasn’t just games — the same was true of parks. Hadn’t the world-renowned Disney Amusement Park always been in the business of creating stories? They didn’t just absorb fairy tales into their universe — they regularly created new cartoon characters, storylines, and films!

So if his park wanted to leave a lasting impression, relying on “holographics” alone wasn’t going to cut it. After all, one knew one’s own situation best — what he had was a fake holographic system.

With a story, the park would have a skeleton. Only then could it leave a deeper mark on people. And once its influence expanded, the story could be adapted into films, earning licensing fees, and then he’d make his fortune and rise to the pinnacle of life — cough, cough. In short, he needed to start preparing a story.

But crafting a truly moving story was not something that could be done overnight, and right now he had no spare funds to hire a team to create one. That said, it didn’t matter — he had a ready-made source library. He could simply transplant the history of that other world and use it directly to build something.

So he extracted a few segments from the CG, and based on one of those segments, he built Jasmine Town.

A park was a place that brought people joy and happiness. It needed a heart-pounding story, it needed monster-fighting attractions to get the adrenaline pumping — but it also needed spaces where people could unwind. Otherwise, with nothing but fighting and killing everywhere, it wouldn’t feel like a park at all.

Chi Yizhen thought it over and opened the in-game shop.

There was no such thing as a game without a shop in this world, and God Cultivation Strategy was naturally no exception. This wasn’t Chi Yizhen’s first time opening the shop either — he’d previously sourced the tools for designing buildings from there — but this time when he opened it, he noticed that the shop’s inventory had shifted slightly. Perhaps because the park had been maintaining its holographic disguise all along, the shop now stocked a few items to help him keep up the pretense. He scanned through, and spent five hundred points on an item called the “Eye of Memory” — a device that could store what it had seen, then project the recorded images upon the next time it was opened, essentially functioning as a mid-air holographic projector.

He then spent all of his remaining five thousand points purchasing the scenic Purple Lake. True to its name, those who drew near the scenic Purple Lake would involuntarily recall the most beautiful and joyful moments of their lives, slipping into a pleasantly dazed state — relaxed and euphoric, as though drifting through a wonderful dream.

Once he confirmed the construction, the game’s notification chime sounded in succession.

[Congratulations, player, on constructing Jasmine Town. Rewarding 2,000 EXP.]

[Congratulations, player, on constructing Purple Lake. Rewarding 4,000 EXP.]

Chi Yizhen used those 6,000 experience points to level up to Level 5, and the Level 5 magical beasts that had been restlessly jostling at the mouth of the breach, eager to squeeze through, were instantly suppressed and pushed back down.

The flashback ended there.

Chi Yizhen followed Chen Hui toward the staff office, asking as they walked, “Tell me more about that girl — what exactly is going on?” There’s no logic to it, he thought. Anyone who walks near Purple Lake should be reminded of happy things and feel cheerful. Why would there be a girl sobbing her heart out there? He’d been preoccupied dealing with the character card situation earlier and hadn’t paid close attention — but now it had escalated to the point of calling the police, and no matter how he looked at it, it wasn’t a good sign. Could that girl actually be an actress sent by a rival to sabotage Fantasy Amusement Park’s reputation?

To be able to cry like that next to Purple Lake — and cry that miserably — this actress would have to be incredibly talented!

By now it was past five in the afternoon. In summer, the sky stayed light late, and even at this hour, the park was still bathed in bright sunshine.

Chen Hui said, “She says her name is Zhao Xiaomei, but she isn’t Zhao Xiaomei — she was trafficked. She never had any memory of her real family before, but today, when she got to the Purple Lake area, it all suddenly came back to her. The thing is, she was so young when she was taken that she only remembers her birth parents calling her Lan Lan — she has no idea what the address was.”

Hearing this, Chi Yizhen relaxed considerably. As long as she wasn’t sent by a rival to make trouble, that’s fine.

By then, the staff office had come into view. He stepped in first and saw the girl sitting in a chair with her head bowed, accompanied by Meng Xiaodai — she looked timid and frightened.

“Little sister, do you remember how old you were when you were taken?” Meng Xiaodai asked her.

The girl said with certainty, “Three years old.”

Meng Xiaodai was slightly surprised. “You remember that so clearly — do you remember where your home was?”

Zhao Xiaomei shook her head at that, her expression turning sad. “I don’t remember.”

Chen Hui lowered her voice and said to Chi Yizhen, “Director, a three-year-old child wouldn’t have any real memories. And why would she suddenly remember now, of all times? Don’t you think there’s something off about this girl? We should probably just call the police and let them handle her.”

Calling the police is the right call, Chi Yizhen thought inwardly, but there are so many missing children across the country, and even more who went missing at age three — after all, children that age aren’t as hard to handle as infants under one or two, and they don’t form memories yet, which makes them easier to raise once trafficked. Calling the police probably won’t reunite this child with her family anytime soon.

Chen Hui’s voice was quiet, but the office was fairly still, and Zhao Xiaomei still caught it. She immediately shook her head. “Everything I said is true. I’m not lying.”

Chi Yizhen hurried to reassure her. “I know you’re not lying. Don’t worry — we’ll help you.”

Chen Hui didn’t know what Purple Lake actually did, so her skepticism was perfectly natural, and on top of that, an employee being cautious was also looking out for the park’s best interests. He turned to Chen Hui. “Go ahead and call the police. When they arrive, bring them straight to the office.”

Chen Hui agreed and stepped out. Chi Yizhen pulled a chair over and sat down beside Zhao Xiaomei. “Do you have anything from when you were little? I think the more evidence there is, the easier it’ll be to find your family.”

Zhao Xiaomei was clearly very timid — whenever she looked at someone, it was either a quick, furtive glance before dropping her gaze again, or she simply didn’t dare make eye contact at all. But in this moment, the longing to return to her real family gave her a measure of courage. Thinking back on the memories that had surfaced at Purple Lake, she lifted her voice slightly. “I just remember that my family was probably pretty well-off, but anything I had from when I was little — I lost all of it.”

Chi Yizhen wasn’t surprised. What could a three-year-old possibly understand? Even if the girl herself hadn’t lost those things, the “foster parents” would have thrown away her original belongings to keep her from ever remembering.

He wasn’t discouraged by the lack of leads, and instead asked inwardly, “Game, do you know anything about this girl’s background?”

The game said nothing.

Chi Yizhen: “Didn’t you say that anyone who buys a ticket to enter the park becomes a believer? She paid fifty yuan to get in! Look at what she’s wearing — it’s obvious her circumstances aren’t comfortable. Fifty yuan might well be her entire week’s living expenses. What a devoted believer she is — once she finds her wealthy birth parents, she’ll definitely be willing to donate ten thousand yuan to the park as an offering!”

Ten thousand yuan seemed to move the game — even its mechanical voice came out a pitch higher. [Are you serious?]

Chi Yizhen didn’t hesitate. “Of course!” But inwardly he couldn’t help laughing. What was this game’s intelligence level? Even if the girl were willing to make an offering, the money wouldn’t go into its pocket!

The game, however, could not hear Chi Yizhen’s internal grumbling, and it replied: [Player’s Foresight skill has reached Level 5. You may try using it.]

Chi Yizhen paused briefly. Right — even though the Foresight skill came from a character card, the character cards were his own creation, which meant the character cards’ skills were his to use as well. And because he was the owner, his skill level was higher than that of the character cards themselves. Sal could currently only foresee two or three days into the future for a specific event, whereas his own range had already reached one week.

Chi Yizhen thought for a moment, then pretended to offer comfort as he raised his hand and patted the girl on the shoulder — in reality, he was quietly activating the Foresight skill.

The next instant, a vivid scene unfolded before his eyes. He saw the police take the girl away, pulling archival records of missing persons over the years and cross-referencing them against her. Because the girl remembered her name before being trafficked, the search scope narrowed considerably — but even so, there were over a dozen sets of parents waiting to be verified, since “Lan Lan” was not an uncommon nickname, and the chance of duplicates was considerable.

The process was far from smooth. Because Zhao Xiaomei claimed to have been trafficked yet had no evidence beyond her own memory, the police naturally had to summon her current guardians for questioning. The family she’d grown up in was rotten to the core — her “foster parents” practiced severe gender discrimination, hadn’t let Zhao Xiaomei finish middle school, and had her falsely declare herself an adult to go out and work, while their son was enrolled in a private middle school at great expense. The brother at home was plump and well-fed; she was scrawny as a bundle of dry kindling. When her “foster parents” were brought to the police station and learned that Zhao Xiaomei had filed the report, they immediately gave her a hard slap that left her ear bleeding, then grabbed her by the ear and declared they were going to discipline this ungrateful wretch.

The station officers moved to intervene, but the couple insisted that Zhao Xiaomei had filed a false report — claiming she was retaliating against the family for the marriage they’d arranged for her — and produced a birth certificate along with several fellow villagers to jointly testify that Zhao Xiaomei was their biological child.

Fortunately, there were clear-headed people at the station who didn’t allow the “foster parents” to take Zhao Xiaomei away, and instead kept her detained at the station…

Chi Yizhen watched to this point and, seeing that his one-week Foresight window was drawing to a close while Zhao Xiaomei’s birth parents had still not appeared, began to feel somewhat anxious. Finally, he waited long enough to see a couple with a faint resemblance to Zhao Xiaomei arrive — but on their way to get the paternity test, they were struck by a car accident and both lost their lives…

Chi Yizhen: ……

His feelings were complicated. Which deity had this girl offended? How could her fate be this cruel?

His hand had lingered on the girl’s shoulder a bit too long. She was timid, but she wasn’t foolish — when she looked up at him, her eyes carried a trace of wariness.

Chi Yizhen quickly withdrew his hand. He wanted to smile, but having just witnessed this girl’s future, he genuinely couldn’t manage it. Just at that moment, Chen Hui came in with the police officers. Chi Yizhen shook each of their hands in turn, then said, “Looking at this girl, she reminds me a bit of a businessperson I once encountered in Jiangsu. I think if you’re looking for her family, that might be a good direction to start.”

The officer who had come this time was the same one who had handled the eyeglasses theft case at Fantasy Amusement Park before. Since the previous report and evidence submission had all been done online, this was actually his first time meeting the park director in person — not that a screen counted. He hadn’t expected the director to look even younger in person than on screen, resembling a current university student. He noted the remark and took it to heart without asking further — as far as he was concerned, someone who could run such a successful park must have family support behind them. The distance between Jin’an City and the Jiangsu-Zhejiang area wasn’t small, but having business connections there wasn’t unusual.

Three years old at the time of disappearance, a nickname of “Lan Lan,” and the search range suddenly narrowing from the entire country down to Jiangsu — finding someone was going to be much easier now. Still, the police didn’t confine their search to Jiangsu alone, though Jiangsu was the first place they notified.

Unlike what Chi Yizhen had foreseen, this time — with the support of Fantasy Amusement Park’s director — the police didn’t immediately summon Zhao Xiaomei’s “foster parents,” and so the scenes he had witnessed in his vision never came to pass.

Chi Yizhen followed the situation closely. The moment the Jiangsu couple arrived, he kept his eyes on them. Their arrival came five days earlier than his vision had predicted, and only when he watched them smoothly receive the paternity test results did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.

During the time he spent following this matter, he naturally hadn’t set the park’s operations aside either. But since the park now had a strong reputation and a full staff, it didn’t require his constant supervision. He made use of the game’s newly developed feature to operate two character cards simultaneously within the park while managing other things at the same time. At first, being unfamiliar with it, he nearly caused the two characters to cross over — but thankfully his personal level was two full levels above the character cards’, so no disaster occurred. Even so, the character cards’ prestige was rising a little too fast, and Chi Yizhen was perpetually worried that the characters weren’t fully developed enough — a concern that cost him more than a few hairs.

Four days passed like this. On the morning of the fifth day, the moment Fantasy Amusement Park’s staff opened the gates, they were startled by the spectacle before them.

Lined up at the entrance was an enormous procession of lion dancers. The instant they saw the park open, gongs and drums began to ring out as the dancers launched into their performance — and it wasn’t just lion dancing, there was also confetti tossing and flower basket arrangements.

Fantasy Amusement Park had been doing very well lately, and early-morning visitors lining up to buy tickets had already become routine. When the local visitors caught sight of the lion dance performance at the entrance, they laughed cheerfully and said, “Looks like the park is really rolling in money now — they’ve finally got around to a proper opening ceremony.”

“Right? I still remember how broke they were when they first opened — not even a flower basket at the door. The director had to come out and sell the tickets himself!”

“Not just the director — his wife had to go out and hand out flyers on the street too!”

Chi Yizhen heard the commotion and came running out — and upon hearing this, a head full of question marks appeared over him. The people’s imagination truly knows no bounds, he thought.

The staff member who had opened the gates asked him what was going on. I have no idea either, Chi Yizhen thought, though at that very moment, the door of a luxury car parked not far away swung open, and a middle-aged couple stepped out, along with a freshly dressed-up Zhao Xiaomei.