Life Game In Other World
Chapter 591: The Sun Rises (Super-sized - for Monthly Votes)

Chapter 591: Chapter 591: The Sun Rises (Super-sized Chapter for Monthly Votes)

"This morning, Dawn City Mayor Christos’s private jet arrived at Vitland Trelson Middle Airport and was warmly welcomed by our own Mayor Swain. It has been one hundred and thirteen years since the last visit of Dawn City’s Mayor to Vitland."

"Today, the two city leaders from opposite ends of the Federation meet again."

In a gloomy and cramped little cabin, a young man in rough work clothes, bored from idly scrolling through videos, turned over in bed. With a spring, he leapt up and then bumped into the makeshift partition wall beside him.

He instinctively drew back his foot and bent down to check if the wall’s paint was still intact.

After confirming there was no damage, he stood up and pushed open the wooden door of his room.

Right outside the wooden door was a narrow corridor. On one side of the corridor was a white painted wall, and on the other side, a series of small wooden doors lined up neatly, each one leading to a tiny room.

Many cheap plastic signs hung on the painted wall, each bearing different messages.

The sign facing the youth’s room door read,

[Please take care of the communal space.]

Just a few steps ahead was another sign,

[It is everyone’s duty to care for the walls, severe damage to the walls will require personal payment for repainting.]

A few more steps and he reached a room with its door open. Several figures flitted about inside.

The young man glanced inside.

That room was much larger than the one he occupied; low stoves lined up against the wall, crowded with fixed induction cookers, over which hung greasy, blackened extractor hoods.

At the entrance of the room, a sign was hung.

[Induction cookers are limited, please spread out their usage over time.]

Several similar warning signs were also hanging on the extractor hoods,

[The induction cookers are equipped with location chips, theft is illegal, compensations are to be paid double.]

The youth withdrew his gaze and continued forward.

The next room past the kitchen had its door firmly closed, intimate noises emanated from within.

The tenant in that room had crossed paths with the young man before; they were a young couple.

The two of them renting one room meant the rent was much cheaper than what the young man paid.

A few more steps and the sounds of their intimacy began to fade, replaced by the loud, blaring noise of video game music from up ahead.

"Tank, tank, do you have shit for brains? Does the waterworks invite you over daily to drill a hole in your skull to help them with water supply? Have you been shaken senseless on a stick-inserted rocking chair in the park? Are those moves even humanly possible? Just this! Just this!? The advantage I sacrificed my life for, and you throw it away?"

The young man recognized this tenant as well; he was a work colleague from the same factory, one who he had introduced to this apartment complex.

This colleague was exceedingly adept at inquiring about other players’ family members while gaming.

However, in reality, he was a good person, frequently covering shifts for co-workers with family emergencies and even lending money to those unable to afford rent.

The door to the room was open. As the young man passed by, the gaming colleague caught sight of him.

"Morning."

The young man waved and greeted his colleague.

"Morning."

The colleague smiled back and greeted him, then picked up a headset that was beside him and placed it on his ears, quieting the surrounding space.

A few steps further down the hall and you could see plastic letter signs on the wall,

[Please do not play music loudly, do not be noisy, in communal spaces, please keep quiet.]

The young man stopped at this sign, turned around, faced the door opposite the sign, and gently knocked, "Uncle Qiao! Uncle Qiao! Are you there?"

"Coming, coming!"

The door opened, and there stood Uncle Qiao in his underpants, arms lifted, rubbing the corners of his eyes as he faced the young man,

"Boke, it’s only ten o’clock, not yet lunchtime. Don’t tell me you’re planning to squeeze into that kitchen, busier than the morning rush hour? Do you think you can push past that group of aunts? Us robots with our weight could be carried under one arm into a customer’s house!"

The ’aunts’ that Uncle Qiao mentioned were the domestic cleaners living on the same floor, who were the main users of the communal kitchen.

"I didn’t come to talk about this,"

Boke lifted his bracelet, showing his friend the news clip he had just seen, "Look, Christos, Christos, is coming to Vitland!"

"Christos?"

Uncle Qiao paused for a moment, then widened his eyes slightly, "Who did you say? Christos?"

"Look!"

Boke excitedly handed his bracelet to his friend, then bustled his friend through the door.

"Hey, hey, hey, don’t get so close to me, or I’ll start questioning your sexual orientation!"

Uncle Qiao pushed away Boke and walked a few steps ahead, browsing the news on Boke’s bracelet.

The news wasn’t long; he quickly went through the key information, then he sat back on the bed and threw the bracelet back to his friend, "It’s just a temporary visit, what’s there to be excited about."

"It’s Christos! This is Christos!"

Boke paused, looking at Uncle Qiao with a mix of excitement and confusion.

"Oh,"

Uncle Qiao sat on the bed. His room was a bit larger than Boke’s, with enough space for a single bed, a small wardrobe, and a small window next to the bed, but that was about it.

He reached into his tangled bedclothes to find his own bracelet, which was playing a female anchor’s sexy dance,

"So what? Does he have big boobs or a perky ass that you’re this excited?"

"Me?"

Boke was taken aback by the question, "Don’t you know? I’ve told you before, he pushed for the accidental insurance bill, and even reduced the medical fees in Dawn City..."

"Yeah, so what?"

Uncle Qiao’s gaze lifted from the female anchor, glancing at Boke, "What can he bring us? Can he get the old men in the Vitland parliament to pass the accidental insurance bill? Or make Welme’s ’great philanthropists’ cut some of our cold medicine costs?"

"I."

Boke opened his mouth but eventually sagged like a deflated balloon and sat next to Uncle Qiao.

"Hey, don’t move!"

Uncle Qiao immediately shouted, then under Boke’s confused and bewildered gaze, he pulled a buttered breadroll from underneath where Boke hadn’t yet sat down, "That’s my lunch today, don’t crush it."

"You’re not even a little excited?"

Boke sat on the bed, raising both hands, looking at Uncle Qiao, trying to get his friend to understand his emotions.

"Oh, did you pay this month’s credit card bill yet?"

This time Uncle Qiao didn’t even bother to glance up, "You get excited here."

"..."

The atmosphere fell into an awkward silence for a moment.

"This anchor’s not bad,"

Seemingly to break the tension, Uncle Qiao took out a tiny earphone from his ear, "Want to hear her voice? I follow thousands of anchors like her on my account; trust my judgment."

Boke glanced at his friend and put on the earphone.

"Thank you for the tip, what do you want to see, big brother? That’s not allowed, oh, our platform doesn’t allow that kind of thing~"

The soft and tingling voice echoed in Boke’s ear; indeed, the anchor had something special, her voice made Boke’s heart itch,

"Ah, a brother’s asking who I’d vote for in the midterm election; I honestly don’t know, I don’t usually follow these things, but I’ve heard Mr. Ned’s doing quite well, I’m planning to vote for him.

"Some brothers say Mr. Ned’s involved in scandals, huh. I think someone did mention that to me before, but the internet is full of so many claims these days, it’s hard to say what’s true and what’s not. Anyway, I still stick to my original view.

"Thanks to the top tipper, big brother, what do you want to see? The Milani Dance? Oh, you really want me to do that? Isn’t it kind of risky? You’re certain you want to see it? Then let me go change into another outfit, wait for me, big brothers..."

"Oh wow," Uncle Qiao chuckled, "Looks like we’re in for a treat today."

Boke frowned slightly, "Why does this female anchor also support Ned? That Ned is so bad, all those proofs are clearly laid out there on the ground."

"People are just completing tasks, why care about these things,"

Uncle Qiao yawned.

"What tasks?"

Boke was startled.

"Do you really want me to miss ’Milani’s Dance’?"

Uncle Qiao glanced at his friend and casually browsed through a few live streams. The streamers, whether dancers or gamers, if they were nearby Vitland, were all expressing their stances, more or less openly. Some supported Ned while others supported Walker, leading their followers to vote for these two candidates.

Uncle Qiao gestured with his mouth, "There, that’s the task."

"Why, among these people," Boke focused on the streamers, "why is no one supporting Dasanc?"

"Dasanc? You mean that candidate you talked about on the bus last time, right? Yeah, there are,"

Uncle Qiao typed into the search box and found an account named ’Factory Jack,’ clicked on it, and the streamer was live, with a complicated factory assembly line in the background.

He was working while chatting with the people watching the live stream, and he brought up Dasanc,

"Guys, to be honest, I’ve met Dasanc, and he’s a really good guy. He genuinely wants to fight for our welfare. But the rich consortia don’t like him, you see. Usually, my stream here has at least a thousand viewers, right? Today, there are only twenty-something.

"We who support Dasanc, we’re severely throttled. To tell you the truth, guys, someone looked for me yesterday, something about a foundation wanting to support me, offering me 5,000 federal coins straight up, just for changing my stance to support Ned on the live stream.

"Making money, guys, who doesn’t want to make money? 5,000, guys, working here in the factory, day and night, takes half a year to earn that much, and who knows, you could lose your life any day. Isn’t that why I live stream too, to make some money? Wouldn’t you be tempted?

"Ah? Why didn’t I take it? I was just stupid at the time, feeling I couldn’t earn that dishonest money. Now, I’m in pain first thing in the morning, I call them, and they won’t even answer. So those of you who are interested, you really need to find out more about Dasanc. To let you guys see this message, I’m losing out on 5,000 federal coins.

"Hey, hey, hey, stop posting the laughter emojis, it’s 5,000 coins, it really hurts."

"See," Uncle Qiao turned to his friend, "that’s what’s happening. The streamers you just saw are simply being paid to do their job."

"They’re even buying off the streamers?"

Boke opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say for a moment.

"What can’t be bought? Apart from the streamers, all sorts of vloggers, entertainment shows, and celebrity stars, most have taken sides,"

Uncle Qiao laughed, "Nowadays, more people watch these than the news. These influential folks just need to guide a bit in their content, and then everyone just follows and votes for the person they’re guiding them to, right?"

"They seem to think we’re incapable of thinking for ourselves."

Boke clenched his fists angrily, "like we can just be casually prompted to vote for anyone."

"What’s the use of thinking, from one scumbag to another," Uncle Qiao put on his clothes and walked towards the small window tightly covered by curtains, "doesn’t matter who you choose."

"Dasanc really is different," Boke stood up, watching Uncle Qiao’s bracelet projection and suddenly realized something, "you said last time you didn’t care about Dasanc. Why then did you specifically look for a streamer who supports him?"

"The bracelet microphone was accessed by the software, recorded our conversation, and then, through smart recognition, the big data promoted it to me."

Uncle Qiao shrugged his shoulders.

"Big data not throttling is already not bad," Boke looked at his friend, "why did it promote to you?"

"Alright,"

Uncle Qiao turned back, "I admit, Dasanc seems different from the others. How can you be sure he won’t change after being elected? How can you guarantee his attitude isn’t just for the votes? The Federation has had plenty like him since ancient times. How can you be sure he’s the exception?

"Ned made promises to the people of the old Industrial District to improve living conditions, to push the Federation to provide cheap, high-quality housing for the lower-level industrial employees. Look where we live now?"

On Uncle Qiao’s left was a wall, on his right a bed. The space left for the two to move around was only a forty-centimeter narrow corridor. In such a small room of about three square meters, the weekly rent was as high as 99 federal coins, and there was an additional charge of 10 federal coins per person for cleaning and management fees, and 5 federal coins per person for the use of common spaces.

"I······"

Boke opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t answer his friend’s question. He couldn’t guarantee it, and Dasanc himself couldn’t guarantee it either. The people of Vitland had been betrayed too many times, and they were used to lies and deception.

Who in this world can make that guarantee?

Does anyone in this world have the credentials to make that promise?

"Fuck!!!"

A loud shout came from the live stream on Uncle Qiao’s wristband, "Are you serious? Christos at Dasanc’s campaign speech? Fuck, is this even fair? Really or not, what you said sounds like Vilena wearing black silk stockings and a wedding dress appearing at my wedding ceremony.

"What’s going on, what’s going on? Can’t the beloved movie queen show up at my wedding? Why are you all focused on whether the wedding dress can be worn with black stockings? Black stockings with a wedding dress would be the bee’s knees!"

"Forget it, guys, don’t worry about that anymore. And you, brother, are you for real? Is Christos really there? Is there a video link? Never mind, I’m heading to the scene myself. I might not get anything else done today, but I’m going to see the world. Brothers, wait for me to start broadcasting again!"

The broadcaster abruptly tossed aside what he was holding and ran out with his wristband in hand.

Boke listened dumbfounded to the sounds of this unexpected event.

Hum—

At that moment, his wristband buzzed. It was a new message from the support group for Dasanc that they had been chatting in all along.

He opened the message.

The message was brief: a video of Dasanc giving a speech. It didn’t seem much different from the many speeches he had seen before, except this time, Christos was standing next to Dasanc.

The man in the silver suit didn’t say anything; merely standing there seemed to instill endless confidence in people.

Boke didn’t know what to say. He felt something moistening his eyes as he brought his wristband closer to his friend, "Look, look."

"I see it."

Uncle Qiao calmly watched his friend and then reached for the coat on the bed and draped it over his shoulders, "Let’s go."

"Where to?"

Boke looked at Uncle Qiao somewhat bewildered.

Uncle Qiao picked up a piece of bread from the bed, grabbed two corners of the quilt, shook it vigorously, smoothing out the messy tangle into a neat blanket, and laid it on the bed.

Then he glanced at his friend, reached out to draw back the curtains, and bright sunshine filled the somewhat dark and narrow room,

"To the scene."

——

The vibrant red blood, glowing with a yellow sheen, flowed slowly from a cut fingertip onto a wooden box radiating a purple glow.

Then, that fingertip traced along the patterns on the box, painstakingly drawing. The purple light flowed along the lines traced by his finger.

Thump thump—

The sound of shoes on the floor approached from afar, and a pretty figure with short hair appeared at the door.

"Has Dasanc’s speech started?"

While painting on the wooden box with his blood, He Ao asked softly.

"Yes, Christos is there too," Heish came over and crouched next to He Ao, "But it seems like not many people have come to listen to the speech."

As Heish spoke, He Ao continued to trace the paths on the wooden box, finally completing the incomplete Array.

"Do you want to go take a look?"

Heish asked quietly.

"No need."

He Ao shook his head lightly.

"Aren’t you worried?"

Heish stared at him.

"No need to worry,"

He Ao said quietly as he painted the Array on the wooden box, "When the first ray of sunlight appears from the eastern sky, it can only illuminate a small patch of heaven that it reaches, and only a few can see that brilliance. But people will tell each other, until everyone knows."

As He Ao spoke, Eve’s voice resonated in He Ao’s ear,

"Broadcast message complete. This broadcast used alt accounts numbering three thousand and seventy-one, posting in live streams, news websites, video websites, and other mainstream social media of Vitland a total of seventeen thousand three hundred and seventy-two messages related to Dasanc’s speech. Broadcast finished."

He Ao lifted his head, looking toward Heish, gazing at her cheek and beyond, as if he could see through Heish to the bright sunshine outside,

"The sun has risen."