Chapter 1: Drawn Into the Game

“Beep beep... beep beep...” The number of participants displayed on the massive LED screen kept climbing higher. Li Chuanglai’s eyes were fixed intently on the flickering digits, holding his breath in anticipation.

This was the launch event for “Dream of the Tang Dynasty.” The crowd surged past Li Chuanglai, brushing against his shoulder without a second thought—no one noticed the presence of this twenty-eight-year-old young man.

“Ladies and gentlemen, ‘Dream of the Tang Dynasty’—making dreams come true today! This brand-new game is now open for enthusiasts to experience!” A middle-aged man, dressed in a sparkling blue suit that glimmered like scattered diamonds, hosted the event with a lively, almost greasy, variety show flair, his booming voice infecting the entire audience with excitement.

“What kind of childish game is this? Who would even play it?” Li Chuanglai mumbled, absentmindedly twisting the drawstrings of his white hoodie between his fingers.

Twenty-eight—a most unremarkable age. Still young, but already nearing thirty. Born into an ordinary family, he had ordinary friends, attended an average university far from home. By a stroke of luck, he’d aced his interview and landed a management trainee position at a reputable company, even managing to find himself a beautiful girlfriend, making others envious.

The story should have ended here—with Li Chuanglai as the envy of all, the so-called winner at life.

But life is no hundred-meter dash; it’s a marathon. At twenty-four, during his time at work, Li Chuanglai's abilities failed to impress. His shortcomings became apparent; from being highly anticipated, he faded into obscurity. His girlfriend left, seeing no future with a penniless man. All the grand promises he’d made to his family were now nothing but empty dreams. That year, Li Chuanglai found himself far from home.

He scratched his head a few times, finding little meaning in staying. At this point, a part-time job to fill his growling stomach seemed more appealing than the game he once loved. Shaking his head, he turned to leave.

“First place in the competition wins ten million!” the host suddenly shouted.

Li Chuanglai froze mid-step, stunned for a moment before hastily turning back, pushing through the packed crowd to the very front. “Sign me up!”

A game designer, dressed in a white lab coat like some eccentric scientist and reeking of the sourness of three-day-old soda, eyed Li Chuanglai. “Out of a hundred thousand contestants, five were chosen, and you’re one of them.”

Li Chuanglai was a little surprised, but then, as always, put on an air of calm confidence. “Ha! Even with such low odds, I got picked—must be a testament to my all-around excellence!”

The designer replied, “Well... it was completely random. But at least you’re lucky.”

Li Chuanglai’s interest quickly waned. He glanced around at the competition area. Several pieces of equipment, reminiscent of those in “The Phantom of Baker Street,” were placed in the most prominent spot—less like recliners and more like giant eggs. Stage lights illuminated every corner, displays circled the area, monitoring data in real time. The crowd of game staff was far larger than the contestants.

Curiosity piqued, Li Chuanglai darted about like a schoolboy on a field trip. The game designers whispered among themselves, “You think this kid’ll survive three rounds?”

“Three rounds? That’d be impressive—he’ll probably be out in the first,” a female staff member joked.

As the clock on the monitors struck eleven, the staff exchanged nods and motioned for Li Chuanglai to sit. The scientist’s greasy hand left a print on Li Chuanglai’s pristine white hoodie, much to his annoyance.

This wasn’t just any hoodie—it marked the start of a new, luckier life. It was white, stylish, and now sullied by dirty hands, as if the new life was already being muddied by the old. Unacceptable.

As he sat, Li Chuanglai scrubbed furiously at the spot with the back of his hand, as if he could spark a fire with the friction.

“Mr. Li, please put on the equipment. We’re about to begin,” said the game designer, eyeing Li Chuanglai’s unusual behavior, sniffing his own hand and finding no strange smell.

“Hey! Aren’t the others here yet?” Li Chuanglai asked.

The designer, unwilling to indulge this troublesome young man, replied with a sigh, “The others entered the game a short while ago, but we can’t reveal their identities before the competition. Oh, and if you expose your real identity in the game, you’ll be disqualified.”

“One more thing—you’ll each play a different character. Complete all the tasks in the clues as quickly as possible.”

Li Chuanglai brimmed with confidence. What could be so hard about a game? He’d practically grown up in arcades, spent countless nights in internet cafes, dabbled in everything from FPS to sim games, sports to RTS. There wasn’t a genre he hadn’t tried. He was a jack-of-all-trades—never a master, but always finding clever ways to enjoy himself, even exploiting cheats when he could.

The designers’ incessant explanations annoyed him. Waving them off, he lay back in the “egg” pod, donned the VR headset, and relaxed. “Let’s get started!”

“What am I supposed to do in this game? How do I play?” he asked.

The designer nodded, signaled to his colleagues, and left.

Li Chuanglai closed his eyes, letting his imagination run wild—a seven-hued paradise, sunlight streaming down as he sipped soda, endless wads of cash flung across the deck of a yacht, tossed into the sea, turning the ocean into a sea of money...

Suddenly, the world spun violently. Li Chuanglai almost fell, his body refusing to obey, shrinking and plummeting as if he’d fallen from thousands of feet into a black hole...

“Ouch!” With a cry, Li Chuanglai landed in a field. He opened his eyes to blue sky and white clouds, his body covered in mud.

This was bad. He found himself dressed in ragged clothes, a straw hat perched on his head. The burning sun had him drenched in sweat the moment he arrived.

Around him, rustic farmers worked the fields. Suddenly, a burly man glanced up and saw Li Chuanglai, startling him enough to turn and flee.

“Aluo, where are you running? Aren’t you going to harvest the rice?”

The burly man walked toward him, the scene so vivid it took Li Chuanglai off guard. Then he remembered—this was just a game. He reached for his VR headset, but found nothing. As the man approached, he effortlessly grabbed Li Chuanglai, lifting him like a kitten.

His legs dangled helplessly, straw sandals slipping off. Panicked, Li Chuanglai flailed wildly, but the man, clearly fed up, tossed him back into the field.

“If it weren’t for me, Erhu, looking out for you, do you think you’d survive out here? Daydreaming about roasted ducks falling from the sky—useless!” the man scolded.

“I just want to know... I mean, is there any clue here that could help me complete my task?” Li Chuanglai almost revealed his identity but caught himself in time. Breaking the rules would cost him the prize.

Erhu looked baffled. An old man, Uncle De, paused his work nearby, straightened his back, and regarded Li Chuanglai with narrowed eyes, sighing and shaking his head.

Li Chuanglai grew more anxious. “Aren’t you all NPCs? Isn’t anyone going to give me a quest? At least tell me what year it is, or where I am!”

Uncle De stroked his beard, wiped the sweat from his brow, and croaked, “Seems Anping County’s about to have a real oddball!”

The other farmers burst out laughing at the confused youth before them. Even the usually unflappable Li Chuanglai was at a loss.

Erhu mocked him loudly, “Idiot! Idiot!” But then, spotting three constables in black uniforms and curved swords hurrying over, his tone changed.

“Uh-oh, they’re back again!” Uncle De’s expression darkened, and the farmers tensed. Erhu hefted his hoe onto his shoulder, ready for trouble. The sudden shift in mood left Li Chuanglai uneasy as the tension in the field thickened...