Lin Li stood before the floor-to-ceiling glass of Jiajian Gym, watching the sparse figures inside.
At 10:40 AM, this eight-hundred-square-meter gym housed only seven people. A middle-aged man sweating profusely on a treadmill, two young girls taking selfies in the equipment area, three aunties listening to an explanation in the personal training zone, and a cleaning auntie dozing in a corner.
The front desk clerk called out the manager. Manager Wu, in his early forties, wore a tight polo shirt stretched into an arc by his belly. The number above his head flickered: Pain Point Index: 83 (Primary Composition: Performance Pressure 67%, Anxiety & Insomnia 16%)
"You said you can get people who don't want to pay to work here for free?" Manager Wu looked Lin Li up and down, his gaze lingering on the ill-fitting white shirt. "What do you mean?"
A system interface unfolded in Lin Li's vision, offering several options. He chose the most direct one.
"Your monthly membership is 399 yuan, annual is 2999 yuan, right?" Lin Li asked.
"Correct."
"Personal training sessions are 300 yuan each, buy ten get one free."
"Mhm."
"But you gain fewer than twenty new members per month, member renewal rate is below 30%, and personal training session repurchase rate is under 15%." Lin Li calmly recited the numbers provided by the system. "Your biggest cost isn't rent or utilities, but idle equipment and unsold trainer time."
Manager Wu's expression changed from suspicion to wariness. "How do you know that?"
Lin Li didn't answer, continuing, "My proposal is simple: launch the 'League of Losers' program."
"The League of... what?"
"Starting next month, Jiajian Gym will select the 'Most Failed Member' each month." Lin Li spoke steadily, as if presenting a perfectly normal business plan. "Criteria: least gym visits for the month, smallest reduction in body fat percentage, but highest attendance regularity—meaning they come consistently but consistently avoid any effective exercise."
Manager Wu's mouth hung open as if he were hearing alien speech.
Lin Li walked to the front desk, picked up a flyer, flipped it over, and began sketching a diagram with a pen from the counter—the system projected a standard flowchart in his vision; he just had to trace it.
"Specific rules: First, members participate for free. Second, monthly data is automatically compiled by the gym's system, completely objective. Third, the 'Most Failed Member' receives a bonus of..." He paused, "...three thousand yuan per month."
"Three thousand?!" Manager Wu's voice cracked. "Why would I pay money to people who don't exercise?!"
"Because more people will sign up for memberships to try and win this bonus." Lin Li drew a cycle on the paper. "Think about it: what does someone need to do to win the 'Biggest Loser' bonus? They need to first become a member, need to come to the gym every day to check in—but simultaneously avoid any effective exercise. What does that mean?"
Manager Wu shook his head blankly.
"It means stable attendance." Lin Li circled the words "attendance rate." "These people will come daily, occupy equipment while playing on their phones, stroll on treadmills, sleep on yoga mats. But they will be here. And what do gyms fear most? Being empty. A lively atmosphere will attract people who genuinely want to work out—humans have herd mentality."
He continued drawing. "Second layer: these 'losers' need to avoid effective exercise, so they'll research which movements burn the least calories, which postures are laziest. In the process, they'll inadvertently learn about fitness. Some might think, 'Since I'm already here, I might as move a little'—that's conversion."
Manager Wu stroked his chin, frowning deeply, but a glint of thought appeared in his eyes.
"Third layer," Lin Li held up three fingers, "topicality. 'Gym Pays Bonus to Laziest Members'—that's a talking point in itself. Media will report it, social networks will spread it. You won't need to pay for ads; everyone will be talking about Jiajian Gym. And the result of that talk is more people will come out of curiosity."
The office fell silent. Faint promotional announcements from the mall outside drifted through the window.
"But..." Manager Wu hesitated, "the three-thousand-yuan bonus, the cost is too high."
The system promptly provided data. Lin Li read it aloud. "You currently have about four hundred members, with fewer than a hundred active. Monthly revenue is approximately one hundred fifty thousand, expenses about one hundred thirty thousand, net profit around twenty thousand, and it's declining. If my plan doubles your membership, even with an extra three-thousand-yuan monthly bonus, your net profit will increase."
"How can you guarantee membership will double?"
"I can't guarantee," Lin Li said frankly. "But can you guarantee survival with your current model?"
The words stung Manager Wu. The number above his head jumped to 85.
"What if it fails?" he asked.
"You don't need to prepay anything." Lin Li said. "My fee is: 20% of the membership fees from new members in the first month, and 30% of all derivative revenue related to the 'League of Losers.' If there's no effect, you pay nothing."
The terms were too favorable, so favorable it couldn't be a scam—because there was no upfront payment. Manager Wu stood up and paced the office. Through the glass wall, he could see the middle-aged man on the treadmill had stopped to wipe his sweat, staring vacantly out the window.
"That one," Manager Wu pointed at the man on the treadmill, "Wang Youfu, programmer, annual member. Had a membership for a year, came for eight months, weight increased from 75 to 78 kilograms. Every time, he walks on the treadmill for twenty minutes, then showers and goes home. A classic case of 'ineffective fitness.'"
Lin Li looked at the man. The system showed: Pain Point Index: 71 (Primary Composition: Work Pressure 44%, Self-Loathing 27%)
"He's your first seed user." Lin Li said. "If he wins the bonus, the story becomes more authentic."
Manager Wu paced a couple more circles, finally stopping. "We'll try it for one month. But the promotional materials, rule design, data tracking..."
"I'll handle it," Lin Li said. "You just need to provide member data and the venue."
---
It was noon when Lin Li left the gym. His phone vibrated with a bank notification: the second installment from Chen's Baozi Shop, 1200 yuan. Added to his previous balance, he now had over two thousand in cash. It gave him some leeway to eat a proper lunch at the food court in the mall's basement instead of a convenience store rice ball.
While eating, he studied the details of the gym plan provided by the system. The more he looked, the more absurd it seemed—the plan completely defied conventional business sense, yet was logically coherent. Its core wasn't encouraging fitness, but exploiting the contradiction in human nature: people want to improve, yet fear effort; they despise laziness, yet secretly envy those who can profit from it.
The essence of the "League of Losers" was to give laziness a respectable justification while using the lively atmosphere created by the lazy to attract the diligent. A large-scale piece of performance art where everyone played a role, and the gym was the stage.
After lunch, Lin Li went to a print shop to design the first batch of flyers. The system provided a template: black background, yellow text, huge letters reading "FAILURE IS AN OPTION," with smaller text below: "Jiajian Gym's 'League of Losers' Program Officially Launches." The back had detailed rules, described in the most official tone for the most absurd content.
The print shop owner looked at the design, pushing up his glasses. "What is this? A new type of scam?"
"A social experiment," Lin Li said.
"Oh." The owner didn't ask more; business was business.
By 3 PM, five hundred flyers were printed. When Lin Li carried them back to the gym, Manager Wu was berating a trainer—the trainer had secretly converted a member to personal training sessions, bypassing the gym's cut. The trainer hung his head, a number above it: Pain Point Index: 62 (Primary Composition: Financial Pressure 58%).
Seeing Lin Li, Manager Wu waved the trainer away, rubbing his temples wearily. "Two more members want to cancel, say our equipment is old."
"The flyers are ready." Lin Li placed the box on the front desk. "Start distributing tomorrow. Also, I need a launch ceremony."
"What launch ceremony?"
"Tomorrow at 2 PM, right here in the gym. Invite all members, explain the rules on site, sign up on the spot. Preferably get some media." Lin Li said. "Do you know any local journalists?"
Manager Wu thought for a moment. "I have a cousin who's a reporter at City Express, but it's a small tabloid..."
"A small tabloid is perfect." Lin Li said. "Major media is too serious; tabloids love this kind of quirky news."
It was settled. Lin Li used the gym's front desk computer to write a press release, the system guiding him sentence by sentence: "The headline should be exaggerated but leave room for explanation... the lead should create contradiction... use quotes from Manager Wu for credibility... data should be specific but unverifiable..."
He sent the draft to Manager Wu's cousin. Ten minutes later, a reply came: "Interesting. I'll come take a look tomorrow."
By 7 PM, the gym was slightly busier. Lin Li set up a roll-up banner at the front desk with the "League of Losers" poster. Passing members stopped to look, their expressions shifting from confusion to amused smiles.
"Is this a joke?" a young girl asked.
"Completely serious," Lin Li said. "Three thousand yuan cash prize monthly, for the person worst at working out."
"How do you decide who's the 'biggest failure'?"
"We have a complete data system: check-in frequency, exercise duration, heart rate changes, weight and body fat monitoring. A comprehensive score each month, the highest score wins—a high score means 'working hard to be ineffective.'"
The girl laughed. "I want to sign up, but I actually want to lose weight..."
"Welcome." Lin Li handed her a sign-up form. "This program doesn't exclude people who want to work out; it just gives those who don't a reason to come."
People inquired one after another, some filling out forms on the spot. Wang Youfu—the programmer who strolled on the treadmill—also came. He stared at the poster for a full three minutes.
"Really pays money?" he asked, his voice low.
"Really," Lin Li said. "As long as you meet the criteria."
"I qualify." Wang Youfu smiled bitterly. "I've been coming for eight months, gained six pounds. The trainer said I have 'negative fitness effectiveness.'"
"Then you're very competitive." Lin Li said seriously, as if discussing a solemn competition. "But a reminder, this month is already half over. Data tracking starts from the first of next month."
Wang Youfu nodded, took a sign-up form, and sat on a corner sofa to fill it out. He wrote quickly, as if afraid he'd change his mind.
That night, when Lin Li left the gym, seventeen sign-up forms had been collected. Manager Wu looked at the forms with a complicated expression. "These people... will they really come every day to put on an act for three thousand yuan?"
"They will," Lin Li said. "Because for many people, the hardest step is 'leaving the house.' Now they have a reason to leave, even if they just come and sit. And as long as they're here, accidents will happen."
"What accidents?"
"Humans are situational creatures." Lin Li looked at his reflection in the glass wall. "Sitting in a gym, watching others sweat, hearing equipment clank, smelling sweat... some will think, 'Since I'm already here.' A month, two months, inevitably someone will get up from their chair and touch a dumbbell. And once that starts, the story changes."
Manager Wu looked thoughtful.
Lin Li returned to his rented room at 10 PM. His roommate was live-streaming a game, shouting loudly. After washing up, he lay in bed. The system interface appeared:
Task Progress: 30%
Estimated Completion Time: 41 hours
Current Data: Target venue pain point index decreased to 76 (-3), preliminary participants: 17, expected reach: Medium
Suggestion: Increase sense of ritual and social attributes
Lin Li closed his eyes. He needed to design a ritual that made "failure" glorious.
---
The next day at 1:30 PM, Jiajian Gym's group exercise room was set up. Manager Wu's cousin arrived with a small photographer, setting up equipment. About thirty members trickled in, mostly curious young people, with a few middle-aged men and aunties.
Wang Youfu sat in the front row, clutching a copy of his sign-up form.
At 2 PM sharp, Lin Li stood before a small podium. He had changed into a slightly better-fitting shirt and combed his hair, looking at least not like a con artist.
"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming to the 'League of Losers' launch ceremony." He began, his voice steady. "Before we start, I have a question: How many of you have a gym membership but rarely come?"
Almost everyone raised their hands, including Manager Wu.
"How many come but just go through the motions, without actually exercising?"
Most hands remained raised.
"How many exercise but see no change after months, or even get worse?"
Wang Youfu's hand was up, along with four or five others.
Lin Li nodded. "Congratulations, you are not failures; you are 'unsuccessful explorers.' And this program is for you."
He opened the presentation. The first slide was that phrase: "FAILURE IS AN OPTION."
"Modern society excessively worships success and fears failure. But failure is part of learning, an inevitable stage in the process. Jiajian Gym hopes to redefine failure through this program—not as a disgrace, but a choice; not an endpoint, but a starting point."
Some in the audience snickered, but more listened.
Lin Li explained the rules, using simple charts to show the scoring system: attendance rate 30%, exercise ineffectiveness 50%, participation 20%. Exercise ineffectiveness was determined by heart rate monitoring and trainer observation—essentially, you needed to look like you were trying hard while actually expending minimal effort.
"For example," Lin Li gave an example, "walking on a treadmill while watching videos on your phone, heart rate maintained at 80-90—this scores higher than jogging with a heart rate of 140. Because the former 'appears to be exercising but isn't,' perfectly capturing the essence of 'failure.'"
The audience laughed louder.
"Another example, lifting the lightest dumbbell but with extremely slow movements, taking ten minutes for one set—this also scores higher than standard reps."
The reporter took photos below, flash occasionally lighting up.
After the explanation, it was time for Q&A.
A young girl raised her hand. "If I actually want to work out, will participating have a negative impact?"
"No." Lin Li said. "This program is a separate scoring system, it doesn't affect your normal workouts. In fact, if you perform too well in the 'Failure Competition,' meaning you show significant fitness results, you'll naturally be eliminated from the competition—an honorable elimination."
A middle-aged man asked, "The bonus is really cash? Who pays the tax?"
"Cash, after-tax, the gym covers the tax." Manager Wu stood up to answer, his expression as solemn as announcing a company IPO.
Wang Youfu was the last to ask a question. He stood up, his hand trembling slightly. "I want to ask... if I win, can I donate part of the bonus to the gym, as a... thank you?"
The room fell silent.
Lin Li looked at the man. The system showed his pain point index fluctuating, dropping from 71 to 68. This question wasn't scripted; it was a genuine emotional outpouring.
"Of course," Lin Li said. "But that's your right, not your obligation."
The launch ceremony ended in a peculiar atmosphere. The reporter interviewed several participants, photographing them filling out forms. The photographer specifically had Wang Youfu stand before the poster, holding his form with a serious expression—that photo later accompanied the report, titled: "Redefining Failure: Gym Pays Bonus to Laziest Members."
The article was published on City Express's WeChat public account that evening. Readership surpassed ten thousand in two hours. The comments section exploded:
"Is this performance art?"
"Want to sign up, I could totally win!"
"The gym's reverse psychology, kinda interesting."
"Wasting social resources, encouraging laziness!"
"To the comment above, does laziness need encouragement? Laziness is human instinct."
Manager Wu kept refreshing his phone, watching the read count rise, his expression shifting from nervous to excited. At 8 PM, he called Lin Li. "In the last hour alone, twelve people inquired about memberships, saying they want to join the 'League of Losers'!"
"This is just the beginning," Lin Li said, watching the system interface—task progress jumped to 50%.
The next day, gym traffic noticeably increased. People came to sign up, to inquire, or just to see the spectacle. Wang Youfu appeared on the treadmill on time, still walking, but today he wasn't holding his phone. He stared ahead seriously, as if deep in thought.
Lin Li walked over. "Mr. Wang, brewing failure?"
Wang Youfu jumped, then smiled. "I was thinking, if I don't look at my phone, will my heart rate be lower?"
"Possibly. But also pay attention to expression management. Can't look too relaxed; need a hint of 'I'm trying but it's futile' struggle."
"Understood." Wang Youfu adjusted his expression to one of "exerting effort in vain."
Lin Li walked to the equipment area, where two young men were competing to see "who can lift dumbbells more ineffectively." They used the lightest weights, moved painfully slow, faces contorted as if lifting a thousand pounds, their heart rates actually at 85.
"Good," Lin Li encouraged. "But remember, duration matters too. One set taking twenty minutes scores higher than ten sets of one minute each."
"Why?"
"Because true failure requires persistence." Lin Li said earnestly. "Brief failure is nothing; consistent failure is art."
The young men nodded as if enlightened.
On the third day, the gym was almost full. But unlike before, there were no scenes of sweating exertion. Instead, a crowd was "pretending to try hard" in various ways. Someone walked backwards on a treadmill at speed 0.5; someone struck complex but completely wrong poses on a yoga mat; someone performed extremely slow bodybuilding movements in front of the mirror, each rep like slow motion.
Manager Wu watched the surveillance feed, his expression surreal. "I've never seen a gym like this in my life..."
"But have you ever seen a gym this full?" Lin Li asked.
"No."
"Any complaints from members?"
"On the contrary, positive reviews increased." Manager Wu checked his phone. "Some say 'finally no pressure,' others say 'never knew the gym could be this fun,' and 'first time feeling exercise isn't painful.'"
That afternoon, the system task completion prompt appeared:
Task Completed
Evaluation: Excellent
Cost-Zero Realization: Gym gained 112 new members, monthly fee revenue increased by ~44,760 yuan. 'Loser Bonus' cost: 3,000 yuan. Net gain: 41,760 yuan.
Host's Share: 8,352 yuan (20% of new member fees) + derivative revenue pending settlement.
Reward: Non-Rational Leverage permission upgraded. Can now view composite pain point indices for up to three targets simultaneously.
New Task: To be issued in 48 hours.
Lin Li stared at the 8,352 yuan deposited in his bank account. The number was real, dizzyingly so. Combined with earlier earnings, his debt had dropped from thirty-two thousand to twenty-four thousand. In less than a week.
But he had no time to celebrate. Because new problems arose at the gym.
On the fourth morning, Manager Wu called urgently. "Trouble! Someone is slamming us online, saying this insults the spirit of fitness, threatening to report us to the Sports Bureau!"
When Lin Li rushed to the gym, seven or eight people were gathered at the entrance holding signs: "Oppose Deformed Marketing," "Fitness Is Not a Joke," "Respect the Spirit of Sport." The leader was a muscular middle-aged man in professional athletic wear, a number above his head: Pain Point Index: 56 (Primary Composition: Value Conflict 48%).
"Where's the person in charge?" the muscular man shouted. "This kind of cheap publicity stunt must stop!"
More onlookers gathered, taking photos. Wang Youfu stood inside the gym's glass door, watching anxiously.
Lin Li stepped forward. "I'm the event planner. How can I help you?"
The muscular man turned to stare at him. "You're the one who came up with this terrible idea? Do you know what you're doing? You're encouraging laziness! Insulting those who take fitness seriously!"
The system interface flashed, offering several response strategies. Lin Li chose the one that seemed most humble.
"You're right," Lin Li nodded. "This event is indeed controversial. But may I ask, how long have you been working out?"
"Fifteen years!" the man said proudly.
"Then you've undoubtedly faced many difficulties to persist."
"Of course! Two hours daily, strict diet control, gave up many pleasures..."
"So you deserve respect." Lin Li's tone was sincere. "But have you considered that for many people, just stepping into a gym requires immense courage? They fear being mocked for clumsiness, fear they can't persist, fear effort without reward. The 'League of Losers' isn't for serious fitness enthusiasts; it's for those too afraid to even start, giving them a pressure-free entry point."
The muscular man was taken aback.
Lin Li continued, "Look at those people inside." He pointed through the glass door. "That programmer walking on the treadmill—he's under work pressure, long-term insomnia, had a membership for a year but was afraid to come because he thought he was too fat and people would stare. Now he comes every day, even if just to walk. That girl lifting the smallest dumbbell—she has social anxiety, never dared enter the weight area before. Now she at least stands before the mirror."
The crowd quieted.
"This event may be absurd, may not be serious." Lin Li raised his voice so all could hear. "But it brought over a hundred new faces to this gym. Among these hundred, maybe only ten will truly start exercising, maybe only one will persist. But for that one person, this absurd event changed their life. Do you think preserving the purity of fitness is more important, or giving one person a chance to change?"
The muscular man opened his mouth but said nothing. The number above his head fluctuated, dropping from 56 to 53.
An onlooking auntie spoke up. "I think this young man makes sense. My daughter is afraid to go to the gym, says it's all fit young people, she's embarrassed. If there was this 'lazy person activity,' she'd definitely be willing to try."
Others began to murmur agreement.
The muscular man looked at Lin Li, then at the "losers" inside the gym, finally sighing. "I reserve my opinion. But I won't report it."
The crowd dispersed. Lin Li returned inside. Manager Wu gave him a thumbs-up. "Well said."
"The crisis isn't over." Lin Li said. "We need to turn this protest into a promotional opportunity."
That afternoon, a new article appeared on a local forum: "'League of Losers' Faces Protest, Planner Responds: Giving Those Afraid to Start an Entry Point." It detailed the entire event, with photos of the protest, Lin Li's response, and the state of the "losers" inside the gym.
Comment trends began to shift:
"Still seems weird, but I get the intention now."
"That programmer's story is kinda touching..."
"Actually quite inclusive, giving different spaces for different needs."
"Want to go see, just to check it out."
That evening, a few new faces came to the gym, saying they saw the article and wanted to look. One girl asked timidly, "I really want to lose weight, but I'm afraid I can't stick with it... Can I join that activity?"
"Of course," the front desk said. "You can try working out and participating in the activity simultaneously; they don't conflict."
The girl signed up for a monthly membership.
Wang Youfu approached, handing Lin Li a cup of bubble tea. "For you."
"Thanks." Lin Li accepted.
"Um..." Wang Youfu hesitated. "Yesterday I tried running for five minutes. My heart rate hit 130. Will that affect my 'failure score'?"
Lin Li smiled. "It will. But it's worth it."
Wang Youfu also smiled. "Actually, it was tough while running, but felt kinda... good afterward. I might not join the competition next month."
"Then congratulations."
"I'm still going for the bonus this month, though." Wang Youfu winked. "For the last month, gotta win once."
They stood by the window, observing the scene inside. Some were running seriously, some "pretending to try hard," some doing yoga, some chatting. A strange harmony.
---
Three days later, when the system issued a new task, Lin Li was at the bank depositing money. His debt was now twenty-one thousand. He left the bank, checking the task on his phone:
Task Name: Symbol Creation Technique Experiment
Task Objective: Create a culturally transmissible symbol for an ordinary product, increasing its added value by 300% or more.
Time Limit: 7 days
Recommended Target: Starlight Stationery Factory (Pain Point Index: 88)
Failure Penalty: Host will be unable to use any metaphorical or symbolic language for the following week, limited to stating facts.
Lin Li looked at the description, then at a new message on his phone—Manager Wu said the first month's data for the "League of Losers" was out. Wang Youfu won by a narrow margin, bonus three thousand yuan. The award ceremony was tomorrow, asking if Lin Li wanted to come.
He replied: "I'll come."
Then he opened a map, searching for "Starlight Stationery Factory." Location: suburban industrial zone, seventeen kilometers away.
He hailed a taxi. Getting in, he said to the driver, "To the industrial zone. On the way, I'm thinking about how to make an ordinary pen into something people want to collect."
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "A pen is just a pen. As long as it writes."
"Once, a baozi was just a baozi. As long as it filled you up." Lin Li looked at the cityscape flying past the window. "But now people pay for stories."
The driver didn't respond, probably thinking this passenger was odd.
Lin Li leaned back, closing his eyes. On his retinas, the system interface glowed blue, the newly unlocked "Composite Pain Point Index" function loading. He could see the driver's pain points: 64 (Financial Pressure 40%, Family Conflict 24%), see the pain points of shops along the road, see the pulse of the city throbbing with anxiety, desire, fatigue, and faint hopes.
He thought maybe this system wasn't just a money-making tool. Perhaps it was a pair of glasses, letting him see the real structure beneath the world's surface—those constructs of irrationality, emotion, story, and absurd logic, buildings more solid than steel and concrete.
The taxi entered the industrial zone. Neat factory buildings and faded signs lined the road. The blue sign for Starlight Stationery Factory appeared ahead, already rusting, lights dim.
Lin Li paid and got out, standing at the factory gate. Through the iron gates, he could see old factory buildings inside, courtyard piled with cardboard boxes, a gatekeeper listening to a radio.
The number above his head: Pain Point Index: 72 (Primary Composition: Fear of Unemployment 68%)
Lin Li straightened his shirt—still the slightly tight one—and walked towards the gate. The gatekeeper looked up. "Who are you looking for?"
"The factory manager. To talk about a pen business."
"Pens?" The gatekeeper laughed. "Who uses pens these days? The factory's almost bankrupt."
"Precisely because it's almost bankrupt, it needs new ideas." Lin Li said. "Please announce me. Say someone can make ordinary pens sell for the price of art."
The gatekeeper stared at him for a few seconds, then picked up the internal phone.
Wind swept through the industrial zone, carrying smells of plastic and ink. Lin Li stood at the entrance of Starlight Stationery Factory, waiting for a door to open, waiting for an absurd story about pens, waiting for the next step on his ladder from indebted failure to the "King of Ideas."
He knew each completed task brought him closer to the system's truth, closer to clearing his debt, and closer to some still-unseen endpoint.
But he was no longer afraid.
Because indeed, between a failure and a genius lay only an absurd system.
And he was starting to enjoy this game.