On the Cyber Plain, the daily-paying Battle God BSC is like a North China plain growing in the clouds. There are no tech geeks here, only cyber migrant workers full of dirt and soil. They used to wait for recruitment buses at Sanhe Square, but now they squat in trenches waiting for the trading link to open. The hoe has been replaced by a 1s K-line. Their gaze fixed on the screen is exactly like a farmer waiting for rain on his dry land. When they see green bars rising from the ground, it’s like the heavens rewarding the meal; when they see red bars hitting like a blow, it’s hailstorm. “Earned another 50U, steamed clams!” He chuckles, his dull fingers swiftly sliding on the broken phone screen. To him, those 50U are not tokens, but the breath in the oil tank of his Dongfanghong tractor at home, the smell of urea from a few bags of fertilizer in the field, and even the shadow of a new pen on his sister’s desk. That day, he completed his daily settlement in the cyber world. When he turned off GMGN, his fingertips still felt hot. He took a deep breath, hesitating for half a minute between the 9.9 yuan free-shipping braised chicken and the 8.8 yuan snail noodles. In the end, he decided to treat himself and added a bottle of chilled Dayao. When the bubbles hit his forehead, he felt that nothing in Web3 or the metaverse was as real as this sweet water. He argued with people in the group, cursing the most cutting-edge technology in the most rustic dialect. He went all-in late at night, betting his humble savings on a chance to turn things around. Unfortunately, life’s broken tractor, no matter how full the oil tank, can’t run out of this plain. His sister finally got married, and the bride price just enough to fill the hole from his last liquidation; the tractor finally broke down, rusted and fallen at the village entrance like outdated industrial waste; his body also finally collapsed, eyes fixed on K-lines night after night, with streetlights appearing as double images of green light, as if the whole world was resetting. In the end, he squatted on the stone pier at the village entrance, watching the colorful dirt dog coins on the screen. Deep down, he knew better than anyone that after half a lifetime of fussing, he was just moving from one construction site to another, more hidden and more torturous digital construction site.