Chapter Forty-Three: Crossing the Threshold

Every time she switched to her alternate account, the private messages and comments she received were overwhelmingly about urging her to update. After a while, Yu Qian grew reluctant to use that account. Time flew by, and after the Spring Festival, Zhou Jingchen had wrapped up the company business and arrived in the provincial capital.

He purchased the small villa next to Yu Qian’s home, becoming her neighbor. He also made a generous donation to First High School, waiting for the new term to begin so he could enroll in the third year of junior high. Zhou Jingchen never doubted that Yu Qian would attend First High—there was a house in the school district, but even without that, Yu Qian could get in with her exam scores alone, not to mention all her extra points from various competitions.

Yu Qian herself officially entered the review phase; her novel was fully drafted and set to auto-update, and the schedule for Little Paradise lessons was adjusted to twice a week in the evenings.

Yu Qian wasn’t actually nervous and felt confident she could pass the entrance exam, but her parents worried about unexpected setbacks. No immortals from the Six Realms had ever experienced human exams, leading to a situation where the emperor wasn’t anxious, but the eunuchs were. She complained about this to Zhou Jingchen, who laughed at her, and Yu Qian ignored him for a week out of annoyance. Eventually, his combination of pleading, playful antics, and singing soothed her, and she forgave him.

June of 2007 arrived, and after finishing his high school entrance exams, Zhou Jingchen went to Hangzhou.

“Phantom Beauty” was ready for internal testing, and he returned to inspect the product.

Originally, the team had planned to make a 2D game, since that was the mainstream style at the time, but Zhou Jingchen refused. He remembered with certainty that when he died in his previous life, the hottest MMORPGs were all 3D games; 2D games still existed, but most had faded from popularity.

Since Zhou Jingchen intended “Phantom Beauty” to be a long-term operation, 2D simply wouldn’t suffice. Just before the internal test at the end of the previous year, Zhou Jingchen demanded the game be redone, spending a large sum to hire a 3D game programmer, who guided the team through the overhaul.

Now, after half a year of overtime, a “Phantom Beauty” different from his previous life was about to begin internal testing.

The game’s background, storyline, characters, and NPCs followed the previous life’s settings. Though the settings were the same, the switch to 3D meant the quests were more challenging. When creating a character, players were given two options: those who enjoyed customizing could sculpt their own faces, while others could choose from two official presets.

For character appearance, players had two choices: a thirty-day version purchasable with silver coins and coupons, or a permanent version requiring RMB and the purchase of ingots.

They had done their best to balance the game—no character was overwhelmingly powerful, nor was any too weak.

After carefully playing through the game, Zhou Jingchen announced that internal testing would begin on July 1st. For distributing internal test slots and activation codes, he chose Yunbo.

Promoting their own game with their own software, without spending extra money, was only right.

On June 15th, Yunbo’s official blog, along with other company accounts, reposted an announcement.

It was a lottery post from the officially certified Yunzhou Games “Phantom Beauty” account, detailing the internal test date and activation codes.

Netizens were in a frenzy—Yunzhou had quietly developed a game! And it was a 3D online game!

At this time, there weren’t any noteworthy 3D games native to China; most gamers played foreign titles. Yunzhou’s move sparked curiosity among the gaming community.

They wondered what the game was like, whether it was fun, and most of all, about its quality—was it just another cash grab disguised as a 3D MMORPG?

After all, a previous game, hailed as the pinnacle of Chinese martial arts online gaming, had been a 3D cash grab. While many gamers were disgusted by it, viral marketing had managed to retain a large female player base, which, in turn, attracted many male players. The game became more of a matchmaking platform than anything else.

Against this backdrop, Yunzhou’s 3D online game was bound to attract attention.

The lottery post for test slots and activation codes was shared feverishly. By the time the drawing was held on the 25th, shares had reached nearly a million in just ten days.

After distributing the three thousand activation codes, Zhou Jingchen returned to Sichuan. Yu Qian had finished her graduation exams and moved to the provincial capital. In a week, she would take the junior high entrance exam, and Zhou Jingchen wanted to be by her side.

...

“Ding-dong, ding-dong!” Just as Yu Qian was about to have dinner, the doorbell rang.

She walked to the door, gnawing on a chicken wing, and opened it to find Zhou Jingchen standing outside. Yu Qian was startled.

Zhou Jingchen’s gaze slowly traveled from her head to the chicken wing in her hand, and Yu Qian, suddenly realizing, hurriedly hid the wing behind her back.

She smiled awkwardly. “Weren’t you back in Hangzhou?”

“I just got home. As soon as I put down my luggage, I came to see you,” Zhou Jingchen replied, barely holding back his laughter.

“Oh, well, now that you’ve seen me, you can go back,” Yu Qian, still embarrassed, began ushering him away.

He chuckled. “Cute one, I rushed over to see you before even having dinner, and now you’re kicking me out?”

“So what do you want?” Yu Qian pretended to be fierce.

Zhou Jingchen found her “fierce” act utterly adorable and couldn’t resist ruffling her hair.

“Stop it, you’ll stunt my growth,” Yu Qian tried to brush his hand away, but as soon as she moved, the chicken wing slipped into view.

Seeing Zhou Jingchen struggling not to laugh, Yu Qian’s face flushed.

“I haven’t eaten yet. Aren’t you going to invite me in for dinner?” Zhou Jingchen looked away, noticing her embarrassment.

“No…” Yu Qian was about to refuse when Wenxiu, noticing she hadn’t returned to the dining table, came out.

“Well, if it isn’t President Zhou! You’ve finished your business in Hangzhou?” Wenxiu still remembered Zhou Jingchen’s initial disbelief that she could be good to Yu Qian, and seeing him again after several months, she couldn’t resist poking at him.

“President Wen, do you speak to all your partners with this tone?” Zhou Jingchen replied calmly, not offended.

“Hmph.” Wenxiu was at a loss for words—it wasn’t as if she treated everyone this way. If she admitted it was just him, she’d seem petty. “Qian, what’s he doing here?”

“He came to see me… and maybe mooch some food…” Yu Qian confessed, holding onto her chicken wing, a little greedy.

Before moving, Wenyu had hired a housekeeper for them, supposedly descended from imperial chefs, with extraordinary culinary skills. Initially, Yu Qian hadn’t taken this seriously, thinking the imperial chef claim was just for show, but after tasting the first meal cooked by the aunt, she was completely won over.

It was delicious—Yu Qian had never eaten such good food in either of her lifetimes, and these days, every meal left her belly round.

She thought that if not for the body transformation from the cleansing pill, which kept her from gaining weight no matter what she ate, with her old physique that gained weight from just drinking water, these few days of feasting would have added several pounds.

Seeing Yu Qian’s mind drifting elsewhere, Wenxiu snorted, “Come in, then. After dinner, you can leave.”

Zhou Jingchen stepped inside, changed his shoes, and led the still-dazed Yu Qian to the dining room.

Chen Ying, hired by Wenyu to take care of the two girls, emerged with dishes and was surprised to see a well-dressed young man sitting beside Yu Qian. The mistress hadn’t mentioned another guest to look after.

“Aunt Chen, this is my studio partner and our neighbor, Zhou Jingchen. He’s just here to mooch a meal,” Wenxiu quickly explained, seeing Chen Ying’s puzzled expression.

“Oh, I see. Hello, Mr. Zhou.” Chen Ying set down the dishes, greeted him, and intended to return to the kitchen for a simple meal herself—she felt awkward eating with the hosts when there was a guest.

“Aunt Chen, sit down and eat with us,” Yu Qian stopped her. “Don’t avoid him; he’s not an outsider.”