The headquarters of Guangyi Interactive Entertainment was located in the heart of District 9's commercial zone. It was a towering structure of steel and glass, reflecting the grey sky above. To the average citizen of this post-war world, this building was a temple of dreams. To Zhong Ming, it was just an office building—sterile, efficient, and lacking the vibrant, creative chaos of the game studios he remembered from his past life.
He adjusted his collar, feeling the cheap fabric rub against his neck. He was thin, his face pale, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made the receptionist pause as he checked in.
"Zhong Ming, right? The interviewer is waiting for you on the 14th floor. Conference Room B."
Zhong Ming nodded and stepped into the elevator.
As the doors closed, he caught his reflection in the polished metal surface. He looked like a nervous graduate. But inside, his mind was a library of thousands of masterpieces. He checked his bracelet. His points had remained at 20 since the night before.
"System, activate the [Universal Search Tool]," he thought silently.
**[Confirm use of Universal Search Tool (1/1)? Duration: 15 Minutes.]**
"Not yet," he decided. He needed to gauge the situation first. He only had one shot. He couldn't waste his one retrieval opportunity on a hunch.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
The 14th floor was an open-plan office. Dozens of employees sat behind holographic desks, their faces illuminated by the blue glow of their screens. The atmosphere was heavy. There was no laughter, no shouting of ideas, no camaraderie. Just the silent clicking of keys and the low hum of servers.
It was the sound of an industry that was working, but not creating.
Zhong Ming was led to Conference Room B. Inside, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and deep bags under his eyes sat behind a long table. This was Li Cheng, the head of the Handheld Game Division at Guangyi.
"Sit," Li Cheng said without looking up, shuffling through a stack of digital tablets.
Zhong Ming sat calmly, placing his own tablet on the table.
"I've looked at your portfolio," Li Cheng began, his voice dry. "The painting, *Resistance Soldiers*. It's good. Technically, it's better than most of the garbage the art school graduates are churning out these days. You have a grasp of... emotion. That's rare."
"Thank you," Zhong Ming replied evenly.
"However," Li Cheng finally looked up, his gaze sharp. "I have a problem with your application form."
"I suspected you might."
"You applied for the position of... *World Architect*?" Li Cheng scoffed, dropping the tablet onto the table with a clatter. "Kid, do you know where you are? This is Guangyi Interactive, not some fantasy startup. We don't have 'World Architects.' We have Lead Designers, we have Coders, and we have Artists. 'World Architect' isn't a job title; it's a vanity title for people who own the company."
Zhong Ming didn't flinch. "A job title defines a scope of responsibility. 'Artist' implies I only draw what I'm told. 'World Architect' implies I am responsible for the soul of the project."
Li Cheng rubbed his temples. "You're young. You have potential. Don't waste it on arrogance. I can offer you a Junior Artist position. Salary: 3,000 credits a month. You'll be texturing assets for our upcoming military simulation, *Frontline Command*. It's a good stepping stone."
Zhong Ming shook his head slowly. "I decline."
Li Cheng blinked, stunned. "You... decline? Do you have another offer?"
"No. But I didn't come here to texture guns for a game no one will remember in six months," Zhong Ming stated, his voice firm. "I came here because I heard your Handheld Division is struggling."
A nerve had been struck. Li Cheng's expression darkened. "That is internal information. Who told you that?"
"It doesn't matter. It's obvious," Zhong Ming gestured to the office outside. "The mobile gaming sector is booming, but your handheld division is quiet. Why? Because the market is flooded with complex war simulations that require high-end hardware. But handhelds... handhelds have limitations. You can't just port a war simulation. You need games built for the medium. You need gameplay over graphics."
Li Cheng fell silent. He leaned back, studying the young man in front of him. The kid was arrogant, but he wasn't wrong. The Handheld Division was on the chopping block. Their last three projects had failed because they tried to mimic the big-budget console games on inferior hardware.
"So, you think you can save my division?" Li Cheng asked mockingly.
"I don't think I can. I know I can," Zhong Ming said. He slid his tablet across the table. "But not as an artist. As a Producer. Or, if you prefer, a World Architect."
Li Cheng laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You want to be a Producer? You have zero experience. You have no track record."
"Give me one project," Zhong Ming proposed, his eyes locking onto Li Cheng's. "A small one. Give me the team that is about to be laid off. Give me the budget you were going to scrap. If I fail, I walk away, and you lose nothing. If I succeed, you keep your division."
"You're asking me to gamble on a kid who draws pretty pictures."
"I'm asking you to gamble on a concept that has been lost in this world," Zhong Ming corrected him. He tapped his tablet, bringing up a blank design document. "War games dominate the market because developers think players want to fight. But the war is over. People have been fighting for thirty years. They are tired of fighting."
"Then what do they want?" Li Cheng asked, genuinely curious now.
"They want to explore. They want to collect. They want to feel a sense of accomplishment that isn't tied to killing," Zhong Ming said.
He took a deep breath. It was time to play his first card. The first world he would build.
"Do you know what a 'Monster Taming' game is?" Zhong Ming asked.
Li Cheng frowned. "Monster Taming? Like those virtual pets that were popular fifty years ago? They're considered children's toys now."
"Exactly," Zhong Ming smiled. "What if I told you I have designed a game where monsters aren't just pets? A world where monsters are partners. A world where the goal isn't war, but adventure. A social phenomenon."
Li Cheng looked skeptical. "A monster game? On a handheld?"
"It's the perfect platform," Zhong Ming insisted. "The concept I have is called *Pocket Monsters*. It utilizes the handheld's link cable technology—something this world has forgotten about—to allow players to trade and battle. It turns a solitary experience into a social network."
Li Cheng stared at him. The idea sounded ridiculous. Monsters? Trading? In a gritty, post-apocalyptic market?
"It sounds childish," Li Cheng dismissed.
"The best games are often childish on the surface," Zhong Ming countered. "Look at the emotional resonance. People in this world are lonely. They live in rebuilt cities, separated by districts. They crave connection. *Pocket Monsters* isn't just a game; it's a bridge."
Li Cheng looked at the young man, then at the empty design document on the tablet.
"You have 5 minutes," Li Cheng said, glancing at his watch. "Convince me. If I like what I hear, I'll give you a probationary team. Three people. Including yourself. And a budget of 50,000 credits. That's pocket change. You have three months to produce a prototype."
Zhong Ming smiled. It was a predator's smile.
"Three months is more than enough."
Zhong Ming stood up. He knew he had to act fast. The [Universal Search Tool] was burning a hole in his metaphorical pocket. He needed to retrieve the specific data now to lay out the foundation.
"System," Zhong commanded in his mind. "Activate Universal Search Tool. Target: *Pokémon Red and Blue* - Core Game Design Document, Map Layout, and Base Stat Mechanics."
**[Activating... Time Remaining: 15:00]**
Suddenly, Zhong Ming's vision was overlaid with a torrent of information. It wasn't just a vague memory. It was a schematic. The map of Kanto, the stats of Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle, the catch rates, the algorithm for critical hits—it all floated before his eyes like a master blueprint.
He picked up the stylus. He didn't just describe the game; he started to draw it.
"Look here," Zhong Ming said, his hand moving with supernatural speed. He sketched three creatures. A small dinosaur with a burning tail, a turtle with a shell, and a toad-like creature with a bulb. "These are the starters. Fire, Water, Grass. A rock-paper-scissors balance that teaches the player strategy immediately."
He drew a map. "This is the world. Pallet Town. Viridian City. A linear path that opens up. It gives the player a sense of progression without getting lost."
As he drew, the holographic projection on the table updated in real-time. The sketches were rough, but the *concept* was clear. Li Cheng watched, his skepticism slowly turning into confusion, and then into a dawning realization.
The mechanics were simple. The art was iconic. The loop was addictive.
"This 'Trading' mechanic..." Li Cheng murmured. "It would require hardware sales to increase."
"It will drive hardware sales," Zhong Ming corrected. "People will buy the console just to play this with their friends."
The timer in Zhong Ming's vision ticked down. **[03:45]**.
"This isn't just a game, Director Li," Zhong Ming said, putting the stylus down. "This is a franchise. A World Architect doesn't just build a level; they build an ecosystem. I can give you that ecosystem. But I need autonomy. I choose the team. I choose the art style. No interference."
Li Cheng looked at the sketches of the three starter monsters. They were cute. They were fierce. They were... perfect. In a world of grey tanks and metal soldiers, these colorful creatures were a splash of life.
"You're arrogant," Li Cheng said finally. "And you're risking your career before it even starts."
"I don't have a career to lose," Zhong Ming replied. "I'm starting from zero. I have nothing to lose and everything to give."
Li Cheng sighed, rubbing his face. "Fine. You have your probation. But listen to me, Zhong Ming. If this project fails, you're not just fired. I'll make sure you never work in this industry in District 9 again."
Zhong Ming extended his hand. "Deal."
Li Cheng looked at the hand for a moment before shaking it. The grip was weak from the Director's exhaustion, but Zhong Ming's grip was firm.
"Welcome to Guangyi Interactive," Li Cheng said sarcastically. "Try not to bankrupt us."
As Zhong Ming walked out of the office, the timer hit **[00:00]** and the blueprints in his vision faded. But the smile on his face did not.
He had the job. He had the team (a small, broken one, but a team nonetheless). And he had the greatest game design of the 20th century locked in his head.
He looked out the window of the 14th floor, down at the sprawling city.
"Pokémon," he whispered. "Let's see if this world is ready to catch them all."
He had taken the first step. But the real work was just beginning. He needed to assemble his team, and he knew exactly where to find the talent that no one else wanted.
He checked his bracelet.
**[Current Points: 20]**
**[New Task Unlocked: Form a Team.]**
**[Reward: Blueprint - Advanced Game Engine Optimization.]**
Zhong Ming grinned. The game was on.