FPE Chapter 33

In the early hours of that day, a Weibo user by the name of “Living in Jin’an” suddenly posted a short piece, describing childhood memories in a nostalgic tone: “You know, all the old Jin’an locals know that place used to be a snake den! Back when they were doing urban construction, the excavators dug down and a swarm of venomous snakes came crawling out — scared everyone half to death! The foreman at the time tried every method imaginable — realgar powder, traps, you name it — and cleared out one batch, but before long more venomous snakes appeared, clinging to that spot like stubborn squatters, refusing to leave no matter what. It was downright eerie. The older generation considered it a bad omen, and after that nobody dared develop the area. Never would have thought that after all these years, the place would become so lively. I wonder if the outsiders who go there know the story — would they still dare set foot inside?” 

“Living in Jin’an” was originally an obscure account with only a few hundred followers. Posts from users like that typically generated little engagement — a handful of comments was considered lively. Yet not long after the short piece went up, a flood of users claiming to be Jin’an locals appeared to comment, like, and share.

In under an hour there were over a hundred comments. A few hours later, the comments surpassed ten thousand, with reposts and likes continuing to climb rapidly. It wasn’t long before it developed into a trending topic. From the early hours all the way through nine in the morning, the topic “That Snake Den in Jin’an” made it onto the hot search list — not at the very top, but firmly in the upper-middle range. Not particularly high-profile, yet impossible to ignore. It looked every bit like organically driven traffic from netizens themselves.

It was summer vacation. Zhang Minmin had gotten up early, gone for a run, reviewed her vocabulary words, and was now sitting at the table eating breakfast while scrolling through her phone. She enjoyed checking Weibo’s hot search rankings, believing it helped her stay current on affairs. Being a Jin’an local herself, she was naturally drawn right away to the trending topic about her hometown.

Zhang Minmin clicked in and saw the lively comment section under “Living in Jin’an”‘s post.

“No way — is the blogger being serious, or making this up? This is way too strange.”

“Living in Jin’an” quickly replied: If you don’t believe me, feel free to treat it as fiction.

And beneath that reply, even more voices chimed in:

“Is there anyone who still doesn’t know? In TV dramas and textbooks, when they talk about being banished to the southern wilderness, they’re referring to Jin’an. This place was infested back in ancient times — insects, venomous snakes, miasma, all of it. Those who got exiled here either pulled strings and fled early, or died of illness within a few years.”

“I know about this too. When I was little, my grandfather mentioned it — said Jin’an used to be crawling with venomous snakes. He said there was a family back then that refused to listen to warnings and built their house right on top of a snake den. They thought clearing out the snakes would be the end of it. But in the middle of the night, the whole family was bitten to death by snakes. Cold-blooded animals like snakes hold the deepest grudges!”

“Humans are born with a genetic fear of snakes, aren’t they? The vast majority of people are terrified of them.”

“Blogger, I’m in Jin’an right now too — tell us what place it is so I can make sure to avoid it.”

@Living in Jin’an: I’d rather not say exactly where it is — those who know, know. But don’t worry, most Jin’an locals are warm and friendly. Nobody’s going to go out of their way to point you toward a place like that.

“The blogger is being way too cautious, isn’t it obviously Fantasy Amusement Park? It’s been all over the internet lately. I took my wife and kid there, and wouldn’t you know it, we’d barely stepped into Jasmine Town when a snake bit us. The child cried their heart out, and as a father it absolutely broke me.”

That comment immediately stirred up a wave of sympathy. Many people pressed for follow-up details, and Zhang Minmin was startled too — she hurriedly clicked on the account, only to find that it had already been deactivated.

But after that, a flood of snide and insinuating comments surfaced: claiming Fantasy Amusement Park had powerful forces behind it, claiming Fantasy Amusement Park’s owner was connected to ****, claiming Fantasy Amusement Park’s owner had the entire local area under their thumb — the more outrageous, the better.

“I’m a local too. All I can say is Fantasy Amusement Park’s technology is genuinely impressive, but the owner is genuinely ruthless. I don’t dare say too much — I’m afraid this account of mine will get deactivated too.”

“I understand the blogger. We can only say things anonymously online anyway. Every local knows there are major forces behind Fantasy Amusement Park. All that stuff about inheriting grandmother’s dying wish, selling the house and car to make ends meet through hard work — it’s all fake, just a crafted image put on for everyone to see. Remember that Bilibili UP Jiang Zharen? Got taken in by the authorities — officially reported for pimping, but really it was for speaking too plainly and getting targeted by Fantasy Amusement Park. And then there’s that small private business owner who made the news, accused of stealing holographic glasses and selling them overseas. Anyone who’s been to Fantasy Amusement Park knows those holographic glasses look just like plastic frames — what kind of overseas buyer would be dumb enough to wire over a million without even receiving the goods? That was all orchestrated by Fantasy Amusement Park. Fantasy Amusement Park has this entire city under its thumb — collusion between business and government, with the local TV station personally endorsing them.”

Watching more and more unsuspecting netizens be stirred into resentment toward Fantasy Amusement Park by all this incitement, Zhang Minmin was so furious she slammed her chopsticks down on the table with a loud crack.

Her mother, who was also eating, glanced over at her. “If something’s bothering you, go punch a throw pillow. These chopsticks are ceramic — break them and you’ll cut your hand.”

Before Zhang Minmin could respond, her father suddenly exclaimed, “Hey, sweetheart, weren’t you planning to go to Fantasy Amusement Park today? I’m telling you, don’t go — Fantasy Amusement Park has blown up!”

He held his phone out to Zhang Minmin with the Weibo content on screen. She didn’t need to look to know what it was. “Dad,” she said, “my friends and I have been to Fantasy Amusement Park loads of times. None of that has ever happened. This is slander.”

Her mother added, “Information online is half-true at best. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

Talked down by both wife and daughter, Father Zhang didn’t feel embarrassed — he had the typical bystander mentality, watching for entertainment, the kind of person who could forget about something just as quickly. Still, he made sure to remind his daughter, “Maybe hold off on going for the next few days and see how things develop.”

Before he even finished speaking, Zhang Minmin let out a startled sound and held up her phone. “Fantasy Amusement Park’s official account has come out to refute the rumors! That was fast!”

****

Hai City, Yingda Technology Group Headquarters

President Chen was at that moment also following the news about Fantasy Amusement Park.

Not long ago, he had lowered himself to make a personal trip to Jin’an City. After witnessing the staggering holographic technology at Fantasy Amusement Park, he had been impatient to acquire it. But Fantasy Amusement Park’s attitude had been impossibly arrogant — the owner hadn’t even shown up in person; a mere online customer service representative had turned him down. This left President Chen seething with the humiliation of being defied by someone far beneath him. Back in Hai City, the more he thought about it, the less he could let it go — mainly because the holographic sector was an enormously lucrative piece of the pie, and domestic technology hadn’t even managed to achieve glasses-free 3D yet. For now they were only running an amusement park, but what if they decided to move into the mobile phone and gaming industries someday? Those were Yingda Technology’s biggest profit drivers.

Fantasy Amusement Park had no money, but they had rejected Yingda Technology — which meant they were almost certainly courting Hongxuan Technology. If the two of them joined forces, Hongxuan Technology would gain Fantasy Amusement Park’s technology, and it would only be a matter of time before they squeezed Yingda Technology out entirely. As the saying goes, blocking a man’s livelihood is as grave as killing his parents — where this kind of thing was concerned, no one could stay calm. That said, President Chen hadn’t taken Fantasy Amusement Park too seriously. Yingda Technology was a massive corporation; crushing a tiny little amusement park would be child’s play. A few simple moves would be enough to drive it into the ground.

What President Chen hadn’t anticipated was that such a small, unremarkable park would be so meticulous. No matter where he looked — licensing and permits, fire safety, everything — there wasn’t a single crack to exploit. Since legitimate means were off the table, he had no choice but to resort to underhanded ones.

The company had long since tipped off the media, the articles were all prepared, and that very morning employees had even been sent into Fantasy Amusement Park to film footage. The plan was to coordinate a multi-pronged attack the moment a guest was bitten by a snake, immediately dragging Fantasy Amusement Park’s reputation through the mud until it collapsed into bankruptcy. Yet he waited and waited — Fantasy Amusement Park’s operations that day proceeded without a hitch, everything calm and undisturbed, without so much as a whisper of anything going wrong.

President Chen hadn’t yet puzzled out what was happening when Fantasy Amusement Park’s official account posted surveillance footage of the snake-planting incident. It stated that using their technology, the facial features of all five individuals who had planted the snakes had been reconstructed, the police were on their way to make arrests, and it was believed that the person who had bribed them would be identified before long.

@Fantasy Amusement Park: In light of last night’s snake-planting incident and the numerous false claims circulating today, we suspect this is a coordinated conspiracy targeting Fantasy Amusement Park. Evidence has been submitted to the relevant authorities. 

President Chen’s heart lurched. Without any warning, he turned on his subordinates. “Didn’t you say that little park had no security patrols? Didn’t you say those five people carried it out without a hitch?”

The subordinate was startled and quickly said, “Don’t worry — we were extremely careful. There’s no trail leading back to us. They have no evidence. As for online, the paid commenters are keeping things under control. The traffic has been dispersed, and the high-traffic posts don’t name Fantasy Amusement Park directly. The ones that do name it haven’t reached the threshold that would constitute actionable grounds.”

As the saying goes, it takes one mouth to spread a lie and a worn-out mouth to dispel it. As long as this information kept circulating online, Fantasy Amusement Park’s reputation would never recover.

However, just as Yingda Technology’s people were breathing a sigh of relief, the central authorities suddenly issued a lengthy announcement. Its wording was highly formal, but to summarize: in order to safeguard cybersecurity and social stability, starting that day, IP location data would be displayed on all accounts.

The announcement was issued swiftly and implemented just as swiftly. Without any fanfare, the blogger nicknamed “Living in Jin’an” was exposed — their IP location showed Hai City. And not just them: every account in that topic thread that had claimed to be a Jin’an local was similarly unmasked. The IP addresses were scattered across the entire country, with one conspicuous absence — Jin’an.

At this, both casual onlookers and Fantasy Amusement Park fans erupted online, descending on “Living in Jin’an”‘s account like it was a holiday.

“Didn’t you say you’d always lived in Jin’an? Didn’t you say you were a Jin’an local? How did your IP end up in Hai City?”

“I’ve been reading this all morning and something felt off from the start. Everyone knows Fantasy Amusement Park doesn’t allow children inside — and now suddenly a kid gets bitten by a snake and dad’s heartbroken? That’s hilarious.”

“Fantasy Amusement Park really stood their ground this time! What were those snake-planters thinking — a park with technology that advanced and they thought they could actually outsmart it?”

“Speaking of children not being allowed in… I heard Fantasy Amusement Park is opening a children’s section? Is that real? Any insider info?”

And just like that, the topic veered entirely away from mocking the rumor-spreaders and into children’s play areas, with netizens rapidly spinning up a new topic calling on Fantasy Amusement Park to hurry up with the children’s section, saying they couldn’t wait to bring their kids.

While the netizens were buzzing with excitement, Jin’an City Television once again seized on the trending story and headed to the park for an interview. This time, however, the opening segment was a collection of vox pops from passersby.

The real locals the television station interviewed spanned a wide age range. The younger ones said they had never heard of any snake den in Jin’an City. One elderly woman said that many years ago there had indeed been a spot where snakes were unearthed during excavation, but it wasn’t anywhere near Fantasy Amusement Park. She said Xinghu District’s slow development had nothing to do with any snake den story — it was simply because the local government had been too poor.

At that, netizens couldn’t hold it together and burst out laughing.

“HAHAHA ‘the local government was too poor’ — that old woman is brutally honest!”

“Look at the expression of pure disdain on her face. I can already foresee a whole new wave of memes being born.”

Right after the elderly woman came a middle-aged man surnamed Wang, who was standing right in front of Fantasy Amusement Park’s main entrance, pointing proudly at the large red banner above the gate. “See this? The park director commissioned this from me — what’s that? The director has connections behind the scenes? Absolutely not. Just a kid who had it hard — lost both parents young, was raised by his grandmother. I’m his neighbor. Watched him grow up from day one!” Uncle Wang spoke with great confidence. “When the park reopened, I knew right away this kid would make something of it — knew he’d build it into something big. And look, he has! He just tends to attract envious eyes. Can’t be helped — my nephew is just that outstanding!”

In the span of a few short sentences he had gone from neighbor to nephew. Before netizens even had time to react, the same elderly woman suddenly appeared in frame. With one hand she grabbed Uncle Wang by the ear, marching him away with him yelping in pain the whole time, while she scolded him. “You little scoundrel, lying through your teeth in front of the entire country — when the park opened, you spent plenty of time mocking the kid, saying it wouldn’t last…”

Uncle Wang yelped and wailed. “Mom! You know the whole country is watching — can’t you give me a little face?”

Mother and son bickered their way off into the distance, leaving reporter Fang Jiu standing alone in frame with a speechless expression.

The comments and live chat erupted in laughter, with everyone declaring that Jin’an Television’s interviews always delivered surprises. Some people turned Uncle Wang’s before-and-after performance into a meme, with the classic caption: He was once a king. Then his mother showed up.

And funnily enough, the man’s actual surname really was Wang — once netizens discovered that detail, another wave of collective celebration broke out. The comment sections and live chat were as lively as a New Year’s celebration.

(TL: 王 → wáng → king)

At the end of the video, the reporter interviewed the park director.

Fang Jiu said, “We hear that a children’s section is coming soon — when can we expect to see it?”

The young director wasn’t wearing glasses this time. Without them, everyone noticed for the first time that what had always seemed like a gentle, refined-looking director actually had a pair of bright, almost sharp eyes. He said, “We are indeed opening a children’s section. Truthfully, the design has been ready for a long time — we were just held back by funding in the early stages… Construction began just last night. It’ll be ready to greet everyone in two days at the most. We look forward to welcoming all the children to come and play!”

Two days! Fantasy Amusement Park’s efficiency was incredible!

Netizens marveled, and then quickly reasoned that with technology advanced enough to achieve full holographics, completing a children’s section within two days was hardly extraordinary.

****

Yingda Technology had spent a considerable sum setting the whole scheme in motion — and not only had it failed to damage Fantasy Amusement Park’s reputation, it had backfired spectacularly, earning the park even more sympathy and attention, and essentially handed Fantasy Amusement Park a free round of publicity for its children’s section. President Chen of Yingda Technology watched all of this unfold and was so livid he could barely keep his face straight.

But before he could devise another plan to deal with Fantasy Amusement Park, there was a knock at his office door.

President Chen said irritably, “Who is it? Didn’t I say no interruptions!” He was also puzzled — hadn’t his secretary screened everything in advance?

Then an unfamiliar voice came from outside. “Hello, community outreach services.”

What on earth?

President Chen was about to snap at the person when something suddenly crossed his mind, and his legs went weak beneath him.