The construction site at the old sanatorium bustled with a flurry of activity. Dust rose, hammers struck, and the clatter of unloading filled the air, capturing the vigor of a team committed and tireless.
Players, brimming with boundless energy and enthusiasm, ferried gravel in carts salvaged from the abandoned site, crushing the rocks by hand before feeding them into the kiln to produce coarse cement. Nearby, another group labored at the bellows, stoking the kiln's flames to a roaring blaze, while a charcoal kiln and racks for smoked meat and fish emitted smoke that spiraled into the sky, scaring away birds from nearby trees.
United in purpose, the players combined sand, water, and cement to create a thick mortar, quickly establishing the foundation for the first wall segment. Blue smoke curled upward, transforming the place into a nascent settlement, young yet brimming with vitality.
Leaving the site to the civil engineer known as "Mercy of the Blade," Lao Bai and Fang Chang focused on a "primitive steel-making method." Meanwhile, Gale had improved his fish traps, baiting them with mutant leech larvae. With ease, he hauled in dozens of fish daily, more than they could eat, passing the extras to Scrambled Eggs to be dried and preserved.
The lake's bounty surpassed expectations, though precautions were necessary. Excess bait or traps set too deep would attract larger fish, risking trap damage. But these were trivial issues. Mastery would come with time, and therein lay a unique joy.
For new players, too, everything here felt novel—a world unreachable in modern life. Many had grown accustomed to sitting at desks, day in and day out, engaged in work that any person could replace, losing themselves in the monotony. Here, however, was something fundamentally different: not just a fleeting excitement but a deeper satisfaction—a sense of fulfillment.
Take the civil engineers who had worked on sites for years without ever advancing to management; here, a simple declaration of "I work in construction" would see them hailed as experts, entrusted with significant responsibilities. Even a laborer skilled at mixing cement and plastering walls could find recognition. Most players were ordinary people, their day-to-day jobs unremarkable, yet here, any skill, however modest, garnered collective respect.
With everyone's effort, the surface outpost of the shelter was visibly improving. This was Maslow's highest need—self-actualization, a pleasure devoid of triviality, offering a gratification beyond comparison.
Most importantly, this sense of accomplishment required no great sacrifice. Even sore muscles affected only their in-game characters, leaving real-life vitality unaffected. Early sleep, too, brought greater vigor for the next day's adventures.
This was what Chu Guang mused on as he returned to the outpost, watching players engrossed in their work. Naturally, he couldn't truly know their thoughts; as a manager, such musings were neither his concern nor his interest. As long as new players eagerly filled the slots on the waiting list, he had little to worry about.
Quit? AFK? He would simply remind them to pass their headset and account to someone in need or, perhaps, to try a more primal game.
Now to the matter at hand.
This recent foray had yielded pleasing results: two 5mm pipe rifles, sixty-two rounds of 5mm ammunition, and three untouched backpacks—spoils taken from two marauders and their unfortunate prey.
Chu Guang was not one to waste resources. Even the mutated hyena with a bullet in its neck was salvaged. He handed it to Scrambled Eggs, the cook, while he and players Ye Ten and Trash King began rifling through the loot.
"Matches, a compass, a map, and… some jerky? Plastic tokens?" Ye Ten murmured, peering curiously.
Trash King sidled over, fumbling with a token. "Looks like a casino chip."
"I'll take the tokens," Chu Guang said calmly, pocketing the white plastic discs, uninterested in whatever use players might find for them.
He glanced next at the jerky in Ye Ten's hand. "I'll pass on that snack, but feel free to eat it if you like."
Ye Ten froze, his teeth poised to bite. "Why?"
Chu Guang paused, choosing his words carefully. "Raiders aren't exactly choosy. You can't be sure what kind of meat that is."
Realization dawned, and Ye Ten dropped the jerky, his face paling.
Curious, Chu Guang turned to Trash King. "What's it like, killing?"
Trash King scratched his head, unaffected. "Didn't really feel it… I've played gorier games."
But still… when he drove a spear into the last raider's chest, and blood splattered, a primal hunger had stirred within him—an instinct as old as life itself.
Chu Guang eyed this "Lizardman" with surprise. Perhaps dreams dulled the sense of death, or maybe the players saw this world through a lens he didn't understand. He'd have to speak with them more as a designer to uncover their perspectives.
By 5 p.m., the northern wall of the sanatorium was nearly repaired. Truly, these players were brilliant. Chu Guang almost felt superfluous as their NPC.
Certain talents, unwritten in any attribute panel, lay carved deep within. Give them a patch of ground today, and they'd forge fields by tomorrow. Reset the server, raze the world, and they'd still rebuild, one brick at a time.
Beyond the blue-gray gravel, piles of cement blocks lay like treasures. Though hardened over time, they were ideal for building walls.
Under "Mercy of the Blade's" direction, the players drove logs into the earth, stacking cement blocks in between, reinforcing with stolen rebar. When the calcium-rich mortar set, they had a sturdy concrete wall.
On the wall's inner side, they built a sloping incline of cement blocks and rubble, offering cover in case of attack. As the outpost grew, Chu Guang planned to add more defenses, complete with watchtowers.
"… The terrain here is flat," a player explained to Lao Bai, gesturing to the surrounding wetlands. "If we clear these trees, we'd spot any threats long before they reached us."
Lao Bai turned to him in surprise. "What did you do in real life?"
The player, "Mercy of the Blade," smiled shyly. "Just a civil engineer… barely noticed by my coworkers."
Lao Bai laughed. "Your skills are impressive! I never thought we'd finish a wall today."
"Flattering, really!" the player replied, blushing.
Dusk settled over the site, the sky tinged with amber. Scrambled Eggs set up a large pot on the sanatorium's grounds, cooking a fresh pine nut and fish stew with Gale's catch. The players sat in a circle, each with a bowl, savoring the unique flavors.
But not everyone relished the experience. Nearby, Vine Vine pinched her nose, eyeing her bowl in dismay.
"Ugh, it's so fishy…"
Sensitive to smell both in-game and in reality, she found the taste overpowering. Scrambled Eggs rolled his eyes. "You think I like it? There's no cooking wine here; this is as good as it gets."
"Make do," Ye Ten advised with a chuckle. "Hold your nose and gulp it down?"
"No need!" Vine Vine retorted, leaning away.
Chu Guang observed from a distance, staying briefly before striding off. When he returned, his face was grim, his mood visibly darkened.
A murmur spread among the players. Noticing, Lao Bai set down his bowl and approached Gale.
"What happened?"
Gale looked at him, expression serious. "I heard…"
"Someone died."