ATIGIBTC Chapter 9

«Bringing breakfast to the Creator»

He Fang browsed through the entire official website. But to his surprise, there wasn’t a single player discussion forum open. Even when he checked familiar forums, he couldn’t find any relevant sections. It was as if the entire game had been fully controlled, with strict bans on discussions.

After thinking for a moment, He Fang decided to post a simple question on his strategy guide account: ⌈Inquiries about the game’s player strength settings in “Ruins Without Restart” being inconsistent with the overall game conditions.⌋

“Dear fans, when playing ‘Ruins Without Restart’, have you ever encountered players whose combat strength is far below the minimum value of NPCs in the game?”

He also sent an email to the GM: 〈If the game is designed for open-ended progression, players should have basic safeguards for their combat strength. However, I haven’t found any equipment slots or ability stats. While players can freely explore, the nature of the game doesn’t allow for trial and error. In a single-player environment, one can gradually explore. But in an open world, death results in the permanent loss of the game file. Isn’t this too harsh?〉

Once the message was sent, He Fang spun around in his office chair and decided to add another suggestion to the GM.

〈Since ‘Ruins Without Restart’ has always been modeled as a simulation game, shifting suddenly to a tower defense format, it may meet the conditions for a strategy game with vulnerable players and a strong enough city. However, based on the current information, the city is immobile and players need to personally open up the map, which leads to a gameplay conflict. Could you clarify the specific game positioning for the current version of ‘Ruins Without Restart’?〉

He Fang went to the kitchen, made himself a bowl of instant noodles, and five minutes later, as he returned to his desk, he was surprised to see several replies in his account.

Administrator – Civil Affairs Hall: “Dear City Lord, we sincerely thank you for your support and thoughtful feedback. We are thrilled to have received your valuable input. As a highly esteemed Lord, we provide you with a prompt and careful response:

‘This game is an infinitely open-ended game with no fixed gameplay or specific positioning. As the respected Lord of the city, you are our deity, and you have complete control over everything within the game. Based on your feedback, we offer the following suggestion: Perhaps you could try using the Civil Affairs Hall to open an exit route for the city so that our residents can have the opportunity to work outside, thus providing you with enough global information.'”

He Fang raised an eyebrow. GM’s reference gameplay? Even though his stats were incredibly low, his residents were, by comparison, ridiculously strong.

He Fang saw a series of messages and clicked on the second one.

It was from the Administrator – Police Department, bypassing the usual flattering nonsense to explain that he could dispatch police officers to patrol, expand the rule of law, and conquer other cities through invasion and military force, positioning the city as a complete warfaring entity.

Meanwhile, the Administrator – Research Institute message was focused on weapon development, suggesting the creation of various national defense weapons to serve as deterrents, positioning them as more conservative.

After reading through all the messages, He Fang became deeply suspicious of the game. To him, these replies felt like they were speaking entirely from his perspective as if he were dealing not with a game development team but with ministers debating among themselves in front of a monarch.

“This is quite free,” He Fang muttered. At first, he didn’t understand the game’s positioning, but after thinking it over, he came to terms with it. After all, aren’t there role-playing action games everywhere, love-life simulation games, and all kinds of genres stacked together like buffs, without any fixed standards?

He Fang slurped up some instant noodles, then suddenly noticed a new message pop up on the screen.

He clicked to open it. It was from another administrator.

Administrator – Iconic Structures: “Dear Lord of the City, as long as you pray with sincerity, I will become your strongest weapon and shield.”

Reading these words, He Fang felt a chill run down his spine, his scalp tingling, and an inexplicable sense of dread and embarrassment flooding his mind. He quickly ate a few more bites of his noodles.

He realized one thing: the GM of this game was basically insane.

When he returned to his account, he was surprised to see many comments. He Fang paused for a moment.

His account actually only had around twenty to thirty thousand fans, with the highest view count for any single post reaching around one hundred thousand. Most of the others hovered around the few thousand to few tens of thousands range. The views weren’t high, but he managed to make some money by distributing his content across various platforms.

His game strategy videos often earned him higher profits. However, creating them was time-consuming and labor-intensive, so his output wasn’t very high.

When finances were tight, he would take on some online game-related gigs to make ends meet, living quite a struggling life.

However, three days ago, He Fang noticed that his follower count and the viewership on his recent platform posts suddenly surged. He guessed that the platform had given him a chance, which was why he hurriedly wanted to produce a high-quality strategy video. Unfortunately, the game “Ruins Without Restart” had too much freedom for him to make an effective strategy.

After carefully reviewing the comments on his question, most were just people expressing affection, joking around, and a few with unique in-game experiences. There was nothing particularly useful or different from the usual comment section—no real insights to guide him.

It seemed that there weren’t any reliable strategies for “Ruins Without Restart” online. All he had received were the unreliable GM’s game preferences.

Although he couldn’t make a strategy video, he could still share game information, so He Fang made a half-comedic video about the first “Radish Thief” encounter and posted it online. It was already past midnight. He was so exhausted he fell asleep shortly after.

The next morning, He Fang was woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. Groggily rubbing his eyes, he immediately hung up the call. He didn’t have anyone who would call him—any incoming calls were guaranteed to be spam.

However, this time the phone kept ringing insistently. No matter how many times he pressed the hang-up button, the calls continued. Finally, He Fang’s frustration reached its peak. He sat up, grabbed the phone, and answered, ready to give the caller a piece of his mind. But the moment he opened his mouth, he froze.

He wasn’t good at communicating. He had answered the call out of irritation. Now, he felt embarrassed, desperately hoping the person on the other end wouldn’t try to sell him anything—he just couldn’t bring himself to refuse people.

“Thank you, my dear… customer. I’m so glad you finally answered the phone.”

The voice on the other end was unforgettable—an exceptionally pleasant tone, with a hint of a sigh and a reassuring note. It made the listener feel like they were a precious treasure in the other person’s hands. He Fang’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t dare speak.

The image of a delivery person with long golden curls flashed in his mind.

“Sir, your delivery this morning—have you not gotten up yet? Should I bring it up to you?” The voice had a soft smile. There was no trace of irritation despite He Fang repeatedly hanging up on the calls. The tone was gentle, making one feel as though they wanted to treat the person kindly in return.

But He Fang ended the call abruptly.

Delivery?

What delivery?

He hadn’t ordered anything.

He Fang wanted to send a message to let the delivery person know that they had delivered the wrong food. However, for some strange reason, he opened his food delivery app instead, only to find a clear order entry for food he had actually purchased, sitting there on the list.

He Fang gasped in shock—had he really ordered food? When? Was he sleepwalking?!

Immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. Although he had no idea when exactly he placed the order, he knew that hanging up on the delivery person’s calls had definitely affected the delivery person’s work. And yet, the delivery person hadn’t gotten angry but had been so gentle in comforting him…

He Fang’s eyes turned red with guilt.

The delivery person called again. He Fang instinctively hung up, only to regret it immediately and pound his bed in frustration. Why did he hang up again?

Shaking with anxiety, he tried to type an apology, but the more hurried he became, the harder it was to type. He almost slapped himself awake out of frustration.

Instead of sending his message, he received a voice message from the delivery person. He Fang stared at the notification and, still in a daze, clicked to listen.

“Customer, don’t worry. You must not be awake yet. There’s no need to rush. As usual, I’ve left the food at your door. You can take your time to get it when you’re ready. I’ll be leaving now. I hope you enjoy your breakfast.”

The gentle male voice, deep and soothing, calmed He Fang’s anxious mood.

He quietly opened the door and saw the calm hallway, with the delivery placed quietly at his doorstep. He brought it inside.

The delivery person’s food was always stable, even the soup-based dishes never sloshed around. Since this particular delivery person had been handling the deliveries, the food was always delivered without shaking. Even the lids of takeout containers stayed perfectly in place.

He Fang sighed, realizing that truly excellent people were excellent in everything they did—even delivering takeout.

Filled with guilt, he opened the app and left a long, glowing five-star review for the delivery person.

He turned back to the table, looking at the food in front of him. He had no memory of ordering it, and it seemed so healthy.

Porridge, small side dishes, fried dough sticks, water-fried buns, and even a cup of soy milk.

Looking at the food, He Fang wondered if he had dreamt of wanting to eat all of this.

As he ate, he opened his phone to check the traffic on the video he had posted yesterday. However, when he clicked to open the app, the steamed bun in his mouth dropped back into the box with a soft “thud”. He Fang stared in shock, his eyes wide, utterly astonished.

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