"Chen Mo, why haven't you been at work the past two days? The station manager's been blowing up your phone—he was muttering about docking your pay yesterday. I thought something bad had happened to you." Lao Wang clapped Chen Mo on the shoulder, the rough calluses on his palm brushing against Chen Mo's faded food delivery uniform, his tone brimming with genuine concern. Chen Mo was staring down, fumbling with the zipper of his uniform. His fingers had just touched the cold metal pull tab when his movements froze abruptly. His eyes dimmed in an instant, and his fingertips curled into a tight fist, his knuckles blanching white. The surrounding din seemed to be sealed off by an invisible veil, leaving only the gnawing memories of his broken heart surging forth, overwhelming him. That necklace—simple gold, nothing fancy—had cost him twelve thousand yuan, every cent scraped together over an entire year. He'd cut out all snacks and drinks, even skimped on buying a can of nutritional supplements for the elderly scavenger who'd adopted him before the old man passed. All to celebrate Liu Manqi's twenty-fifth birthday. He'd ironed his only shirt that wasn't tattered to shreds, arrived at the agreed western restaurant half an hour early, and sat by the window, rubbing the velvet jewelry box back and forth in his hands. His heart was full of anticipation; he'd even daydreamed about Liu Manqi's face lighting up in surprise, her hand flying to her mouth, and a small smile tugged at his lips unconsciously. But an hour of waiting only brought Liu Manqi walking in, arm in arm with Zhang Haoyu, her face wreathed in smiles. Zhang Haoyu's arm was slung around her waist, his gaze sharp with unbridled provocation, and when it landed on Chen Mo, it dripped with contempt. Liu Manqi's smile froze the second she saw him. She marched straight to his table, her voice cold and repulsed: "Chen Mo, what do you think you're doing? You think a shoddy gold necklace can buy me over? Do you know what Haoyu's getting me? The latest limited-edition bag, and a luxury gaming pod for Star Era—1.2 million yuan. You'll never earn that delivering food in your whole life." Zhang Haoyu pulled Liu Manqi closer, snickering: "Let me be real with you, Chen Mo. You and Manqi aren't from the same world. Stop wishing for the moon and wasting her future." Liu Manqi chipped in, her eyes oozing disdain: "And that so-called lucky break I told you about? Someone's gonna get me a high-paying job. What about you? What can you do besides deliver food? We're done. Keep the necklace—I don't want it." She'd deliberately hidden the truth that Su Yutong had anonymously paid his tuition fees all those years ago, instead driving every word like a knife into his softest spots, grinding his self-respect into the dirt. Chen Mo felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. The jewelry box slipped from his hand with a crash, the gold necklace spilling out, glinting under the restaurant's lights like a thousand needles stabbing into his eyes. He stared at their embracing figures walking away, his throat tight, as if something was stuck there. He couldn't utter a single word. In the end, he sank to his knees, picked up the necklace, and stumbled out of the restaurant, letting the cold wind slash down his throat, his vision blurring with tears. "Chen Mo? Chen Mo! What are you spacing out for?" Lao Wang's call jolted Chen Mo out of his memories. He snapped back to reality, raised a hand to rub his bloodshot eyes, took a deep breath, and forced down the sourness in his chest. He shook his head, his voice hoarse: "Nothing. Family stuff." Daring not to say more, Chen Mo hefted his food delivery box onto his shoulder and strode out of the station. He'd just climbed onto his creaky electric scooter when he was hit with an avalanche of Star Era advertisements, so overwhelming he could barely breathe. Giant LED screens on the street looped CG footage of the game's full sensory simulation: a warrior swinging a sword to split a mountain peak, a mage conjuring lightning in their palm, a monster's roar shaking the air. A bold slogan blared out, impossible to miss: Virtual currency exchangeable for real money 1:1—Earn from login, change your life. Posters plastered bus stops, subway entrances, even the metal sign of a small grocery store in the urban village. A group of teenage boys huddled around one poster, chattering heatedly about whether buying a gaming helmet could make their parents rich. Pop-up notifications for the game's launch flooded his phone screen, and short video feeds were filled with launch guides and zero-spend success stories. It was as if the entire Jiangcheng, even the whole world, had gone crazy for this mysterious online game. Chen Mo's chest tightened with irritation. He twisted the throttle and weaved through the streets at top speed, but a thought niggled at the back of his mind: If he could afford the 128,000-yuan standard edition helmet, could he turn around this miserable life? Could he stop being looked down on, stop delivering food for the rest of his days? The thought was snuffed out as soon as it flickered to life. 128,000 yuan was an astronomical figure, far beyond his reach. At eleven in the morning, Chen Mo received an order for a luxury lunch to Cloudtop Manor, an upscale villa community. He rode his electric scooter through the gates, and the sight of standalone villas and neatly trimmed greenery only deepened his embarrassment. He instinctively parked the scooter in a corner, straightened his crumpled uniform, and only then picked up the food and walked to the door of the designated villa. He pressed the doorbell—no answer, only the sound of a furious argument echoing from inside. A woman's scream, raw with hysteria, cut through the thick wooden door: "Tell me! What the hell is your relationship with that woman?! The intimate photos on your phone, the 5,200-yuan transfer—explain it to me!" "Can you stop being unreasonable? She's just a friend. What's the big deal about sending her money?" A man's voice was thick with impatience. "Just a friend? You'd take a 'just friend' on a trip abroad? Text her in the middle of the night? I've known something was off with you for ages!" The argument escalated, followed by the crash of breaking things: the shatter of a vase, the scrape of furniture being dragged across the floor, a cacophony that set his teeth on edge. Chen Mo hesitated, wondering if he should leave and deliver the food later—when the villa door was wrenched open suddenly. A woman in an elegant dress burst out, her hair disheveled, her eyes bloodshot, her delicate makeup smudged half down her face. She froze for a split second when she saw Chen Mo at the door, then spun around and shouted at the house: "Look what you've done! You've destroyed this family!" The man charged out right after her, and the two tussled on the doorstep, every damning detail of his infidelity laid bare. The woman's emotions snapped completely. She whirled back into the house, grabbed an unopened black gift box from the table, and smashed it hard against the ground. The box hit the step with a clang, the lid flying open. A silver and black gaming helmet rolled out, coming to a stop right at Chen Mo's feet. It was the standard edition Star Era helmet—the 128,000-yuan one. The sight of the helmet only stoked the woman's rage. She pointed at Chen Mo and snapped, "Delivery boy! Throw this piece of junk in the trash! It makes me sick to look at it! Take it and go, and don't you dare loiter here!" Chen Mo's first instinct was to bend down, pick it up, and return it. But his hand was frozen by her vicious glare. "I said throw it! Don't talk back! If you don't leave now, I'll call security—you'll never deliver another meal again!" The man waved a hand impatiently, too: "Just take it and get lost. You're a bad luck charm, hanging around here." Chen Mo stared at the helmet at his feet, then at the two of them, their faces contorted with anger. In the end, he bent down, picked it up, and tucked it carefully into the hidden compartment of his delivery box, covering it with a food bag. He grabbed the lunch and hurried away, riding his scooter out of Cloudtop Manor as fast as he could. His hand rested on the scooter's handlebars, but his peripheral vision kept drifting to the delivery box, his heart a jumble of emotions. After finishing all his morning orders, Chen Mo made a special detour to the official Star Era customer service center. He clutched the helmet to his chest, a flicker of hope burning in his heart—maybe he could return it for cash, even if it was less than the original price, just to get through this rough patch. But when he pulled the helmet out carefully, he spotted a faint scratch on the edge, a small mark left by the stone step when it had fallen. A customer service representative inspected it, then shook her head, her voice cold and robotic: "Sir, I'm sorry, this gaming helmet is a special product. It's bound to the user once opened, and no returns or exchanges are allowed under any circumstances. Additionally, your helmet has a scratch, and you have no purchase receipt. You don't meet any of our refund criteria, so we can't process this for you." That one sentence snuffed out the last glimmer of hope in Chen Mo's heart. He walked out of the customer service center with the helmet in his arms, his limbs feeling leaden, as if he didn't have the strength to lift a finger. At four in the afternoon, Chen Mo rode back to the delivery station to hand in his orders. He'd barely stepped through the door when the station manager called him into the office. The manager's expression was unimpressed, but not angry—he simply slid a notice of absenteeism across the desk to Chen Mo, his tone tinged with helplessness: "Chen Mo, you've been absent without leave for two days. The station's assessment rules are set in stone, and I can't make an exception for you. Per company policy, we have to fire you. Your last half month's salary will be deducted as liquidated damages. I hope you understand." Chen Mo's gaze fixed on the notice, his fingertips trembling slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but the manager leaned in suddenly, his voice dropping to a low murmur, laced with unspoken apology: "I know you didn't do this on purpose. It was that Zhang Haoyu kid—he ran his mouth to the higher-ups while you were gone, badmouthing you left and right. This decision came straight from the top. There's nothing I can do." The words hit Chen Mo like a boulder to the chest. All his confusion vanished in an instant, leaving only a cold, empty feeling in his heart. He curled his hands into fists, his knuckles white, but in the end, he said nothing. He was nobody—even if he knew the truth, he had no power to fight back. Chen Mo silently unclipped his employee ID from his neck and set it gently on the desk. He turned and walked out of the office, packing up his things—a tattered water cup, a change of clothes. That was all he had at the delivery station. The moment he stepped out the door, he fished in his pocket and found only twenty-three yuan in cash, cold and hard in his palm. Unemployed. Heartbroken. Unable to return the helmet. Three blows, and he was pushed straight to the brink of despair. Chen Mo returned to his tiny rental room in the urban village, a space no bigger than ten square meters. He pushed the door open, and the room was plunged in dimness. He set the helmet on his chipped desk, staring at the faint scratch for a long time. Finally, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the cold water pour down on his head. The relentless string of misfortunes had left him gasping for air; he needed this cold to clear his head, to make himself calm down, once and for all. When he stepped out of the bathroom, it was 5:50 PM. He towel-dried his damp hair quickly, took a deep breath, and gave in to a reckless thought—it's not like I can return it anyway. With a resigned "when the ship comes to the bridge, it will cross itself", he reached out, picked up the helmet, and put it on his head. At that exact moment, Star Era launched worldwide, simultaneously. The inner lining of the helmet pressed against his scalp, a faint cool touch. The next second, a slight vibration spread from the top of his head to every inch of his body. In an instant, his consciousness was pulled into a virtual space, and a stunning launch animation burst before his eyes, capturing all his attention in a heartbeat. Clouds churned, a immortal sword tore through the sky, slashing across a sea of stars. The consciousness of players from all over the world turned into streaks of light, converging into a vast river of radiance that poured into the Star World. The game's golden logo—Star Era—hovered in the air, blazing with endless light. The roar of magic, the snarl of monsters, the cheers of warriors—all intertwined, crashing against his senses. All the embarrassment, pain, and despair of the real world were sealed outside this virtual realm. In his eyes, there was only the dazzling, bizarre world before him; only the Star World, so vivid it felt real. He was completely lost in the game's loading animation, oblivious to everything around him in the real world. And in the real Jiangcheng, the sky darkened abruptly, heavy with black clouds. A blinding white bolt of lightning tore across the firmament, like a sharp sword slashing through the gloomy sky—followed by a deafening clap of thunder that shook the earth. The moment the lightning struck, it hit the power distribution room of the urban village dead on. A harsh crackle of short-circuiting filled the air, and the entire building, even the whole urban village, was plunged into utter darkness in an instant. Streetlights went out, the lights in residential buildings flickered off one by one, and an old electric meter box clicked as the circuit tripped. Even the emergency light at the grocery store next door didn't have time to turn on. In the rental room, it was pitch black—you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The second the power cut out, the gaming helmet on Chen Mo's head suddenly crackled with the sound of a short circuit. Faint sparks flickered through the helmet's gaps, and a thin wisp of white smoke curled up, visible in the blackness of the room. But Chen Mo, lost in the world of Star Era, knew nothing of it.
