The air was cold outside of the reception, also known as the main building. Though the instance was all one resort, it was separated by either different compound, or it was just that the buildings had some walking space in between each other. It wasn't a big thing or anything, just that the air was a little chilly out.
Ah'Ming shivered, despite himself. It was at times like this, that he wondered if he was "human" enough. He shivered, but he wasn't sure if it was from the cold, or just from thinking that he should shiver in the cold.
He had ample amounts of experience dealing with the cold, anyhow.
The interesting thing about his current situation was that the path marked on the map was clearly not for player use. Paths and destinations for players were, well, touristy. They had bright colors and garish signs, just like any resort in Ah'Ming's world would have had.
Player's paths were all paved and smooth, worn down from time and a lot of people. The current path that Ah'Ming was on, though... It was worn. No doubt about it. But, it was also less renovated. It felt more natural, one that you'd expect in a normal town.
Was this where the NPCs of this instance went to relax?
This floor wasn't paved, but it was packed with dirt. Even if Ah'Ming kicked the ground, it would only scuff up a little bit of dirt, just like the Beijing weather. On either side of him lay little bushes, sparsely decorated with leaves, not a flower or berry in sight.
He sighed.
Denser and denser grew the foliage around him, and he had a nagging little voice ask inside of him if the receptionist had lied to him, if the receptionist had tried to trick him to his death.
Jokes on her though.
At least, that's what was going through Ah'Ming's head until he walked into a small courtyard. It wasn't bustling, but there was a lot of life. The people there were just as varied as the players back in the main complex of the resort, but these NPCs were all clearly that: They had black eyes, and wider smiles.
Ah'Ming smiled back at them, and opened the map once more.
The shop was in the back of an alley, clearly a hole-in-the-wall. It smelt heavenly. Ah'Ming peeked a look in through the window, and saw countless people sitting around tables, little vats of chili oil and soup bubbling away.
Mmm....
It really was worth it to get on the good side of NPCs.
Ah'Ming pushed open the door, and was blasted with an even stronger assault of what was clearly ecstasy. Man, if only the politicians from back home could have smelt this. All wars and stuff would have been abandoned for a bite of that XiaHua.
A nice waitress comes up... and draws short.
Wait.
The two stared at each other.
Ah'Ming furrowed his eyebrows.
"You... you were at the Egg Tart Emporium, weren't you?" He asks her.
Yes, she was just that. The waitress, who had shown up twice and never appeared again. Her face flushed crimson. "Shut up! That's just a side job I do for extra cash!"
Huh.
It seemed as though the content of the story wasn't as important for some people. Maybe it was just as Ah'Ming had thought, some NPCs being brought over from other places, just like players, to work in scenarios.
Who were the NPCs and who were the players?
Ah'Ming drilled holes into the back of the waitress' head as she led him to a table. She handed him a QR code.
He reached for his phone... Only to remember that he didn't have it.
He smiled awkwardly at the waitress, who raised an eyebrow. He coughed. "Say, what can I get with a limit of $300?"
The waitress blinked once more. She was doing quite a lot of that next to Ah'Ming, maybe the room was dusty. "You're spending $300 on a hotpot? For yourself?!"
He couldn't tell if it was too high, or too low.
"Okay then. What would you like to order?" She pulled out a notepad, like it was an everyday thing. It was, he supposed. Living in a courtyard style town must have meant a lot of elderly people, most of whom wouldn't enjoy using phones to order food.
"Basically, I want everything that tastes good. Whatever you recommend, spiciest flavor possible. Also, like four bottles of Ice lemon tea. Just everything under $300?"
Ah'Ming still couldn't tell how much $300 was. Was it in, say, USD? Or yuan? Or even Won? They all had very different values.
The waitress, still in mild disbelief, walked away.
Ah'Ming's stomach growled.
The vibes of this restaurant were really nice. It was all red themed, but red as in Hai Di Lao, not red as in murder. The chatter of the crowd was really loud, and merriment was the main emotion within the establishment.
A drunken voice roused Ah'Ming out of his temporary stupor. "Hey! You, Yeah you!"
Ah'Ming looked over, to see a guy who had clearly drunk a lot. He was draped over the shoulders of his buddy, a bunch of them sitting together like a gang. Oh dear, was this going to be a bar fight?
"I like... hic. I like your hair!"
Never mind?
Ah'Ming nodded, all serious. "I like your hair too."
The whole table next to him cheered.
A less drunk one grinned, and started a conversation. "You seem like you don't fit in around here. Where're you from?"
tilting his head, Ah'Ming replied: "New york".
the man squinted. "New york.... New York... I know that from somewhere! Is that from... 389?"
Ah'Ming shrugged. "Sorry man, can't remember the name."
The cheer of the table was infecting him, and his insecurity about talking lessened greatly. Anyways, the people here were so drunk that their speaking levels were on par.
"Yeha, Yeah man. We," He pointed at his group of friends who were still all laughing, "We're here because one of the substories was like, closed down hic."
Ah'Ming's eyebrows furrowed.
Closed....
Closed down?