Translator: dapotaturs
Release Date: 12/15/2024
Edited Date: 06/24/2025
……………………………………..
Nuo Wei stood frozen on the stairs, his breath catching in his throat.
Most zerg males were flabby and unkempt, but not like Chu Ci—he had a well-proportioned physique with long limbs, and was not only good-looking but also elegant. More than capable of rivaling the Empire’s most beautiful females.
Nuo Wei had only requested the main brain to match him with a male master for calming his mental sea, with no particular expectations towards the male zerg’s appearance. But when the system produced the matched profile, and the male’s information card appeared, Nuo Wei had been stunned.
The profile photo on the matching website was a blue-background ID shot—Chu Ci’s eyes slightly lifted to look at the camera, with long, thick lashes and amber-colored irises hidden in their shadows, like rare drops of golden resin.
Nuo Wei felt a mix of emotions then—joyed by the male’s exceptionally handsome appearance, which no female could resist, and worried that with such a good-looking male master, countless females would vie for his attention. Nuo Wei, dull and inexpressive as he was, might not be able to hold onto his position as “Female Monarch.”
“Nuo Wei?” Chu Ci called from below, noticing that his ‘wife’ was staring blankly. “Stop spacing out and come here!”
The male zerg seemed oblivious to how alluring he looked—one hand tugging at his shirt collar, exposing a wide expanse of his collarbone. The skin was a clear, luminous shade of warm white.
Nuo Wei hurriedly lowered his eyes. “Yes.”
He asked Chu Ci, “Why do you want to draw an insect pattern?”
Zerg society revered males, and it was rare for a male zerg to want to dress like a female.
Chu Ci mumbled a few words, “Just help me draw it.”
He didn’t want to tell Nuo Wei that he was going for a job interview. If he got the job, that would be one thing, but if he didn’t, it would be too embarrassing.
Nuo Wei never pried into such matters. He quickly found some skin-safe paint at home and knelt beside the male zerg.
He picked up the brush, fixed his gaze on the patch of bare skin, and asked, “What kind of insect markings would you like?”
Nuo Wei had experience drawing maps in the military and had a decent foundation in art. But Chu Ci didn’t care about all that and said, “Just the same as yours is fine.”
Nuo Wei hesitated for a moment, then picked up the brush and pressed the cold brush tip against the male’s skin.
Chu Ci involuntarily flinched.
In this zerg lifetime, Chu Ci had just come of age and had barely lived outside of the nursery, not having experienced much. In his previous human life, Chu Ci was a confirmed bachelor, the epitome of “The wise don’t fall in love; the aloof king sails smoothly from master’s to PhD.” Chu Ci had remained single all the way through grad school, dying single without ever dating anyone.
Now with Nuo Wei’s focused attention as he applied the brush to his skin, Chu Ci glanced down, noticing that his female monarch was extremely concentrated, eyes locked on the small patch of skin where he was drawing the bug pattern. It was almost like a devotee painting a sacred mural for a deity, not just drawing a pattern on a male’s skin.
They were so close that Chu Ci could feel Nuo Wei’s warm breath. The sensation of the brush on his skin was a bit itchy, raising goosebumps all over Chu Ci’s body. When Nuo Wei drew straight lines, it was fine, but whenever he took a turn, Chu Ci would shudder, curling his shoulders back.
“Hiss——”
As another stroke was made, his hand quickly grabbing Nuo Wei’s. “You don’t have to be so precise. Just make it look good enough.”
Zerg interviews were all done over the Star Network, through a webcam with a bit of soft lighting and beauty filters. There wouldn’t be any major issues.
Chu Ci shuddered again, and Nuo Wei followed suit. He was even more nervous, half-kneeling in place, holding the paint with his eyes darting around.
Chu Ci had no choice but to shift his body, uncurl his hunched shoulders, and offer his collarbone to Nuo Wei’s brush. “…Just keep going.”
Nuo Wei whispered, “…Yes.”
He lowered his gaze, quickly dipping the brush into the paint and continuing to apply the rich ink to the male’s neck.
By the time they were done, both were drenched in sweat.
Luckily, the paint was waterproof, so the fake pattern wouldn’t just smudge all over.
Nuo Wei hastily packed away the brush and paints, flustered enough to put several things in the wrong places. He zipped up the art box and stood. “…Um, my Lord, I’m done now. I’ll be going first…”
Without waiting for Chu Ci’s reply, he quickly picked up the box and hurried out of the male’s bedroom with hurried steps.
Chu Ci felt awkward too, standing up to close the door behind him. His hand shook as he locked the door, feeling a bit guilty.
The male leaned back against the door and collected himself before heading into the bathroom. He looked at his collarbone in the mirror, examining the freshly painted insect markings.
Nuo Wei’s painting skills were quite good; the lines flowed smoothly and connected naturally. Although they lacked the organic subtlety of natural markings, they were good enough to fool someone over video.
Chu Ci nodded, satisfied.
He opened his personal terminal; it was 7:45 PM now, leaving fifteen minutes until the interview began—just enough time to do some preparation.
Chu Ci activated the camera, setting the soft light and filters to the maximum. He carefully examined his reflection in the mirror, ensuring the zerg pattern appeared flawless—no one could tell it was drawn. Then he found the meeting room and quietly waited.
This company was developing space war games, one of the top players in the current zerg-themed game industry, with ample funding—also Chu Ci’s most desired company for an interview.
At 8:00 PM, the interviewers logged in.
The panel consisted of three interviewers: one older and two younger. The older man sat in the middle and was clearly the lead interviewer.
He flipped through Chu Ci’s resume, nodding when he saw Imperial Central University, but then furrowed his brow upon seeing the blank spots. “You haven’t served in the military?”
The zergs were a warlike race, taking pride in military service. Most professionals in other industries had some reason that kept them from enlisting. For a male like Chu Ci, graduating from a top university but without any military experience, the only explanation was that his college life was too carefree, his grades too poor to meet the minimum entry requirements for the Empire’s military.
Chu Ci nodded, “Yes, I don’t have military experience.”
He wasn’t planning to lie about this.
As soon as the words left his mouth, one of the interviewers laughed lightly, his expression slightly disdainful.
Chu Ci remained composed. “Even so, I don’t believe that undermines my competence as a game designer. The military and the gaming industry are two entirely different fields.”
He’d already clawed his way through the brutal autumn recruitment season. He’d heard every kind of snide remark. A little sneer from this interviewer didn’t faze him.
“You’re very confident,” the lead interviewer pushed his glasses up. “A graduate from Central University, with a blank slate on your resume so far, and you still dared to apply here.”
Chu Ci answered calmly, “Since you reviewed and approved my résumé, I figured I might as well dare.”
“Hmm.” The lead interviewer shrugged, clearly not impressed with Chu Ci’s smooth-talking demeanor. “Then tell us, if you were to make a game, what would the first step be?”
It was a vague and tricky question, generally reserved for the end of an interview. If this question came first, it meant the interviewer had little interest in the candidate.
The lead interviewer began gathering his files, checking the next candidate’s details on his terminal—he was ready to disconnect if Chu Ci didn’t have an answer.
Chu Ci calmly said, “In my view, you first need to identify your target audience.”
He suspected zerg game developers had brains made of muscle. Their games all revolved around fighting, killing, elaborate bullying mechanics, and endless rankings based on combat achievements—turning games into a second military department.
But for the females, who fought on the front lines during the day and played these types of games at night, it wasn’t about relaxation but self-torture.
He slowly explained, “I’ve reviewed your company’s games. All five of the hits are space warfare-themed, and they’re all very similar. Even though they’re aimed at females, there’s a variety within them—married, unmarried, older, and younger.”
Space warfare might be attractive for zerg who had never been on a battlefield, but for those who had faced real combat on the front lines, it seemed overly juvenile.
“Besides, this group of non-combatant female zerg are generally still in school and don’t have the means for large-scale spending. That’s why I suggest shifting focus to working-age, unmarried female zerg—or those who are married but still retain spending power.”
The interviewers exchanged glances, unsure whether to show incredulity or a mocking expression, but they finally seemed interested in Chu Ci, not immediately dismissing him.
One interviewer asked, “Tell us how you would attract this demographic?”
“Virtual pets,” Chu Ci replied. “For example, nurturing a small male zerg, like a cloud pet.”
The entertainment industry on Earth was far superior to that of the Zerg, with many excellent game titles. But as a newcomer interviewing, it wasn’t realistic to pitch big, ambitious AAA games like 《The Witcher》series. It was better to start with simpler, more concept-driven games.
Female zergs were so tightly wound that Chu Ci believed they would prefer casual, idle games, like raising a digital pet.
And in zerg society, what kind of pet would be the most adored? Naturally, a cute little male zerg.
The interviewer straightened up in interest, “Keep going.”
“I believe unmarried female zerg crave one thing most: a male zerg. And for married ones—it’s a hatchling.”
Chu Ci opened a prepared file and began presenting.
The core of the game was very simple: the player character crash-lands on a desolate planet. From there, they choose whether to adopt an adult male zerg or a male egg. If they choose the egg, they go through a process of incubation and rearing, feeding the little one as it grows. If they pick the adult, they get a wide-eyed, helpless young male zerg waiting to be pampered.
Both hatchlings and young adults would have interactive dialogue after receiving care and food. Depending on the player’s choices, their personalities could develop differently, offering a variety of interactions.
Chu Ci also included elements like outfit customization and grooming, since character skins were always a lucrative monetization point.
The zerg had excellent modeling technology. It would be entirely feasible to render adorable hatchlings and handsome, elegant young male zerg.
This was a fairly rough document. Chu Ci hadn’t had time to put all his ideas down yet, but even so, it was already groundbreaking in the zerg industry.
The lead interviewer sat up completely straight and stared at the projection with bright interest all the way until Chu Ci finished the demo and closed the file.
“Cough, cough.” The lead interviewer cleared his throat, “Hello, could you please send me the document? I’d like to discuss it with my colleagues.”
“Of course.” Chu Ci clicked to send.
This was only a conceptual outline, not yet a full proposal. If the company decided to hire him, he planned to submit a far more detailed plan to showcase his ability and sincerity.
The lead interviewer received the file and quickly logged off.
The two younger interviewers, who were around Chu Ci’s age, did not grill him with difficult questions. They asked mundane questions, and they themselves felt that the company’s game direction was too limited, unsure of how to change it. After discussing Chu Ci’s proposal, they both agreed on its feasibility.
The lead interviewer never returned, so the two younger ones started chatting casually with Chu Ci. They let their guard down, discussing animatedly until the conversation turned into, “Oh my god, how should we model the hatchling’s face?”
“What should a young male zerg look like? Moody? Gorgeous? Refined?”
“Should we reference those popular male models from QuQi, the site where female Zergs gather?”
Just as certain social websites have clear gender demographics—like how Hu Pu is male-dominated, and Xiaohongshu is female-dominated—QuQi is a site where female Zergs congregate. They would gather there to vote on national male zerg models.
Chu Ci interjected, “It’s better not to.”
He explained, “I really don’t recommend referencing real individuals. There are image rights issues involved. If the male zerg being imitated sues the company, claiming the resemblance disrupted his life, he could demand that the content be taken down and ask for compensation. It’d be a legal mess.”
The interviewer pondered, “Indeed.”
He looked a bit wistful, saying, “What a pity. I saw such a stunning young male Zerg on QuQi yesterday. If we modeled him, the game would definitely blow up.”
Hearing this, Chu Ci became curious, “What did he look like?”
In this life as a male zerg, Chu Ci had never been on QuQi and didn’t know what the current aesthetic was for female zergs. After all, Nuo Wei looked so handsome, and Chu Ci was a little concerned about whether his looks would match with his female monarch.
“Well, let’s have a look. Good things are meant to be shared.”
Grinning meaningfully, the interviewer navigated to the site with practiced ease, clicked open a video, and projected it onto the holo-screen.
Chu Ci glanced up, immediately holding his breath.
The image displayed a male Zerg wearing a long gray coat, driving a silver-white flying vehicle. As the sun set, the window lowered, the wind swept through his long hair and coat, casting an orange glow over his amber eyes, creating a dreamy, almost ethereal ambiance, like precious resin.
In the video, the male leaned languidly against the window, eyes half-shut in a careless, relaxed posture. Then, as if he saw something, his long lashes dipped low, his gaze softened, and the corners of his lips curled up into a faint smile.
Chu Ci: “…”
He quietly turned his head and angled the side of his face with the fake insect markings toward the camera.
