After opening it, as his eyes scanned several lines of cold bold text, the originally warm atmosphere in the room dropped to freezing.
Dear User:
Hello!
In light of the recent severe fluctuations in the international market hardware supply chain, we very regretfully notify you that the platform has fully completed the forced termination of all old package plans.
All compensation amounts converted from the original packages have been proportionally issued to our brand-new official website.
We are pleased to inform you that we have, according to the remaining duration of your original package, refunded a portion of the balance to your new website account.
In addition, we need to specially inform you that: Due to uncontrollable cost factors, the current server renewal prices on the new website will be strictly executed according to the latest market prices formulated.
If you feel unable to accept the new pricing scheme, you may consider other cooperation intentions as appropriate.
Thank you for your continuous support!
Chang Hansui held back the urge to smash the mouse and followed the link in the email to click into that so-called “new website.”
When he clearly saw on that new webpage that looked just like an amateur operation the so-called “pricing rules” and the dense dense clauses shifting responsibility, he was thoroughly laughed at by the anger.
This lengthy letter, translated into plain speech, was simply:
Recently memory sticks and solid-state drives have gone up in price, costs have multiplied four or five times, I can’t afford to play anymore, just running away and quitting.
To avoid legal responsibility, they even specially made a shell new website. Calling it “refunding the balance” is actually forced buying and selling!
Chang Hansui stared fixedly at that new renewal price on the screen.
Compared to the original cheap and generous price, it had directly multiplied a full three times!
No wonder they just unplugged the cable and reneged.
‘Heaven wants to destroy me… Heaven wants to destroy me…’
Chang Hansui leaned back against the chair, looking at those overbearing forced-buy-and-sell terms on the screen, feeling his vision go dark.
Right at this moment of successive misfortunes, the weather-beaten phone on the desk suddenly vibrated once.
He irritably picked up the phone, one wave not yet settled another rising, on the screen clearly popped up a WeChat message sent by his own dad.
“I just remembered something, your grandpa once arranged a childhood betrothal with a brother at the drinking table, counting the days, their daughter might come over to our side today. You have to go meet your fiancée.”
Chang Hansui looked at that line of text, his eyes wide as copper bells.
‘Fiancée? Childhood betrothal? It’s already 2026.’
His finger hovered over the keyboard, instinctively wanting to search in the emoji list for a “sweating yellow bean” or a 2D moe girl speechless emoji pack to send over.
But on second thought, interacting with his own dad like that was really a bit too cringy.
Chang Hansui took a deep breath and typed out a line.
“Is this what you call a small matter?”
“Isn’t this good? Look at you now, senior year homebody, no job no nothing, staring at the computer every day. Now a wife falling from the sky for you, go secretly rejoice. I’ve already given your contact info to her, estimate she’ll contact you later. I’ll also send you her number by the way, you take the initiative.”
[Contact Card Shared]
Chang Hansui’s blood rushed up, just wanting to write a long rebuttal back, but the moment the message was sent—
[Message has been sent, but was rejected by the other party.]
[(You have been blocked)]
“…”
‘Well damn, so you’re just running away like that.’
Chang Hansui rubbed his swelling brow and powerlessly put down the phone.
Forget it, from a certain perspective, since dad chose to rapidly block and flee, it showed he had no say in the family at all, purely following orders to pass the message.
‘Fiancée… can’t really get married without even meeting face to face, right. Don’t mess around… Chang Hansui can’t afford to toss around right now. Can’t even support myself, and still marry? Can’t support anyone else.’
‘What the hell did I run into today, how are all the unlucky things lining up to smash onto my head?’
‘No… that mysterious fiancée can be put aside for now.’
First deal with the crashing Magic Girl forum.
Fortunately, as a former civil engineering intern, he had retained the excellent habit of “multiple blueprint backups.” The core data of the forum, he had always kept the latest backup on the hard drive of his local computer.
Chang Hansui rallied again and began searching in the browser for other cloud server providers.
Choosing that shameless small company that absconded with the money back then actually had its reasons.
First, those gray-area data centers similar to overseas nodes required no real-name authentication at all.
Second, they played dead to all kinds of complaints and copyright warnings (just like the rogue hosts many pirated comic sites commonly used).
This “shameless” trait had, for a long time, perfectly protected Chang Hansui’s personal privacy as “admin of the largest Magic Girl forum on the entire net,” letting him avoid being doxxed by fanatic fans or the Magical Girl Association.
But when this “shameless” blade cut onto himself, it was too disgusting.
The “lifetime renewal at the same price” sworn on the homepage back then had now all become fart.
After this lesson, Chang Hansui dared not touch those shady providers again; he had to select some reputable ones that had stably operated for ten years.
Fortunately there were still a few backup options in his favorites.
Clicking into the official site of a ten-year major company with good industry reputation, Chang Hansui carefully compared the configs.
Chang Hansui clicked in to look, feeling the same config was about the same as the new price of the previous shameless small company, but this was a ten-year major company.
Then this one it is…
The bad news was, these major companies all started with annual payment. Chang Hansui had already lost half a year’s money at the previous one, and this one still needed three times the price.
He didn’t have that much money…
The monthly maintenance cost of the forum server was originally high, and to protect user experience, the number of ads he accepted had always been controlled within a very restrained range.
For example, those splash-screen shake ads he never did.
Because the ads weren’t outrageous, this led to, although the traffic was huge, actually calculated, his monthly net income was only a little higher than the outside 9-to-5 office workers.
Chang Hansui calculated, even increasing the in-feed ads would only make a little more profit, after paying rent, estimate not even enough money for pork trotter rice.
And still had to pay a full year’s worth in one go (and still three times)
Savings not enough, but if not enough then just not open it?
Wouldn’t this just go along with the wishes of those shit-stirrers and the Magical Girl Association?
And this way he couldn’t write Magic Girl Suigetsuka stories anymore.
I was already an otaku, must even this last bit of comfort on the internet disappear too?
No. Absolutely no compromise.
Chang Hansui gritted his teeth and clicked open a shortcut on the desktop. No problem, he still had a backup plan.
“Sky Record, launch.”
Sky Record was a well-known 2D MMO game.
Accompanied by the grand Western fantasy opening music, the game interface floated up on the screen.