Slacking off in the Game of Survival

Chapter 23 Game Forum

To go, or not to go?

In normal circumstances, Qian Yue would definitely just go to sleep and mind her own business. But when the other person is her mother, it becomes a matter of life and death.

Qian Yue’s initial reaction was to repeat her previous actions and immediately book a ticket to fly to some remote planet, where she could hide for two years before coming back.

But Qian Chi’s next words shattered her fantasy, “Just a reminder, our mom has been in contact with the people you guys learned from recently. She knows that you’ve been on vacation for the past six months, avoiding your thesis.”

“And didn’t you say you were going home at the end of this month? Last night during dinner, Mom was confirming the specific time with me— day after tomorrow, 3 p.m., right?”

Seeing Qian Yue remain silent, Qian Chi also became nervous.

“Sis, whether you go or not, we have to agree on one thing—I risked my life to give you this message!”

“When Mom calls you later to ask about coming home, remember to keep your mouth shut and not expose me, okay?”

Qian Yue, “…”

She almost forgot she had booked a ticket to go home this month!

And it was still the day after tomorrow!

Is it still possible to cancel now?

Why do blind dates still exist in the interstellar age?
Qian Yue felt tired.

She thought for a moment and asked, “Do you know the details of this person?”

Qian Chi replied, “I only heard a name, how would I know other details?”

He quickly changed the subject and suddenly raised his voice, “Wait, what are you going to do, sis? Why do I hear the sound of cracking knuckles?”

Qian Yue unclenched her fist expressionlessly, “Cracking knuckles? You must have misheard.”

Qian Chi knew exactly what kind of person his sister was, so he hurriedly shouted, “Sis, impulsive actions are the devil!
Impulsiveness leads to regret! Three years or more in prison!”

Qian Yue, “…”

It’s giving me a headache.

Her fists are itching for a warmup again.

Qian Yue said, “You’re thinking too much. Adults’ matters should be left to adults. Just send me the link to the game forum.”

After saying that, Qian Yue hung up.

At that very moment, Qian Yue did think about obtaining detailed information about the other person, and contacting them in advance, so there would be a higher probability of them voluntarily giving up on the blind date.

If necessary…

Using a little “trickery” wouldn’t be out of the question.

Qian Chi quickly sent her the link.

Qian Yue logged into the forum and realized that the game “Ten-Day Plan” was indeed very popular.

The forum was divided into three sections: General Discussion, Strategy, and Official Message board.

The Strategy section mainly consisted of technical posts, but since the game was still in the testing phase, only beta players could access it.

Before clicking in, Qian Yue thought that there probably wouldn’t be many people willing to share their experiences in the game, but she overlooked the fact that every game had its own group of strategy enthusiasts.

There were all sorts of techniques like the Sneaky Style, Ironhead Style, and Economic Efficiency Style… Various types of technical posts were emerging endlessly.

But most of them had one characteristic:

“The founding emperor passed away before his business venture was half completed.”

I.e. They all had an eye-catching title at the beginning, but the rest of the content was either exaggerated or purely imaginative.

“Sneaky Style” This name looks very intriguing, Qian Yue clicked on it and discovered it was a beggar player.

And his method was similar to something Qian Yue had done before—
“Stealing” NPC’s items.

OP: “Nests like bird nests or squirrel nests are the simplest. Just touch a tree trunk and you’ll have it. Of course, what falls into your backpack might just be a leaf.”

OP: “Although it feels a bit sorry for our lovely little animals, I have to say roasted bird eggs are really delicious.”

OP: “【Highlighted】 We do not advocate consuming wildlife in real life! 【Highlighted】”

OP: “Oh, right, remember to add seasoning; otherwise, it will only restore one point, which is quite disappointing.”

…

The thread was filled with laughter, and Qian Yue found it amusing as well. However, just as she flipped to the second page—

OP: “After my professional testing, this method is definitely feasible. Unfortunately, due to XX reasons, I died and couldn’t complete the game.”

“All is welcome to inherit my will and continue exploring, striving to spread the influence of our ‘Sneaky Style’!”

Qian Yue chuckled.

She clicked on another post:

OP started off with grandiose claims, but it didn’t take long for their true colors to show.

“I swear my method is absolutely amazing, really, if you don’t believe me, try it in the next instance.”

“Not a clickbait…”

“It’s the truth!”

A bunch of people below were cursing at them.

Qian Yue flipped through several more posts. Although there were some genuinely technical posts, most of them followed a similar tone.

Someone said, “Give it up. Stop begging for strategies. How do you know if someone on the other side of the internet isn’t trying to steal your techniques and claim them as their own?”

“Besides—”

“The methods are already written there. Do you have the eyes and the brain to understand them?”

A flood of responses below said, “No.”

Honest and straightforward, it made one inexplicably want to laugh.
Qian Yue thought for a moment and, using the ID “Ninety-Nine Island Yue,” casually posted her own “slack-off strategy” as well.

Because she was too lazy to type, she didn’t provide too many details. She simply listed the quantity of items needed for the first instance and mentioned something about building a house.

Based on Qian Yue’s many years of experience, she knew that in wilderness survival, having a shelter was one of the most important and simultaneously the most challenging aspects.

Explaining this part was even more difficult than listing the data, so Qian Yue casually found two clips from a science-loving friend’s videos and directly posted them.

The text was concise, with very little explanation. The most crucial parts were replaced by other people’s educational videos…

Qian Yue didn’t know that in the eyes of those pure players, her guide seemed like something pieced together from various sources.

As a result, this guide caused a lot of controversy online, with heated arguments taking place.

However, Qian Yue herself, who rarely visited the internet, had no idea. She came to the forum today just out of momentary interest.

After completing all of this, she left the forum and went to check the official message board.

Compared to the first round of instances, the second round did indeed introduce many new gameplay elements.

Whether it was the “Super Mall” before the start of the instance, or the appearance of the “Item Merchant” and the “Eternal Night Mode” as special event notifications, overall, it greatly improved the gaming experience of players from the first instance.

At least players no longer have to starve or freeze to death on the first day, or wander around the map like headless flies trying to find the Item Merchant.

Also, at the end of the instance, there was a speech mentioned by the system about soliciting players’ opinions.

Therefore, Qian Yue subconsciously thought that the official message board must be filled with positive and serious discussions about game development-related topics.

But when she entered, the top post floating on the homepage was:

“#When will the Item Merchant release a life-sized body pillow# [Hot]”

Qian Yue, “?!!”

She doubted if there was something wrong with her internet connection— even exited and re-entered, but the same post remained at the top.

In just a few seconds, new posts were already being bumped up.

“#Item Merchant’s merchandise#”

“#Is Feng baby open for business today#”

“#Ten-day Plan merchandise#”

Qian Yue accidentally clicked on the topic thread “Is Feng baby open for business today.”

Original poster: “Is Feng baby open for business today? Nope :)”

Comments:

“(Draws sword) Hand over the man @Ten-day Plan, I am the official customer service rep.”

“Forget about the merchandise, can’t we at least share some nice pictures?”

“Who is this person? Are they here to stir up trouble? Isn’t this the feedback section?”

“Replying to the above, haven’t you played the game? Calling him the no.1 beauty in ‘Ten-day Plan’ is not an exaggeration.”

Qian Yue, “…”

Something’s not right; this forum feels off! No, it’s really off!

Fortunately, after Qian Yue exited the post, the forum returned to normal.

Except for the still prominently displayed “life-sized body pillow” at the top of the page, more sincere posts with suggestions gradually appeared below.

The game’s official customer service reps politely replied to these posts, but as soon as the discussion involved merchandise, the reps would start to go mia.

But perhaps due to public pressure, the official account eventually made a unified response:

“I am Ten-day Plan’s official rep. Thank you all for your love and support of our game. After discussion, we have decided to release a set of photos tonight at 8:00.”

“Once again, thank you for your love and support of this game, but we also remind all players to play the game rationally and in moderation…”

The rest of the message was drowned out by comments like “ahhh,” “at last,” “set an alarm clock,” “Feng baby, fly without worries”…

Within a few seconds, before the staff could even pin the post to the top in the backend, a flood of comments pushed it to the top of the page.

Staff member, “…”

Bystander Qian Yue, “…”

Qian Yue couldn’t help but shake her head, not understanding why that person had such great charm.

As for the issue of having someone of the same name as her blind date, Qian Yue paid no attention to it at all.

Because no matter which Qi Feng it was, she! is! not! interested!

The last section Qian Yue visited was the general discussion area.

Similar to the official message board, this section allowed everyone to participate in discussions, so occasional non-player users could be seen active here.

Since the second instance had just ended, most of the topics in general discussions were related to the second instance.

Many people were discussing their experiences of clearing the instance:

“My experience of clearing the instance is: no experience.”

“Being able to pass is all about luck. There’s no experience to talk about. What I learned in the wilderness survival training camp is as useless as learning nothing.”

“Agreed. After all, ordinary wilderness survival doesn’t encounter dinosaurs and acid rain.”

…

“This level is really insane. It starts with volcano eruptions, fierce beasts, acid rain, and ice storms… just count them yourself! @Ten-Day Plan, the official rep.”

“Yes, exactly! And they even ask for feedback. Didn’t you all realize how difficult this level is? It’s only the second level, why is it so intense?”

Ten-Day Plan, the official rep, replied: QAQ

Apart from “experience in passing levels,” there are also “fancy ways of dying.”

“Starting off by landing in a pile of dinosaurs, and soon as you open your eyes, you’re back in the pod. Awesome, right? :)”

“I found a small stream and wanted to make a fire to cook some soup.

But as soon as I leaned in, a huge mouth full of blood suddenly emerged from the water. I nearly lost my head!”

“When eternal night fell, I didn’t realize how valuable firewood was. I struggled to make a fire for illumination, but then the ice storm arrived, and I understood the value of firewood.”

“Yes, all the firewood I found outside was wet, and it couldn’t burn at all.”

“Firewood is really important. Many items can only be crafted using firewood.”

“Today’s best item: firewood.”

As the conversation went on, it somehow drifted to the topic of “gas masks.”

The first post was quite insightful:

“Why call it a gas mask? It should be called the mask of suffering.”

“It’s both ugly and difficult to make. It’s the last day, and I finally gathered all the materials, but the end result looks like this. This is just like an old man on the subway looking at his phone.”

“Isn’t this something from centuries ago? I think I’ve seen something similar in a history book.”

“Probably because it’s a new material, it’s hard to collect the craft ‘item fragments.’ Judging from the comments section, they might adjust the spawn rate in the next level.”

“So, in a team, hunters are really important, at least when it comes to collecting materials. They have a higher spawn rate.”

“Doctors are important too. They provide equal healing effects, saving more resources.”

“Scholars are like, ‘heh,’ without us, all the materials you gather would be useless. The peddler doesn’t sell blueprints.”

“Beggar players be like…”

“Beggars, shut up!”

…

The later comments gradually turned into a debate about professions, with each profession having its own advantages. The players had different opinions, and Qian Yue couldn’t make sense of it all for a moment.

Were they playing the same game?

Oh well, others were playing a multiplayer game, while she was playing a single-player game.

She had heard before that forums could be addictive, with many authors getting immersed and forgetting to update their work. Qian Yue didn’t believe it, but when she looked at the time, she realized she had spent almost half a day on this small forum.

She ordered some takeout and planned to close the forum to do something else.

But just at that moment, another post was bumped up.

“#Even novels wouldn’t dare write like this: My magical advancement experience in the second level#”

Magical?

Qian Yue’s curiosity was immediately piqued, and she couldn’t help but click on it.

The main post started off relatively normal, describing the initial scenes upon entering the instance, and Qian Yue glanced at it and found it mostly accurate.

Soon, an earthquake occurred.

The OP naturally ran along with everyone else. Her writing skills were impressive, and she vividly described the entire scene, even mentioning someone riding a dinosaur running past her.

Caught off guard, Qian Yue suddenly saw herself being mentioned, “…”

Immediately, in the replies, many people confirmed that they also saw it and even discussed the “woman riding a dinosaur” in a small discussion.

But soon, the updated content from the OP grabbed everyone’s attention once again because she fell into a pterodactyl’s nest after falling off a cliff.

“When I first opened my eyes, I was startled by it, and I was extremely scared.”

“It looked especially big, at least two meters tall, with a sharp beak and claws, completely black and without feathers, looking particularly terrifying.”

“Suddenly, it leaned over towards me, and I thought it was going to eat me, so I screamed. But the next second, something rolled over to my side.”

“When I opened my eyes and looked, it turned out to be a fruit.”

“From that moment on, my magical journey began.”

…

Qian Yue was engrossed in reading and hurriedly scrolled down, but all she saw were layers upon layers of urging for updates.

“It began, so what happened next? Where did the OP go? Practicing hooks on a gaming forum?”

“Damn it, it cut off just when it got exciting?”

“A flick of the hand, and landmines are everywhere.”

“OP, come back and fill in the gaps quickly!”

After dozens of floors of urging, the OP finally appeared, “Sorry, I just went to get a glass of water. Let me continue.”

…

“That night, the earthquake continued, and I was scared and couldn’t sleep. It didn’t sleep either, so the two of us sat there until dawn.”

“Later, I couldn’t hold on anymore, and I didn’t want to use mental suppressants (because there weren’t many left, and I needed to save them), so I slept for a while.”

“But when I woke up, it was still crying in front of me, and it was shocked when it suddenly saw me wake up.”

“By then, my stamina had dropped to the red line, so I planned to eat some black bread. But when I sat up, I found a bunch of fruits piled up in the nest.”

“It brought them back while I was asleep.”

“I don’t know why, but at that moment, I suddenly felt certain in my heart: it must have thought I had died and was so sad.”

“I didn’t seem to be as afraid of it anymore.”

…

Time passed unknowingly, and Qian Yue became more and more fascinated as she read on.

At one point, Qian Yue ate her takeout, while the OP kept switching between “pouring water,” “drinking water,” “doing chores,” and “suddenly being called to help.” Finally, stumbling along, the OP continued the story until the fifth day of the game, when eternal night descended.

Qian Yue wrote her thesis for a while, then couldn’t resist refreshing the page, and as soon as she opened it, she saw:

OP: “Sorry, everyone. I was just aiming for some fun, didn’t expect so many people to be interested.”

“There are quite a few people upstairs questioning the authenticity of the content, and I have to admit that much of what came before was made up. I didn’t fall into a pterodactyl’s nest, nor did I make it to the later stages. I died on day three.”

“After hearing that most of the creatures behind were extinct, I really can’t continue the story. I’m sorry.”

“What? Fiction?”

“Wait, are you going to abandon it?”

“No, don’t! I was really into it! So what if it’s fictional? Keep writing, OP!”

“Modomo modomo!”

Qian Yue, “ …”

No wonder some parts earlier seemed off, but at that time, she didn’t pay much attention because the plot was captivating.

Since it’s all fake, there’s no need to continue pursuing it. But wait, why am I interested in a love story?

While thinking this in her mind, Qian Yue’s hand automatically typed a line imitating the tone of the previous comments:

“Qian Yue: ‘Don’t be lazy, hurry up and update. *Throwing flowers* =v=/~'”

Time flew by, and it was soon time for Qian Yue to return home as originally planned.

At this moment, in the waiting hall of the starship, Qian Yue was having a conversation with someone.

As Qian Chi had expected, their mother called Qian Yue before leaving.

Presumably, anticipating that Qian Yue would refuse, Qian’s mother did not mention anything related to blind dates on the phone. She just cared and asked about her well-being, making Qian Yue feel even more guilty.

Qian’s Mother, “Is it almost boarding time?”

Qian Yue, “Yes.”

Qian’s Mother, “Take care of yourself alone. Did you buy a sleeping cabin for the return journey? It’s a long trip, so rest well. Our family isn’t short of that bit of money.”

“That nutrition pod thing that your brother mentioned, it’s been installed in your study. Don’t worry.”

Qian Yue paused slightly upon hearing this. She lowered her head and looked at the two tickets in her hand. One was the previously booked ticket to return to the capital planet.

The other one was a ticket she randomly purchased yesterday while tossing and turning in bed, heading to some small asteroid.

Back then, she was feeling upset and restless, and she didn’t even pay much attention to the name before casually buying one.

Now she realized that it was a ticket to the Ninety-Nine Islands.

Qian Yue stared at the words “Ninety-Nine Islands” in silence for two seconds before responding, “… Alright, thank you, Mom.”

Qian’s mother didn’t notice anything unusual and happily confirmed with her, “The starship arrives tomorrow night at 8:30, right?”

The woman on the phone sighed, “Calculating the time, it’s been a long time since you’ve come home, Yueyue. Your father and I have decided that the whole family will come to pick you up.”

It was an ordinary sentence, but it softened Qian Yue’s heart completely.

I have something going on and won’t come back. This lie had been rehearsed many times in advance and had rolled around her throat several times, but now she couldn’t bring herself say it.

Qian Yue remained silent for a few seconds, then crumpled the ticket with “Ninety-Nine Islands” written on it into a ball and put it in her pocket.

She spoke in her usual calm tone, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be back soon.”

The terminal announced the boarding instructions, and Qian Yue hung up the phone after a few more sentences, following the procedure to board the starship heading to the capital planet.

From departing Planet Earth to the current capital planet, it would take at least a day. In other words, she would spend the entire day on the starship.

Although Aunt Qian repeatedly urged her over the phone to buy a sleeping cabin ticket, Qian Yue still purchased a passenger ticket.

It wasn’t because she lacked the money, but rather because she had been shuttling between various galaxies for a long time and had become accustomed to this way of life.

Sometimes, they even visited desolate planets that didn’t have civilian air routes, let alone passenger seats. It was a challenge to even find a cargo hold.

Just as she had grown accustomed to growing wild on her own, there were certain things she could change but stubbornly refused to do so.

After about ten minutes, the starship took off on time.

After a buzzing sound, the colorful scenery on the ground gradually disappeared, replaced by the boundless expanse of the cosmic starry sea.

Qian Yue turned her head to look out the window, and at that moment, another small starship broke through the atmosphere and headed in a different direction.

The ship’s painted number happened to match the one noted on the useless ticket she had in her pocket.

“GS920, Ninety-Nine Island.”

Uttering this place name, Qian Yue subconsciously sighed and involuntarily recalled many fragments of memories, causing her emotions to surge once again.

Years ago, after Qian Yue and her younger brother escaped from that group of criminals, they haphazardly boarded a cargo hold starship.

Originally, they intended to stow away on a cargo hold starship and sneak back to the capital planet, but they ended up on the wrong ship and went further and further astray. Later, fearing discovery, they sneaked off at a transfer station.

That transfer station was the current Ninety-Nine Island.

Ninety-Nine Island was very behind, to the point where there wasn’t even a Galactic Office established on the entire planet, making it impossible for them to contact people on the capital planet through means like reporting an emergency.

At the same time, as undocumented residents, they couldn’t buy tickets to leave Ninety-Nine Island. In the end, they stayed there with other people who had their own stories.

Until the Qian family found them, Qian Yue and Qian Chi had been living on that barren yet beautiful remote planet.

In Qian Yue’s heart, that place resembled her hometown more than the bustling but calculating capital planet.

But the warmth her family provided was also a real and undeniable existence.

During the first blind date, slipping away on an excuse could be considered capricious, but she couldn’t avoid going home for the rest of her life because of this incident.

Whenever her mother mentioned her boyfriend(or lack thereof), Qian Yue always found ways to brush it off and didn’t explicitly express her lack of interest to her parents.

After dealing with this blind date, Qian Yue felt that she would need to have a serious talk with her family, to prevent such situations from arising again in the future.

Looking at the starry sky outside the window, Qian Yue made up her mind, “This time, when I go back, I must thoroughly resolve this matter.”

However, at this moment, Qian Yue had no idea that the matter would indeed be resolved, but in a way she had never expected.

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