Chapter Seventy-Six: Zhou Shun's New Game

“Hiss—”
Yin Jian was startled by the sudden knocking at the door, casting a wary glance toward the entrance.
“Could it be that some player tracked me down through the signal and found my house?”
He felt a pang of anxiety.
In his previous life, he’d read a story about an author who, after abruptly stopping updates to his novel, was stormed by furious fans who stabbed him 360 times, resulting only in a minor injury conviction.
Though he was a game designer rather than an author, what he’d done this time was not much different from abandoning a story midway.
Even if society was now under the ever-watchful eye of the quantum network, he still worried that he might be treated just as harshly.
After all, the plot had come to such a screeching halt that even he wanted to punch himself; how much more so must the players feel?
Yin Jian felt a headache coming on and allowed himself a small measure of regret.
At the very least, he shouldn’t have left things hanging at that critical moment.
But fortunately, things were not as dire as he feared.
He turned on the security feed from his computer and, instead of a burly and menacing player, saw a green cap he knew all too well.
“It’s Brother Zhou—what a scare. Looks like my whereabouts haven’t been exposed.”
Yin Jian let out a long breath.
He wasted no time, hurrying to the door to let Zhou Shun in.
Today, Zhou Shun was dressed in a short-sleeved black jacket, hastily thrown on and slightly askew, giving him a disheveled look.
“Brother Zhou, you’re…?” Yin Jian started to ask if he’d eaten,
but when he caught sight of Zhou Shun’s bloodshot eyes, he quickly shifted his tone to one of concern.
Zhou Shun didn’t answer. Instead, he strode forward, gripped both of Yin Jian’s arms, and said,
“Brother, have you finished the next part of your game? Want someone to help you test it?”
“If you haven’t finished it yet, I can lend you a hand.”
“Man! Leaving the story at that point—it’s torture! I couldn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“Uh…”
Yin Jian’s mouth opened and closed. He hadn’t expected to escape this fate after all.
Thankfully, it was Zhou Shun—he might nag, but at least he wouldn’t get violent.
As for what Zhou Shun was talking about…
Yin Jian thought about the content he’d scheduled to release—
He’d get beaten to death for sure.

“Ahem, well, Brother Zhou, it’s not done yet. Don’t trouble yourself, I can handle it alone.”
“I see…” Upon hearing this, Zhou Shun gradually calmed down.
Realizing he was still gripping Yin Jian’s arms, he quickly let go and apologized, “Sorry, I got a little carried away just now.”
“But really, the way you cut off the story—it makes people want to kill you.”
He forced a wry smile.
“It’s all for better numbers when I put it up for sale,” Yin Jian replied, stepping aside to let Zhou Shun in. “Come in and have a seat. By the way, didn’t you say you were working on a new game? How’s that going?”
As he welcomed Zhou Shun into the living room, he deftly changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the cliffhanger any longer lest he let something slip.
As expected, Zhou Shun’s attention shifted. “Oh, that…”
He settled into the sofa, turned the brim of his baseball cap to the back as was his habit, and said, “I’m planning to make a fighting game, with characters drawn from prehistoric myths and legends.”
“I’ve already finalized the character models and move sets.”
“But… what’s troubling me is that, while I’ve got the design down, it’s just too ordinary. Compared to other fighting games, there’s nothing that really makes it stand out.”
“So I’ve been playing other types of games lately, hoping to find some inspiration—ended up getting hooked on yours instead.”
He shot Yin Jian a look full of silent reproach.
“Uh…” The conversation had somehow shifted back to him, leaving Yin Jian a little taken aback.
Luckily, Zhou Shun didn’t pursue the matter further.
After a moment’s thought, Yin Jian asked, “Brother Zhou, what’s the background of your game?”
Fighting games had been explored to their limits by predecessors; if he wanted to stand out, he’d need a new angle.
“Just the backstories of the mythological characters—what else?” Zhou Shun frowned, thinking the question odd.
“Not the characters’ backgrounds, but the story background. Why are these characters fighting in your game? I think you could add a touch of narrative here.”
“Give each character a tragic or otherwise compelling opening scene.”
“Add more elements of conflict—not only does it help players immerse themselves, but it also gives them a clear objective.”
“Hm…” Zhou Shun frowned, lost in thought.
Yin Jian’s words had sparked something, but the inspiration remained just out of reach, leaving him frustrated.
He scratched his head vigorously, stood up, and said, “Thanks, Brother Yin. I need to go back and think this through. I won’t stay any longer.”
Without waiting for a reply, he headed out, head lowered.
Fighting games had always been his passion, and whatever the outcome, he wanted to give it his best—not for money, but for a childhood dream, insignificant as it might be.

Smiling, Yin Jian watched Zhou Shun off, closed the door, and his smile gradually faded.
He was making games for money now, because only with enough funds did dreams cease to be hollow wishes.
So…
“I need to think of a way to make more money from the players.”
Rubbing his chin, Yin Jian returned to his desk to continue refining the release content.
Let the players enjoy themselves in the demo; when the game went live, it would be time to turn the tables.
This was called “restrain before release.”
Only with microtransactions could one become strong—so, young men, spend away!
“Push it harder, yes, make it crushing.”
Yin Jian licked his lips, already picturing the players wailing and gnashing their teeth after the release.
Then he would launch the in-game purchases…
The thought alone curled his lips into a wicked smile.
He quickly wiped the smile away, throwing himself fully into the game’s production.
Time was tight.
He was confident this game would make it to the front page.
From release to recommendation and then to launch, he had about a month and a half.
He’d calculated that if he worked flat out every day, he would finish all the game’s content the day before launch.
Yes, the transition would be seamless.

…

The rapid sound of footsteps approached the door of the Second Team’s office at Qiyou Tower.
Soon, the office door was pushed open from the outside.
Han Hai, dressed in a suit, caught his breath and announced, “Everyone, put your work aside for now. We’re having an impromptu meeting.”