It was supposed to be a cozy game.
With little to no competition, they said.
The screen is painted with soft colors that must register as refreshing for normal people. Ah, has Wang Minglan finally admitted that he has gone insane?
The little boy in pixels walks cheerfully in a forest full of poisoned mushrooms with very pretty purple coloring. Stupid, Minglan thought. Why does it look so pretty if it's poisoned? To trick people into eating it?
But Minglan will not fall for it again. After foraging those mushrooms, cutting them neatly with his extremely humble makeshift knife, roasting them, and boom.
A black screen and a text box with a very polite message show up.
DIED FROM POISONOUS GAS.
GAME OVER.
Try again?
Trying to give the game one more chance, a generous person as he is, he clicks yes.
As it loads, Minglan reaches out for his fries that have lost their warmth, carelessly dipping them into the cheese sauce and popping them into his mouth. His greasy fingers find their way back to hug the game console once the screen rolls out the now-familiar pixelated art.
Five minutes in, the black screen greets him again, with his lousy shadow cross-legged on an even more worn-out couch.
This time, he lets the dialogue box roll out on its own. He doesn't even read it, but he knows what it says.
This time, the character dies from hunger.
It doesn't irk him. He rather feels tired.
The game is asking too much from him. The character is way too weak!
Dying from poisonous gas, from touching poisonous sap, from accidentally stepping on an apparently holy snail, from not giving his character food and water in time.
This game requires way too much attention. Way too much care.
Cozy my ass.
How do people find comfort in such a boring, tiring game?
What a waste of his last fifteen dollars.
The pixelated art rolls onto the screen again. This time, Minglan chooses to start his life from the wetlands. Why? Aesthetic reasons. Swamps look kind of cool in games, usually. Plus, having another game over in the middle of swamps doesn't sound too weak. Less embarrassment.
Just as he thought the game couldn't be more ridiculous, it proves him wrong.
This time, he gets bitten by a poisonous snake! What a surprise! Who would've thought?
GAME OVER
This time, before offering another chance, the game suggests he lower his difficulty level.
That's when something catches his breath. Something inside his chest tightens. He feels mocked. Looked down upon. Stepped on.
By a cozy game, on top of it all.
"Shut up," he mutters, and his own voice surprises even himself with how loud it sounds.
He loosens his grip on the console and throws it.
Not hard, nor is it dramatic.
Just enough for the console to skid across the room and bump into a table leg.
The screen flickers before going dark, once again offering Minglan a shadow of himself.
He stares at it. At his own reflection.
He looks… unwell. Rough. Run-down. Scruffy. Any adjective alike fits his current image.
He hasn't showered in two days. Hasn't gone out of the house in a week. He stinks, proven by some flies flying over his head. There are takeouts, empty and untouched, around him.
He doesn't feel disgusted by the image. He feels nothing, actually.
He just admits that he looks like a mess. There's no denying it.
But so what? It's not like he has to be presentable as an unemployed bum. It's not like he has tomorrow to live on. At least, not after he emptied his whole savings, which is not much, on takeouts and a silly cozy game for the night.
The bell suddenly rings.
Minglan's attention shifts to his phone screen. It is pitch black. No new notifications, no delivery apps open.
"Didn't I get everything already?" he mumbles as he stands up on a flood of filth. He has mastered walking fast while avoiding stepping on a leftover pizza crust on the floor by his third week of unemployment. So, no worries. He makes it safely to the front door.
He opens the door with no expectations. Probably forgot a drink, he thinks.
As he opens the door, a strong wind blows onto his face, triggering an instinctive blink that looks quite pretty on his originally pretty face.
"What the hell was that?" he grumbles as he opens his eyes.
What lies before him does not answer his question. If anything, it deepens the confusion.
An ancient opening stretches out before him. The golden hue from the sun, which is strange because it's supposed to be ten at night by now, gives a golden filter that tones up the sense of majesty of the place.
There are a number of short pillars standing throughout the area, each crowned with huge urns. Moss has long borne its throne on the pillars' surfaces, showing off the age of their respective nurseries.
Minglan's feet move before his brain can stop them. He climbs up the stair steps in front of him, leaving a door opening that does not even look like his lousy door anymore.
He goes to the closest urn to find that they are not empty. Inside them is water, and the water reflects anything but his reflection.
The first one is a forest.
The second one is an old, unkept farm.
The third one is a dark room.
The fourth one is a wetland.
Wait. Why do all of these reflections look familiar?
Before his oh-so-wonderful brain can catch up, a voice rings out. It sounds flat, uninterested. As if whoever speaks from the other end of the line does not even care whether his words are heard or not.
[Candidate confirmed.]
[Entering The Seven Earths Culinary Flow.]
Wait. That's it! Those reflections are the same as the starting point choices in that cozy game he played just now! Even the name is the same! The Seven Earths Culinary!
[Candidate may confirm the starting point.]
Not having his mind register everything happening to him so fast, Minglan just stands there, frozen, not knowing what to do.
[Candidate fails to choose the starting point.]
[System will now choose the most suitable starting point.]
[Analyzing candidate's ability…]
[Sending data…]
[Choosing starting point…]
[Starting point chosen…]
[Starting the game in three…]
[Two…]
[One…]