Famine 65: Northern Emptiness

Shi He abruptly sat up.

“Wha—”

Si Zhiyan, though she hadn’t personally experienced it, had already asked Zhong Yanqing and others about the time the game descended.

Thinking carefully, Nidhogg’s words were quite interesting.
[I’ll teach you many things—real, useful things.]

That wording was subtle, too.

What should a child barely ten years old be learning? Reading, writing, basic math and science, acquiring fundamental skills to ensure a place in the world.
Even for one growing up in a war zone, on a modern battlefield, mastering extra languages and understanding the relations between factions was far more important than things like climbing, diving, or survival skills.

Nidhogg was attentive and rational, and yet, in his view, only solo combat ability counted as “real, useful things.”

Shi He held his head, his pupils trembling: “…”
“When the game broke out in the eighth year, I did wonder about that. I thought it was just a coincidence, but…”

But the dates matched exactly. That’s beyond coincidence; it simply cannot be explained as chance.

“Did Nidhogg ever deliberately have you store body fat or put you through systematic fasting or low-blood-sugar endurance training?” Si Zhiyan asked.
Shi He shook his head.
Si Zhiyan nodded in understanding. “So, he didn’t know the concrete form of Don’t Starve.”

But at the very least, eight years before the game began, Nidhogg had already foreseen the coming upheaval.

And looking at it this way, it’s also suspicious that the broadcast named Nidhogg as the top candidate, even though Shi He was ranked number one.
Could it be that Nidhogg did this on purpose?

…This man is not simple.

It was late. Si Zhiyan offered a few more words of reassurance and sent Shi He back to the dorms to rest.

From the far city walls came the faint laughter and noise of the crowd. Everyone seemed very taken with the cola lake, and many jokes already revolved around it.

All was quiet here—no one nearby. The undying fire phoenixes on the golden tree danced, scattering golden leaves.
Si Zhiyan sat alone on the grass, a frost-horned rabbit hopping over to curl up on his lap.

In silence, Si Zhiyan stroked the frost-horned rabbit.

There was something that didn’t make sense.

It’s always better to have teammates than to go it alone. A reliable companion greatly increases everyone’s odds of survival. Shi He, too, had once been saved by Nie Du.

If Nidhogg knew a catastrophe would hit in eight years, why push Shi He away?

What is his relationship to the main god? Why isn’t he on the Chosen leaderboard, yet can still become the number one candidate?

There were so many mysteries, but no matter what, Nidhogg was definitely connected to Don’t Starve in countless, tangled ways.

If he was tied to the game, then… what about me?

Nidhogg had once stared at him and said: Haven’t we met somewhere before?

How could he have met Si Zhiyan? Si Zhiyan had transmigrated from another world.

All he remembered was working overtime one moment, and the next, he was in the imagined world of Don’t Starve.
And it was already the year 2032, seven years since Don’t Starve’s arrival.

That means… which year did he cross over?
He looked down, pressing at his temples.

…
He couldn’t remember.

He didn’t know.

Going further, he was supposed to be a programmer, working overtime on a project before transmigrating…

What was the project? What programming language was he using?

No memory at all; his mind was a complete blank.

Si Zhiyan was the master of the farm.
His connections to Don’t Starve stretched in many directions.
Many had met Si Zhiyan before—more than one.
His memories had been altered, and much that was vital had been forgotten.

Looking back, all the scattered fragments came together into a new possibility, wholly at odds with everything he had thought.

Could it be…

“I didn’t transmigrate here.”

Si Zhiyan stared at the ground at his feet and whispered, in a voice no one could hear.

“These seven years, as… myself, I actually truly lived in this world.
I met Nidhogg, met Bian Xu… all of it was my own life.”

“I was always here. I just don’t remember.”

“Someone altered my memory.”

“Who… am I?”

Shhhh.
Evening wind swept the grass, the golden tree’s shadow swaying and rustling.

With that epiphany, everything became clear.

Once, Anderson said that the North Void team was led by “that gentleman.” “That gentleman” rarely showed up; most of the time, Bian Xu acted as the go-between for the team and their leader.
Together, under that leader, they delved into Don’t Starve’s fundamental logic.

And his relationship with Bian Xu had always been… deep.

“North Void… North Void…” Si Zhiyan murmured, “The first time I heard that name, I found it strange.
It’s neither powerful nor catchy, just… odd.”

[The term ‘Void’ (Xu) usually signifies something that is after a certain position.
When referring to a spatial position, it only appears in one context—]

Star constellations.

In ancient China, for the sake of astronomical study, the sky was divided into seven major star zones: The Three Enclosures and The Four Symbols. The stars within were collectively called “star officials” (xing guan), each with a specific group name.

The Four Symbols cover the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, and two others, subdivided into 28 lunar mansions.

[Void] is one of those mansions.

Void Mansion, associated with the sun among the Seven Luminaries, is the fourth northern mansion of the Black Tortoise.

Within it is an even more particular star official:—

Siming Xing — the Star of Fate.

The ‘Song History—Astronomy Treatise’ notes: Siming Star, north of Void. Presides over appointments, orders punishment, dispels inauspiciousness, and is associated with death.

Legend has it that the god of the Siming Star in the celestial court holds the decree for all mortal fates; he governs the lifespan of heaven and earth, knows the fate of all things under heaven, and oversees the appointments of chancellors; he is the god of merit, rank, culture, and ink…

Si Zhiyan.

If he were to choose his own codename now, he would also reach in the direction of the Siming Star and its constellation map—but would avoid being too obvious, not using [Siming] directly. Something veiled, something low-key.

[North Void] as a code-name was perfect.

It was a reflection of his own tacit intentions.

Si Zhiyan slowly lifted his head, speaking with steady conviction:

“The North Void team…
Was my creation from the beginning.”

Crash—

A splendid flame suddenly blossomed above the lake.

A second, a third… countless brilliant fires burst on the emerald lake like fireworks, golden sparks igniting the gilded tree leaves, their dazzling ribbons unfurling everywhere.

Si Zhiyan looked up.

Nine undying fire phoenixes lifted their heads from the flames, graceful and proud, spreading burning wings and trailing comet-like tails as they swept the night sky.

All the fire phoenix feathers he had collected were already regrowing.
Today was their day of rebirth by fire.

…………

Who am I, where have I been, what have I done?

These doubts weighed heavily on Si Zhiyan’s mind—he desperately needed answers.

But the intersect between the North Void members and Si Zhiyan himself was minimal; most simply carried out orders. None even suspected the connection between Bian Xu and the farm.

But all that could wait.

What mattered most…
Who—or what—was it that targeted him and Bian Xu?

In the eyes of the North Void team, Bian Xu was already dead. As for himself, he was in dire straits: memory in fragments, powers gone, surviving only by clinging to the farm and starting over from scratch.

Did the thing that harmed them know he was still alive? Did it know about the farm?
Would it come back to finish the job?

As long as this was unresolved, a shadow would hang over Si Zhiyan’s head.

But there was no rushing this. For now, the only way was to keep his identity hidden and bide his time.

Time slid onward.

For several nights, the parade of a hundred ghosts and the blood mist passed in relative peace, only the occasional spirit attacking—nothing the North Void team and the service players couldn’t handle.
The more peaceful things were, the more anxious Si Zhiyan felt. Staring upward at the great eye, he couldn’t help feeling that something was being prepared.

Still, this was too good an opportunity to waste.

Thanks to Nidhogg, Si Zhiyan’s convenience store soon saw a constant stream of customers.

Nidhogg quickly lost his initial boredom.
There were simply too many people interested in the “first candidate for godhood.”

Challengers, questioners, schemers, would-be collaborators… players gathered from all parts of the fog world to seek him out.

As a result, the convenience store became the perfect location.
People treated it as the supply shop before the final boss fight. Everyone made sure to stock up here, then challenged Nidhogg on the spot—

—and, without exception, were beaten mercilessly by the boss.

Amusingly, many who arrived ended up lingering in the shop, completely seduced by the oden, fried chicken, and cola; they even set up camp, not caring about fighting any bosses.

What was the point of being a candidate for godhood if it couldn’t be eaten?
But oden—oden could be eaten!

Nidhogg became furious, blaming fried chicken for outshining his charisma and flipping more than a few tents in a rage.

Come to fight the boss, only to be tempted away by the boss’s store—what a world!

At first Nidhogg grumbled, whining that he spent too much time stuck in the store, until after a few hard battles, he came back covered in blood and said nothing more after fluttering his wings clean.

After all, the convenience store was a safe zone where anyone, utterly exhausted, could rest in peace.

Every wild dragon should know the preciousness of its lair.

These days, Si Zhiyan probed Nidhogg with casual questions whenever he could.

As predicted, Nidhogg excelled at feigning ignorance—smiling and nudging every hint back, his answers impeccable, never revealing depth. He seemed to say something, but on closer inspection, it was all just empty words, nothing meaningful at all.

Nidhogg and the farm were only temporary allies.

Si Zhiyan had no genuine hold over him—not even a friendship, perhaps.

Nothing but mysteries.

Si Zhiyan didn’t want to push him too far. Nidhogg only stuck around as long as he believed Si Zhiyan was strong enough to squash him at a whim. The moment he saw Si Zhiyan’s true weakness, that leash would snap instantly.

At the same time, Si Zhiyan realized: however mysterious Nidhogg seemed to him, he was just as much an enigma to Nidhogg.

It didn’t matter. Si Zhiyan felt sure that if he waited long enough, Nidhogg would eventually make his move.

After all, Shi He was now in his hands.

Si Zhiyan had more patience; hidden in the shadows, he would wait for Nidhogg to slip.

Regardless, with Nidhogg’s broadcasts, the convenience store stood like a lighthouse in the fog, guiding players to the farm.

That brilliant yellow glow had already become a sanctuary for many.

In just ten days, the store’s daily profit hit 70,000 points—a figure nearly enough to double the farm’s entire daily income, now at 160,000 per day.
Most people who reached the shop were so energized that they ultimately chose to come to the farm itself. On average, more than a hundred players arrived each day, drawn in to join the new farm.

Every arrival came in tears.

Since the dawn of Don’t Starve, players had roamed in chaos, desperate just to live—like headless flies. Living anywhere meant hunger, danger; survival was hard everywhere.

For the first time, people had hope—had a beacon.

Here, there was food! Here, there was a good life!

At the end of a long journey, they found lush green grass, trembling in the wind; rich lives, nothing disappointing.

Some shed tears of joy, kissing the farm’s earth.
The newcomers gave the farm a name: Land of Hope.

With this rare spell of peace and rising population, construction had to keep pace.

The most crucial task was recruiting staff.
Si Zhiyan had long thought about it.

As the farm grew, new businesses—barbeque, hot pot, and more—opened alongside the restaurant and joined in the profit.
With all these people, revenue was growing, and customers milled in endless diversity.
No longer could they rely on the little stall model, where everyone just helped themselves and cleaned up.

Personally managing all this wore Si Zhiyan out. Welcoming guests wasn’t his specialty.
After some thought, he posted a help-wanted notice.

Wages were set at about double the standard of life at the farm: 200 points a day, plus room and board.

As soon as the sign went up, excitement swept the whole farm.