Chapter 011: Buying Land?

Feeling a bit thirsty after reading for a while, Li Daniu climbed off the bed, intending to pour himself a glass of water. Then he suddenly realized—

“What the hell, how did I travel back here?”

He glanced around; this room was indeed his bedroom in Tuvalu. Walking over to the window, he peered outside. Though night had fallen, he could still make out the outdated buildings and facilities unique to Tuvalu.

“System, when did I get sent back?”

“Five minutes and thirty-five seconds ago.”

“Shouldn’t you have given me a heads-up when I was sent back?”

“If necessary, I can add a countdown feature next time.”

Li Daniu, feeling a bit rattled, touched the necklace hanging around his neck. If he hadn’t been showing off earlier and kept the necklace in the safe instead of wearing it, wouldn’t it be gone now?

“Of course it’s necessary—next time, be sure to alert me before the transition. I haven’t even gotten my security deposit back from that room yet…”

After giving his instructions to the system, Li Daniu set aside his book and decided to have a good meal. To save money, he’d been surviving on instant noodles for half a month, and now he fully understood what it meant to have a tasteless mouth.

He glanced at the date and time displayed on his computer. Although he’d spent three months in the world of “Infernal Affairs,” only about ten minutes had passed in the real world.

“System, how does that work? I stayed in the world of ‘Infernal Affairs’ until nearly all the plot was over. Shouldn’t at least an hour have passed here?”

“The movie ‘Infernal Affairs’ spans over an hour of plot, covering more than three years. You stayed three months, which is about one thirteenth of those three years, so only ten minutes passed in the real world.”

That calculation was pretty wild. The main events of “Infernal Affairs” took place over a few days, except for the last shot, which jumped three years ahead. So…

“System, if I travel to the world of ‘The Myth’—where the story leaps from the Qin Dynasty to the modern era—and I stay three months, wouldn’t even a minute pass in the real world?”

“Yes. Since you can only remain in the movie world for up to three months, your scenario is entirely possible.”

Three months might seem like a long time, but in some movie worlds, a single scene could span a year or two. If he entered at the start of a film, the main story might not even begin before his time ran out. What would be the point then?

“How much can I extend my time in the movie world by developing Tuvalu?”

“If you develop Tuvalu into the world’s leading superpower, you could remain in the movie world for up to a hundred years.”

The world’s leading superpower? A country on the brink of extinction, with a population of barely ten thousand, transformed into the world’s greatest nation? Was this some kind of joke?

“A hundred years?” Li Daniu latched onto the most important detail. “But if I stay a hundred years in the movie world, wouldn’t I just die of old age?”

“If you die in the movie world for any reason, that death is reflected in the real world. But if you survive, your age in the real world will follow the flow of real-world time.”

Li Daniu was speechless. It sounded reassuring, but did they really think he’d survive a hundred years without dying of old age? What did they think he was, Wolverine? Still, he was grateful that his time in the movie worlds was directly related to Tuvalu’s national strength—at least, in the short term, there was no need to worry about dying of old age in a film world.

Having resolved his doubts, Li Daniu pressed the call button in his room.

“Prepare dinner for me, and have Prime Minister Burns, the Minister of Finance, and the Chief of Police join me. Notify me when everything is ready.”

Though Tuvalu was underdeveloped, as the soon-to-be king, Li Daniu still enjoyed certain privileges.

With the arrangements made, Li Daniu turned to the internet. This parallel world was both similar and different from his native one. He wanted to check if his necklace existed in this world—after all, if there was an identical one, that would be a laugh.

He used “Miss Dao,” the most famous search engine in this world, to look up the necklace and began scrolling through the results.

“Damn, this worthless necklace fetched $150 million at auction? Then mine must be worth at least $200 million!” As a layman, Li Daniu thought the necklace in the news wasn’t as valuable as his, simply because the gems on his were larger and it had more diamonds.

Finding nothing similar after searching for a long time, Li Daniu felt relieved—and then realized something he’d always overlooked.

He had always assumed the necklace in the film was worth about $20 million, as only two transactions involving the necklace in the movie mentioned money. The first was a black-market deal for ten million euros (he couldn’t see clearly, but it seemed to be euros), and the second was Andy Lau demanding twenty million Hong Kong dollars.

But the necklace was obviously worth much more, since those were black-market prices. If it were auctioned openly, its value would multiply several times over.

What Li Daniu had always ignored was that all this happened in 1999. How much did the world’s richest person have in 1999? What was the cost of living back then?

Now it was 2012 in his real world. Compared to 1999, prices and consumer power had changed dramatically—and, most importantly, there were more rich people. The more wealthy people there are, the pricier luxury goods become. That was an eternal truth.

“I’ve struck it rich, hahaha…” Li Daniu laughed gleefully, only to stop short. Even if he sold the necklace for $200 million, it wouldn’t do much for a country on the verge of collapse. As for living a life of luxury on the necklace’s proceeds, he didn’t dare dream of it. The system had warned him: if Tuvalu perished, it would say goodbye—what if, after bidding him farewell, it took his life with it?

While searching for auction houses online, Li Daniu’s attention was caught by a piece of news.

“The King of Fantasy, Tol-Yin, passed away early this morning. His masterpiece ‘Divinity and Demons’ has sold eighty million copies worldwide as of today, and has been translated into thirty-two languages…”

Tol-Yin? What on earth was that? And what was “Divinity and Demons”? How dare they ignore “The Lord of the Rings”?

Li Daniu didn’t know much English, but even so, “The Lord of the Rings” was a legendary name—especially the Hollywood adaptations, which he had watched from start to finish. Just a few days ago, bored of staying in his hotel, he had bought the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy to pass the time.

And, to boost his credentials, he’d bought the English edition.

But now, this “Divinity and Demons,” a work he’d never even heard of, was being hailed as the pinnacle of fantasy?

“News these days, honestly…”

Just as he was about to grumble, Li Daniu froze—was this… a parallel world? Could it be that “The Lord of the Rings” didn’t exist here at all?

Half-buried in dreams of wealth, Li Daniu suddenly felt as if he’d discovered a new continent. He began searching for information about “The Lord of the Rings.”

“No relevant results. Here are some similar recommendations.”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Li Daniu picked up the copy of “The Lord of the Rings” he’d brought with him through the transition, excitement coursing through him. Was this his chance to unlock his talent as a writer?

Although “The Lord of the Rings” is a trilogy, it’s actually a complete story, first published in the 1950s. The author only split it into three volumes due to a shortage of paper in those years. Li Daniu’s copy, bought in 1999, contained the full trilogy in one volume.

After the excitement faded, Li Daniu was seized by regret—why hadn’t he thought of this before? If only he’d bought up all the bestsellers this world lacked and brought them back, he could have become a literary plagiarist extraordinaire. Why go to such lengths chasing after a necklace?

He had already realized that “Infernal Affairs”—a film world based on his former reality—contained many things that existed in the real world. Hong Kong’s richest man was Li Ka-shing, Microsoft’s boss in America was Bill Gates.

Therefore, those best-selling novels of yesteryear, brought into a world with similar cultural backgrounds, would surely become hits as well.

How foolish he’d been—truly foolish.

Overwhelmed by regret, Li Daniu hugged his copy of “The Lord of the Rings,” lost in deep self-reproach.

There was a knock on the door.

Reluctantly setting aside the book, Li Daniu opened the door.

“Your Highness, dinner is ready. The Prime Minister, Minister of Finance, and Chief of Police are already in the dining room.”

Following the burly maid, Li Daniu made his way to the royal dining room on the third floor.

After the greetings, everyone took their seats, ready to begin the meal.

“Prime Minister Burns, I have some ideas about the future of our country.” Embracing the philosophy that life must go on no matter what’s been missed, Li Daniu prepared to share the plans he’d been mulling over for months.

Ideas? Burns looked at the confident Li Daniu, inwardly skeptical. In his view, Li Daniu had only spent half an hour in his room after hearing the introduction to Tuvalu—what ideas could he possibly have?

“Your Highness, we are eager to hear your guidance.” Saying one thing while thinking another was a politician’s essential skill.

“The first thing is to stop the immigration policy.” After clearing his throat, Li Daniu announced his plan. The exodus had to stop; if every citizen emigrated, Tuvalu would soon cease to exist.

“Your Highness…”

Almost as soon as Li Daniu spoke, Burns and the others protested in unison.

“Your Highness, we fully understand your feelings, but the reality is that we must continue with the emigration policy. Tuvalu is truly no longer suitable for human habitation.” As Prime Minister, Burns had to speak up. Although he disagreed with His Highness’s first demand after assuming power, he believed he spoke for all 11,000 Tuvaluans.

At that moment, Burns felt as if the spirits of countless revolutionary martyrs were with him—he would die without regret for the sake of the people.

“Uh, no need to get so worked up.” Seeing the three key officials practically wearing their opposition on their faces, Li Daniu waved his hand nonchalantly.

“Of course I know Tuvalu isn’t fit to live in anymore—there’s not even any fresh water. Relying on rain and shipments from cargo ships isn’t a long-term solution.”

“Then why—?” Burns wanted to say, “If you know that, why bother with empty talk?”

“I did some research online about the living conditions of recent emigrants. To me, it doesn’t seem so great. Sure, their basic needs are met, but without their own country, they’ve lost their spiritual anchor. No one respects them; they’re like wanderers without a homeland.”

Burns and the others looked at the compassionate expression on Li Daniu’s face and couldn’t help but complain inwardly: Does he think everyone’s an artist? Material well-being is obviously more important than spiritual comfort.

“When I say we should stop emigration, I’m not asking my people to stubbornly hold onto this land abandoned by the world,” Li Daniu continued, ignoring the officials’ hesitant looks. “I have a solution.”

“I’ve decided: we’re going to buy a new territory, somewhere fit for human life.”