Chapter 1: Job Hunt

Triangle Banyan City, Outskirts.

A fine curtain of rain enveloped the entire city, the scent of sulfur and rust lingering in the air.

After the Great Catastrophe, civilization suffered irreversible destruction. 

Human habitation shrank significantly, forcing the construction of numerous underground buildings to escape extreme natural disasters.

The remaining habitable cities, apart from the Core City—rumored to house the greatest technological advancements—were categorized into three levels: first-tier, second-tier, and third-tier.

Third-tier cities were largely functional, often built to serve specific purposes such as mining or agriculture. 

In contrast, second-tier and higher cities retained structures reminiscent of pre-catastrophe urban landscapes.

Triangle Banyan City, where Xu Dengming resided, was classified as a second-tier city, further divided into inner and outer districts.

According to online descriptions, second-tier cities were less prosperous than first-tier ones, and their population was relatively limited. 

Nevertheless, the city’s administrative bureau still invested substantial funds annually into various developments. 

For instance, the Sixteen-Leaf Welfare Institute on the outskirts—established just five years ago—had already ceased accepting new children and was preparing for relocation to a new district.

Through the rain, the institute’s entrance was faintly visible, a notice pasted at the gate declaring its temporary closure to new admissions. 

Raindrops blurred the black ink on the white paper, distorting the phrase “Creating a Better Future for Every Child” into an illegible mess. 

Only the words “Welcoming Donations from Kind-hearted Individuals” and the contact information at the bottom remained clear.

Ordinary printed paper, it seemed, could not withstand the corrosive acid rain.

Xu Dengming had read about it in scientific reports—how acid rain, acid fog, and extreme cold were all residual effects of the Great Catastrophe. 

Many who had no choice but to venture out on rainy days wore an extra layer of rain gear under their umbrellas to prevent their clothes and skin from eroding.

Unfortunately, Xu Dengming had forgotten to bring any rain gear.

She sat on a weathered bench outside an old office building, absently crushing an empty can labeled “Nutrient Solution Flavored Beverage” before tossing it into a nearby trash bin.

Thunk.

The can landed precisely inside.

These drinks, apart from quenching thirst, were infamous for their unbearable taste. 

Originally developed to help the public adapt to nutrient solution diets, they were produced cheaply and often distributed for free to citizens. 

Given the public’s growing aversion to nutrient-based food, Xu Dengming suspected the drink would soon be phased out entirely.

The sharp taste jolted her into a slight wakefulness. 

She recalled that when she left home earlier, the weather had been fine—who could have guessed the sudden downpour would last this long?

She pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen. Only one bar of signal remained. She tried refreshing the page, but just as expected—the last bar of signal vanished entirely.

It was a common issue. 

Whenever it rained, the city’s communication networks deteriorated.

Besides, Xu Dengming’s phone was an old model—heavy, power-hungry, and minimalistic in features.

A gust of wind swept through the corridor, carrying the acrid smell of acid rain. 

Xu Dengming pocketed her phone, stretched her joints lazily, and prepared to head inside the building for shelter.

As she stepped forward, she abruptly halted, her gaze catching a recruitment flyer pinned to the wall near the staircase.

She was currently a senior in college, set to graduate by mid-next year. 

Unlike her classmates—some of whom had already secured jobs while others had the luxury of not worrying about employment—Xu Dengming had been through multiple interview rounds but still had not received an offer.

Fortunately, she had managed to pay off her student loans through part-time jobs and scholarships. 

Otherwise, the moment she lost her student status, she would have been forcibly relocated to a third-tier city, subjected to mandatory job assignments.

Crossing her arms, she curiously examined the flyer.

“Gaming Studio Hiring Testers – No Education or Experience Required. Interested Applicants, Please Inquire at Room 201.”

There were no details on salary, working hours, or benefits—just a vague and empty listing that all but announced the studio’s impending bankruptcy.

Xu Dengming glanced back at the rain and chuckled before stepping onto the stairs.

***

Dim light pressed down like a heavy blanket.

Though it was still early evening, the thick clouds overhead made it seem as though she were walking through a waterlogged old photograph.

The office building was eerily quiet, her footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. 

She knocked on the door of Room 201.

No response.

The door opened automatically.

Inside, the single desk held a lone CD and a note: “Applicants, please bring the game CD to Room 206 for testing.”

Xu Dengming hesitated before picking up the disc, convinced now that the studio was not on the brink of bankruptcy but already there.

Room 206 was on the opposite side of the hallway. 

A worn-out wooden sign on the door read “Prospective Employee Workspace.” 

The wooden surface was chipped and peeling, giving off an air of imminent collapse.

‘The job market must be bad if this is my best option.’

The door was unlocked.

Xu Dengming stepped inside. 

The corridor outside was dim, but the room’s lighting was even worse.

She raised an eyebrow, turning back toward the door. 

It had shut behind her—without a sound.

For an old wooden door, it should have at least creaked.

She studied it for a moment before lowering her gaze, lost in thought.

“…New here?”

A voice broke the silence.

Xu Dengming turned toward the sound.

The room contained only two desks. 

A burly man in his thirties, wearing a stained tank top, sat at one of them.

The screen’s glow illuminated his pale, unhealthy-looking face. 

He barely glanced at her before nodding toward the vacant desk. 

“That’s yours.”

An ashtray brimming with cigarette butts sat on his desk. 

The air smelled stale.

Xu Dengming nodded politely, setting her bag down before asking, “Can we open a window?”

“Broken,” the man grunted.

He wiped his sweaty face with his shirt before fanning himself lazily.

Xu Dengming considered for a moment. 

“How about the door?”

This time, he didn’t bother answering. 

He just shook his head swiftly, emitting an irritated snort.

She glanced around. 

The room’s only window was behind her desk, directly opposite the bathroom door. 

Through it, she could see the overcast sky. 

Across the street stood an arcade, its neon sign spelling out “LE FAN TIAN” in glaringly bright letters.

With no better option, she took her seat.

She booted up the old computer—it even had a disc drive—and loaded the game.

A retro-styled game screen popped up:

“Test Game 1: Loading… Please Wait.”

A moment later, the game began.

“Game Title: Escape the Room”

“Genre: Single-Player RPG Adventure”

“Countdown: 00:59:59.”

The pixelated game window locked into full screen. 

No settings, no menu, just a tiny character trapped in a room.

Xu Dengming tried opening cabinets and boxes—nothing.

She frowned.

‘Great. Another terrible game.’

***

The surface of the canned beers bore no brand names—only a list of ingredients, alcohol content, and a single red warning line:

“This product contains alcohol. Consumption may lead to excitement, increased blood pressure, dizziness, and frequent urination. Please drink in moderation.”

Xu Dengming wiped the sweat from her face, feeling a fresh wave of heat creeping over her.

She stood by the window and looked outside. 

Across the street, the arcade was as deserted as before. 

Nothing had changed since the first time she saw it. 

The three large characters—”Le Fantian”—dominated the window space, nearly covering the glass entirely, pressing in with an almost suffocating force.

The burly man in the room paid no attention to her movements. 

His eyes remained glued to the screen.

Xu Dengming picked up two cans of beer and placed them on the man’s desk.

Finally, he looked up. 

First at the beer, then at her.

“For me?” 

He asked, guessing her intent.

Xu Dengming nodded.

The man hesitated. 

“You’re not drinking?”

She swallowed back the sarcastic remark—”Drinking on the spot while job-hunting would be admitting I have too high a chance of getting an offer.” 

Instead, she simply offered a truth:

“I usually don’t drink.” 

Then, politely, she added, “It’s too stuffy in here. I’m going to wash my face.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked into the washroom and shut the door behind her.

Inside, a single yellowing light bulb flickered dimly. 

The walls were lined with old but clean tiles. 

A toilet, a sink, and a wooden cabinet took up the limited space.

Xu Dengming surveyed the room. 

Behind the sink, she noticed something odd—one section of the pipe was a different color from the rest. 

It looked like a recent replacement.

After a brief moment of thought, she opened the wooden cabinet beside the sink. 

Tilting her head upward, she checked the top shelf. 

Empty. 

But the bottom shelf held a few tools—a screwdriver and a discarded, old section of the replaced pipe.

She narrowed her eyes.