Chapter 162.1: Player 2937, Are You Sure?
Xie Xizhao had bought a ticket for the innermost seat in the very last row.
At first, it was because he was afraid of being recognized. Later, he realized that this decision was incredibly wise.
He had bought the ticket three days in advance, and just a few minutes after sales opened, the whole showing was sold out. If he had waited any longer, he might have been forced to sit in the middle of a packed crowd.
In fact, it wasn’t just this theater.
Over the past two days, screenings of The Player in cinemas all over the country had been nearly sold out. On Weibo, there were tons of people complaining about not being able to get tickets, tagging theaters to add more showings.
When Xie Xizhao slipped into the dark theater right on time, a couple next to him was chatting about buying tickets.
The guy said, “You had to come see your idol on the first day of the New Year? I swear, I’m getting jealous.”
The girl replied, “Hmph, acting all sour while still helping me get the ticket—I’ll let you off this time, mwah!”
Xie Xizhao: “……”
He took a bite of popcorn.
Well then.
After all his careful choosing, he ended up in a VIP seat right in the middle of a couple’s flirting.
Thankfully, the couple only flirted briefly—once the screen lit up, they stopped talking.
Xie Xizhao took another bite of popcorn. Pre-show ads had started rolling. Several trailers played in succession, and he saw quite a few familiar faces.
One of them even messaged him after seeing his ticket post on social media, teasing him for watching their movie without renting out the whole theater.
Because Xie Xizhao was both an idol and an actor, many people thought he didn’t quite belong in either world and had average relationships in both. But in truth, it was just the opposite.
No matter which field it was, he had way more friends in the industry than people assumed. Those who didn’t know him might make snide remarks, but the ones who did know him—hardly anyone actually disliked him.
The other party had asked bluntly, and Xie Xizhao answered just as straightforwardly:
“Get a feel for the real reactions.”
For a film, the truest form of feedback was nothing more than the audience’s immediate response in the theater.
Xie Xizhao had thought this through quite well—but he hadn’t been to a movie theater in years, and he’d forgotten how different a big screen felt compared to a computer monitor.
The moment the first image appeared, he paused for a second.
At the same time, the girl beside him had already put down her soda in excitement.
“So cool,” she whispered.
—
And it was a very cool guy.
He had an earring, wore a graffiti-covered T-shirt full of scribbles, and ripped jeans. The whole look gave off a scrappy, roguish vibe. He was leaning against a motorcycle, chewing gum with the attitude of someone who ruled the universe.
The camera zoomed in from a distance, giving him a dramatic close-up. Under the messy bangs, his features were unexpectedly delicate—far beyond what anyone would expect from his outfit.
It was the director’s usual, flamboyant cinematic style.
A small town at dusk, bold and saturated sunset colors, gritty yet gorgeous streetscapes, and the person in the frame.
This particular shot had already appeared in the trailer.
Back then, Xie Xizhao’s “gangster” look had been a hot topic—some loved it, some hated it. But now, watching it in full context, no one could deny it anymore: regardless of whether the character was likable, Xie Xizhao himself was a dedicated, versatile actor.
The film’s male lead, He Miao, proved with his performance that no matter how blessed you were with looks, if your personality sucked, you could still be really punchable.
In the first ten minutes of the film, he did three things that fit the worst stereotypes of his appearance.
First, he raced his motorcycle wildly through the streets—while scaring a bunch of free-range chickens by the dirt road on the side.
Second, he skipped class by climbing over the school wall to get into a brawl. He ended up covered in bruises but still told his grandparents he’d just fallen on the way home. Of course, when he tried to use the same excuse on his homeroom teacher, he got properly punished for it.
He’d barely finished writing and reading his self-criticism the day before, and the next day he skipped class again to go to an internet café—to take part in some “Internet Café Gaming Championship.”
Most people at the premiere were fans, and had some idea of the director Xuan Yang’s style.
But after being ass*ulted by surround sound effects of roaring motorcycles, smashing keyboards, and full-on brawls… everyone who had mentally prepared for another well-behaved, gentle character like Tao Yan fell into an awkward, stunned silence.
If this were an online video, the comment section would be full of question marks by now.
At this moment, all Xie Xizhao could hear was the mechanical crunching of popcorn from the couple next to him.
—
Of course, even though He Miao was completely punchable in both word and action, if you calmed down and looked closely, there were still a few redeeming qualities.
For instance, he only did his motorcycle stunts in wide open areas, and aside from a few chickens, no one else suffered. Also, the reason for that group fight was because some local thugs were b*llying one of his younger friends. And—most importantly—in the eyes of his grandparents, he was still a sweet and dutiful kid.
And then… he was really good at games.
This was a teenager with exceptional natural talent in gaming.
Whether it was online games, single-player campaigns, or the wide variety of arcade games, he could master them all in no time—and win.
Even…
Whack-a-Mole.
When this roguish teen, chewing gum with a deadpan expression, won first place in a Whack-a-Mole tournament thanks to his lightning-fast reflexes—even the audience who had just been frowning at his violent behavior couldn’t help but laugh.
“So damn cool,” Xie Xizhao heard the guy from the couple next to him mutter under his breath. “How the hell do you even make Whack-a-Mole look so badass…”
The next second, the king of badassery grabbed his stick, stuffed the prize money into his pocket, and headed straight to the village entrance—for another gang fight.
This one was absolute chaos. By the end, he was covered in bruises. His little brother beside him whispered, “Uh, boss…”
“I’m leaving next week,” he said.
He Miao lit a cigarette, casually tapping away at a match-3 game on an old-school phone. The outdated device lagged with every move, the glitchy sound effects adding a weird, eerie vibe. But he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.
As he played, he asked distractedly, “Where to? When you coming back?”
“…To the county,” the younger boy said. “My parents think this place is a bad influence. They saved up some money and want to take me to study in the city.”
“Not coming back,” he added.
He Miao’s hand paused mid-tap.
As the cigarette burned close to his fingers, he finally said, “That’s good.”
“Don’t come back,” he said, stubbing it out. “There’s nothing worth staying for here.”
He patted the kid on the shoulder, tossed the cigarette to the ground and crushed it underfoot, then turned and got on his motorcycle.
“I’m off,” he said. “We’ll throw you a farewell party on Sunday. Be there.”
He barely took two steps before tripping over a stick on the ground.
A few people in the theater couldn’t help but laugh.
But compared to the laughter during the Whack-a-Mole scene, this one felt quieter, more subdued.
At some point, the popcorn crunching beside Xie Xizhao had stopped. He heard the guy in the couple sigh and say, “Man…”
But that was all. He didn’t say anything else.
That single word seemed to capture everything he felt.
—
The biggest difference between movies and TV shows is that television can take its time to explore the protagonist’s background in detail, while a film needs to tell a complete story—with a beginning, middle, and end—in just two to three hours.
In truth, the opening of The Player wasn’t long. Up to this point, it had only been about twenty minutes.
But in those twenty minutes, director Xuan Yang used a few bold, straightforward scenes to pull everyone into that remote village—right to the side of the main character, He Miao.
Outdated education, a chaotic upbringing, and a future so bleak it was almost invisible.
All of this was shown as background within a fast-paced storyline—but the use of visual storytelling let the audience instantly and viscerally feel that sense of helpless despair.
Because of the fight, it was no surprise that He Miao showed up late the next day.
Hongcheng No.1 High School was the only school in the entire G County with any sort of reputation.
But even so, it wasn’t a traditional academic high school—it was a vocational one.
When He Miao walked into class, the whole room was still slouched over, half asleep. The teacher was at the front, lecturing, while chalk dust drifted gently down.
He Miao tried to sneak quietly to his seat during the lull—only to be halted by a chilling voice from behind him: “Stop right there.”
“What period is this?” the homeroom teacher banged the blackboard in frustration. “He Miao, you tell me—what class are we on now? It’s already the third period of the morning! Why don’t you just wait until after lunch to show up?!”
He Miao gave a little cough and said, “I did consider that… but even I thought that might be pushing it a bit.”
Teacher: “……”
Classmates: “……”
“…Just get back to your seat!” the teacher sputtered, so angry they could barely speak.
He Miao rubbed his nose and went back to his seat. As he closed his eyes, he could still hear the teacher’s voice ringing out:
“Third year! You’re all in your third year of high school! Don’t any of you have even a shred of motivation to study? Do you even want to leave this place? Or do you just want to rot here forever? Can’t you show a little ambition, huh?”
What even was ambition?
He Miao wondered.
Was it being born by accident, passed around like a burden by both biological parents who didn’t want him, yet still shamelessly surviving in this world?
Was it winning gang fights and earning a bunch of underlings like some kind of dumbass street boss?
No… it was probably being the Whack-a-Mole Champion.
Yeah, he thought.
That was a good title.
He drifted off in a haze. And when he opened his eyes again—the teacher, the blackboard, the classroom… all gone. In their place was a magnificent, dreamlike field stretching out before him.
The whole world looked like something out of a fantasy RPG. Standing on the field, he saw floating stat panels in the air. A tiny fairy hovered before him, twirling in place as it repeated the same line over and over:
“Welcome to the Reset World. Player No.2937, He Miao. The Lord has sensed your heart’s desire. You’ve now unlocked your Lucky Starter Pack. Please, enjoy your gaming journey~!”
He Miao: “…”
“…Bullshit.”
He shut his eyes.
Half a minute later, he hesitantly cracked one eye open again. The dumb little fairy was still spinning in front of him at a perfectly steady pace.
He Miao jolted upright—instantly wide awake.
And at that exact moment, the audience in the theater woke up too.
Life really is unpredictable.
A delinquent teen like He Miao—who didn’t particularly want to live, but wasn’t ready to die either—accidentally dozed off in class and stepped straight into a game world… only to find himself a player in a virtual reality adventure.
The game assistant in this world told He Miao that, in reality, he had already developed a rare illness—and didn’t have much time left to live.
Now it had one piece of good news and one piece of bad news for him.
The bad news:
His rare disease had yet to be conquered by modern medicine. In three months, his internal organs would completely fail, and he would die a slow, painful death.
He Miao had to cut it off: “…Are you kidding me?”
The little fairy promptly presented him with a copy of his future medical report.
He Miao twitched at the corner of his mouth.
Well then.
Yeah, looked like he really was falling apart.
He had no choice but to ask, “So… what’s the good news?”
“The good news is—” the fairy cheerfully spun in a circle, “As the Chosen One handpicked by the Lord of this world, you’ve now unlocked the game’s highest-level access! You now have two options:
First, complete the game on Hell difficulty, defeat the final boss, and return to the real world with a fully healed body.
Second, stay here in the game world—we’ve prepared generous benefits for you, and tons of fun surprises~”
