In the grand, neon-lit world of the 22nd century, where self-driving skateboards and holographic pets were as common as morning coffee, a name shone brighter than all the AI-generated pop stars combined—Ji Yuxi. A man of extraordinary talent, Ji Yuxi wasn’t just any programmer; he was the programmer. The visionary behind the three most popur games in the world, he single-handedly revolutionized gaming and set humanity’s foot firmly towards the era of holographic entertainment. But, as, fate had a cruel sense of humor.
Despite the technological marvels of his time, Ji Yuxi died at the young age of 54—young, that is, in a world where people routinely blew out 180 candles on their birthday cakes while compining about back pain. By 22nd-century standards, Ji Yuxi was basically a teenager, which made his sudden demise not just tragic but downright unfair.
To understand Ji Yuxi’s life, one must first understand his mind—an absolute behemoth of cognitive power. He had an eidetic memory, which meant he could recall every single line of code he had ever written, every novel he had ever read, and every awkward conversation he had ever had (a curse more than a blessing, really). His brain was a relentless machine, absorbing knowledge like a sponge and never letting go. If you mispced your car keys, he could tell you exactly where they were, which pocket you had them in three weeks ago, and what song was pying when you st saw them.
Before he became the gaming world’s undisputed champion, Ji Yuxi was deeply involved in scientific research—specifically, the search for life beyond Earth. While most people were busy arguing about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (even in the 22nd century, some debates never died), Ji Yuxi was busy trying to contact aliens. He believed, with the fervor of a conspiracy theorist at a UFO convention, that intelligent life was out there. And, being Ji Yuxi, he wasn’t content with just believing—he was going to prove it.
For years, he worked tirelessly, using his unparalleled intellect to design intricate communication methods, deep-space probes, and algorithms that could detect even the tiniest signs of extraterrestrial life. But then, something unexpected happened.
His body gave out.
One day, while deep in his b, Ji Yuxi noticed something troubling. His hands trembled. His vision blurred. His usual ability to process information at lightning speed slowed to a crawl. He felt as though he was running on outdated software, riddled with glitches. After countless tests and an arming number of second opinions, the results were in—his DNA was corrupting itself. Genetic disruption, a new and terrifying disease of the 22nd century, was eating him from the inside out.
Faced with the grim reality that his body could no longer handle the rigors of high-intensity research, Ji Yuxi did what any reasonable scientist would do.
He became a novelist.
His love for storytelling had always been there, buried beneath yers of code and research papers. Now, with time slipping away, he dove headfirst into writing. But, as always, he couldn’t just do things normally. He didn’t just want to write stories—he wanted to live them.
And thus, he turned his novels into games.
Leveraging his programming genius, Ji Yuxi created three of the most legendary video games in history. These weren’t just games; they were experiences. They transported pyers into worlds so immersive that some people forgot to eat (a minor problem that ter resulted in emergency in-game food delivery services). His company skyrocketed in popurity, and Ji Yuxi became a household name. He had successfully transitioned from searching for aliens to entertaining the masses.
But fate, the ever-persistent trickster, wasn’t done with him yet.
Despite his success, Ji Yuxi couldn’t ignore the ticking time bomb in his body. Three months before his untimely demise, he dedicated himself fully to finding a cure. He researched relentlessly, experimenting with genetic engineering, cybernetic enhancements, and even untested 22nd-century superfoods (one of which, ironically, made him even sicker). He theorized that the cure might lie in the very thing that was killing him—mental power.
At this point in history, mental power was a fresh and exciting concept. Scientists had only just begun to understand its full potential. Ji Yuxi, naturally, was ahead of the curve. He believed that if he could harness and manipute his own mental power, he could reprogram his DNA and heal himself from within. It was an idea so ambitious that it sounded like something straight out of his own video games.
But just as he was on the verge of cracking the code…
Game OverOne fateful night, in the middle of his research, Ji Yuxi’s body finally betrayed him. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything he had ever known. His once-brilliant mind, still racing with solutions, couldn’t stop what was happening. He colpsed, alone, before he could even call for help.
And just like that, the world lost one of its greatest minds.
His death sent shockwaves across the globe. Gamers held virtual vigils inside his most beloved creations. Scientists mented the loss of a genius who might have unlocked the secrets of the universe. Fans specuted what his final project might have been, what incredible breakthroughs he could have achieved if only he had lived a little longer.
In the end, Ji Yuxi left behind a legacy that was nothing short of legendary. He was a scientist, a storyteller, an adventurer, and, above all, a man who never stopped searching for something greater. Whether it was life beyond Earth or the perfect video game, he dedicated himself fully to the pursuit of the unknown.
And while his body may have failed him, his mind—and his creations—lived on, inspiring generations to come.
In a twist of fate that would have made Ji Yuxi chuckle, some of his fans refused to accept his death. Conspiracy theories ran rampant. Had he uploaded his consciousness into a game? Had he faked his death to live on as an AI? Had aliens finally answered his call and taken him away?
No one knew for sure.
But if Ji Yuxi had taught the world anything, it was that the greatest adventures never truly ended. They simply waited for the next pyer to press Start.
Aleistermeow