In his previous life, Zhong Ming was a titan.
He hadn't just been an "artist." He had been the lead creative director for one of the most ambitious MMORPG projects in history before his illness. He knew the industry inside and out—from the lines of code that made a character jump to the market strategies that turned a niche indie title into a global phenomenon.
He remembered the sleepless nights, the crunch times, and the exhilaration of seeing millions of players immerse themselves in worlds he had created. That was why, lying in that hospital bed with cancer eating away at his vitality, he had felt such profound regret. His studio had just started, his magnum opus was unfinished, and he was being forced to log out of the game of life forever.
But now, the screen was black no longer.
Zhong Ming looked at his hands again. They were pale and thin, lacking the muscle memory of a veteran, but they were steady.
"I survived," he whispered, the realization finally settling in his bones. "I have another chance."
However, survival was just the baseline. Zhong Ming was not a man content with mediocrity. In his previous life, he had climbed to the peak through sheer talent and ruthlessness. Here, in a world where the entertainment industry was an infant stumbling in the dark, he saw an opportunity far greater than simple survival.
He saw a vacuum.
The memories of this body's previous owner were fragmented but useful. The boy had been a dreamer, obsessed with the pre-war "Golden Age" of entertainment that he had only heard about in stories from older survivors. He had a raw talent for sketching, but he lacked the technical education and the philosophical depth that came from decades of cultural evolution.
"I don't just want to be a painter," Zhong Ming declared to the silent room. "I want to build an empire."
He turned his attention back to the floating holographic interface from the mysterious bracelet.
**[Points: 70]**
**[Lottery Available]**
The interface was minimalist, almost stark. It didn't resemble the flashy, ad-ridden apps of the 21st century. It felt ancient, in a way, or perhaps just advanced beyond human aesthetics.
"System," Zhong Ming muttered, testing the waters. He was a man of logic, but this defied logic. Still, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "If I have points, and I can draw a lottery... what can I win?"
There was no response from the system. It was a tool, cold and passive.
He tapped the [Lottery] button.
The numbers on the screen spun rapidly, a blur of digits. The "70" instantly dropped to "20".
*It costs 50 points per draw?* Zhong Ming noted mentally. The price was steep. The system had given him 70 points for a single high-quality painting. That meant he would have to produce six or seven more masterpieces just to afford a second draw. The creation of "value" was the currency here.
The spinning slowed. A generic "Congratulations" sound effect chimed—a jarring contrast to the sleek interface.
**[Acquired Item: Universal Search Tool]**
**[Usage: 1/1]**
**[Description: Allows the user to retrieve any information existing in their own memory or public databases with absolute clarity for 15 minutes. Filters out mental fog and confusion.]**
Zhong Ming stared at the description.
"Is this a joke?" he scoffed, though his heart beat a little faster.
In this world, where digital archives had been wiped clean by the AI during the war, data was fragmented. But more importantly, the description said "existing in their own memory."
Zhong Ming's eyes widened.
He was a transmigrator. His memory contained the blueprints of *Pokemon*, *The Legend of Zelda*, *Dark Souls*, *Genshin Impact*, *World of Warcraft*, and hundreds of other masterpieces from a timeline that no longer existed.
However, human memory was fallible. He might remember the feeling of *Hollow Knight*, the aesthetic of *God of War*, or the mechanics of *Clash of Clans*, but could he recall the exact stat growth of a Charizard? Could he recall the precise map layout of the Undead Burg in *Dark Souls*? Could he recite the exact dialogue of *The Witcher*?
No. Even a genius forgets details over time.
But with the [Universal Search Tool]...
"In effect, it's a perfect library of my past life's gaming history," Zhong Ming realized, a shiver running down his spine. "It turns my foggy nostalgia into high-definition technical documentation."
For 15 minutes at a time, he could be a walking encyclopedia of the 21st century's greatest entertainment achievements.
"Only trash relies solely on cheat codes," Zhong Ming muttered, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "But a true master uses every tool at his disposal."
He didn't use the tool immediately. He needed to save it. He had a limited number of uses (1/1), and he hadn't even secured a job yet.
He turned back to his workbench. The painting *Resistance Soldiers* was done, but his application was not.
The original Zhong Ming had intended to apply for the position of **Junior Illustrator**.
Zhong Ming scoffed at the thought. "Junior Illustrator? Drawing assets for some generic war simulator? No. That's a waste of my talent."
He opened the digital resume template. His fingers hovered over the holographic keyboard.
In the "Desired Position" field, he highlighted "Illustrator" and deleted it.
He typed in four words, each letter striking with the weight of a hammer:
**WORLD ARCHITECT.**
It was a bold, almost arrogant title. In the entertainment industry of this world, roles were rigid. You were a coder, a modeler, an artist, or a writer. "World Architect" wasn't a standard job title. It implied a holistic control over the project—someone who didn't just draw the pictures, but designed the rules, the lore, and the soul of the game.
It was a title that screamed, *I am not an employee; I am a creator.*
He attached the *Resistance Soldiers* painting. It wasn't just a portfolio piece; it was a statement. It showed that he understood the zeitgeist of the post-war era. It showed he understood fear, and more importantly, hope.
"Guangyi Interactive Entertainment," Zhong Ming read the company name from the job posting.
It was a mid-tier company. Not a giant, but not a nobody. They specialized in mobile games and small console projects. According to the memories of this world, they had released a few generic shooting galleries that were quickly forgotten.
*Perfect,* Zhong Ming thought. *A large company would bury me in bureaucracy. A failing company would drag me down with them. A mid-tier company looking for a breakthrough... that is a horse I can ride to the finish line.*
He hit [Send].
The holographic screen flickered, showing "Application Submitted."
Zhong Ming leaned back in his chair, the cheap plastic creaking under his weight. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by the gnawing hunger of his malnourished body.
He stood up and grabbed another compressed biscuit. As he chewed the dry, chalky substance, he walked to the window and looked out at the neon-lit city.
"Wait for me," he whispered to the world. "You think you know what a game is? I'm about to show you a miracle."
The interview was scheduled for tomorrow morning. He had one night to prepare.
But for a man who had spent a lifetime building worlds, preparation wasn't about studying. It was about deciding which world to unleash first.
He looked at the bracelet. He had 20 points remaining.
"System," he asked, "How do I earn more points?"
The text floated up instantly.
**[Create. Inspire. The higher the quality and emotional resonance of the work, the higher the points awarded.]**
Zhong Ming smiled. It was a cold, confident smile.
"Quality? Resonance? I have a century of masterpieces locked in my head."
He sat back down. He didn't have a game engine yet. He didn't have a team. But he had a design document in his mind.
He opened a blank document on his tablet. He needed to outline his first pitch. If he walked into that interview tomorrow asking for a "World Architect" role, he needed to prove he wasn't just crazy—he needed to prove he was a genius.
He closed his eyes, summoning the memories of the 21st century.
*Nintendo's gameplay loops.*
*Blizzard's addictive reward systems.*
*FromSoftware's difficulty and environmental storytelling.*
*miHoYo's character monetization.*
He opened his eyes. The cursor blinked at him.
He didn't start writing a design document. He started writing a manifesto.
***
The next morning.
Zhong Ming woke up early. He splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, but his gaze was sharp.
He put on his best set of clothes—a simple white shirt and black trousers that were slightly too loose on his thin frame. He looked like a fresh graduate, unassuming and fragile.
But inside, he carried the soul of a king.
He checked his bracelet. He had received a notification late last night.
**[From: Guangyi Interactive Entertainment - HR Department]**
**[Subject: Interview Confirmation]**
**[Message: Mr. Zhong Ming, your artwork "Resistance Soldiers" has garnered significant attention from our review board. We have scheduled an interview for you today at 10:00 AM. Please note, your requested position "World Architect" is highly unconventional. Be prepared to justify your application during the review process.]**
Zhong Ming chuckled. "Unconventional? Just you wait."
He grabbed his portfolio, took a deep breath, and stepped out of his small apartment, leaving the safety of the bottom floor to climb the ladder of a world that had forgotten how to dream.