Chapter Eleven: Creating a Cheat Program

Children born in the 1980s were the first generation profoundly affected by the one-child policy. Especially for those like Li Mu, whose parents were employees of state-owned enterprises, keeping their jobs meant strictly adhering to the policy, resulting in almost every family raising only one child. Although the media long labeled this group as “little emperors” ruling their households, nearly every only child of the 80s harbored a persistent desire to prove themselves to their family.

For the group of kids in Li Mu’s neighborhood, this longing began as early as the age of ten. In elementary school, they would sneak into nearby construction sites, scavenging for scrap metal or stealing giant clamps from the scaffolding, then exchanging them for a few yuan at the recycling station. Each child would buy themselves an ice cream, and with the remaining money, they’d purchase turnips and cabbages from street vendors, proudly carrying the bounty home, feeling they were contributing to their families—regardless of whether their help was truly needed.

As they grew older, they no longer engaged in such childish antics, but the burning urge to prove themselves never faded.

Though Zhao Kang was far more rebellious than Li Mu, that same drive was just as strong in him. The moment he heard there was a chance to earn a whole year’s tuition during summer vacation, Zhao Kang’s interest was instantly piqued. He couldn’t even focus on his intense Counter-Strike sniper training, and asked eagerly, “Xiao Mu, I know you—you never brag about something you can’t deliver. Tell me, how can we make that much money?”

“By making hacks,” Li Mu replied calmly. “I’ll handle the development. For now, just keep this a secret, and later, I’ll need your help as an online promoter.”

“What do you mean by ‘online promoter’?”

“Don’t worry about the details. If you’re willing, I’ll count you in. Just wait for my instructions. If you don’t want to, I won’t blame you—we’re brothers, after all.”

“Damn, of course I’m in. Just tell me what to do!”

In those days, earning a year’s tuition over a single summer was unthinkable for most working adults—it would require a monthly salary of at least three thousand yuan to even make such a claim. For a high school student like Zhao Kang, Li Mu’s words were nothing short of soul-stirring.

“Today, get familiar with a game called ‘Stone Age.’ I don’t need you to master the gameplay—just learn how to promote things inside the game and search for related forums and chatrooms online. Once my hack is ready, you’ll spread the word everywhere.”

“Got it.” Zhao Kang didn’t fully understand, but he was exceptionally stubborn; once he made up his mind, no force could change it.

Li Mu went home, took out the remaining four hundred yuan, and returned to the internet café to pay Er Bin. Then, he settled into a private booth and began working on the hack.

Li Mu’s knowledge of Zhao Kang was almost entirely formed before they turned eighteen, and their relationship had never involved any real interests—just the occasional meal or drink. The hack business, however, was worth six figures. Li Mu couldn’t be sure whether Zhao Kang’s character would remain unchanged in the face of such profit.

But then he remembered: even in his previous life, Zhao Kang had traveled far and wide for over a decade, but every Lunar New Year’s Day, he never failed to call him. That bond alone was enough for Li Mu to trust him completely, at least this once. He knew he would need trustworthy people by his side for future endeavors. Li Mu hoped Zhao Kang could become his right-hand man.

Programming is tedious work, especially when writing low-level software. It felt like a novelist of over a decade being forced to write a three-hundred-word essay for grade school—there was little sense of accomplishment. Zhao Kang, however, found nothing boring about it; on the contrary, he was deeply engrossed in his research. He quickly mastered how to advertise in the game, then followed Li Mu’s instructions to register accounts on several servers. He went downstairs to borrow pen and paper from Er Bin, and began compiling a list of forums and chatrooms related to Stone Age, ready to register accounts and figure out how to post—he took this preparation very seriously.

When Zhao Kang started registering for BBS and chatroom accounts, Li Mu stopped him, found a suitable overseas proxy, and only then allowed him to continue. After all, making hacks was on the wrong side of the law, so it paid to be cautious.

The two spent the whole night at the internet café. By morning, Li Mu had already finished about thirty percent of the planned hack. At this pace, he estimated another twenty hours or so would see it completed. He decided to call his creation “Stone Age Overlord”—a crass name, but perfect for the early days of the internet, when bold and direct names had the most impact.

After such a busy night, the two hurried home before their parents left for work, to avoid drawing suspicion.

The last time Li Mu’s parents saw him was before work the previous day. When they saw him again, they barely recognized him. His mother gasped, “Son, when did you cut your hair? And you shaved your beard too! Haven’t I told you, you’re too young to shave? You’ll end up with a patchy beard in your twenties—how terrible that will look!”

She circled around, inspecting his new haircut from every angle, muttering to herself, “The haircut’s not bad, makes you look sharp. But that beard…”

His father took one look, waved his hand, and laughed, “Hey, he’s grown up—why worry about whether he shaves? At his age, I’d already been working for half a year. My master used to say, ‘No hair on your lip, no grip on your work.’ I shaved for two years straight before I could even grow a shadow of a beard.”

His mother shook her head in exasperation. “You can’t compare—my son’s much better looking than you ever were.”

“Hey, as if he’s only your son!” the couple bantered back and forth. His mother noticed the dark circles under Li Mu’s eyes, realizing he’d spent the night at the internet café, but she didn’t scold him. Instead, she said, “There’s breakfast in the kitchen. Eat before you sleep. Tomorrow morning you need to go to school to estimate your grades, so tonight, you’re definitely not staying out.”

Li Mu nodded obediently. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll sleep early tonight.”

“That’s more like it.” She smiled in satisfaction. “When you’ve estimated your grades, call me at the finance office to let me know!”

His father chimed in, “And don’t forget to call our survey team too. Give me some good news!”

Li Mu grinned, “Dad, Mom, estimating grades is imprecise. Better to wait until the actual results are out.”

“It won’t be exact, but it’ll be pretty close,” his mother replied, patting his shoulder. “Now, go eat, wash up, and sleep. Look at those eyes—keep this up and you’ll turn into a panda!”

After his parents left, Li Mu ate a few bites, thinking if he went to sleep now, he’d be out until afternoon and then wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. Besides, Stone Age Overlord was only thirty percent finished—he was itching to get back to work.

He decided to tough it out for one more day, go home before his parents returned from work in the evening, have dinner, and then go to bed early. That way, he’d be fresh for school the next morning.

Ah, going to school tomorrow meant he’d see his teenage crush, Su Yingxue. She was the campus belle, but at least she was his classmate. He was sure to see her at school!

Thinking of her, Li Mu—this man in his thirties—couldn’t help but feel a ripple of youthful excitement in his heart…