Middle-Star Sector, Huoji Star.
At 7:45 a.m., Zhuang Qingyan stepped out of her house. After a three-minute walk, she arrived at the nearest transit hub. Guided by her AI wristband, she entered Elevator No. 5, exited on the fifth floor, and, under the control of the automated guidance system, stood on the shuttle board, which moved her to boarding gate 5-24.
After a "beep" sound, Zhuang Qingyan stopped in front of the bus platform gate. At that moment, the high-speed public train arrived, and both the platform gate and the train door opened simultaneously. Zhuang Qingyan stepped in, and the voice in her wireless earphones reminded her: "Your reserved seat is one aisle window away on your right-hand side."
She found the seat, sat down, and opened her AI interface to browse game-related information.
Zhuang Qingyan was a college student majoring in game development. She was currently in her internship phase at a mid-sized game company. At the moment, she was rotating through departments and was currently in the planning team. Her direct supervisor was someone usually gentle but extremely strict at work.
Her supervisor, Linda, had high expectations. For instance, even though the company required arrival by 8:30 a.m., Linda demanded she arrive by 8:10. Linda also required her to read gaming news daily, and to play at least one AI-based game or one holographic game every day. And not popular titles like Dungeon Breakers or Glory Wars—those were off-limits.
Initially, Zhuang Qingyan looked down on what she saw as Linda's "free overtime" demands. But over time, she had to admit—under Linda's devilish training regimen, her skills had improved dramatically.
From being unable to evaluate the potential of a new game, she could now make basic predictions.
—Of course, her judgment was still nowhere near Linda's level, but Zhuang Qingyan was already satisfied.
After finishing the news, she opened the game store to see if any new AI games had launched that day. If not, she planned to check out some holographic games after work.
At that moment, a push notification popped up at the top of her screen:
[New Arrival in App Store! New game "Delicious Match" now available. Click to download…]
"Delicious Match?"What kind of game was that?
Intrigued, Zhuang Qingyan clicked the notification, which redirected her to the download page.
The description read:"This is a role-playing casual game where players assume the role of an Organizer, arranging scattered delicacies to restore vibrance and charm to the Delicious Little House!"
After reading that, Zhuang Qingyan was confused.
What's the 'Delicious Little House'? How does a player 'act' as an Organizer? Can a role-playing game even be presented well on an AI device? What's the organizing mechanic? How do you know when it's successfully organized?
All these questions filled her mind, and without much thought, she instinctively clicked download.
Once the game installed and appeared on her desktop, she saw the icon—and was even more intrigued.
It was a purple sweet potato cheese ball?
Zhuang Qingyan chuckled. If she hadn't downloaded it herself, she'd have assumed it was a dessert recipe app.
Still, she had to admit, the game nailed the two key elements every game should have—it caught the player's attention and sparked curiosity.
Using a snack she'd just eaten last night as the icon—what kind of game was this?
Was it genuinely innovative and fun to play, or just a gimmick using popular food as bait, with incomprehensible gameplay underneath?
These thoughts swirled through her mind as her fingers impatiently tapped the icon to open the game.
Just like Dong Boyun and Smith, upon recognizing the elements on the 3x3 grid, she saw a cute loli character and a newbie tutorial.
Following the tutorial, she made her first element swap.
Three matching items lined up. Accompanied by the soft sounds of packaging rustling and drawers sliding, the matched items vanished from the board.
Whether it was some weirdly triggered OCD or something else, watching them disappear gave Zhuang Qingyan an unexpected sense of satisfaction.
The soothing organizing sounds amplified this feeling tremendously.
Zhuang Qingyan even felt like the irritation from waking up early had melted away.
The result screen popped up—three empty stars gradually filled with shimmering gold. Another dose of healing.
She eagerly tapped the [Next Level] button.
...
A voice came through her wireless earphones:"You are one minute from your destination. Please prepare to disembark. Have a great day at work, and see you next ride."
Even so, her hand hovered mid-air over the translucent screen—her fingers moved faster than her brain, and she tapped "next level" again.
When the new level loaded, she finally realized—with a jolt—she'd gotten hooked on an unknown little mobile game.
Wait... this is the fifth level already?!
She'd just played five levels in one go!
To be honest, the game was not hard. Once you understood its basic logic, you didn't even have to think. Your eyes scanned, and your hand followed.
Zhuang Qingyan had played many games with similarly low difficulty, but none had this level of addictiveness—easy to pick up, yet hard to put down.
With her current knowledge of games, she could tell that—even if this was a low-profile AI game—it had the potential to shake up the market.
…Well, first things first, she had to get off this train before she missed her stop!
Looking at the rapidly retreating scenery outside the window, Zhuang Qingyan shook her head, pushed those thoughts aside, jumped up, and hurried toward the exit gate guided by her earpiece.
"Phew... finally lunch break."
At the cafeteria vending station, Zhuang Qingyan tapped the screen to pick her meal and a seat, and got a notice: her food would arrive in 15 minutes.
She sat at her pre-selected seat.
Almost unconsciously, she opened her AI screen again and launched "Delicious Match" to kill time during the wait.
Honestly, even she couldn't say why she was playing it again—it was like her body had been programmed: "If you don't play a round now, you're wasting time."
Unlike kids who easily get addicted, Zhuang Qingyan was an adult—and a game designer. She had always thought she was immune to gaming addiction.
But this situation... was making her rethink that.
Her fingers danced across the screen, each swipe triggering those satisfying organizing sounds, and every few swipes brought the joy of filling those shiny stars.
And just like that, she cleared up to Level 10.
"Huh? Only one move left?"
She looked at the red-highlighted number in the top-left corner, flashing and shrinking to alert her that her remaining moves were low.
Meanwhile, the level's goal at the top of the screen showed she still needed to remove four more 'wrappers'.
Zhuang Qingyan frowned.
Sure, she could fail and replay the level, but she remembered the game had a "First-Time Three-Star Trophy" system—available for every level.
If she failed now, wouldn't that mean missing out on one trophy?
And she was so close…
One more move could make the difference.
Her eyes drifted to the item bar on the side of the screen. Third from the top was a cute cherry icon labeled:[Add Move Cherry (Small)] — Adds 2 moves. Price: 20 Delicious Coins.
"Delicious Coins" were this game's currency. Zhuang Qingyan had checked earlier:1 Star Coin = 10 Delicious Coins.
That meant this item only cost 2 Star Coins.
Sure, 2 Star Coins wasn't much.
But in today's market, the two most popular games ran on time-based pricing: point cards or monthly subscriptions.1 Star Coin = 100 Point Card units.30 Star Coins = 1 Month Card.
So, 2 Star Coins could buy two days of Dungeon Breakers or Glory Wars gameplay—or over 33 hours if paid via point cards (5 points/hour).
Even in the poorest sectors of the galaxy, no one lacked 2 Star Coins.
But still—comparisons hurt.2 Star Coins weren't a lot, but come on—those AAA games were sitting right there. And this unknown little mobile game wanted 2 Star Coins for one small item?
AAAHHHHHH!
Zhuang Qingyan felt torn.
Give up? She couldn't bear it.Pay up? It felt like a total rip-off.
As she debated, a cafeteria robot delivered her lunch.
Smelling the food, Zhuang Qingyan gave up on her dilemma. She tapped the screen, thinking: Forget it. It's just a game. I play it, it doesn't play me.
She used her final move—still failed the level.
Just as she braced for the failure screen, a surprise pop-up appeared:
[So close! Only 2 wrappers away from completing the level!Would you like to buy an [Add Move Cherry (Small)]?]
Annoyed, she tapped "No."
But the expected failure screen never came.
Instead, a new special offer appeared on the screen:
[Newbie Special Offer — Limited Time Only]Contents:
Delicious Coins × 100
Add Move Cherry (Small) × 1
Organizing Mech Arm (Small Area) × 1Price: 1 Star Coin
Zhuang Qingyan blinked. Her gaze landed on the price tag—and she felt her resolve start to waver.
Just 1 Star Coin for all that… maybe... it's actually worth it?