Chapter 2: Matchstick

Before Zhao Ping planned to release a few breaths of carbon dioxide to calm his nerves, the blue interface changed again, and a row of information suddenly appeared.

[Host: Zhao Ping]

[Age: 23]

[Strength: 6]

[Agility: 8]

[Endurance: 5]

[Health: 7]

[Reputation: 20013]

[Level: Master level not yet obtained]

[Remaining items in storage: 'Basic Cosmic Low-Level Skills Book']

"What the heck? Why does it feel like a character attribute panel in a game?"

Zhao Ping felt that he possessed the most basic qualities to become a talented designer—he was thick-skinned. After confirming that this inexplicable thing posed no threat to him, he gladly accepted it, believing it to be some kind of cutting-edge technology game that had yet to become mainstream.

Hmm... that's quite interesting. It's actually a void projection; could this be the legendary holographic imaging technology? However, where is the launch site? How were those few weak attributes with single-digit values calculated? What is reputation, anyway? Why is it so high? What is the level of craftsmanship? Wait, the warehouse...

Thinking about the things still in the warehouse, Zhao Ping tried to gently swipe his finger across the blue panel, and surprisingly, it actually worked! In a warehouse interface made up of a nine-grid layout, Zhao Ping indeed saw a thick book in the first grid, and there were even two options next to it—Learn or Discard.

At this moment, Zhao Ping was undoubtedly captivated by this unheard-of high-tech product. He instinctively thought about "devouring" that book on the low-level skills of the universe, but then he remembered that he was about to attend an interview, so he ultimately held back. What if, after eating it right now, I can't save any time? Wouldn't that imply that I'm wasting a skill book for nothing?

As a seasoned professional player, he would absolutely never make such a basic strategic blunder.

The car suddenly stopped, and Zhao Ping knew he had arrived at his destination. Still feeling a bit unsatisfied, he clicked on the upper right corner, and the blue interface disappeared as expected. Then, in the driver's expression that seemed to say, "Are you kidding me?" he wiped away the nonexistent wis

June is the hottest time of the year in Chongqing, with the sun scorching the earth and the rolling heat waves distorting the air, creating a sense of déjà vu from a science fiction world.

From the curb to the automatic doors of the building, Zhao Ping, dressed in a black suit, looked like a human solar panel. If he had a light bulb installed on his head, he could probably generate electricity.

When the spotless automatic door slowly opened and the cool air rushed in, Zhao Ping let out a rather unremarkable groan.

The lobby was crowded, and a long line had formed of those coming for interviews. This lively scene was entirely within Zhao Ping's expectations. After all, this was Yun Chuang, a top-tier company with hundreds of design patents. It was said that any designer plucked from here could potentially be a millionaire—envy-inducing Holding an electronic receipt numbered 75, Zhao Ping stood neatly at the end of the line, only to suddenly notice that the girl in front of him was actually able to score 80 points, which instantly sparked his interest.

The dream fish was startled, turned its head, and discovered a tall, slender boy with an innocent expression standing behind it. It smiled and said, "Peking University, how about you?"

"Me? Hehe... I'm about the same, Tsinghua." Zhao Ping spoke with a calm face and an unflinching heart, but inside he was feeling a bitterness he couldn't express. Isn't this competition just too fierce?

"So you're a friend from Tsinghua; cheers to that." Peking University and Tsinghua are like close buddies, and meeting each other in this distant place is a kind of fate. Shen Mengyu Zhao Ping was skillfully wiping off the grease without leaving a trace, all the while pretending to have a righteous demeanor.

The two chatted casually, and time passed at a comfortable pace. As arranged by the staff, Shen Mengyu entered the interview room holding a delicate little leather suitcase. Zhao Ping gave her a thumbs-up, but after his gaze swept over the suitcase with two rows of combination locks, his inner sense of crisis intensified.

"Number 75: Zhao Ping."

The interview was about to begin. Zhao Ping straightened his collar, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them wide and strode forward, stepping into another room, leaving everyone with a desolate silhouette.

The room is simply arranged, with an oval conference table where three interviewers are seated, and nameplates are placed on the table.

Zhao Ping was smiling and getting ready to greet them, but unexpectedly, the female interviewer in the middle, Jiang Yaqi, frowned after looking at the information in her hands and said, "Southwest University of Finance and Economics? Why is a school like this even hiring?"

Hey! Dude, what's with this wicked temper? What kind of school is Southwest University of Science and Technology? It's still an undergraduate institution, right? Even if it's just a third-tier university, it's still your buddy's alma mater. How can you slander it like that?

Of course, these thoughts were something Zhao Ping only dared to ponder in his heart. The smile on his face remained unchanged as he said, "Respected leaders, I am Zhao Ping from Southwest University of Finance and Economics. I look forward to your guidance."

"Alright, let's look at the interview work; there are still over a dozen top university graduates waiting behind. "Jiang Yaqi waved her hand somewhat impatiently, as if she wanted to quickly get through this routine.

The other two male interviewers remained silent, wearing expressions that suggested they could not deny the situation. In their hearts, they suspected a political department oversight because three graduates could not be recruited.

Although Zhao Ping felt a bit bitter inside, he thought about his future and decided to endure it. He then seriously took out a pack of Longfeng Chengxiang from his pocket, which he had saved up for several days by tightening his belt. After all, for such an important occasion, a pack of Da Qianmen that cost two yuan Jiang Yaqi glanced at the cigarette in his hand and instantly flew into a rage. In such a big world, there are all kinds of people; does he really think he's some kind of free-spirited smoker?

Each college student is more cunning than the last when it comes to these shady practices, even though they don't study hard!

It is evident that Jiang Yaqi believes Zhao Ping is preparing to send them cigarettes in order to smooth things over' in their relationship.

What surprised her was that the young man in front of her, after pulling out a cigarette, didn't seem to have any intention of "enjoying" it. Instead, with a familiar gesture—gently tapping one side of the cigarette box with two fingers—he popped out a cigarette and, with

Having said that, under the puzzled gazes of the three, Zhao Ping slightly tilted the cigarette case in his hand, revealing a deep brown sticker on the side.

"Its name is Matchstick Sticker, a perfect combination of matches and cigarettes. With it, you can completely abandon lighters; after all, smoking without fire is quite

Looking at his confident demeanor, Jiang Yaqi felt an overwhelming anger rise within her. She stood up abruptly and said without any mercy, "Is this what you call design? Making it easier to smoke? Making air pollution worse? Cause people to die faster?"

"Leader, I believe that smoking is a personal choice. When the craving hits, one can start a fire with just a piece of wood; how can a small matchstick like me change that? I'm simply approaching this from the perspective of design to improve lives, seeking some benefits for countless smokers. "Zhao Ping said he was somewhat dissatisfied. "That's just sophistry, utter nonsense! The original intention of the design is to improve the quality of life, not to hasten people's deaths."

"Leader, I can only say, if you don't smoke, you wouldn't understand."