Any secret admirer hearing such an invitation would inevitably suspect their hearing or comprehension had failed them.
Mu Ning froze for a moment, then looked up at X.
He was also looking at her, waiting for her response.
“…Ah. Okay.” Mu Ning replied.
Was being knocked senseless by a pie falling from the sky exactly how she felt right now?
X nodded, turned and walked toward the park entrance, asking as he went, “What do you usually like to eat?”
“The places around here all taste about the same. I can eat anything.” Mu Ning asked, “Do you have any dietary restrictions?”
“I can’t handle very spicy food.”
“Then how about chicken soup rice?”
“The place next to Yoshinoya?”
“Yes.” Mu Ning smiled slightly. “It tastes pretty good, right?”
X nodded.
The area was lined with eateries, more than enough to meet the dining needs of the park’s workers. With time tight, nobody liked to queue, so if one place was full, they’d decisively move on to the next.
Fast food places turned tables quickly, and by the time they arrived, a table had just opened up.
The server wiped down the table, and the two sat down across from each other, each scanning the QR code to order.
There was a glass water pitcher on the table. Mu Ning took two black ceramic cups, poured water, and handed one to X.
He took it and said thanks.
Then he looked at her with those dark brown eyes, took a sip, and said, “You mentioned you like the character Nova. Can you tell me why?”
Echoes of the Ruins was a pixel-style puzzle game released on the Steam platform, with moderate puzzle difficulty and a very interesting story.
Nova was one of the more annoying NPCs among all the characters—he broke a key item of the player’s right at the start, often didn’t listen to reason, and his speech was all over the place.
Mu Ning guessed that X also liked the game, or perhaps he had even participated in part of the development of Echoes of the Ruins.
“Maybe it’s because of my sensitivity as a narrative designer. About a third of the way through his storyline, I gradually felt that his true personality wasn’t what he showed on the surface.”
“What was it like?”
“There’s already a lot of interpretation and analysis of him out there now.”
“Mm.” X set down his teacup and looked at her. “I’d like to hear your interpretation from back then.”
“He’s actually very sensitive and gentle. He wants to give his heart to others, yet he’s afraid of being hurt if he doesn’t receive the same in return. So he uses his erratic words and actions to mask his true inner self.”
The main gameplay of Echoes of the Ruins involved continuously exploring upward along the Echo Tower, collecting items and story pieces, and solving puzzles. The designers had intentionally made a “no return” mechanic for the first playthrough: since the poisonous mist from the bottom kept rising, once a player cleared the current map and advanced to the next level, they could never go back down.
“The map has that no-return mechanic, right? Before I left Nova’s floor, I somehow couldn’t stop worrying about him, so I went back to his room and checked every interactable item again. There was no breakthrough, so I could only click on him to trigger dialogue.” Mu Ning said.
Normally, after the main storyline was completed, an NPC like that would only respond to the player with random lines from a limited dialogue pool.
“I looped through every line at least three times. I was almost falling asleep, and I was about to give up when a new line finally popped up.”
Nova complained frantically: “Aaaah you’re so annoying! Fine, fine, since you’ve played with me for this long, I’ll tell you about a secret room that can take you back down a floor. But the room is full of bones, so you’d better not become the next one.”
Mu Ning quipped: “I really wanted to say, tsundere has been out of meta for years, you know!”
The moment the words left her mouth, Mu Ning’s ears caught a very soft laugh.
She looked across in a daze. X’s lips were slightly upturned, lasting only the briefest of moments.
Her heart pounded.
Falling for someone was an instinctive surrender that her reason couldn’t control.
Mu Ning’s gaze dropped nervously back to the teacup in front of her. She picked it up and took a sip before speaking again: “If you don’t mind me asking, did you participate in the development of Echoes of the Ruins?”
X’s answer was to pick up the work badge he had casually set aside when he sat down, turn it face-up, and offer it toward her.
Spirit Whale Interactive Entertainment · Echo Studio
Producer
Jing Xuan
Mu Ning’s eyes widened.
Every line on the badge—including the neat, straight-on ID photo on the white background—was a shock to her perception.
So his ID photo was this good-looking too.
So his name was Jing Xuan.
Last night she had listed dozens of possibilities for “JX,” considering countless combinations of the most pleasant-sounding names, but the reality was even better than anything she had imagined.
“…So you’re the producer of Echoes of the Ruins?” Mu Ning asked. Then, by reflex, she gave him another once-over.
According to statistics, the average age at which game industry producers create their first original work is 32, and Jing Xuan looks far younger than that.
…Of course, it’s possible he just has a youthful appearance.
“Back then I wasn’t the producer yet, just the lead designer.”
“I heard Echoes has a confidential AAA project that’s already been greenlit and is in development. It wouldn’t happen to be the one you’re in charge of, would it?”
Jing Xuan nodded.
Mu Ning took another sip of tea, then ultimately couldn’t help but raise her thumb and say, “Legend.”
Jing Xuan’s response was another slight curl of his lips.
Then he asked, “You’re a narrative designer?”
“Mm.”
“Which company?”
“Lightyear Matrix.”
“Oath of Eternal Night?”
“Yes. You probably haven’t played it.”
“I have.” Jing Xuan replied. “I take a look at every game when it launches for open beta.”
“Then how far did you get?”
“Chapter three of the main story.”
“Which male lead did you like?”
Jing Xuan’s expression looked like he’d just been choked by the question: “I…”
Mu Ning quickly said, “That’s not what I meant… I was asking, from the perspective of a producer or lead designer, which male lead do you think has a more well-rounded character design and storyline?”
Oath of Eternal Night had launched two years ago, and Jing Xuan had apparently forgotten some of it. He thought seriously for a moment before answering, “There’s one character I still remember—seems to be a vampire… I’ve forgotten his name, sorry.”
“Valerius.”
Jing Xuan nodded. “Just based on the experience of the first three chapters of the main story, his character has more room for expansion than the others.”
“He’s always been the most popular character in our game.”
“You were doing a collaboration last month?”
“Yes.” Mu Ning smiled. “Did you contribute sales to our collaboration event?”
“No. I’m only used to drinking American coffee. So…”
“No, no, I was just joking.”
“Then which character are you mainly responsible for?” Jing Xuan said instead. “Next time there’s another collaboration event, I’ll make a purchase to make up for it.”
“Valerius. He’s a character design I created entirely on my own during the second closed beta.”
Jing Xuan was slightly taken aback.
For an instant, the space fell into an imperceptible, subtle silence.
Mu Ning raised her cup to drink tea, suddenly not daring to look at Jing Xuan anymore.
Her gaze drifted and caught sight of a server approaching with a tray.
Two bowls of chicken soup rice with different toppings were placed before each of them.
She should have been very hungry, but the excitement, joy, and the feeling that it was all too dreamlike had offset her physical hunger.
Mu Ning scooped up a spoonful of soup with the white porcelain spoon, and as she drank it, she felt as though a fully inflated hydrogen balloon had been stuffed into her heart.
The two ate in silence for a while. Mu Ning looked up from the rim of her bowl and glanced at the person across from her.
He had such refined table manners—he didn’t even make much noise when drinking his soup.
“Since we’re here, I have two questions I’d like to interview the lead designer of Echoes of the Ruins with, if that’s okay.”
Jing Xuan said, “Mm?”
“Why does the map exploration have to be set so that you can’t turn back before completing the first playthrough? I saw some negative reviews saying it’s like the game is working against the players.” Mu Ning looked up at him, worried the question might offend him.
Jing Xuan’s expression was calm: “The story is set up with multiple endings that trigger based on the player’s collection progress. Not allowing backtracking in the first playthrough is to ensure every ending has a chance to be unlocked—otherwise, it would become highly concentrated on the few endings that favor the happy route.”
“So that’s it. The reasoning is actually pretty simple.”
“Mm. The reasoning behind a lot of gameplay design is simple; players are just used to conspiracy-theory narratives.”
Mu Ning nodded. “And the second question. When you made this game, were you inspired by the anime Made in Abyss?”
“It seems many game reviews have analyzed that point.”
“But I wanted to confirm it directly with the legend himself.”
“Don’t call me that.” Jing Xuan smiled. “Yes, I was inspired.”
“Is it also influenced by Girls’ Last Tour?”
Jing Xuan’s fingers holding the chopsticks paused slightly. He looked at her, his expression seeming somewhat surprised: “How did you analyze that one out?”
“That main storyline where, even in an emergency situation where the toxic mist could catch up at any moment, the protagonist still gets to properly soak in a geothermal hot spring bath, wash the dirty clothes clean, and hang them out to dry on a rare sunny day—that’s very Girls’ Last Tour.”
Jing Xuan’s gaze lingered on her face for many seconds without a word.
Mu Ning felt uneasy, regretting whether she’d overdone it. Just as she was thinking of something to say to cover it up, Jing Xuan’s phone vibrated.
He set down his chopsticks, picked up the phone, and answered, “I’m eating. I’ll come back when I’m done.”
Perhaps it wasn’t urgent, but it was hard for the flow of time to remain unaffected.
The two didn’t have any deeper conversation afterward. They finished their meal in ten minutes, left the restaurant, and walked back to the park together.
The inflated hydrogen balloon was rapidly deflating, collapsing into a deflated state of dejection over not knowing when they’d run into each other next, affecting Mu Ning’s footsteps until she seemed to be walking with no energy at all.
Building F arrived in an instant. Jing Xuan stopped in his tracks.
Mu Ning pulled herself together, shook the paper bag in her hand, and smiled. “Thanks for the cake. Let’s have a meal together again sometime.”
Jing Xuan nodded.
Mu Ning sighed inwardly, letting her gaze linger on Jing Xuan’s face for one last moment before resignedly looking away.
“I forgot to ask.” Jing Xuan suddenly spoke up. “What’s your name? I need to update my contact.”
Mu Ning paused mid-turn, startled.
“Mu Ning. Mu as in ‘admiration,’ Ning as in ‘lemon.'”
“So your WeChat name is ‘morning.'”
“Right. Next time you run into me and want to say hi, you can tell me ‘Good morning.'”
Jing Xuan nodded.
After a two-second pause, he said, “Good morning.”