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In this day and age, smartphones are everywhere.
But back then, most of them were knockoff brands—Coolpad, Little Pepper, Pineapple, Feixin…
The big-name brands? Way too expensive. Before Xiaomi’s legendary 1999-yuan “let’s be friends” pricing revolutionized the market, most people were stuck using these off-brand phones.
Watching a video was a struggle, let alone playing mobile games.
No wonder some people would shout, “Xiaomi, what would I do without you?!”
…
Xu Musen thought of a way people used to game in his past life: cloud gaming.
With cloud gaming, the heavy lifting is done on powerful servers, and the player’s phone is just a medium—as long as the connection holds, you can play anything, no matter how weak your device is.
But cloud gaming requires powerful server infrastructure. Setting up a proper system costs at least six figures—far beyond what Xu Musen could afford right now.
So, he turned to a simpler, cheaper alternative: mini-programs.
Nowadays, QQ and WeChat dominated the social scene.
If you think about it, those once-viral QQ Farm and Parking Wars games were basically the forerunners of mini-program games.
A successful product solves a pain point.
These games might look crude and childish now, but back then, people were obsessed with them.
In his past life, while lazily scrolling through short videos, he kept seeing ads for those weird, addictive mini-games—chopping trees to level up, devouring creatures to evolve, hatching bizarre blood-colored eggs…
No downloads. No registration. Just tap and play.
The development cost for a mini-program game? Maybe a few thousand yuan. But the returns? Astronomical.
Take Sheep a Sheep, for example. In just one or two months, its ad revenue hit one hundred million yuan!
Sounds unbelievable, right?
Xu Musen wasn’t aiming for a billion. Just enough to get his first pot of gold.
Besides, the market was still wide open. Whoever made the first move would rake in the cash.
The more he thought about it, the more excited he got!
Programming a mini-game? For someone with his past-life computer science background? Piece of cake.
“Qiang, I’ve got it!” Xu Musen excitedly patted He Qiang’s shoulder.
He Qiang raised an eyebrow. “You got a brain tumor or something? Why are you jumping around?”
Xu Musen grinned. “I’ve figured out a way to make money. Want to invest? I guarantee you’ll make a fortune.”
He Qiang stared at him for a moment… then silently reached into his fishing net, pulled out two fat fish, and handed them over.
“Brother, I know you’ve been acting weird these past few days. Take these home. Eat some fish, nourish your brain.”
Xu Musen couldn’t help but laugh.
Honestly, if one of your high school buddies suddenly declared they were starting a business right after getting dumped, you wouldn’t take them seriously either.
Anyway, he still needed a few days to actually develop the program—no rush for funding yet.
So, he didn’t argue. He took the fish with a smile. “Alright, consider this your investment. Just wait for my good news.”
As he walked away, He Qiang watched his friend’s enthusiastic back and scratched his head with a sigh.
Xu Musen tossed the fish into a basin and locked himself in his room.
Inside, an old desktop computer sat on his desk—once a luxurious purchase when his family had money, over ten thousand yuan at the time.
Of course, now, even a three-thousand-yuan laptop could outperform it. Running Crossfire on this thing? Forget it—it would lag like crazy.
“Ding~ Boot-up time: 2 minutes, 30 seconds. You’ve beaten 5% of computers nationwide! Keep it up!”
Xu Musen twitched. At least it still runs.
For simple programming, it would do.
After all, the open-source library was a treasure trove—so much existing code, just waiting to be copied and pasted.
Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V—the programmer’s secret weapon.
His parents came home and immediately spotted the fish in the basin. No need to ask—they knew it came from He Qiang’s house.
His mom walked into his room. “You can’t always take things from them, you know. Next time, bring something in return—”
Then, she stopped.
She saw her son, hands flying across the keyboard, focused intently on the screen.
Lines upon lines of dense English letters filled the monitor.
“What are you doing?”
Xu Musen didn’t even look up. “Writing a program. Maybe, just maybe, this’ll turn my life around.”
His mom didn’t understand programming, but at least he wasn’t wasting time playing games. That was a good thing, right?
Still, she warned, “Study comes first, you hear? Be careful, don’t get scammed online.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I know what I’m doing.”
She watched him for a moment, then hesitated before asking, “By the way… you didn’t go looking for Mingyue today?”
His fingers paused over the keyboard.
Every Sunday, without fail, he used to pester Yao Mingyue to go out with him.
“What’s the point?” he said casually. “I’d rather figure out how to make money.”
His mother frowned.
A boy obsessed with love suddenly switching to making money?
That only meant one thing—he had been hurt.
She sighed inwardly. Once, their two families were on equal footing. There had even been talk of maybe becoming in-laws one day.
But now…
“Alright then. How do you want the fish—braised or stewed?”
“Mom, anything you make is delicious.”
“You little rascal…”
She chuckled and left.
Xu Musen meticulously tested his program, fully absorbed in his work.
Meanwhile, two hundred meters away, in a luxurious villa…
Yao Mingyue lay sprawled on her plush sofa, her fingers clenched around her phone.
For two whole days, he hadn’t sent a single message.
Not even one.
Earlier, she checked his QQ space—only to find it locked.
He had never locked it before.
His space was practically a shrine dedicated to her. Every post, every photo, every word—about her.
And now?
Was he advertising that he was single again? That his “car” was empty and ready for new passengers?!
A dangerous glint flickered in her phoenix-shaped eyes. She bit her lip and opened their chat.
For the first time this year, she made the first move.
She typed one simple character.
“?”
A question mark could mean anything.
In the past, if she so much as hinted at irritation, Xu Musen would flood her inbox with apologies.
She smirked, waiting for the inevitable flood of messages.
But…
Her phone was silent.
Minute by minute, her irritation morphed into rage.
She knew his schedule. He wasn’t showering. He wasn’t sleeping.
He was ignoring her.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Her second message was no longer subtle.
“Xu Musen! What the hell is this supposed to mean?!”
Silence.
Her eyes darkened. A third message.
“I’m giving you THREE minutes. If you don’t reply, I’ll NEVER speak to you again!”
Three minutes passed.
Still nothing.
Her jaw clenched. Her fingers trembled with barely contained fury as she fired off message after message.
“Fine! Have it your way! Don’t regret this!”
“I HATE you!”
“Even if you BEG, I won’t forgive you!”
Meanwhile, Xu Musen finally looked at his phone.
Seeing her string of angry messages, he chuckled.
And typed a simple reply—
“Deal.”