September 16th, Thursday.
Pei Qian came to the Slackin’ Internet Café at Handong University again to inspect Qiao Laoshi’s game progress.
This time, Pei Qian’s mindset was completely different from before.
Because… he had completed the game!
Of course, he had completed it on the easiest difficulty, using “Salvation” to jump directly from the Yellow Springs Road to the Six Realms of Reincarnation, defeating the Six Realms Boss and finishing the game.
If the current Pei Qian were to play the second playthrough, he would probably struggle to advance at all.
Because the initial difficulty of the second playthrough was already very high, “Salvation” would become just like other weapons in the second playthrough. Because it couldn’t be strengthened, it would gradually become more garbage than other weapons, and using it to fight monsters would be purely suicidal.
But what did that matter? The system’s task had already been completed, and Pei Qian felt relieved.
On the other side, the matter of the new Slackin’ Internet Café store was also almost settled.
It was located in the largest mall in Jingzhou, and the rent wasn’t cheap—12 yuan per square foot. This was already the most expensive place Mr. Pei had ever rented.
Although it still couldn’t compare with the rent ten years later, it was already enough to make people’s eyes pop out now.
This time, the area wasn’t as spacious as before. After all, it was inside a mall, only about 800 square meters.
After deciding not to run coffee and alcohol services anymore, a large amount of space was saved. Pei Qian had also specially reserved an area as a public leisure and entertainment area, equipped with a projector.
In the remaining space, there was still room for 150 computers.
Pei Qian roughly calculated that the monthly rent would be close to 300,000 yuan. Hiring two cashiers and four network administrators would cost thirty to forty thousand yuan in monthly wages. Adding electricity, cleaning, and other expenses, it would cost about 400,000 yuan per month.
Continuing to charge 10 yuan per hour, and with the current average occupancy rate of only 30-40% at Slackin’ Internet Café, calculating based on standard business hours from 8 AM to midnight, even with a generous estimate, they would only earn about 300,000 yuan.
Of course, many internet cafés operated 24 hours, but Pei Qian didn’t plan to do so.
It wasn’t because the mall would close at night.
Even if the mall closed, many movie theaters in the mall would arrange midnight showings, with customers coming and going at two or three in the morning, unaffected by the mall’s closing.
It was just a matter of leaving a door for customers, which wasn’t anything new.
Pei Qian’s purpose in opening this internet café was to lose money, so of course, he wanted to reduce operating hours as much as possible.
Calculating backward, based on current expenses, the internet café would need to maintain an average occupancy rate of around 60% to be profitable. Pei Qian thought this was probably an unachievable goal.
After all, even the flagship Slackin’ Internet Café, as popular as it was, hadn’t reached this level of occupancy.
Of course, Pei Qian didn’t completely trust the data, because data could change.
Pei Qian wasn’t in a hurry to expand too quickly, but planned to open one new store first to see the situation.
If the losses met expectations, then he would invest in opening several more stores before settlement; if it made money for some mysterious reason, then he would quickly find ways to stop the loss.
…
Arriving at the Handong University store, Pei Qian pulled over the computer chair next to Qiao Laoshi and sat down, sipping a cocktail while watching Qiao Laoshi play the game.
Pei Qian’s intention was just to watch Qiao Laoshi suffer, adding a bit of fun to his busy work and life.
But Qiao Liang felt highly valued, and his whole person became energized.
The game’s chief designer was personally sitting beside him, watching him play, and was ready to listen to his opinions and suggestions at any time. What a proud thing!
Qiao Laoshi was full of fighting spirit.
At this moment, Qiao Liang had just updated the game and casually clicked on the update log.
“Huh? The epitaph feature is already done?”
Qiao Liang was pleasantly surprised. The issue he had brought up last time had been quickly resolved by Mr. Pei, showing that he truly valued his opinion!
Pei Qian also saw the update log and said with some regret: “The epitaph feature is only available at the beginning of the game, so you probably won’t be able to play it unless you start a new account.”
Qiao Liang entered the game: “No problem, I was just about to start the second playthrough.”
Pei Qian: “…”
Damn!
Qiao Laoshi’s casual comment stabbed Pei Qian’s heart like a sharp knife.
About to start the second playthrough? Seriously??
Pei Qian had indeed completed the first playthrough, but that was by relying on “Salvation” and endless shortcuts, experiencing perhaps only 30-40% of the actual game content.
But Qiao Laoshi was different. He had completed the game following the normal process, and had even experienced a major setback in the middle—all the weapons he was skilled with had been nerfed by a certain unscrupulous designer, forcing him to adapt to new weapons from scratch.
Even so, Qiao Laoshi’s game progress was still on par with Mr. Pei’s.
This was truly a case of comparison making one feel miserable…
Pei Qian felt his mood deteriorate, and even started to doubt himself.
Not doubting his gaming skills, because Mr. Pei had always been very clear that he was a weakling and had never doubted this point.
What he mainly doubted was the game’s difficulty.
Even with all this effort, it still couldn’t stop Qiao Laoshi from completing the game??
God knows how much effort I put into increasing the difficulty for players when making this game!
Yet despite this, Qiao Laoshi had still completed it, which gave Pei Qian a deep sense of defeat.
Even his favorite cocktail didn’t taste good anymore.
But fortunately, Qiao Laoshi was about to challenge the second playthrough, where the difficulty would increase significantly.
Entering the game.
The opening cutscene was still largely the same as before. After the opening CG, the camera moved to the initial small village, where many villagers who had lost their three souls and seven spirits wandered around. Near the village in a burial ground, the protagonist rose from the coffin.
Considered dead, he awakened and thus embarked on the path of the Yellow Springs.
According to the original design, players were supposed to pick up a broken sword to kill monsters at this point.
But after this update, another cutscene was added.
The protagonist came to his own grave in the burial ground and saw a very crude tombstone with no writing on it.
The protagonist squatted down at his tombstone, caressing the rough, crude stone tablet, and said in a hoarse voice: “No epitaph… In that case, I’ll write my epitaph.”
At this point, an input box appeared on the screen, allowing players to freely input text, with a maximum of ten characters.
Qiao Liang scratched his head.
As someone who hated coming up with names, he was now facing a very serious challenge.
What kind of epitaph should he write?
Something optimistic to encourage himself?
Something decisive to enhance the desolate atmosphere?
Or something funny?
He racked his brains trying to come up with some literary phrases, but didn’t have the literary knowledge. Moreover, with Mr. Pei watching beside him, writing something too long would seem like showing off, which was very inappropriate.
Qiao Liang thought for a moment and wrote four characters: “You can do it.”
Let’s just write a simple sentence to encourage myself!
After all, this was a game with extremely high difficulty. After dying, encouraging oneself with a “You can do it” would help face the upcoming challenges with more confidence.
Another simple cutscene followed, with the four ancient-style characters being engraved on the tombstone as an epitaph, and the game officially began.
“Second playthrough, here I come!”
Qiao Liang was full of energy, planning to perform well in front of Mr. Pei.
After all, having been paid by Mr. Pei to play for so long, he should show some improvement.
Qiao Liang took out a mourning club, a two-handed weapon that had dropped from the Black and White Impermanence when he fought them in the later stages of the first playthrough. It looked like a very thick, long stick with many white paper strips and tassels on it.
It was a good, heavy weapon with decent attack power, and it also came with a weapon skill that, when used, could deal area damage to enemies in front and extract a small amount of their three souls and seven spirits.
“I’ll show off my skills in front of Mr. Pei!”
Qiao Liang was confident. After all, he had completed the first playthrough with his strength and had defeated many bosses, experiencing many ups and downs.
These few small monsters in the starting village were nothing to worry about.
The protagonist charged forward with the mace.
Qiao Liang clearly remembered that these few small monsters at the beginning would stupidly squat in the burial ground without moving, only fighting back after being attacked, so he charged forward boldly.
However, just as he was halfway there, the three small monsters near the burial ground suddenly turned around in unison and surrounded him!
Qiao Liang was startled, but it was too late. He instinctively rolled, but rolled directly into the monsters’ blades.
The three small monsters rushed over and each gave the protagonist a slash. Qiao Liang died on the spot.
The screen turned gray, with his written epitaph in red ancient-style characters appearing in the center.
“You can do it.”
This wasn’t right. Wasn’t the epitaph supposed to encourage him?
How could the same words change their meaning??
The scene was awkward for a moment.
Qiao Liang couldn’t help but scratch his head.
It felt like he had taken the mourning club, dropped by the boss to fight small monsters, only to be quickly defeated, and then a voice floated by: “You can do it.”
The implication was that he was so awesome that he could be brutalized by small monsters even with the boss’s equipment.
With a bit of unwillingness, Qiao Liang respawned.
This time, he advanced steadily, successfully killing the three small monsters at the entrance of the burial ground, but soon died again at the next corner.
“You can do it.”
The four bright red ancient characters appeared on the screen again.
Qiao Liang: “…”
He put his hand to his forehead, falling into deep doubt about life.
What was going on…
Pei Qian watched silently beside him, trying hard not to laugh out loud.
This epitaph was very good, perfectly meeting his expectations!
Pei Qian had already planned that no matter what players wrote as their epitaph, after death, these words would become mockery.
Even epitaphs with an encouraging nature, like “Keep going, you’re great,” would become ironic after players died many times.
If it was an epitaph with a mocking nature like “Noob,” “?,” “Weakling,” or “Hehe,” the effect would be even better.
In other words, no matter what players wrote as their epitaph, 99% of players would be played in the palms of Mr. Pei’s hands, repeatedly mocked while being pressed to the ground!
This would inevitably produce an excellent deterrent effect. Combined with the super-long refund mechanism, it would cause Pei Qian to lose a large amount of sales and a small money.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, just thinking about it made him secretly happy!
Moreover, seeing Qiao Laoshi’s life-questioning expression now, Pei Qian’s previously depressed mood improved a lot.
Pei Qian could only silently sigh.
Although mutual harm was wrong, but…
He was really happy!!