Chapter 21

The map had finished generating, with the familiar pixel figure standing in the lower left corner of the screen.

Baldy swallowed hard, hesitating to make a move.

What had I designed back then? he wondered. There seemed to be only a few spots on the ground where one could jump?

He racked his brains, recalling his earlier design, and tentatively took a step forward.

He didn’t fall—good, now to move ahead…

He hadn’t even had time to breathe a sigh of relief when an apple dropped from above.

“Boom—”

Game over.

Baldy’s survival time this round: one second.

The fans, who had been waiting for a good laugh, were stunned. They expected Baldy to fail, but not this quickly.

Still, it didn’t stop them from flooding the screen with mocking comments.

[Hahaha, Baldy, you really had it coming!]
[Not only are they all bombs, but they're bombs with different trajectories—can you believe it?]
[Baldy*reaps what he sows*gets what he deserves*]
[Stunned now, huh? Didn’t think of this outcome when you were setting traps for others!]
[It's funny, but there's a hint of deservedness to it.]

The friend he meant to trap was also dumbfounded, staring wide-eyed at the apples on the screen. “Wait, bro, you didn’t make every apple a bomb, did you?”

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed, and he drew in a sharp breath.

Even the most ruthless studios would have, at most, one bomb among the four apples on a tree. But Baldy had gone for a super, super, super multiplier.

“So what? When you see a bomb coming down, can’t you dodge it?” Baldy tried to sound tough, his gaze evasive.

“Then why don’t you dodge one for me?” his friend gritted his teeth. “Are you a dog, setting me up like this?”

But as soon as he said it, the friend reconsidered: Actually, Baldy hadn’t managed to trap him; instead, Baldy himself had tasted the bitter fruit he’d planted.

He burst out laughing, pointing at Baldy’s screen, and told his own stream viewers, “See that, everyone? Self-inflicted misfortune! This is what happens when you try to mess with others!”

“Get out! That was a slip-up—I’ll show you how it’s done for real this time,” Baldy, refusing to admit defeat, started a new round.

The bottom path was a no-go, so he tried the upper path, where at least there were gaps between the spikes.

This time, Baldy remembered correctly and landed steadily in the gap between the spikes. But before he could adjust his stance to jump again, a ninja hurled a shuriken right at his character.

To make matters worse, another apple flew down from the tree behind, aiming straight for his figure.

Beset from both sides, Baldy felt as if he’d entered a state of transcendence.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely; the attacks from both sides slowed, crystal clear before his eyes.

His mind blank, he relied on years of gaming experience, moving the character with near-divine skill—dodging apples and shuriken, avoiding spikes, landing safely.

Perfect! Baldy cheered inwardly, though he kept a nonchalant expression. “See? I told you the map was simple.”

[How did he dodge that? I was just about to laugh, but before I could blink, Baldy was safe??]
[Whoa! Did anyone catch Baldy's moves just now? That was insane!]
[Baldy’s hand speed must’ve hit at least four hundred just now, right????]
[Baldy may be a troll, but his skills are genuinely impressive.]

The fans, ready for a joke, were awestruck—what kind of godly operation was this?

Only now did they remember: despite dying again and again in this game, Baldy was indeed a top gamer, having beaten nearly every adventure game out there.

Was this the strength of a pro?

Baldy’s reputation soared.

“Not bad,” his friend exclaimed in amazement, “you really are… Oh, never mind.”

What does it mean to be cool for only three seconds?

This was it.

Just as Baldy was basking in his success at dodging the first wave, a new round of apple-and-shuriken attacks arrived.

And this time, the apple dropping was one of those Baldy had deliberately designed to curve.

Baldy, out.

Before anyone could laugh at him, he immediately started his third attempt.

He refused to believe it!

This time, Baldy took lessons from the previous rounds, cautiously jumping among the sticks.

In a frantic rush, he suddenly recalled being dissatisfied with a certain area, thinking it was too empty.

Where was it… Oh, the sky! The memory flashed in his mind.

He decided to catch his breath up above and jumped upward.

His character’s head collided with a cloud, which immediately exploded.

The cloud turned into a smiling face, silently mocking Baldy.

[Tsk tsk, Baldy, do you remember what you said when you added those clouds?]
[Fun to make, but after that, the game is pure hell.]
[Just a few clouds—too easy, right, Baldy? Can’t even get past this?]
[Hilarious! Every word Baldy said comes back around like a boomerang, hitting him squarely.]

The fans mercilessly ridiculed him.

“Damn!” Baldy threw his headphones onto the table, protesting, “Something must be wrong! It really was simple when I made it!”

Baldy was aggrieved, unconvinced.

Apples are in most levels, spikes too, and though ninjas and clouds are rarer, he hadn’t placed many of them either!

He’d only combined the common elements from the game—what was his fault?

He never considered the density of obstacles in the game maps versus his own.

In terms of difficulty, Baldy’s map could match three game maps packed together; it was so crowded that surviving two steps was a challenge.

His friend had been laughing since Baldy’s first death; now, in the livestream, he was nearly doubled over, nodding repeatedly, “Yes, yes, I agree—this map isn’t hard at all.”

“It’s just you who can’t get through.”

With that, he slapped the table and burst into renewed laughter.

“You! Just wait!” The evidence was clear; after three failures, Baldy realized one thing:

His own map probably couldn’t be uploaded.

His journey of trapping others ended before it even began.

But fury rekindled in his eyes. “Just you wait, I’ll make a new one for you tomorrow!”

He would not give up so easily!

“Is it going to be another map you can’t beat yourself?” his friend asked, feigning innocence.

Laughter filled the stream, built upon Baldy’s suffering.

“If you don’t court disaster, disaster won’t find you,” Jiang Qiubai sighed as he watched the screen.

Upon learning that Baldy was livestreaming his map creation, Jiang Qiubai had set aside time to spectate, seeing it through to the end.

Afterward, only one thought remained in his mind:

Good, requiring creators to clear their own maps before uploading was certainly the right move.

He was glad he understood the players’ love of chaos and had preemptively set the rule that new maps could only be uploaded if the creator cleared them.

Otherwise, there would be countless Baldys with no sense of their own maps’ difficulty uploading them.

The upload area would have to be renamed “No Man’s Land,” since no one could pass.

The next day, another short video went viral in gaming groups everywhere.

Baldy was trending again—more so than before.

This video differed from the last: previously, Baldy’s face showed only the rage of being trapped. This time, the editor began with Baldy’s smug expression during map creation and his classic “It’s so simple,”

Combined with his eagerness to trap his friend, unsuspecting viewers would assume the victim was Baldy’s friend.

But the video ended with a twist: system messages and Baldy’s embarrassed face after three consecutive failures.

Who could watch without saying Baldy deserved it?

With such a painful example before them, later players, not wanting to fall into their own traps, reluctantly lowered the difficulty of their maps.

Still, some felt that took the fun out of it. Wasn’t the whole point to trap friends? How could they let them off so easily?

So they decided to hone their skills in the game first, and only after mastering their abilities would they return to design maps to ensnare their friends.

The result: “Dad-Trapping Adventure,” a truly free single-player game, achieved surprisingly impressive revenue—comparable to a small paid game.

All of it was pure ad income.

Jiang Qiubai looked at the new revenue report, clicking his tongue. “This many ad clicks?”

How many people must be watching ads? No matter the world, it seems most players are mediocre yet addicted.

“Yeah, the advertisers are ecstatic,” Old Liu remarked.

“If I’d known, I’d have charged by the click,” Jiang Qiubai sighed. “Oh well, a little loss is fine.”

Such benevolence! If the players heard this, wouldn’t they go mad?

Old Liu grumbled inwardly.

“By the way, how are players tolerating the ads?” Jiang Qiubai suddenly remembered.

He’d been busy conceptualizing his third game, barely finding time to watch Baldy’s stream, let alone check in with the players.

“Boss, check your social media?” Old Liu said, looking conflicted. “The players aren’t too satisfied.”

“Is it the ad duration? Thirty seconds might be long for them, but they’ll get used to it,” Jiang Qiubai predicted. After all, ads in this world usually ran for only ten seconds or so.

Unlike his original world, where ads started at thirty seconds and could go up to a minute.

Everyone adapted, didn’t they?

“It’s not just that,” Old Liu replied. “Some players say… they want new ads to watch.”

Picky, but not quite so picky after all.