Why Don't We Borrow Some Too?

North Island, Southern Sea. Flapping their wings, seagulls cooed gleefully above the construction site, dropping bird poop everywhere. It wasn't just the residents of North Island who were well-fed. With the landing operation in Haiya Province about to begin, large numbers of players had swarmed into North Island, feeding the island's various birds until they grew plump and sturdy. Some were even so fat they could barely fly. Watching the diverse sea of faces across the construction site, Battle-Hardened Wolf rested his hands on his shovel and said with a strange expression, "Is it just my imagination?" Piping Dog, who was busy pouring concrete, looked up at him. "What?" Battle-Hardened Wolf rubbed his chin and muttered, "Why do I feel like way more people are competing for our jobs?" Originally, there had only been around thirty people on this site. Excluding him and his three civil engineering buddies, there were fewer than thirty NPCs. Yet over the past few days, who knew what had happened—the number of people on site surged rapidly, doubling and redoubling before anyone noticed, and now looked to be passing two hundred! In reality, that number would be completely normal, but the problem was that this was the Southern Sea of Wasteland Online, with a total population barely over a million. Where the hell did all these people come from?! "It's not your imagination," Visionary Eagle narrowed his eyes and said calmly. "The war is over. Rational analysis suggests a baby boom occurred, and baby booms lead to population growth... makes total sense." Piping Dog: "Holy crap! What kind of babies grow up that fast in your house?!" Shit-Stirring Stick: "..." Although the players couldn't figure out the reason, truth be told, the population of North Island had indeed increased over recent days. Not just on the construction site, but also at the docks, supermarkets, restaurants, and elsewhere. These people seemed to spawn out of thin air, and most were unfamiliar faces. Setting aside their scrawny builds and timid eyes, they somewhat resembled residents of Sunset Province. According to the boasting of veteran players from early game stages, many survivors in Sunset Province had migrated from the Great Desert in the early Wasteland Era. Of course, back then the Great Desert wasn't called the Great Desert yet, but rather the Four Major Industrial Zones—East, South, West, and North. Deeply curious about where these NPCs had popped up from, egged on by his mischievous buddies, Battle-Hardened Wolf stepped forward and stopped someone to ask, "Hey, where are you guys from?" The man clearly didn't want to talk to him, but also seemed terrified of causing offense. After stammering for a moment, he mumbled, "Mammoth State." Battle-Hardened Wolf paused. "Where's Mammoth State?" The man explained, "Bolo Province." Battle-Hardened Wolf nodded, bewildered. "Oh, oh, that place... That's really far away." The man said nothing more. Eager to move bricks, he muttered an "excuse me" and hurried off. Battle-Hardened Wolf didn't stop him, merely following the hunched man with his gaze toward the crowd in the distance. Though their appearances varied—some young, some old, some handsome, some ugly—their demeanor was eerily identical. He couldn't think of how to describe them, only instinctively thinking of oxen. That was the strangest part. He recalled that the Bull Clan was supposed to be the nobility of Bolo Province, yet these people looked far more like the sun-bearing divine oxen than the Bull Clan ever did. It was as though an invisible rope was looped around their necks; backs turned to the blazing sun, no one was leading them, yet every single one seemed led by the nose. Standing not far away, Brother Stick sighed, stripped off his miner's exoskeleton, and walked over to stop a fellow who looked well past retirement age. "Old... sir, hauling bricks like that is exhausting. Put on my gear and carry them." He hadn't come to the construction site for money, but rather to farm regional reputation and contribution points, as well as grind Strength tree experience and complete "social practice." This was a game mechanic of Wasteland Online, established long ago. Whenever players wanted to utilize their VM and its affiliated systems to operate in a certain region, they had to start with grassroots tasks to grind their regional reputation above 1,000 (Friendly). The man, suddenly addressed, was at a loss and quickly declined. "I... I don't know how to use it." Figuring he might as well see a good deed through to the end, Brother Stick said enthusiastically, "No problem, I'll teach you!" "No, no, no, my lord, I'm afraid I'll break it! I... I really can't afford to pay you back." The man waved his hands frantically with a terrified expression, adamantly refusing to take it. "It's fine! This thing isn't expensive, only two thousand silver coins. If it breaks, whatever, I was looking to get a new one anyway." Brother Stick turned on the VM's translation function and repeated his words with a grin in halting Human Alliance language. The man gave a bitter smile upon hearing that, saying nothing. Two thousand silver coins. He would only make a little over a hundred in an entire month... Yet even a hundred silver coins was vastly better than tilling the fields back in Mammoth State. Tilling fields on an aristocratic lord's manor, you only got to eat beans when grain was so plentiful it couldn't be sold off; normally, you had to eat clay once every three days at least. Here, they not only provided food and lodging, but you only had to work eight hours a day. He could save every bit of that hundred silver coins and send it back home. He heard that energetic young men who hauled quickly could earn five to eight silver coins a day, potentially raking in over two hundred a month! Two hundred silver coins was two thousand gallons. Even in Port Golden Gallon, that was high pay, not to mention that room and board here didn't cost a dime. At the thought of the hungry mouths back home, he stopped wasting time on this stranger who clearly harbored no good intentions, muttered a hasty "excuse me," and hurried off for his next haul... *** Sometimes fate was just so wondrous. A problem that seemed unsolvable no matter how hard one racked one's brain was ultimately resolved perfectly from an unexpected quarter. Mammoth State? What a wonderful place. Once trade relations between Mammoth State and the Southern Sea Alliance were established in the future, perhaps the Southern Sea Alliance truly could consider investing there. Li Minghui had never dreamed that just as he was preparing to coast and slack off—before he even started dozing—someone would hand him a pillow. And not just one, but a hundred thousand of them. These prime-age laborers from Mammoth State were all between eighteen and thirty years old, all married, with at least two children at home, and some supporting elderly parents. The Mammoth State authorities had promised him that these workers dispatched through labor export agencies would never run around aimlessly, let alone commit crimes; once their work was done and they were paid, they would leave, without consuming a shred of the Southern Sea Alliance's public resources or social welfare. The sole condition was that the Southern Sea Alliance provide the vessels to transport them and take charge of their training. In other words, they were solely responsible for providing the personnel and keeping them in line. When Li Minghui heard about such a great deal, he agreed immediately on the spot, even diverting their newly launched nuclear-powered cargo submarine to transport people. As of now, fifty thousand laborers from Mammoth State were already working across the Southern Sea Alliance, and construction progress across the northern islands was shooting up as if strapped to a rocket. Though he didn't want to overextend himself in what little remained of his term, if he didn't take advantage of a bargain that had only upside and no downside, he would truly be letting down the people of the Southern Sea who supported him. Yet what Li Minghui hadn't expected was that even so, the Southern Sea Representative Council still came looking for trouble. It was a warm and sunny afternoon. He was sitting in his office sipping tea and reading the newspaper when rapid footsteps suddenly came echoing down the corridor outside. Just as he set his paper down, Si Wen, Secretary-General of the Representative Council, pushed the door open, stepped inside, and glared right at him. "What is going on with the people on the North Island construction sites?" The Southern Sea Alliance's Representative Council was similar to the Alliance's: besides ordinary representatives, there was a committee elected by the representatives, and the Secretary-General generally represented the unanimous consensus of the committee members. Although Li Minghui disliked these noisy fellows, they held the final say over the law after all, so he had to take them seriously. He explained, "Those are refugees from Mammoth State." "Why are refugees from Mammoth State in the Southern Sea?" Si Wen stared into his eyes, pressing aggressively. "The Representative Council passed no such resolution! How could you make this decision on your own authority?!" Li Minghui didn't answer the question, instead asking in return, "Has the Representative Council banned labor dispatch?" Si Wen frowned, unsure what trick he had up his sleeve, but replied by the book, "No." Li Minghui continued, "Has the Representative Council banned Alliance enterprises from working on North Island?" Si Wen said impatiently, "No! What on earth are you trying to say? Are you telling me those guys are Alliance citizens?" "Then what is wrong with a labor dispatch agency registered in Port French Fries sending ten thousand laborers to North Island?" A triumphant, dagger-revealing smile spread across Li Minghui's face as he spread his hands before the dumbfounded Si Wen. "It violates no laws whatsoever. If I had turned down their goodwill, you would have accused me of abusing my executive power... Sorry, but I'm not that foolish. Or perhaps you can head back, hold a meeting, and redefine the legal status of workers dispatched by labor agencies. But that's your problem." A president who neither could nor wished to seek re-election was invincible. Watching Si Wen stand there tongue-tied and thoroughly thwarted, Li Minghui felt an immense surge of satisfaction. These bastards had grown used to acting lawless with the Alliance backing them, always finding fault with him over every little thing. When he used to harbor ambitions of becoming another Zhalas, they guarded against him day in and day out; now that he had no desire to be one, they still chattered at him every other day. This time, he had finally held his head high and made them swallow a bitter pill on his own home turf. "Is there anything else?" Taking a leisurely sip from his teacup, Li Minghui watched the speech-deprived Secretary-General with amused composure and teased, "Why don't you head back and hold a meeting to discuss it?" Si Wen glared at him fiercely and was just about to turn and leave when another person suddenly arrived outside the office door. This time, however, it wasn't someone from the Representative Council, but the presidential secretary. Seeing the door open, the secretary walked straight in, looked at Li Minghui behind his desk, and spoke in a rapid flurry: "Mr. President, Duke Nihak of the Xilan Empire requests an audience! Representing the Xilan royal family, he has expressed willingness to provide the Southern Sea Alliance with a post-war reconstruction loan totaling ten billion Xilan coins—interest-free, to be repaid over twenty years." Li Minghui froze. After racking his brain without recalling what a Xilan coin even looked like, he instinctively asked, "How much is that in silver coins?" The secretary was taken aback too, replying with an awkward expression, "Er, direct trade between the Alliance and the Empire is minimal; it's mostly conducted through Port Golden Gallon... The currently accepted local exchange rate is approximately four gallons to five Xilan coins, anchored primarily to cotton for textiles and beans for animal feed." After the embargo ended, the market price for a jin of beans in Tiger State and Leopard State hovered around five Xilan coins, while the market price in Port Golden Gallon averaged around four gallons, mainly used for oil extraction and feed. Although Xilan coins had once turned into waste paper in Lowell State and even Tiger and Leopard States due to massive borrowing and dumping from the Bank of Port Golden Gallon, the Empire was not Boulder City after all. It possessed a massive, hardworking population, and the sweat and blood of nearly a hundred million serfs poured into Tiger and Leopard States along the Everflowing River, stubbornly propping the Xilan coin back up. Furthermore, whereas the value of the Xilan coin had once been determined solely by slaves and livestock—its only export commodities—the presence of Port Golden Gallon had suddenly sent imperial import-export business booming, shifting the currency from "something no outsider was interested in" to having a "relatively stable exchange rate." Using the figures his secretary provided, Li Minghui roughly counted on his fingers. And the moment he tallied it up, he was thoroughly stunned. Eight hundred million silver coins?! If this exchange rate held true, that was equivalent to the Xilan Empire lending eight silver coins for every single person in their empire to the Southern Sea Alliance?! Was this Empire that ridiculously wealthy?! Li Minghui felt his hands trembling—they hadn't trembled this hard even when naval shells were pounding Anle Island. Standing beside the desk, Si Wen was equally dumbfounded, mouth agape and speechless. He simply stared wide-eyed at Li Minghui, wishing he could snatch the pen right off the man's desk and sign the loan agreement for him! Eight hundred million silver coins... That averaged out to eight hundred per citizen of the Southern Sea Alliance! In reality, there was no need for frantic hints from the Representative Council. Li Minghui merely swallowed hard, fixated on his secretary, and asked hurriedly, "How will they pay? No, I mean, when will they deliver the money?" The secretary whispered, "Duke Nihak didn't say... but he is on North Island right now. Do you plan to meet him to talk in person?" Li Minghui quickly glanced at Si Wen, who was now as docile as a well-fed seagull, having retreated voluntarily to the office doorway. "I have nothing further. I wish you success in your negotiations, respected General Li Minghui. May you lead us from one victory to another." This guy had never once addressed him as "General," especially within the walls of this presidential palace. Watching Si Wen step outside, Li Minghui, smug as he felt, couldn't help cursing under his breath: "These money-grubbing hypocrites!" With that, he cleared his throat and looked at his secretary. "Invite Duke Nihak to dinner on my behalf... Spare no expense. Don't let our distinguished guest feel slighted." *** On the front line in Haiya Province, the fighting remained as fierce as ever. With the Beta 0.7 update raising the closed beta player cap to a hundred thousand and large waves of new players rushing in, the Alliance had recently seen the rise of several newcomer corps that caught Chu Guang's eye. For instance, the "imitators" of the Burning Corps—the Hellfire Corps. As the Alliance's second player-formed airborne corps, its roster had already reached a strength of a thousand men. Yet unlike the Burning Corps, without power armor equipped, they resembled light paratroopers more closely, accustomed to using W-1A unpowered gliders and an airdropped motorcycle vehicle produced by Goblin Tech. Although veterans of the Burning Corps frequently mocked them as street-racing punks, the corps performed quite well on the northern front, roughly reaching T3 caliber and even surpassing the Silver Corps, which had held the crown among ragtag units since Alpha. At the very least, they were far more dependable than meme-heavy corps like the Abstract Corps. Beyond them, another new "mountain regiment" stood out: the Climber Corps! The northern reaches of Haiya Province were hilly terrain. Over dozens of deaths big and small, the thousand-plus players of this corps had not only developed a unique set of tactics, but had also collaborated with NPCs in the Daybreak City Industrial Zone to create specialized mountain combat gear, including grappling hook guns, spiked short combat boots, and more. Even without wearing exoskeletons, using this simple and inexpensive gear, they could unleash combat effectiveness rivaling soldiers equipped with exoskeletons. In addition, Qiangren Suonan and Wo Xiang Jingjing, keen on missionary work, had established the Raptor Corps. Scavenger, who had originally belonged to the Burning Corps but never actually operated with them, finally retired from the Burning Corps and formally joined this newly founded corps. For now, the corps' combat performance remained a question mark, but the future looked promising. Because the players were performing so impressively, Chu Guang felt more and more like a bona fide NPC lately. His daily routine consisted of standing by the respawn point, watching the front-line players howling as they charged forward, shells raining down as if they cost nothing. The northern front was currently a meat grinder—tactically there was room to maneuver, but strategically there was practically none. This held true for everything from the Legion's ten reinforcement myriads to the Academy's Alpha Mobile Task Force, as well as the mercenaries and rookies the Enterprise continuously funneled to the front. Encouragingly, under the siege of the allied forces, the Church of the Torch was showing increasingly obvious signs of exhaustion; perhaps it wouldn't be long before this protracted war was brought to an end. Haiya Province was less than 1.5 times the size of Mammoth State. That this war had dragged on for so long was truly a testament to the Church of the Torch's sheer tenacity for troublemaking. On the first weekend of November, Chu Guang had planned to take half a day off to browse Earth's internet for inspiration and see how other "game operators" milked their player bases, when Cheng Yan, the Alliance's Minister of Foreign Affairs, suddenly placed a video call to him. "...Respected Manager, although you may have already noticed, I must bring it to your attention: the Empire seems to be making sly moves around our perimeter again." Chu Guang raised an eyebrow and asked with curiosity, "Oh? What kind of moves?" Cheng Yan phrased his reply cautiously: "...They granted the Southern Sea Alliance an interest-free loan of ten billion Xilan coins, with only one simple condition on the use of funds: goods must be imported from ports in the Xilan Empire's homeland. In addition, they finalized an export order of steel and cement worth one billion Xilan coins at fifty percent below market price." Hearing this, Chu Guang was stunned into silence for quite a while. Not because he was intimidated by the Empire's lavish expenditure, but mainly because he couldn't fathom what bizarre stunt this was supposed to be. Normally, being left completely flabbergasted only happened with players; having an "NPC" baffle him like this was quite rare. The last time was when the Gray Wolf Army raided Port French Fries, where he had stared at the map for ages without figuring out what the Empire gained other than a sound thrashing. This time was no different; he simply couldn't fathom what new trick Wutuo was trying to pull. Objectively speaking, debt itself, as a lubricant of economic activity, had nothing inherently wrong with it. After all, lending local currency abroad stimulated domestic exports, and exports were one of the three pillars driving an economy; under specific circumstances, lending money to outsiders was far more useful than lending it to one's own people. Especially when domestic money supply fell short of actual market demand—that is, when facing deflation—proactively "importing" a small amount of inflation from smaller economies was standard operating procedure, particularly from a well-endowed economy like the Southern Sea Alliance. The problem, however, was that Bolo Province was still a serf economy. By the standards of Stellaris, many survivors fell into the "livestock" tier. It was blatantly obvious that this wasn't an issue of deflation or inflation—a market in the classical sense didn't even exist there. Why bother forcing market solutions onto it? If one insisted on viewing things from the Imperial Royal Family's standpoint, Chu Guang mused that adding a supplementary clause such as "repayment must be made in equivalent dinars or silver coins," or requiring the Southern Sea Alliance to accept Xilan coins when selling goods to the Empire, would at least look less absurd. And even setting aside the "benefits" themselves, this entire maneuver was fraught with baffling absurdities. When the Alliance borrowed money from Boulder City in the past, Boulder City agreed to lend partly because they held guns and partly because both sides had sizable cross-investments, essentially stacking every anti-deadbeat buff to the max. Even from a self-interest perspective, the Alliance was unlikely to default outright. Just as it was impossible for the Southern Sea Alliance to renege on debts owed to the Alliance. In fact, Boulder City had employed a similar economic control model over the various farms in Jinchuan Province, including Lister's early investments in Kamu tree plantations there. It was only because the inner-city nobles were too greedy and arrogant, stacking their chips too high on the gambling table, that they ultimately wrecked themselves. As for the Empire... Their health pool might indeed be much deeper than Boulder City's, but aside from that, they possessed none of the necessary conditions—at least from his perspective as an outsider. Chu Guang pondered for a long time without figuring out what scheme the Empire was playing at. Logically, charity wasn't done like this either; it looked more like someone had fed Wutuo a terrible idea. Still, someone handing out free money was ultimately a good thing for the Alliance's younger brother. After all, the Southern Sea Alliance wasn't just dealing with inflation; its domestic currency had completely collapsed, to the point where government employees were paid in Alliance silver coins. At a time like this, when someone was eager to come buy hot air that was worth less than beer froth, the locals would never say no unless they were fools. Chu Guang couldn't help sighing internally: in this wasteland, on top of the Academy, there was now another fellow he couldn't figure out. The Slime Mold Collective and Port Golden Gallon had handed the Empire a sum of money, but that its Emperor would spend it like this was truly beyond his expectations. "Why don't you ask Duke Garava to see if we can borrow some too?" Cheng Yan was taken aback. "That... might not be a good idea." He wasn't in charge of economic affairs, but he always felt that carrying too much debt wasn't a good thing, and he also felt Xilan coins seemed rather useless. Chu Guang, however, thought differently. He merely offered an encouraging smile and said: "What's bad about it? Just go and ask... Of course, if they're truly unwilling, then forget it. There's no need to force them." Seeing that Chu Guang wasn't joking, Cheng Yan could only say with a wry laugh, "Alright then." After hanging up the call, Chu Guang originally intended to put the matter aside, but in the end he couldn't resist the itch. Logging onto his main account, he posted an announcement on the forums, leaking the news of this massive windfall to the life-profession players in the Southern Sea. Even the smallest mosquito was still meat, not to mention that the Southern Sea Alliance might not even be able to finish this feast on its own. It would be better to let the players active there help the locals digest it. For example, helping them cash out their surplus Xilan coins into silver coins at a fifty percent discount. Although Xilan coins were useless elsewhere, to the life-profession players active in Port Golden Gallon, they were exceptionally useful...