Chapter 86
New Year’s Day of Star Calendar Year 366 was destined to become an unforgettable memory for countless people.
On this day of family celebration, 180,000 households received a New Year’s blessing gift box from Earth Trading House—one that later generations would call “The Kids’ Surprise Gift Box.”
The box itself was small, but overflowing with childlike charm.
The outer packaging was covered in countless cute, chubby, playful icons—flowers, milk tea, fruit, essential oils, hydrosols, games, kids playing games, and more. The colors were bright, lively, and adorable.
It didn’t even need to be opened. Just the pretty, cute box alone made kids unwilling to put it down.
And once it was opened—things got even crazier. The children who received it practically worshipped this “Kids’ Surprise Gift Box” as the best gift they had ever gotten in their lives, bar none.
“Locke, come inside! Your favorite Earth Trading House sent you a gift!”
Locke’s parent, Ail, went thump-thump-thump into the garden and called back the child who was playing with mud and sand.
Everything about this kid was great—except he loved playing in mud and sand!
Back when they lived in a high-rise apartment, it wasn’t convenient for him to play with sand. But after the family bought this small villa, Locke’s wild nature was immediately unleashed. Whenever he had free time, the adults would always spot him squatting by the sandbox, absorbed in his muddy world.
“What is it?” he asked in a babyish voice.
Locke lifted his dirty but fair, soft little face, asking his dad while still stomping around in the mud with delighted little “ya-ya-ya” sounds.
That posture, that expression… made the little boy next door—who was clinging to the fence watching—shine even brighter with excitement!
But neither Locke nor Ail acted like they saw him.
Because the family next door was not easy to deal with.
When little Locke first moved in, he didn’t know that. He warmly invited the neighbor boy to play. That night, when the neighbor’s parents came home, they marched over to “settle accounts” with Ail. The way they spoke made the newly moved-in Ail so angry his face turned red and his neck thickened. In the end, since it really was his son who had gone to their son, he had no choice but to swallow it and apologize.
After that, even before Ail could say anything, Locke stopped playing with the neighbor kid. Especially when playing with mud and sand—no matter how eagerly the neighbor boy watched, Locke never invited him again.
Ail crossed his arms. “If you already know, then hurry up and come inside. Boss Xie sent you a gift. Do you want it or not?”
The instant he heard the words “Boss Xie,” Locke immediately went patter-patter-patter to his dad. Just as he was about to hug his dad’s leg, Ail stepped back, refusing a muddy embrace.
Ail held one hand against his forehead. “The gift is inside, but you have to take a bath before you can open it.”
Locke tilted his head and asked cutely, “Why?”
Ail tapped his little nose. “Because the gift is really pretty. If you don’t bathe, Dad’s afraid you’ll dirty it and then cry.”
If it had just been “a gift,” little Locke might not have reacted strongly. But add the word “pretty,” and he couldn’t wait.
He cheered and sprinted toward the bathroom on his short legs. With the help of a robot, he took a fragrant bubble bath. Then, full of curiosity, he climbed onto the table and studied the package Earth Trading House had sent.
The shipping box was medium-sized—an ordinary delivery carton.
Little Locke pressed the delivery latch with his chubby hands. In the next instant, the inner gift box was revealed—extremely cute and full of childlike charm.
Little Locke: !
The moment he saw it, his round eyes went huge.
His blue, catlike eyes didn’t blink once as he stared at the gift box.
After a long moment, he exclaimed in a milky little voice, “Wow! It’s me, Feifei, and Xiaoxiao!”
The illustration on Locke’s gift box was a chibi-style scene of kids playing a sandbag-toss game.
This “sand-related” game was Locke’s favorite activity in the kids’ corner—no contest.
Every couple of days, Ail would take Locke to log into the full-dive marketplace, and Locke would run straight for the kids’ corner at the end of Earth Trading House’s themed street, happily playing the sandbag game with friends—whether he knew them or not.
Locke bounced in excitement. “Dad, Dad, look! This is me! This is Feifei! This is Xiaoxiao! This one is Jiajia! This one is Lili…”
He pointed at the tiny figures in the scene, trying hard to “identify” each one.
Ail almost burst out laughing at the little guy’s deadly serious nonsense.
After a while, he cut in, “Alright, alright. Dad knows you have lots of friends. But shouldn’t we open the gift box and see what’s inside?”
The child puffed his cheeks, then carefully opened the gift box that had “him and his friends playing” printed on it, and instantly let out a surprised “Wow!”
Locke grabbed a small plush toy from inside and started jumping.
“Wow, Dad! A sandbag! It’s a sandbag! Boss Xie gave me a sandbag!”
He held up the sandbag plush, smiling brighter than the sun.
At that moment, his eyes were filled with excitement—long gone was the sadness he’d felt that morning when he learned his mom had to work overtime on the holiday and couldn’t be with him.
Seeing Locke finally happy, Ail—who had deliberately coaxed him into opening the package—felt much more relaxed. Then he took out another small, plain-looking gift that had been ignored in the box.
Ail reminded him, “Locke, there’s another gift here too.”
Locke was so absorbed in the sandbag plush that he was hopping around his dad, completely drunk on happiness. One look told you he couldn’t hear a thing.
Ail had no choice. He waited until his son hopped himself tired, seized the moment to catch him, and handed over the remaining gift—sealed tightly inside a packet.
The packaging crinkled. From the sound alone, you couldn’t guess what it was, but you could tell there were many small pieces inside.
Little Locke clumsily tore the packet open bit by bit.
The instant it split, the air filled with the scent of wheat, butter, milk, and that special sweet fragrance unique to baked treats.
So… so good!
Father and son instantly synced in awe.
They both looked at the natural food inside with gentler movements than before.
“Please scan.”
Inside the opened packet were three words and a QR code. Ail scanned it, and detailed information about the cookies appeared.
It included (but wasn’t limited to): why Xie Xingchen wanted to make the surprise gift boxes, the difficulties he faced, extra “bonus perks” added during production, his New Year’s blessings for the children, and the ingredients, production time, eating guide, and best-by date for the natural food inside.
And it still wasn’t over—at the very end of the text, there was even a raffle button.
Ail: ?
Ail: !
Damn it.
Ail was jealous.
Wasn’t his kid living way too comfortably?
Getting such a thoughtful gift at such a young age…
Why didn’t he get something like this when he was little? It wasn’t fair!
Staring at the heartfelt “A Letter to the Kids,” Ail’s jealousy warped his face.
And after he ignored his son’s protests and stole one lemon-shaped cookie to eat, the jealousy got even worse.
Waaah—he was the customer of Earth Trading House! Why did Boss Xie give a gift to his son instead of him?
Now…
Looking at the cookies his son protected like a dragon guarding treasure, Ail desperately wished he could rewind time by an hour, hide the cookies first, and then talk.
The humble foodie Ail begged his son for more cookies, but little Locke was extremely “cold-hearted.”
He only allowed his old father to have two out of four duplicate-pattern cookies. Locke ate one himself, and after hesitating for a long while—still bubbling with joy—he pattered outside and gave one bear-shaped cookie to the neighbor boy who always clung to the fence watching him, hoping to be invited to play.
Disgusted by dirty hands, Locke simply shoved the cookie into the boy’s mouth.
After the neighbor kid finished eating, he looked absolutely stunned.
When he heard it was from Boss Xie, he started chanting “Boss Xie” along with Locke.
The ridiculous scene made Ail laugh and take a video, blur it, and post it online.
But once he opened Starblog, Ail realized his family wasn’t unique at all.
Every child who had ever played in Earth Trading House’s kids’ corner, and every parent who had purchased Earth Trading House products and was suspected of having kids, had received the same “Kids’ Surprise Gift Box.”
Older kids could show off online by themselves. Little kids couldn’t—but they inevitably showed off to other kids around them.
Those pure, happy bragging moments, once posted online, sparked who-knew-how-much envy, jealousy, and resentment among older netizens.
The kids’ cookies alone were already a top-tier food from Earth Trading House again.
And each child got thirty cookies! The sheer amount was enough to make people cry.
But—everyone knew food was food. If you begged Boss Xie, maybe there’d be a chance it would be listed for adult purchase someday. So even though the kids’ cookies had people itching and craving, adults still had a shred of dignity.
The real breaking point was the kids’ badges and plush toys.
That was where people completely lost all restraint.
Dozens of different packaging boxes, badges, and plush toys.
These Earth Trading House-themed items weren’t just pretty—they were exquisitely made, perfectly hitting the weak spot of collectors.
So messages offering to buy the boxes, commemorative badges, and commemorative plushies at high prices flooded in nonstop.
Some people even threw money around wildly just to complete a full set—literally brute-forcing the dream with pure spending power.
That crazed “starcoins-are-not-even-money” attitude left Xie Xingchen completely dumbfounded.
In the end, he almost wanted to contact buyers and sell the few remaining sets he still had at a high price!
Only reason stopped him.
Because he only had one Starblog account.
If he reached out, wouldn’t that basically expose his identity?
So, because of that, Xie Xingchen gave up the easiest money imaginable.
Thinking of it, he whined, “Get-Rich… that should’ve been money we earned, but other people got it instead.”
Get-Rich didn’t say anything, because he knew his owner would perk up again soon without needing comfort.
Sure enough—
After Get-Rich patted his discouraged owner’s head, Xie Xingchen suddenly lit up. “Even if we can’t earn that money, we can earn the next money! Get-Rich, how about we open a merch shop?”
They already had a designer—opening a merch shop would be easy!
And they wouldn’t even need to manufacture things themselves. He just had to find the right producers (like these two factories), outsource production, and then focus on sales.
That would be another low-stress revenue stream.
The more Xie Xingchen thought about it, the more convinced he became. He contacted the gift-box manufacturer and the plush-and-badge manufacturer again—and then authorized Get-Rich to use his personal terminal permissions.
Haggling should be left to professionals.
He was terrible at haggling.
But if they were going to open a shop, they had to negotiate prices.
Because at scale, even 0.1 starcoin cheaper per unit meant a lot more profit.
And the two manufacturers he contacted had been waiting for a major Earth Trading House order for a long time.
Or rather, when they worked their tails off fulfilling the 180,000-unit order, they’d already seen the glow of bigger orders ahead.
That was why they’d pushed themselves so hard to produce such beautiful, childlike merch.
Now that “Boss Xie” said he wanted to discuss details—even though the contact person changed—they were thrilled beyond measure.
Changing contacts was no big deal. What big-store owner personally negotiates every small deal? Obviously, large businesses had teams for that.
As long as the deal happened, they didn’t care if they negotiated with a human—or even a robot.
So, after Xie Xingchen’s reminder, they added the project lead’s terminal account and began negotiations with confidence.
The gift-box producer and the plush/badge producer—both determined to win the order—had no idea they were actually dealing with a robot. The more they talked, the more they admired this “project lead.”
Because the bargaining skill was terrifying.
They hadn’t seen anyone this good at cutting prices in years.
They didn’t know if others could hold up under his bargaining pressure, but they clearly couldn’t.
The price they offered Earth Trading House was already the lowest among all their orders. Even so, the other side still wasn’t satisfied and pushed them to drop another 0.1 or 0.2 starcoins per unit.
For that 0.1 or 0.2 starcoin difference, both producers argued until their mouths went dry and their brains spun at full speed, trying to refuse—only to be defeated and persuaded in the end.
Final outcome:
- Gift boxes: an additional 0.1 starcoin reduction beyond the already-lowest price.
- Plush toys and badges: an additional 0.2 starcoin reduction beyond the already-lowest price.
Those unprecedented ultra-low prices made both bosses feel both pain and joy.
Pain, because lower prices meant less profit.
Joy, because locking in Earth Trading House meant endless future orders—orders that, all together, could still bring huge earnings.
So, the two sides reached a friendly long-term partnership. In phase one, Earth Trading House placed an order of one million units. After paying a 30% deposit, both factories started producing at full speed.
Three days after New Year’s Day, trial feedback for the twelve skincare samples (loofah, cucumber, and aloe lines) reached a 100% positive rate.
On the fourth day, Xie Xingchen posted the prices for the three skincare lines on Starblog.
That day shook everyone.
People spread the word everywhere about the unprecedented low prices.
Combined with the earlier trial reports, the three skincare lines drew anticipation from everyone—elite society wives down to ordinary teen girls.
100 starcoins. 1,000 starcoins. 2,000 starcoins. 3,000 starcoins.
The maximum was only 3,000 starcoins—so what were you waiting for?
If you had money, you could buy freely. If you didn’t, saving up for the basic toner-and-lotion set was still good—because together it was only 3,000 starcoins. No matter how broke you were, if you tightened your belt for two months, you could save that amount.
On the fifth day, Xie Xingchen added “coming soon” gray product links to the skincare store.
Looking at the product details, everyone wore the same expression: determined to get it.
On the sixth day, the long-awaited purchase links finally turned green.
That day, over 300 million people reserved spots online. The reservation count broke the StarNet Marketplace record for the highest number of people ever scheduled for a single product drop.
On the seventh day, the flash sale officially began.
That day, the number of actual buyers also broke the all-time highest record for a single product sale on the StarNet Marketplace. Earth Trading House set a new historic record.
Twelve products, one million units each—twelve million items total—sold out in three minutes.
That result made every competitor watching Earth Trading House turn red-eyed with jealousy.
Some even believed the earlier “Kids’ Surprise Gift Box” campaign had been deliberately timed.
Otherwise, how could it so perfectly land right before a massive skincare drop?
If that wasn’t marketing, what was?
It wasn’t strange they thought so—this sequence really was too “perfect.”
Because the “Kids’ Surprise Gift Box” didn’t just serve as powerful promotion for the skincare launch—it also precisely dug out a larger, more promising, but harder-to-reach customer group: parents.
Emptying parents’ wallets—especially the wallets of rational parents—was not easy.
These people might not be willing to spend on themselves, but they would definitely spend on their children.
But kids were different from adults. Parents were extremely cautious about anything their kids used. Generally, they trusted established premium brands more than highly praised new products.
But this time, Xie Xingchen had pulled out the “Kids’ Surprise Gift Box.”
And that absolutely broke parents’ defenses.
Other people’s kids would pull out the pretty little gift box Boss Xie gave them during school, playtime, or video chats.
And then—boom.
Food, toys, and even the cute box itself could be used to store things. The kids who didn’t receive one cried on the spot.
Kids cried miserably. Parents couldn’t bear it.
And Earth Trading House had almost no bad reviews since opening. Its online reputation was unreal. Parents also learned that, for convenience, the store had even built a free kids’ corner inside the full-dive marketplace.
And now, it was just New Year’s Day, yet the store still went out of its way to send gifts to children?
Yeah—no need to say more. The more you talked about it, the more tempted parents became.
Spending money wasn’t a big deal, because the product was already worth it. Plus, purchases came with bonus points, and those points could be exchanged for free game opportunities for the child. Most importantly, the kids loved those free games so much that they were willing to train harder just to log into the full-dive marketplace a few extra minutes every day to play.
What do you call “learning through play”?
This was learning through play.
Kids learned voluntarily. Kids worked hard and improved.
This was basically helping your child “win at the starting line.”
Parents who pushed their kids hard became especially generous with spending this time.
Who cared what it was? As long as it was from Earth Trading House, and as long as they could afford it—they bought it.
Because even if they personally didn’t want it, they could still resell it at secondhand prices and make a profit. And even if they didn’t want to profit, the points could still be used for their child’s games.
Once enough parents believed this, it turned into a “theory,” and even worse—after being spread around, the theory gained widespread approval.
And in the most ridiculous way, it helped create today’s Earth Trading House buying frenzy.
Xie Xingchen had only one expression: “cat, speechless.jpg”
Looks like no matter the era, there were always plenty of parents obsessed with pushing their kids.
Reading the parents’ product reviews, Xie Xingchen didn’t know whether the kids were happy or not, but he genuinely felt bad for children being pressured so young.
He shook his head and shook that sympathy out of his mind.
No—he couldn’t think like that. He should be thankful to these parents instead.
Otherwise, his loofah, cucumber, and aloe skincare lines wouldn’t have sold this insanely well.
He had stocked a lot.
When he first listed the links, he was even worried he wouldn’t sell out in a day and might damage Earth Trading House’s “legend.” He even considered cutting the first day’s quantity in half and adding more on the second day depending on sales.
Now, the spectacle of twelve million items selling out in three minutes meant he no longer had to worry about sales at all.
Now he only worried that, after a while, these three hydration lines would become like his other products—released in tiny drips.
With his burden lifted, Xie Xingchen relaxed.
He stretched lazily on a lounge chair.
Looking at the elegant purple lavender field in front of him, his mind drifted. After a long while, he suddenly remembered the two New Year’s gift packs he had bought from the system.
On New Year’s Day he’d been completely overwhelmed—so busy that after sending the final package, he passed out under the blankets. He’d forgotten the two packs entirely.
When he woke up and realized New Year’s had already ended, he went silent.
So… were the fireworks still going to happen?
In the end, he checked the exact rules and, once he got confirmation, he calmed down immediately.
The following items had no expiration as long as he didn’t click “use”:
- [Red Commemorative Medal]
- [Gongs, Drums, and Firecrackers Buff]
- [Large Holiday Fireworks]
They would stay in the system inventory until used.
The only item with a time limit was the [System Shop 20% Off Card], but it lasted a full year. And in the final week before it expired, the system would message him daily with a countdown reminder.
So Xie Xingchen wasn’t worried about accidentally letting it expire.
To be honest, once he got that [System Shop 20% Off Card], he already had a plan.
Given the current situation, the most expensive spending in the system shop was: buildings.
And now, as more icons were unlocked, he noticed that in the achievement section at the bottom of Collection Page 1, the black card that used to show a “?” had changed into a visible building silhouette.
Knowing how the system operated, Xie Xingchen understood one thing:
Buildings—especially large buildings—were not something a few tens of billions could handle. If things went wrong, even hundreds of billions might not be enough.
So he had to save that discount card for that.
As for the [Red Commemorative Medal], he planned to pick an auspicious day to have Feifei wear it while traveling—or wear it himself on the next exploration trip—to see if he could find more holiday-related items.
As for the [Large Holiday Fireworks], he didn’t plan to use them yet. He’d save them for Spring Festival or a time when friends came over and there were lots of people—then they’d set off fireworks together.
Finally, the strange-looking [Gongs, Drums, and Firecrackers Buff] wouldn’t be used unless there was a life-or-death situation, because it was supposedly a life-saving treasure (maybe).
And with that, every item had its future purpose decided.
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