Chapter 94
A sudden gust startles the white daylight; time’s scenery races westward. Before anyone notices, the date arrives: February 15.
It was a lucky day. That morning, Xie Xingchen finally received a resume from a professional planting specialist.
Shen Haiyun, 24 years old, graduate of the Human Civilization Greenery Institute, holder of the “Junior Planter” certification.
The credentials looked pretty solid.
But that raised a question: Why would someone like this apply to an obscure little estate?
With that doubt in mind, Xie Xingchen sent a holographic interview invitation.
During the afternoon interview, after all questions were finished, Xie Xingchen asked bluntly, “Mr. Shen—given your qualifications, why did you choose Thorn Manor?”
“Thorn Manor” was the Xie Family Manor.
The manor wasn’t bad, but to be honest, it wasn’t famous enough to be some kind of exception in the hiring market.
Normally, graduates from top-ranked academies—especially those in the top 1, 2, or 3—wouldn’t choose a private planting estate like this. Their worst-case options were still working for planetary lords or passing civil service exams for a stable post. Only students whose families already owned estates tended to return to one after graduation.
And Shen Haiyun’s alma mater, the Greenery Institute, was ranked second among Human Civilization planter academies. Its planting program could compete head-to-head with the top school, and in some years even outperformed it.
Shen Haiyun gave a bitter smile. Maybe he’d considered hiding it, but in the end he answered honestly:
“Because I was blacklisted by someone in the Planters’ Association.”
That sentence was like a seal breaking. Once he forced the words out, his emotions steadied, and he explained simply.
The story was painfully straightforward—basically, a tale of a unlucky guy being targeted.
The unlucky one was Shen Haiyun. The person who targeted him was a senior figure in the Planters’ Association.
Shen Haiyun refused, so that person used their connections to corner him—trying to leave him with nowhere to go so he’d have to crawl back and beg.
But Shen Haiyun would rather interview at an unknown manor than go back and plead.
He smiled lightly, acting unconcerned. “Boss, this sounds big, but it can also be very small. As long as you don’t publicly announce I’m working here, it’ll probably blow over.”
There were countless estates across the Star Alliance. Did that idiot really have the power to investigate every single one?
Yeah, right. If he had that kind of reach, he wouldn’t still be in the Planters’ Association.
Even as a planter, Shen Haiyun didn’t want to trash-talk the Association, but the truth was the truth:
The Planters’ Association was a marginal department.
Xie Xingchen frowned, incredulous. “Are people in the Planters’ Association really this bizarre?”
It was supposed to be a legitimate, above-board organization that could do meaningful work—yet it behaved like rats in the gutter, always scheming against someone, somewhere.
Xie Xingchen: Tch.
Shen Haiyun kept his face blank, but inside he was uneasy.
He watched Xie Xingchen across from him fall silent, and just like the many times he’d watched interviews fail, his eyes gradually dimmed.
But just as Shen Haiyun sank into disappointment, a voice like music sounded from the other side:
“Congratulations—you’re hired. Starting tomorrow through next weekend, you can choose any day you like to report to Thorn Manor. Compensation is exactly as stated in the job listing. There are also additional benefits; the estate steward will explain them in detail when you arrive.”
Shen Haiyun snapped his head up, stunned with joy.
His beautiful eyes shone as he looked at Xie Xingchen, his refined, handsome face full of excitement.
“You… really hired me?”
He made it clear he’d offended a senior figure in the Planters’ Association, and he still got hired?
Thorn Manor. Thorn Manor!
He’d been hired by Thorn Manor!
Shen Haiyun was so excited he could barely process reality. Even after he logged out of the holographic platform in a daze, he still felt like he was dreaming.
Not until he received the official hiring notice—stamped with the manor’s seal—did he finally wake up. He packed his things in a frenzy and moved to Thorn Manor overnight.
Xie Xingchen admired the “shop” he’d bought in the StarNet marketplace—the cheapest one available—and gave himself a thumbs-up.
“Get-Rich, look. I’m a genius. I didn’t expose my identity, and I saved my future self a ton of money,” he said, bursting with pride.
He was shamelessly good at exploiting marketplace loopholes.
He’d spent a tiny amount to buy the cheapest starter storefront in all of StarNet Mall, then spent ten or twenty thousand star-coins on a quick renovation. After switching it to private mode, he turned it into a dedicated holographic interview room.
That way, aside from the purchase and renovation cost, every interview afterward would be free.
Much better than repeatedly paying big money to rent public interview rooms.
Get-Rich was in awe.
His boss always managed to leave a deep impression with his “thriftiness” in the most random places.
To be honest, his boss wasn’t even poor—so why did he keep finding ways to pinch pennies?
Get-Rich didn’t understand, but the person who did understand—Xie Xingchen—didn’t have time to chat.
After laughing and praising himself a few more times, Xie Xingchen immediately messaged the only big shot he personally knew: Ludwig.
Once he confirmed Ludwig was free, Xie Xingchen sent a video call request right away.
Seeing the incoming video invite, Ludwig signaled for the subordinate giving him a report to pause, then stepped into the adjacent lounge.
After connecting, Ludwig’s thin lips curved slightly without him noticing.
He looked at Xie Xingchen seriously—this human who had called him his best friend—and the cold distance that used to live in Ludwig’s eyes quietly faded.
He went straight to the point. “Xingchen, what’s wrong?”
Xie Xingchen didn’t find Ludwig’s directness strange at all. He answered just as plainly:
“Ludwig, I want to ask—what’s the fastest, most convenient way to file a complaint against the Human Civilization Planters’ Association?”
Ludwig’s brow tightened almost imperceptibly, and an unexplained dislike for that Association surfaced.
He knew the person on the other side of the screen. Xie Xingchen didn’t stir trouble for fun. If he wanted to complain, there was only one explanation:
They had provoked him—and not just once.
Ludwig’s voice carried a faint chill. “They gave you trouble? I’m senior leadership in the Star Alliance. You can complain directly to me.”
Xie Xingchen: ?
Was this… filing a complaint straight to the ultimate top boss?
Xie Xingchen didn’t fully understand Star Alliance internal divisions. Still, with Ludwig saying so, he cautiously explained the Association’s improper actions—how certain people had targeted him and even his employees, both openly and behind the scenes.
By the end, Xie Xingchen asked carefully, “Ludwig, um… do you have an official complaint-letter format or something? Maybe I should still write a formal complaint and send it to the right work mailbox?”
Seeing Ludwig press his lips together, looking almost aggrieved, Xie Xingchen quickly explained:
“Ludwig, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I know you have the power to intervene. But you’re not the one in charge of that department, right? Stepping in casually might not be appropriate. And it’s not some super critical matter. If I can solve it myself, that’s best.”
Xie Xingchen rarely asked others for help, and he didn’t like burdening people.
He wasn’t trying to have Ludwig personally crush the issue. He just wanted a fast, effective complaint channel.
Otherwise, if he used an ordinary channel, he worried the complaint would be routed back to the Planters’ Association for “self-handling.”
Because—let’s be real—“A complains about B, and B is also the one processing the complaint” was not just a joke in real life.
After Xie Xingchen put it that way, Ludwig didn’t insist on handling it personally. He sent a message in the work group, obtained the investigative oversight department’s complaint mailbox, and forwarded it to Xie Xingchen.
After receiving a cute “mwah” sticker from Xie Xingchen, Ludwig returned to the group chat.
Ludwig Ailsop: Recently, irregular operations across many Star Alliance departments have increased. Please ensure the complaint-handling department processes reports promptly and fairly.
He asked for a complaint mailbox, then immediately told them to be fair.
Anyone could tell something was up. The group exploded.
Siren: What happened? Someone dared mess with you?
Osfi: Who’s blind enough to bully even robots?
Zong Zong: Violations really have been frequent lately. We should tighten the reins on the lower levels.
Gong Lingyun: Couldn’t agree more. Especially those little troublemakers—this period really calls for a hard knock.
And just like that, a massive “crackdown campaign” that would last two years began—starting today.
As one of the main “examples” during the strict enforcement period, the Human Civilization Planters’ Association underwent a major purge within two months. Those who held positions while doing nothing were removed according to the severity of their misconduct—some dismissed, some imprisoned, some exiled.
But that was for later.
Right now, Xie Xingchen was just a small planetary lord hoping higher authorities would handle his complaint fairly.
He spent half a day compiling all evidence into a document, then uploaded it to the report mailbox.
He had no idea he was the butterfly whose wingbeat would trigger a sweeping storm.
After sending everything, he exhaled. “Finally done.”
Reporting really was a hassle. Just organizing the evidence took half a day.
But he believed it was worth it.
At least, maybe it would reduce the number of mosquitoes buzzing in his ear.
(He wasn’t entirely sure.)
He turned off the light-brain and went to sleep.
The Next Day
Xie Xingchen was awakened by the system notification sound.
February 16—a day worth remembering.
Because on this day, Chang’an City was finally completed.
System: Ding-dong. Chang’an City construction is complete.
He put on a cashmere sweater, threw on a windproof coat, wrapped a houndstooth scarf around his neck, and stepped onto his hoverboard.
[Image]
Starting from the Xie residence inside Chang’an Workshop, a few minutes later he arrived at the gates of Chang’an City—still shrouded in thick fog.
When his hand touched the fog, a strong wind rose, and the mist slowly dispersed.
A magnificent city wall towered into the sky like a giant dragon coiled across the earth. Countless beacon towers dotted the wall. From them hung imposing dragon banners—when the wind blew, the flags snapped and soared as if ready to take flight.
From above, Chang’an City—encompassing Chang’an Workshop—formed a perfect square. Every ward and market had fixed locations. Looking down, the city was composed of ward after ward, ordered and neat, the kind of layout that made even the most obsessive neat-freak feel instantly satisfied.
Chang’an City was divided into an outer city and an inner city.
The inner city was the imperial city; outside it lay the outer city.
Yes—Xie Xingchen hadn’t expected the system’s Chang’an City to include an entire palace complex!
The countless exquisite halls were dazzling—and also made it easy to understand why, throughout history, so many people went mad yearning to become an emperor.
He lingered in the grand palace for several hours. Only after finishing the tour did he leave reluctantly.
Then he went to the most famous avenue of Tang-era Chang’an: Vermilion Bird Avenue.
Vermilion Bird Avenue—called “Tianmen Street” in the Tang era, also known as “Heaven Street”—extended from the Vermilion Bird Gate of the imperial city and served as Chang’an’s central axis. It was the route emperors used to travel south to perform the Heaven-worship rituals, hence the name tied to the Vermilion Bird Gate. The phrase “Heaven Street” was also associated with Han Yu’s poem Early Spring.
Vermilion Bird Avenue was the only road that connected the outer city to the inner city. It was only five kilometers long, but 150 meters wide, making it one of the busiest places in all Chang’an.
In addition, Chang’an City contained countless landmark structures: Daming Palace, Hua’e Tower, Giant Wild Goose Pagoda, Small Wild Goose Pagoda, Qinglong Temple, Daci’en Temple, and more.
Among them, Hua’e Tower and the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda were the most famous—and the most beautiful.
Hua’e Tower’s full name was Hua’e Xianghui Tower, a name traced to The Book of Songs (Minor Odes, Changdi): “The flowers of the crab-apple shine; none among people are like brothers.”
As the most luxurious palace architecture of the High Tang, it was called “High Tang’s Number One Tower,” and people even coined lines praising its splendor.
The Giant Wild Goose Pagoda was even more interesting, because it was the Buddhist pagoda built after the monk Xuanzang returned from his journey west.
Yes—exactly that monk: the one often kidnapped by demons in the famous tales.
After returning, he supervised the pagoda’s construction in Chang’an and enshrined the scriptures he brought back inside.
Xie Xingchen, who loved the Monkey King stories, was extremely curious and fond of it. He spent a long time there, going up and down, trying to see whether there were truly scriptures from the “Western Heaven” inside.
However—
There were no scriptures.
Not even a sheet of paper.
Inside the pagoda was practically bare: aside from minimal decoration, there was nothing.
Well, perfect for sightseeing—there was plenty of space for tourists.
Xie Xingchen stroked his chin and laughed rather shamelessly.
After leaving the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda, he wandered like a tourist to the Small Wild Goose Pagoda and Qinglong Temple.
By the time he finished visiting the famous sites, he began gliding through Chang’an’s streets and alleys on his hoverboard.
Even at night, he still felt unsatisfied.
Maybe someday he could do what theme parks did—hire people to play different roles in Chang’an City, hold events, and make this silent ancient city become a sacred destination again in people’s hearts.
February 16 was destined to be a day of daydreams for Xie Xingchen.
He even dreamed of Chang’an City that night.
A powerful golden age. Dashing scholars. Beauty that could topple kingdoms. Visitors from every land, foreign merchants…
In the dream, he became an ordinary native resident of Chang’an, living peacefully in that grand, ancient, bustling city.
February 17
Xie Xingchen spent the entire day exploring every corner of Chang’an City. Based on the system’s city map, he added many fun little markers known only to himself.
It was his private little joy—his cute, unconventional way of recording life.
February 18, Noon
At last, Xie Xingchen completed a Chang’an City map that belonged only to him.
After finishing, he even ran off excitedly and took a nap in Daming Palace.
But because the palace lacked luxurious soft furnishings, his dream of “enjoying an emperor’s treatment” collapsed. He woke stiff all over from the dragon bed and sighed as he returned home to his residence in Chang’an Workshop.
That afternoon, something important suddenly came back to him—
Ginkgo trees!
Part of why he’d been so excited for Chang’an City’s completion was because of the ginkgoes.
And what had he done after it finished?
Forgot everything and ran off to play tourist.
Now that he’d toured the whole city, he finally remembered the actual task. It was honestly self-inflicted misery.
He’d even been placing markers across the streets and alleys!
He could’ve combined fun with work, but no—he completely forgot, meaning he now had to redo a task that could’ve been completed along the way.
Xie Xingchen: collapsing.jpg
Just thinking about it was suffocating.
With a sigh, he headed out again.
Following memory and the map’s markers, he deliberately visited several famous spots within the city.
True to their reputation, these landmarks all had ginkgo trees planted within his influence range.
And every single one of them was huge.
The ginkgo at the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda was even thicker than the one at the center of Chang’an Workshop. Conservatively, it was at least several thousand years old.
Xie Xingchen: “…”
Standing before it, maybe I’m just… the great-great-great-grandson of its grandkid or something.
These ginkgo trees made him completely unconcerned about completing his illustrated handbook task.
But they also made his heart ache.
After struggling internally several times, he couldn’t bear to sell fruit from such ancient ginkgoes. So he decided to roam the streets and alleys and gather from smaller ginkgo trees instead.
That was very feasible, because he’d seen far too many ginkgoes in this city.
He didn’t know whether the historical Chang’an truly had so many, but his Chang’an had practically become a ginkgo kingdom.
Every scenic site, every street, even riversides and road edges—everywhere were ginkgoes, big and small.
Golden leaves drifted on the wind, paving road after road in gold. That color… felt like the High Tang. It felt like Chang’an itself.
Xie Xingchen didn’t wander aimlessly. He went straight to a street he remembered—one lined with ginkgo trees. After searching carefully, he finally found what he needed.
He recorded the street’s location—and the task was complete.
At dusk, orange-red clouds spread across the sky. As time passed, the color deepened, darkened, and finally turned almost black, like embers burned down to ash.
Winter nights came early. By the time Xie Xingchen realized he should head home, night had already fallen.
February 18 was also the final day of Earth Commerce’s Lunar New Year Carnival.
Customers who still hadn’t gotten the prizes they wanted were desperately trying to find more chances to draw.
That morning, Get-Rich had already led the robots in packing the surprise Lunar New Year gift bundles, originally planning to deliver them to the 100 winners as soon as midnight passed.
But now, Xie Xingchen had a new idea.
He contacted Zhang Yu, sent her many photos he’d taken of Chang’an City, and told her:
Within ten hours, use these photos to design a postcard. Any style and content were fine.
But since the Star Alliance didn’t have “postcards” as a concept, Xie Xingchen quickly sketched a sample format and also sent Zhang Yu a screenshot of a postcard he’d once received from Bunny.
On a weekend morning, getting an overtime notice would usually earn the boss a curse.
But Zhang Yu didn’t curse him.
She was energized, motivated, fired up.
Because the boss paid too well.
She now earned several hundred thousand star-coins per month—roughly what she used to make in an entire year at her previous company.
And she worked from home. As long as she delivered on time, she had total freedom. The boss didn’t care whether she played games or slept with her remaining hours.
Plus, the workload at Earth Commerce was small—barely a third of her previous job—and the client never rejected her drafts for no reason, forcing endless revisions only to say, “Actually, I think the first version was better.”
For those three reasons alone, Zhang Yu believed joining Earth Commerce was the best decision of her life.
She opened the images her boss sent. The moment she saw Chang’an City’s ancient, elegant grandeur, inspiration exploded in her mind.
She had never seen such a beautiful ancient city. With just one glance, she felt a powerful cultural shock.
She couldn’t find fancy literary words for it, but deep down she knew: this city was overflowing with literature.
She slowed her breathing unconsciously, staring at the ancient city in fascination.
She caressed the dynamic photo over and over, so excited her face turned red.
It took more than an hour for her to finally “wake up” from that burst of inspiration.
She studied the breathtaking photos, searching for the perfect postcard scene, chose several angles, and began drawing rapidly.
Compared to the old, majestic city in the photos, the chibi-style Chang’an City in Zhang Yu’s drawings had a different kind of innocent charm and cuteness.
After seven or eight hours, she finally finished a Chang’an City she was satisfied with.
She repeatedly adjusted the layout based on Bunny’s postcard format, and in the end produced a delicate, beautiful postcard.
The postcard had a front and a back.
The front showed a rounded, gift-box-style chibi Chang’an City that matched the cute packaging aesthetic.
The back featured Chang’an City’s iconic landmark: the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda.
Because space on the left had to be reserved for writing, the pagoda was placed on the right—but that didn’t mean the left side was plain blank space.
The left side was carefully processed: deep blue sky above, golden wilderness below. It had a wild, scenic feeling while also harmonizing with the surrounding architecture.
When Xie Xingchen received the preview, he immediately beamed.
Warm words and caring questions were nothing compared to sending a giant wad of money.
If you’re satisfied, you don’t need speeches—just a massive red packet.
Xie Xingchen saw the postcard and, without hesitation, sent Zhang Yu a huge, huge, huge bonus.
Then he forwarded the design to the gift-box manufacturer and said with a grand wave of his hand:
“Do your absolute best. Within three hours, make me 100,000 postcards—highest quality, most exquisite.”
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