Chapter 2: Past Life
Zhao Lingfeng drifted in a black void twinkling with motes of light. Unconsciously, he reached out and memories long buried stirred. In the next moment, he was pulled into a long dream of a distant past…
A familiar basement.
Laughter echoed, mingling with the soft whir of computer fans and the rapid clicking of mechanical keyboards. On the large table, five monitors flashed intensely, their glow spilling over scattered soft drink cans and half-empty bags of chips.
It was the familiar scenery of the good old days.
"Feng! Stop facetanking everything like an idiot!" Gao Ning's voice cracked with exasperation. "I can't heal through stupid!"
Seventeen-year-old Zhao Lingfeng leaned forward in his chair, the excitement of the mini-raid making his heart race. The boss's health bar had just dropped below twenty percent.
"Trust your brother! Zhao Lingfeng called back, his character weaving through waves of crimson attacks. "I've got this shit in the bag. The boss's pattern changes at fifteen percent. If we don't push damage now, we'll hit the enrage timer!"
"Yeah yeah," Lee Huiliang muttered from his position by the mini-fridge, though his archer hadn't missed a single shot. "We all know you just want to show off that legendary armor set you grinded three weeks for."
The familiar banter wrapped around Zhao Lingfeng like a warm blanket.
Here, in Dong Bolin's basement-turned-gaming-sanctuary, the pressures of the outside world felt distant and manageable. University entrance exams loomed on the horizon like storm clouds, but for these precious weekend hours, they were just five friends chasing glory in another world.
"Speaking of grinding," Dong Bolin piped up, his paladin's shield glowing with divine energy, "did anyone actually study for Monday's physics test?"
A collective groan rose from the assembled players.
"Don't remind me, damn it," Xiao Jun sighed, his mage launching another volley of fire bolts. "My mom's already threatened to sell my computer if I don't get at least ninety percent."
"Ninety?" Lee Huiliang scoffed. "Brother? You have it easy. Mine's expecting nothing less than perfect scores from here till graduation. If I don't… I'm afraid she might bring back the belt again…"
Afterwards, there was a moment of silence.
However, Zhao Lingfeng's fingers did not stop moving.
They swiftly tapped strokes after strokes through his perfect bindings, muscle memory taking over as his warrior executed a perfect damage rotation. "Hey, we're learning valuable life skills here. Teamwork, resource management, statistical analysis..."
"Yeah, try putting 'Expert at calculating optimal DPS rotations' on your college application," Gao Ning snickered. "I'm sure Peking University will—OH SHIT DODGE!"
The boss unleashed its ultimate attack, filling the screen with deadly purple flames. But they'd practiced this gameplay a hundred times. Without needing to speak, the party moved as one, perfectly timed dodges and coordinated cooldowns.
"Now!" Feng called out, recognizing the brief vulnerability window. "Time to unleash our ULTS, go all out! Don't save anything!"
The basement erupted in a chorus of triumphant shouts as five sets of hands flew across keyboards and mice. On screen, their characters unleashed everything they had, their combined abilities turning the dark battlefield into a surge of bright colors.
In that moment, watching their damage numbers soar and hearing his friends' excited chatter, Zhao Lingfeng felt truly alive. This was what it meant to be part of something bigger than yourself, to know that four other people had your back completely.
"Ten percent!" Xiao Jun called out.
"Five!" Lee Huiliang added, his voice rising with excitement.
"Just. One. More. Push!" Zhao Lingfeng gritted through clenched teeth.
The boss's health bar emptied.
The victory fanfare played.
Five teenagers leaped from their chairs with whoops of joy, high-fiving and playfully punching each other's shoulders.
"LET'SSSS GOOOOOO RANK 1 ON THE SERVER!" Dong Bolin screamed, practically bouncing off the walls. "WE ACTUALLY BEAT THE NIGHT HAVEN GUILD's RECORD!"
"Screenshot everything brothers!" Gao Ning demanded, already pulling up the achievement panel. "Can't wait to see everyone's faces on Monday!"
Zhao Lingfeng leaned back in his chair, a content smile playing across his lips as he watched his friends celebrate. He looked at his inventory and smiled at the bonus legendary grade drop he obtained. It was just pixels and data, but the triumph they felt, the bonds they'd forged.
Those were real.
The memory began to blur at the edges, the warmth of that moment giving way to the colder realities that would follow. But for now, in the dream, he lingered in that basement. In the last perfect summer before adulthood came calling, when his biggest worry was raid randoms and his closest friends were just a Disc*rd call away.
If only he'd known then how precious these moments were.
How rare it was to find people who understood you completely, who spoke your language of buff timers and damage calculations.
How quickly the real world could tear such things away, replacing them with deadlines and overtime and the endless grind of adult responsibility.
The scene dissolved, flowing into the harsh reality of his corporate future. But somewhere in his heart, that seventeen-year-old gamer never truly logged out.
***
University acceptance letters arrived like rare drops after a difficult raid. Some celebrated, others consoled themselves with backup plans. Their Disc*rd server, once alive with constant chatter, grew quieter. Weekend raids became monthly catch ups, then occasional messages asking if anyone was still online.
Xiao Jun was the first to go dark. "Medical school," he explained in their group chat. "Can't afford distractions."
Then it was Lee Huiliang, his archer's arrows flew less frequently as internships and career fairs consumed his time. "Just temporary," he'd say during their increasingly rare gaming sessions. "Once I get established..."
Zhao Lingfeng watched it happen with a heavy heart, but his own life was changing too. Each month, he noticed the subtle strain in his parents' smiles when bills arrived. Their home, comfortable but modest, carried the weight of educational loans and living expenses. His mother's proud declarations about his gaming achievements, had turned to gentle suggestions about part-time jobs.
One night, unable to sleep, he overheard them talking in hushed tones about refinancing the house. His father's voice, usually confident, carried an edge of worry he'd never noticed before. "As long as Feng'er can focus on his studies," his mother said, "it's worth it."
BAM!!!
The words hit hard.
Harder than any game boss's attack.
There was no wink of sleep that night.
But the whole night let him deeply think. And once he felt the rays of dawn sting his eyes, he made his decision.
That morning, he started apartment hunting.
His parents protested.
It wasn't necessary, they insisted.
But he'd seen the numbers, done the calculations like planning a raid strategy. Moving out would halve their monthly expenses.
His first apartment was barely bigger than Dong Bolin's old basement, a studio that smelled perpetually of the noodle shop downstairs. But it was his, paid for with a combination of part-time work and careful budgeting. His gaming PC, the one piece of equipment he couldn't bear to part with, claimed most of the desk space.
For a while, he maintained the balance. Work, study, and late-night gaming sessions that helped him pretend nothing had changed. The online world became his refuge, a place where he could still be that confident raid leader instead of the exhausted student counting cash for instant noodles.
But reality had a way of forcing server maintenance on your escape routes.
Gao Ning was the next to fade away. "Getting married," his last message read, accompanied by a photo of him in a suit, a mature adult. "Can't believe it either. Life comes at you fast, huh?"
He naturally attended his wedding. Only half of his sworn brothers were able to attend.
He felt great joy for his brother Gao Ning.
But somewhere in his heart…
Dong Bolin lasted the longest, their decade-long friendship surviving on sporadic late-night gaming sessions.
But even those became fewer and farther between.
"I have to help grandpa's fields. You know how old my parents are…" he'd apologise, the sounds of a rake scraping against dirt going through his mic. "Maybe next week?"
Next week became next month; next month became never.
The guild hall grew silent.
Chat channels that once buzzed with strategy discussions and friendly banter sat empty.
Zhao Lingfeng found himself logging in less frequently to the game he was most fond of, his character standing alone. The legendary armor set he'd once proudly grinded for felt less like an achievement and more like a reminder of what he'd lost.
Yet, he couldn't quite let go.
After particularly rough days at his part-time jobs. Convenience store shifts and weekend tutoring gigs… he'd still log in even when he is focused on playing other games, if only to stand in that empty guild hall.
Sometimes…
He'd open their old Disc*rd server, scrolling through years of conversations preserved like looking through a memory album…
[GuildMaster] GaoNing: Feng, you're facetanking again!
[DPSKing] ZhaoLingfeng: When has that ever failed us?
[IceArcher] LeeHuiliang: Every time you try to think you're 'him'??
[InquisitionGuard] DongBolin: Guys, focus! Even the Night Haven Guild failed to conquer this!
[MagicMaster] XiaoJun: Don't worry, with the power of anime and god on our side! And Feng's bullshit luck!
The messages blurred as his eyes grew heavy.
His tiny apartment felt colder somehow, the hum of his PC no longer comforting but lonely.
****
The fluorescent lights of the office building buzzed overhead, their harsh glow casting stark shadows across rows of desks.
Zhao Lingfeng sat hunched over his desk, the clock on his computer screen reading 11:43 PM. His fingers danced across the keyboard with mechanical taps, fueled by nothing but convenience store coffee and sheer determination.
Click. Click. Click.
Each keystroke echoed through the empty office floor. At twenty-four, his shoulders already carried the weight of countless overtime hours, rejected vacation requests, and dreams deferred.
"Just a little more," he whispered to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. The Excel sheets before him blurred into a maze of numbers and projections. "Once this project's done..."
His gaze drifted to the drawer where he used to keep his handheld gaming console. He'd finally sold it three months ago along with his high-spec gaming PC. The money had gone straight into his "success fund." Extra online courses, certifications, anything that might give him an edge in the corporate rat race.
The memory shifted, like ripples across a still pond.
A different night, a different overtime session.
Rain pelted against the windows of his tiny apartment as he sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by instant noodle cups and energy drink cans. His phone displayed a message from another guild leader in "Heaven's Conquest Online":
[GuildMaster] HeavenlyFatty: Hey Feng, raid tonight?
[You] ZhaoLingfeng: Sorry, got deadline tomorrow. Maybe next time.
[GuildMaster] HeavenlyFatty: Brother! You have been gone for so long! That's what you said last week... and the week before.
[You] ZhaoLingfeng: I know. Things will get better after this project.
He'd typed those words so many times they'd lost all meaning. The raid party assembled without him, just as they had for the past three months.
***
The scene dissolved again, reforming into that final day.
The project deadline loomed.
"This is bullshit," he muttered, his feet pounding against the wet pavement, desperate. Each splash echoed his racing heartbeat, a countdown to what should have been triumph.
"Complete and utter bullshit!"
The rain seemed to mock him, each droplet another second ticking away. Three months of meticulous planning, of carefully structured progress bars like the ones he'd once used to track game achievements. All of it crumbling because some executive had decided to move the deadline up by two entire days without warning.
"Hahaha."
A bitter laugh escaped his throat, barely audible over the percussion of rain and traffic.
How many times had he prepared for server maintenance in his gaming days?
How many raid schedules had he optimised around changing meta?
He'd applied those same skills here, planned everything down to the hour, only to have the rules changed mid-fight like some poorly designed event boss.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Probably another message from his team lead asking about his location. He ignored it. The USB drive in his laptop bag felt heavy. Its contents represented countless nights of overtime, of declined raid invitations, of "maybe next time" promises that had gradually poisoned his friendships.
Valuable bonds he only truly understood after drifting away from his old friends.
"It was supposed to be different," he gasped between labored breaths, dodging through the crowd of umbrellas and raincoats.
"The grinding was supposed to mean something this time!"
RUMBLE!
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the city. For a moment, it reminded him of spell effects in Heaven's Conquest Online, of raids where victory or defeat hung on split-second decisions. But there were no savepoints in reality, no chance to retry if you messed up the timing.
The promotion had been his rare drop, his chance at a better spawn point in life. With it, he could finally return to the things he'd sacrificed. Maybe even set up a way to reconnect with his old brothers, show them he hadn't abandoned their shared world forever...
A car horn blared, startling him from his thoughts. He'd nearly stepped off the curb at a red light, muscle memory failing him for once. The signal changed, and he surged forward with the crowd, his dress shoes struggling for traction on the slick pavement.
5:13 AM.
"Just seventeen minutes," he wheezed, his lungs burning. "Seventeen minutes to submit three months of work, and they'll probably still mark it as late because some higher-level player decided to change the rules!"
The train station was ahead, its entrance a beacon through the grey curtain of rain.
Just three stops to the office.
If the trains were running on schedule, if there were no delays, if, if, if…
"Wahhhhhh!"
A child's cry pierced through the rain and traffic.
He turned.
A little girl, her yellow raincoat bright against the dark sky, chasing a rolling ball into the street. The mother's scream of warning. The truck driver's horrified expression as he slammed on the brakes.
Time slowed.
His body moved before his mind could catch up.
He cleared the distance in three steps, his laptop bag swinging wide. The girl's startled eyes met his for a fraction of a second as he shoved her clear.
There was no time to dodge the follow-up.
The impact came.
BEEEEEP!!!
BANG!!!
*SCREEECH*
What a fucking joke, he thought as the world spun around him. All that grinding, all those sacrificed game nights, just to fail at the final checkpoint.
His last conscious thought, as rain mixed with blood on the pavement, was of his unsubmitted project that was supposed to be his first ticket to freedom.
Of all the hours spent preparing for a future he'd never see.
Of a life spent waiting for "after this" and "once that's done."
Game Over.