Chapter Ten: Persuasion

When Zhao Kang saw Chen Wan, he was so shocked his jaw nearly hit the floor.

These days, the fashion sense in Haizhou was dreadful. There were hardly any specialty stores on the streets; Li Ning was the sports brand idolized by students, while casual wear was dominated by Baleno. The later wildly popular Metersbonwe hadn’t even opened in Haizhou yet. Most young people still shopped for clothes at the old pedestrian street, picking through stalls and small shops. So a stylish beauty like Chen Wan was a rare sight.

It wasn’t like the future, when Taobao would rise and trendy clothes would sell nationwide. Opportunities to encounter new products were still few and far between.

Normally, Zhao Kang was quite the chatterbox, but in front of Chen Wan, he instantly became tongue-tied. Aside from a shy “Hello, sister,” he couldn’t manage a single complete sentence, bashful as a young girl.

Having brought Chen Wan along, Li Mu originally intended to pay for lunch, but Zhao Kang insisted and ended up footing the bill for three burger sets.

After lunch, the three of them strolled with their ice cream cones toward the Big Spider Internet Café, not far from the city center.

Big Spider was the café Li Mu and Zhao Kang frequented most. The chubby owner, known in the neighborhood as Er Bin, was twenty-six or twenty-seven and had a knack for dealing with people. Once you got to know him, you could enjoy member prices here, and occasionally, if you were short on cash, you could keep a tab. It had practically become their home turf.

Internet cafés in Haizhou charged between one and three yuan per hour, but the average was two. The first floor of Big Spider, with over fifty machines, was all two yuan an hour; only the upstairs partitioned rooms cost three.

The partitioned rooms came in two, three, and four-person sizes. Aside from the separation, there was nothing special about them. But as soon as Li Mu entered, he noticed dozens of men of all ages on the first floor staring incessantly at Chen Wan, so he went straight to the owner at the counter and said, “Er Bin, are there any three-person rooms upstairs?”

“Hey, Xiao Mu, Kangzi.” Er Bin greeted them warmly, glanced at Chen Wan beside Li Mu, and said, “Upstairs, room 303. Just go right up.”

Familiar with the place, they headed to room 303. Li Mu had Chen Wan sit inside, himself in the middle, and Zhao Kang on the outside.

Zhao Kang had been itching to play CS lately. Before the machines were even on, he said to Li Mu, “Let’s join a LAN game in the café and challenge the others.”

“No fun. You play by yourself. I need to look something up first.”

Li Mu wasn’t here to play games today—he was here to research "Stone Age" and the Abe plugin.

As the dominant force in online gaming now, "Stone Age" had been commercially operated for some time, and commercial plugins already had a user base. Since the Abe plugin could create an industry chain worth millions, it meant "Stone Age" players still had plenty of demand.

Li Mu’s plan was simple: study the Abe plugin, then develop a superior plugin in every aspect. The plugin market was always about technical prowess, and he was confident his skills could outclass the Abe plugin by miles.

“Damn!” Zhao Kang complained, “It’s boring playing alone. Nobody to watch my back.”

Chen Wan cheerfully offered, “I’ll play with you.”

“Really, Sister Wan?!”

Zhao Kang instantly forgot about Li Mu and happily went off to play CS with Chen Wan.

Li Mu booted up the computer and saw "Stone Age" on the desktop, so he searched for the Abe plugin.

From what he found, the Abe plugin was already quite established, with many users discussing it on forums. It had an excellent reputation. This era hadn’t seen the rise of organized internet shills, so such widespread praise couldn’t be fabricated. Li Mu immediately downloaded a trial version of the Abe plugin, registered a "Stone Age" account, and started familiarizing himself with the game and the plugin’s functions.

Li Mu had never played "Stone Age" in his previous life. Before his senior year, he didn’t dare get hooked on online games, only occasionally playing CS, Red Alert, and StarCraft. Not until college, under the urging of his roommates, did he try "Legend." So he had to learn "Stone Age" from scratch.

Fortunately, online games at the time had simple world structures, quest systems, character balancing, and skill/equipment progressions. For an experienced techie, it was easy to pick up.

Li Mu immersed himself in studying the game and plugin. Chen Wan and Zhao Kang played CS for a while, then, after more than an hour, Chen Wan received a call and apologized that she had to leave.

Li Mu escorted her out of the café, watched her get into a taxi, then returned upstairs to continue his research.

Back in the room, Zhao Kang asked Li Mu curiously, “Where did you find such a stunning sister? She’s as pretty as your classmate Su Yinxue, maybe even more stylish!”

“Nonsense. Su Yinxue is just eighteen. How can a teenage girl compare to a twenty-one-year-old woman?” Li Mu rolled his eyes. Thinking of Zhao Kang’s mysterious fate in his past life, he probed, “By the way, how did you feel about the college entrance exam?”

Eyes glued to CS, Zhao Kang replied, “Eh, it was alright. My grades are always average, but I’m pretty sure I cleared the undergraduate line.”

Li Mu frowned, “You haven’t even estimated your score, you’re that confident?”

“Seventy or eighty percent sure,” Zhao Kang smiled. “I’m planning to apply to the Electromechanical Institute under the Provincial University of Technology, third-tier. And a backup in a provincial junior college. How about you?”

Li Mu didn’t answer immediately, thinking over Zhao Kang’s situation. In his last life, he didn’t know how things turned out for Zhao Kang, but he had left home for years, almost completely cut off from his parents, and Li Mu hadn’t seen him in over a decade. Li Mu didn’t want that to happen again.

Zhao Kang’s parents were notorious in the neighborhood for their strictness—more than strict, it was outright tyranny. As far as Li Mu knew, before the college entrance exam, Zhao Kang didn’t even have the authority to buy his own clothes; his mother would only pay for clothes she wanted him to wear.

Li Mu remembered Zhao Kang had a pair of cropped pants he loved, which he had secretly borrowed money from Li Mu to buy. To wear them, he’d stash them in his backpack, change into them before school, and switch back before going home—proof of how unhealthy his family dynamics were.

After the exam, Zhao Kang’s parents forced him to repeat his senior year, leading to his eventual rebellion and disappearance. Li Mu realized he needed to help Zhao Kang resolve his family conflicts early.

He asked, “If you don’t make the undergraduate cut, would your dad and Liu Aunt let you go to junior college?”

“I would, but they definitely wouldn’t.” Zhao Kang replied, “My parents have always said I must get into an undergraduate program. If not, I have to repeat until I do.”

“So what do you think?”

“Me?” Zhao Kang shrugged, “I’m definitely not repeating. Another year of senior high? I’d go insane.”

Li Mu nodded slightly and said nothing more.

Zhao Kang’s dilemma seemed unsolvable for now. If he didn’t hit the undergrad mark, his parents would force him to repeat. Even if he wanted to go to junior college, it was hopeless—he’d be pushed to repeat.

But Li Mu thought, if Zhao Kang could pay for junior college himself, his parents might not be able to stop him. Rather than letting him repeat and disappear for years, it was better to help him go to junior college, even if it caused family strife. At least he wouldn’t vanish.

With this decided, Li Mu felt his burden grow heavier. Not only did he have to earn his own tuition and buy a computer, but now he had to help Zhao Kang earn enough for tuition, too.

"Stone Age," this summer, it’s all up to you!

Relying on the five hundred yuan he’d saved over three years, Li Mu went straight to Er Bin and booked an upstairs two-person room, reserving it for three days without letting anyone else in.

The private room was expensive. From 7 a.m. to 10 p.m.—fifteen hours at three yuan an hour. Overnight, it cost three yuan more than downstairs, eight yuan per night. That was fifty-three yuan a day for one computer, one hundred and six for two. But Er Bin was generous, and since Li Mu already got member prices, he offered a three-day deal for two hundred yuan.

Li Mu didn’t have a computer. If he wanted to make a plugin, he had to develop it here in isolation. Luckily, the technical requirements for this plugin were low, and Li Mu was confident three days would be enough.

Zhao Kang couldn’t understand why Li Mu would spend money to book a room for three days. His family had temporarily allowed him to relax after the exam, but three days and nights in an internet café? Even if his parents didn’t object, he’d be miserable.

Li Mu told him, “I’ve been studying programming for a while. I want to try making a plugin myself.”

“A plugin? What’s that? What does a plugin do?” Zhao Kang had only played single-player games so far, never tried online games.

Li Mu explained simply, “Say you’re playing Red Alert with someone online. A plugin lets you have full screen view before you even unlock the map, and even if your opponent builds a black screen device, you can still see through it. It can also make your troops—same unit types—move and attack faster than the enemy. You might mine regular gold but get diamond-level rewards, or even directly generate money.”

“Holy…” Zhao Kang was stunned for a while before blurting, “If everyone’s playing Red Alert together in a café, and you cheat like that, aren’t you afraid someone will beat you up?”

Li Mu was speechless. Clearly, Zhao Kang hadn’t played online games yet. He understood plugins were cheating tools, but didn’t grasp their economic significance. These weren’t for local multiplayer, but for online games.

Li Mu didn’t bother explaining further, just encouraged him, “If this works out, you might earn your first year’s college tuition this summer!”