On the virtual border, Yao Jiayin’s name was whispered. Her growth materials are like a group of calm numbers, arranged in rows, like dead branches in the wasteland, silent and tough. Those basic ether chips are the silent land under her feet; the certification seal is like fallen leaves drifting in the autumn wind, recording the traces of time.
The upgrade process is like a lonely poem, with concise words but full of power. The final dance shoes and high-dimensional data are like hidden symbols, conveying messages of light and darkness in the silent space. The Dingni in the hands of the player is a chip against nothingness and a belief of the wanderer.
Yao Jiayin’s exclusive sound engine is her pulse in the digital world. The sound of the knock is like a drumbeat from afar, firm and rhythmic. Every improvement in skills is a response to fate and a cry against the wasteland in the poet’s pen.
In this world, materials are not just cold numbers, but a footnote to life, a faint flame in a lonely journey. Her growth is not only an accumulation of strength, but also a poem about persistence and waiting.
We follow her footsteps in this virtual wasteland, feel the loneliness and tenacity from the depths of numbers, hear her silent singing, and tell the forgotten dreams and hopes.