Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When humanity first learned of Hongxing Corporation, "how to maximize the acquisition of Weird Objects after becoming a Hongxing employee" was a perennial hot topic. Netizens worldwide proposed wild ideas, and even governments launched investigations. It was only later, upon discovering the abysmal success rate of joining Hongxing, that enthusiasm gradually waned.

Who would have thought that just as people despaired of ever joining Hongxing Corporation, someone actually succeeded—and right upon entering the game, no less! How could the audience not be shocked?

News spread rapidly. While Ying Yuanxing himself garnered little attention, Hongxing Corporation was a focal point. Soon, the news topped the live-streaming platform’s trending charts.

"Xia Nation Contestant Becomes a Full-Time Employee of Hongxing Corporation"

"How Important Is Hongxing Corporation, Really?"

…

Ying Yuanxing’s live stream was flooded with viewers drawn by the trending topics.

"Ahhhhhhh, it’s actually true! I thought the hot search was an exaggeration!"

"This luck is insane!"

"X Country was so smug about getting so many Weird Objects before—now it’s their turn to be green with envy!"

"So many veteran contestants lost their lives at Hongxing Corporation; being a full-time employee might be even more dangerous than an intern. Can a rookie really handle such a golden opportunity?"

Some were overwhelmed by excitement, while others grew worried. After all, the contestants who had previously applied to Hongxing Corporation were far from weak, yet they had all met tragic ends.

Ying Yuanxing was a newcomer. Even if he had awakened some ability after entering the Weird Game, he was still barely different from an ordinary person. An A-rank Weird Domain was far too dangerous for him.

"Let’s quickly figure out where he is. A batch of contestants is about to exit the game—if we can locate the streamer, maybe someone can go protect him."

"It’s the apocalypse—how are there still people with this coddled mindset? Once you enter the game, you're on your own. Why expect protection?"

"If the rookie can hold out until help arrives, there’s no harm in protection. Don’t forget, so many contestants failed their internships at Hongxing Corporation because they were blocked by full-time employees. Now, we have one of our own among them, so..."

"One becomes two, two becomes four, four becomes eight..."

"I thought I’d never see the 'Magpie Plan' implemented in my lifetime, but this surprise came out of nowhere!"

The 'Magpie Plan' was a wildly imaginative scheme brainstormed by netizens. The premise was simple: if someone managed to infiltrate Hongxing Corporation, they could use their position to recruit other human contestants, gradually forming a majority among the lower and mid-level employees to band together and push out the other Weird Entities.

Even if they couldn’t reach the upper echelons of Hongxing Corporation, dominating the lower ranks would allow them to leverage the company’s operations for humanity’s benefit.

However, due to the repeated failures in joining Hongxing Corporation, the 'Magpie Plan'—like many others—had been shelved. But now, perhaps it was time to revive it!

While some remained skeptical about the plan’s feasibility, many were exhilarated. Compared to before, there was now a glimmer of hope.

It wasn’t just ordinary viewers flooding the live stream—intelligence agents from various countries monitoring the platform also took notice. They swiftly reported the situation while keeping a close watch on the stream. If Ying Yuanxing truly held immense value, they couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity.

…

Unaware of the high expectations from the audience, Ying Yuanxing finally finished the backlog of work, only for his colleague to dump another pile of files on him the moment he tried to catch his breath. His vision swam—not as an exaggeration, but as a literal physical reaction.

No way. If he kept this up, he might just die right then and there.

Clutching his constricting chest, Ying Yuanxing began to doubt his ability to continue working. But recalling the fates of those who had lost their jobs in his memories, he decided to tough it out a little longer.

After all, his original self’s parents were already dead, and distant relatives were either out of touch or deceased. Without work, he had no one to rely on.

As for living off savings—patting the measly fifty bucks in his pocket, Ying Yuanxing let out a pained breath. If not for the company providing meals, he wouldn’t even last till next month’s paycheck. And with rent and utilities bills due, lacking money meant immediate eviction.

Sometimes, poverty was scarier than death.

Better buy some emergency heart pills to tide him over. Hospitals were out of the question, but at least medicine had fixed prices—surely he could afford that much.

As Ying Yuanxing tidied the files on his desk, preparing to stash them in the cabinet below, his gaze landed on a yellowed envelope tucked deep inside.

This envelope...

A memory surfaced—over a decade ago, his original self’s grandfather had left this letter on his deathbed, instructing him to open it only when all hope was lost. Though curious, the original self had never read it.

He carried it with him as a memento of family, and because leaving it in his dingy apartment was unsafe. Between thieves and landlords tossing belongings during rent disputes, small items like letters were easily lost.

Normally, Ying Yuanxing wouldn’t pry into someone else’s letter—even if the owner was technically himself now. The emotions tied to it weren’t his to claim.

Yet, the envelope’s appearance felt eerily familiar. And right now, he *was* at his wit’s end.

While buying medicine could serve as a temporary fix, it wouldn’t cure him. If it came down to choosing between dropping dead from overwork or starving to death, Ying Yuanxing refused to accept either fate.

Time to read the letter.

The contents were brief, yet strikingly familiar. Though some terms and names were adapted for this world, it was unmistakably the same letter from *Stardew Valley*—the one left by the grandfather at the start of the game.

Had this been any other game’s text, Ying Yuanxing might not have been so sure. But *Stardew Valley*? He’d played it countless times. There was no way he’d misrecognize the opening letter.

So, had he transmigrated into a normal world, or a game world?

If this *was* a game world, the earlier dissonance he’d felt about this place made more sense. A world this absurd would be outrageous in reality, but as a game setting? Just standard dark fantasy—there were far crazier worldviews out there.

Not that he wanted to stay here.

If he had no choice, fine. But now, he clearly had another option.

Despite his excitement, Ying Yuanxing cautiously searched online for information about Peach Creek Village. Details were scarce, but the fragments he found painted the village in a positive light.

According to his original self’s memories, Peach Creek Village *was* decent. Though he hadn’t stayed long, his last visit—before his grandfather’s passing—left him with a good impression. The villagers were relatively kind.

Well, "kind" by this world’s standards, at least.

Strangely, the tightness and radiating pain in his chest had vanished as he read the letter.

"Can mood swings really be this drastic?" Ying Yuanxing muttered, puzzled but dismissing it. He turned the letter over, searching for some magic button that would teleport him to Peach Creek Village—just like the cutscene in the game.

But no matter how long he stared, no cutscene played.

Wait a minute—

Checking his pocket money, Ying Yuanxing looked up the route to Peach Creek Village. A long-distance bus was leaving at 2 PM, and the fare was exactly fifty bucks.

The uncanny timing only reinforced his suspicion that he’d landed in a game world.

If this really was *Stardew Valley*, even in a realistic version...

Ying Yuanxing’s previously dull as ditchwater eyes lit up with hope. Without hesitation, he stood and went to find his manager.

…

"Wait, what’s happening? Why are you quitting all of a sudden?"

The audience in the livestream was stunned. They had just been fantasizing about how to take over Hongxing Company with Ying Yuanxing as their inside man, but in the blink of an eye, Ying Yuanxing announced his resignation, saying he was returning to his hometown.

Wait, what just happened?

Since Ying Yuanxing had been working diligently and the process was extremely monotonous, many viewers hadn’t paid much attention to the livestream, focusing instead on chatting in the live chat. When they suddenly heard Ying Yuanxing resigning to the manager, they couldn’t process it.

Had they really only been watching briefly, or had several days passed?

"You’re resigning?" The manager glanced at Ying Yuanxing. Hongxing Company wasn’t a place where people could come and go willy-nilly.

The manager narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Ying Yuanxing. He preferred more marbled meat and hadn’t planned to eat Ying Yuanxing immediately—the guy’s scrawny frame looked too stringy. But now that Ying Yuanxing wanted to leave, he had handed him the perfect excuse. It’d be a waste not to take advantage.

Fine, he’d start with a leg—at least there was more meat there.

The manager could tell Ying Yuanxing hadn’t been eaten by other Weird Game creatures yet, retaining his pristine flavor. Though many Weird Game beings claimed regenerated limbs tasted the same as the originals, the manager prided himself as a gourmet in the Weird Game world and insisted the first harvest was always superior. Regrown meat was like factory-farmed meat, lacking depth.

Especially when imagining Ying Yuanxing’s agony during consumption, the manager couldn’t help but swallow hard.

As the manager stood up to act, he sensed something was off. Ying Yuanxing was their employee, bound by contract. As his superior, the manager should have absolute dominance over him within Hongxing Company’s Weird Game domain. But now…

No matter how hard he tried, the manager couldn’t get closer to Ying Yuanxing.

"Manager?" Seeing the manager stand up, his face flushed, Ying Yuanxing grew puzzled and instinctively stepped forward. Was the manager having a health issue?

Before the manager could order Ying Yuanxing to back off, an immense force pressed down on him, slamming him back into his chair. To Ying Yuanxing, it looked like the manager had suddenly taken ill and lost his balance, so he hurried over even more urgently.

The manager tried to speak, to tell Ying Yuanxing to stay back, but the invisible weight pressing on his chest left him breathless. He could only watch as Ying Yuanxing drew nearer—until a loud CRACK echoed, and the chair beneath him collapsed under the pressure.

Ying Yuanxing stared at the manager, now wedged in the wreckage of the chair, unsure whether to help pull him out.

The main issue was the manager’s considerable girth—he had to weigh over 200 pounds. Ying Yuanxing worried he wouldn’t be strong enough to lift him. If he were in good health, he might’ve tried, but in his current state, exerting himself counted as heavy labor. What if it triggered another attack?

Realizing this, Ying Yuanxing took a step back and said, "Manager, hold on! I’ll call an ambulance!"

He reached for his phone to dial emergency services but paused, recalling something. Instead, he picked up the manager’s phone from the desk.

Ying Yuanxing’s retreat eased the pressure on the manager, who scrambled to get up—only to hear Ying Yuanxing’s words and see him dialing. "I’m fine!" the manager shouted in panic.

But it was too late. The call connected instantly.

"Dear customer, hello. Emergency services will be arranged immediately. Please remain where you are…"

The gentle female voice on the line made the manager's blood run cold. "Cancel! Cancel the emergency services right now!" he bellowed.

"Dear customer, are you sure you wish to cancel?" The once-gentle voice now carried a stiff, eerie chill.

"Yes, yes! Cancel it now!" the manager yelled frantically, lying flat on the ground.

"Understood. We regret to cancel your emergency request. However, due to the misuse of emergency resources, a violation fee will be issued shortly. We hope to serve you again in the future!"

Once the call ended, the manager collapsed, his face several shades paler. At least it was just a fine—if he’d actually been taken to the hospital, he’d have either been gutted or flayed alive before escaping.

Seizing the moment while Ying Yuanxing kept his distance, the manager bounced up with uncanny nimbleness, leaving Ying Yuanxing astonished.

What the hell was going on with him?

The manager stared at Ying Yuanxing warily. That crushing domination earlier hadn’t been an illusion.

"Manager?" Ying Yuanxing asked, confused.

"You’re returning to your hometown?" The manager suspected the issue lay with Ying Yuanxing’s alleged hometown.

Ying Yuanxing nodded, adding after a pause, "My grandfather left me a farm. I need to go back and inherit it."

As he spoke, Ying Yuanxing felt a strange cocktail of anticipation and anxiety—unsure if he could handle it. But compared to the bleak city life, anything had to be better than continuing this job.

"I remember your hometown is…" The manager froze mid-sentence. Why would he bother remembering an employee’s hometown? Yet now, he inexplicably knew.

As a shrewd Weird Game entity, the manager realized he’d been dragged into a high-level Weird Game domain—one far stronger than Hongxing Company’s, given how it had rewritten his memory.

Earlier, he might’ve used the resignation as an excuse to make a meal of Ying Yuanxing. Now, he just wanted him gone. Keeping him here risked sucking the manager in deeper into that terrifying domain.

Besides, Ying Yuanxing might not need his interference—entering a high-level Weird Game domain would likely end worse for him than staying at the company.

Facing the manager’s sudden pity—or gleeful malice—Ying Yuanxing was baffled. But since the manager wasn’t rushing to process his resignation, he didn’t dwell on it. Once he left the company, the manager’s thoughts wouldn’t matter.

……

With the manager’s help, the resignation process went smoothly. Ying Yuanxing even received his wages for the past few days—a modest sum of a few hundred yuan, but for someone with only fifty to his name, it was a small fortune.

After packing his belongings and buying supplies, Ying Yuanxing headed for Peach Creek Village.

Meanwhile, the livestream audience was utterly dumbfounded. Earlier, when Ying Yuanxing mentioned resigning, they’d been nervous but not panicked. After all, in the Weird Game, landing a job was tough—but quitting was damn near impossible. Choosing a job required extreme caution.

Countless newbie players had died after picking the wrong workplace.

They’d assumed there was still time—if they could locate Ying Yuanxing’s workplace and send other players to persuade him, they could stop this.

Yet while they hashed out plans, even suggesting seeking the Dawn Bureau’s intervention, Ying Yuanxing had already resigned successfully—and even gotten paid.

Had this been any other company, the audience wouldn’t have cared. But this was Hongxing Company—the golden opportunity they’d been waiting for.

Even if Ying Yuanxing insisted on leaving, delaying just a little could’ve let other players use his position as a foot in the door into Hongxing Company. That alone would’ve been a huge contribution. Instead, Ying Yuanxing had bailed way too fast.

Some viewers, who’d initially been thrilled by Ying Yuanxing, now felt bitter disappointment—even lashing out in anger.

"Who does he think he is, quitting like that? Would staying a bit longer kill him?"

"Maybe he realized he was at Hongxing Company!"

"What do you mean? I don’t get it."

"Stop fixating on Hongxing Company’s perks. Have you forgotten its dreaded reputation? It’s literally the worst-rated Weird Game domain in the Dawn Bureau’s training materials!"

"We’re watching the stream for optimal strategy, but the streamer’s a rookie. Discovering he’s in the most dangerous company—no wonder he bolted!"

"If he’d just stayed a few more days, someone could’ve replaced him. Was that too much to ask?"

"That's rich coming from you. If you were sent to a normal Weird Game domain right now, with promised extraction in a few days, would you go?"

These reality checks snapped some viewers to attention, and the whining in the live chat dwindled. While a few still grumbled, others spoke up in his defense.

"The streamer doesn’t know the outside situation or that people want to take his place. Survival instinct kicks in."

"People say someone would’ve saved him, but who knows how long that’d take? Inter-region travel in the Weird Game is suicide."

"If the Dawn Bureau pulled out all the stops, they could send help within days. But in the Weird Game, days can change everything. Newbies gotta prioritize staying alive."

Watching the chat settle down with some moderation, the staff behind the scenes sighed in relief.