Chapter 263: Why Did the Epitaph Function Change So Much?
September 16th, Thursday.
Pei Qian once again arrived at the Moyu Internet Café's Handong University branch to inspect Qiao Liang's game progress.
This time, Pei Qian's mindset was completely different from before.
Because… he had already cleared the game!
Of course, he cleared it on the easiest difficulty, using Pudu (Salvation), which let him skip directly from the Yellow Springs Road to the Six Paths of Reincarnation—beat the boss there, and done.
If Pei Qian tried to play through New Game Plus right now, he probably wouldn't even make it past the first few steps.
That's because the second run starts off much harder, and Pudu (Salvation) becomes just like any other weapon. In fact, since it can't be upgraded, it quickly becomes worse than the others. Using it to fight enemies would basically be suicide.
But what did that matter? The system's task was already completed. Pei Qian felt completely at ease.
On the other hand, the new Moyu Internet Café branch was also nearly ready.
It was located in Jingzhou's largest shopping mall, with a not-so-cheap rent of 12 yuan per square meter—by far the most expensive location Pei Qian had ever rented.
Though still nowhere near the rent levels ten years in the future, it was already jaw-dropping by current standards.
This time, the floor space wasn't as large as the previous stores—since it was inside a mall, it only had about 800 square meters.
After deciding to drop the coffee and alcohol business, a large chunk of space was freed up. Pei Qian even set aside an area for a public leisure zone equipped with a projector.
The remaining space could still fit around 150 computers.
Pei Qian did a quick calculation: monthly rent was close to 300,000 yuan. Add in salaries for two cashiers and four network admins—roughly 30,000 to 40,000 a month—and then electricity, cleaning, and various other expenses… The monthly costs would easily reach around 400,000.
With the current rate of 10 yuan per hour, and an average occupancy rate of only 30–40%, assuming they operated from 8 AM to midnight, the most they could make was around 300,000 per month.
Of course, many internet cafés operated 24 hours a day, but Pei Qian had no plans to do that.
Not because the mall would close at night—
Even though malls close their main entrances, many have cinemas showing midnight screenings, and there are still customers coming and going at 2 or 3 AM. It's nothing unusual; they just leave a side entrance open.
Pei Qian, however, wanted the café to lose money, so he had to minimize operating hours as much as possible.
After running the numbers backward, he realized the café would need to maintain an average occupancy rate of at least 60% to make a profit. Pei Qian felt that was an impossible target.
Even the Moyu Internet Café flagship store, despite being so popular, had never reached that level.
Of course, Pei Qian didn't completely trust the data—after all, data could always change.
He didn't want to expand too recklessly either, so he planned to open just one new branch first and observe.
If the losses met expectations, he'd invest in opening more before settlement day; if, for some inexplicable reason, it started making money, he'd hurry to stop the bleeding.
...
Arriving at the Handong University branch, Pei Qian pulled over a chair beside Qiao Liang, sat down, and sipped his cocktail while watching him play.
Pei Qian's intention was simply to watch Qiao Liang suffer a little, adding some amusement to his own busy life.
Meanwhile, Qiao Liang felt deeply honored—his spirits lifted immediately.
The game designer himself was sitting right next to him, watching him play and ready to listen to his feedback at any time. What an honor!
Qiao Liang's fighting spirit burned bright.
At that moment, Qiao Liang had just finished updating the game and casually opened the patch notes.
"Huh? The Epitaph feature is already done?"
Qiao Liang was pleasantly surprised. The issue he'd mentioned last time had been resolved so quickly—clearly, President Pei really valued his feedback!
Pei Qian also noticed the patch notes and said regretfully, "Ah, the Epitaph feature only shows up at the start of the game. You probably won't get to see it unless you start a new account."
Qiao Liang entered the game.
"It's fine. I was just about to start New Game Plus anyway."
Pei Qian: "…"
What the hell?!
That one casual sentence from Qiao Liang stabbed Pei Qian right in the heart like a knife.
He's starting New Game Plus? Seriously?!
Sure, Pei Qian had technically cleared the first run too—but that was only thanks to Pudu (Salvation) and constant cheesing through the hardest parts. Realistically speaking, he'd only experienced maybe thirty or forty percent of the game's true content.
But Qiao Liang was different. He had cleared the game through legitimate effort. And along the way, he'd even suffered a massive setback—his favorite weapons had all been nerfed by a certain unscrupulous game designer, forcing him to adapt to an entirely new weapon style from scratch.
Even so, he still managed to finish the game roughly at the same time as Pei Qian.
Comparing people really can drive you insane…
Pei Qian was in no mood to celebrate. He even started doubting himself a little.
Not his skill level—he had always known he was terrible at games and had never once questioned that fact.
What he was starting to doubt was the game's difficulty.
'After all the effort I put in to make this game as punishing as possible… and he still cleared it?!'
He could already feel the sting of defeat. Even his favorite cocktail no longer tasted good.
Still, at least Qiao Liang was about to dive into New Game Plus. The second run had a significant jump in difficulty, so that gave Pei Qian a little hope.
. . .
The game began.
The opening cutscene was mostly the same as before. After the initial CG, the camera panned over a small, desolate village filled with wandering villagers who had lost their souls. Near the village's mass grave, the protagonist's coffin creaked open.
Declared dead by the world, the protagonist rose again—and thus began his journey along the Yellow Springs Road.
According to the original design, this was the point where players were supposed to pick up a broken sword and start fighting monsters.
But with the new update, there was an additional scene.
The protagonist walked to his own grave among the tombs and saw a crude, unmarked headstone.
Kneeling before it, he brushed the rough stone with his fingers and murmured in a hoarse voice,
"No inscription… In that case, I'll write my own epitaph."
At that moment, a text box appeared on the screen—players could freely enter up to ten characters.
Qiao Liang scratched his head.
As someone who hated naming things, this was an unexpectedly tough challenge.
What kind of epitaph should he write?
Something optimistic to motivate himself?
Something solemn and tragic to fit the mood?
Or maybe something funny?
He racked his brain for something poetic or profound, but realized he didn't have the literary flair for that. Worse still, President Pei was sitting right beside him—writing something too pretentious would make it look like he was showing off. That would be… awkward.
After a moment of thought, he typed four simple characters: "You can do it."
Something short and encouraging.
After all, this was a brutally difficult game—seeing "You can do it" after dying would be a nice little pep talk before diving back into the fray.
A short animation played. The four ancient-style characters were carved onto the gravestone, and the game officially began.
"New Game Plus, here I come!"
Qiao Liang's eyes gleamed with determination. He planned to put on a good show in front of President Pei.
After all, he'd been drawing a salary from President Pei for so long—it was only right to demonstrate some improvement.
Qiao Liang equipped a Mourning Staff, a two-handed weapon he had obtained during his first playthrough by defeating the Black and White Impermanence duo. It was a long, thick rod decorated with white paper tassels.
It was a solid heavy weapon with impressive attack power and a built-in skill that unleashed an area-of-effect strike while draining a small portion of the enemies' souls.
'In front of President Pei, I'll show what I've got!'
Qiao Liang was brimming with confidence. He had cleared the first run through his own strength and had already faced countless bosses and challenges.
The little monsters in the starter village? Piece of cake.
The protagonist hefted the Mourning Staff and charged forward.
Qiao Liang clearly remembered that the few small monsters at the start just squatted dumbly around the graveyard—they wouldn't move unless you hit them first. So he rushed in boldly, without a care.
However, halfway through his charge, the three monsters near the graveyard suddenly turned their heads in unison and started closing in from all sides!
Qiao Liang froze, but it was too late. He instinctively rolled to dodge, but he ended up rolling straight into one monster's blade.
All three enemies lunged forward, slashing the protagonist to death in seconds.
The screen turned gray. In the center appeared his custom epitaph, written in bold, red, archaic characters:
"You can do it."
Wait a second—wasn't this supposed to encourage me?
How did the same words suddenly sound so mocking?!
The atmosphere grew awkward.
Qiao Liang scratched his head, bewildered.
It really did feel like the game was mocking him—he'd been using a boss-drop weapon, no less, and still got wiped out by low-level mobs. Then the game coolly threw that message on the screen: "You can do it."
The hidden meaning was clear: Wow, you got killed by trash mobs even with boss gear. Impressive.
Irritated but unwilling to accept defeat, Qiao Liang respawned.
This time, he advanced carefully, taking things slow. He successfully killed the three monsters at the graveyard entrance—but then died again at the next corner.
"You can do it."
The same four blood-red characters appeared once more.
Qiao Liang: "…"
He pressed a hand to his forehead, doubting his entire existence.
What was going on here…?
Pei Qian, sitting beside him, watched silently—barely managing to keep himself from laughing out loud.
This epitaph system was perfect. It worked exactly as intended!
In fact, Pei Qian had planned this all along: no matter what message players wrote for their epitaph, it would always come across as sarcastic when shown after death.
Even something encouraging like "Cheer up" or "You're amazing" would turn into biting irony after repeated deaths.
And if someone chose something snarky like "Noob," "?", "First Time Gaming?," or "Hehe," then the mockery effect would be even stronger.
In other words, no matter what players wrote, 99% of them would end up getting toyed with—mocked by their own words over and over again!
That, in turn, would create an excellent frustration factor. Combined with the game's long refund window, it would guarantee Pei Qian plenty of lost sales—and money down the drain.
'Tsktsktsk~ just imagining it feels so good!'
Watching Qiao Liang now sitting there, questioning his life choices, Pei Qian's earlier frustration melted away entirely.
He couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Sure, mutual suffering wasn't exactly a noble thing, but damn, it felt so satisfying!
<+>
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