Chapter 156: A Surprise for Brother Qian
Chapter 156: A Surprise for Brother Qian
Morning.
“Achoo!”
In the office, Pei Qian sneezed for no apparent reason while the air conditioner was blowing cool air.
“Strange… is the A/C set too low?”
Pei Qian pulled the small blanket around himself a bit tighter, turned off the TV drama, and planned to doze off in his executive chair.
A knock came at the door—it was Lu Mingliang.
“President Pei, I have a few things to report.”
Pei Qian nodded. “Go ahead.”
Seeing Pei Qian wrapped in a blanket and looking like he was about to nap, Lu Mingliang was genuinely touched.
‘President Pei looks unwell… He could’ve just gone home to rest, yet he insists on staying at his post, working alongside us!’
‘No matter how successful you become, you still need to keep a strong work ethic!’
Afraid of disturbing Pei Qian’s rest, Lu Mingliang quickly got to the point.
“First, it’s about the new version of the game.”
“Everything is progressing smoothly on the development side, but somehow, the news about the limited-edition epic weapon in Ocean Fortress got leaked, and now the players are protesting loudly.”
“President Pei, should we consider loosening the limitation a bit? Maybe… raise it to 5,000 units?”
Pei Qian immediately shook his head. “No.”
‘Five thousand?!’
‘Are you kidding me?!’
‘5,000 × 888 yuan = do you even know math?!’
Pei Qian said seriously, “Limited means limited. If we make it as common as cabbage, what’s the point of calling it a ‘limited’?”
“No matter how loud they shout, it’s staying at 500 units. If we sell even one more, I lose.”
Seeing how firm President Pei was, Lu Mingliang had no choice but to nod. “Understood, President Pei.”
“The next issue is about Ma Yiqun’s job assignment.”
“He’s spoken to me several times, strongly hoping to participate in the new version’s development.”
“I thought about it—both Ghost General and Game Producer have a lot of written content to update, and someone like him with a strong writing background could really help.”
“So… maybe let him try it out and get some practice?”
Pei Qian didn’t respond immediately.
He couldn’t find a good reason to reject it outright.
But if he didn’t reject it…
He really didn’t want Ma Yiqun working on that game content.
Ma Yiqun was a gifted writer. His past work for Shangyang Games had been incredibly well-received. If he ended up writing for Ghost General and Game Producer, that could really make the games even better—disastrously better.
But how to turn him down?
Ma Yiqun had joined the company in March. It was already May—two months had passed. Keeping him in “training mode” any longer would be too hard to justify.
And if he wasn’t going to write for the games, he’d still need to be given something to do.
Send him to Huang Sibo’s short video team? That wouldn’t work—his writing talent might still shine there.
Send him to Moyu Internet Café? That might be a good idea, but he’d need a proper excuse to justify it.
After thinking for a moment and finding no better option, Pei Qian reluctantly nodded. “Alright, he should’ve learned enough by now. Let him take on some basic tasks for now.”
Pei Qian sounded extremely unwilling.
Lu Mingliang quickly nodded. “Got it, President Pei. I’ll let you rest—I’ll get back to work.”
Pei Qian leaned back in his chair again and wrapped the little blanket around him tighter, but still felt uneasy. He couldn’t sleep.
‘Strange. Why do I feel like danger is lurking everywhere?’
‘Could something be going wrong at Shangyang Games?’
He mentally went over all the current projects again.
At Tengda, the new versions of the projects would probably make money—but no matter how much they earned, it should all remain within a controllable range. Nothing too worrying.
Feihuang Studio, which was supposedly working on a documentary, hadn’t even started filming yet.
Moyu Internet Café was one of the traditional strongholds. Two new branches had just been renovated and were about to open, while the flagship store had just been inspected a little over a week ago. No problems found.
After thinking it over, the biggest risk still seemed to be Shangyang Games!
Pei Qian had demanded that they remove all in-game monetization options from both of their games, leaving only one revenue point. That was undeniably a risky move.
Removing monetization would definitely improve the game’s reputation—that much was certain.
But reputation and revenue were two different things.
A game like Blood War Anthem had terrible graphics and average gameplay. Its only advantage was that rich players could pay to dominate others—in other words, its core value was "selling hatred."
You kill me? Fine—I’ll top up immediately and come back to kill you. That was the emotional loop games like this thrived on.
It was precisely because the game played on negative emotions that it could still attract players despite its poor visuals and shallow mechanics.
If Pei Qian didn’t change anything, the game might very well experience a second wind—and quite possibly turn a profit again.
As long as Ye Zhizhou ran some promotions or a “veteran player comeback” campaign, and restored the game to its former revenue level… then Pei Qian’s goal of losing money would completely fall apart.
So, Pei Qian directly cut off all monetization.
Blood War Anthem had no visual or gameplay advantages compared to other games. Attracting new players was a pipe dream.
Even if it became “fair” and gained a good reputation—so what?
As long as it doesn’t make money, it’s fine.
Of course, there was a tiny risk: if the game’s reputation improved so much that a huge wave of new players joined, increasing the player base to a point where even a small revenue stream became profitable…
It wasn’t impossible, just very unlikely.
After careful consideration, Pei Qian concluded that only Shangyang Games posed a serious threat, and decided to monitor it closely.
He first visited the official forum for the Blood War Anthem.
Sure enough, the game seemed to be heating up. Public opinion was reversing, and even some veteran players had returned.
But Pei Qian remained calm and immediately sent a message to Ye Zhizhou:
“Send me the backend recharge data for Blood War Anthem.”
A few minutes later, Ye Zhizhou replied with a screenshot.
Pei Qian scanned the data casually. While the average amount spent per paying user had gone up significantly, the total revenue had actually plummeted—by nearly 70–80%!
At this rate, Blood War Anthem’s monthly revenue might not even hit 100,000 yuan.
Perfect. Still well within the plan!
For a game to survive, profitability is crucial. That’s why so many companies push aggressive monetization—even at the cost of player satisfaction—just to stay afloat.
If a game keeps losing money, then no matter how good the reputation is, it’s worthless.
The revamped Blood War Anthem might be more ethical now, but it all depended on what you compared it to.
Compared to P2W games: rich players no longer had that feeling of power—it wasn’t fun for them. Naturally, revenue dropped drastically.
Compared to other ethical games like Fantasy World, Blood War Anthem had awful graphics, average gameplay, and zero competitive edge.
So now, it was stuck in the worst of both worlds.
“Not bad. Keep it up.”
After replying to Ye Zhizhou, Pei Qian finally relaxed, wrapped himself up in the blanket, and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
In just two more days, the two new branches would open, and by then, Pei Qian would need to personally inspect them to feel at ease.
...
Shangyang Games.
Ye Zhizhou looked at the message sent by President Pei, and a warm feeling inexplicably rose in his heart.
Even though President Pei was swamped with work every day, he still cared about Shangyang Games!
Although their current revenue had plummeted, that was clearly part of President Pei’s plan—he told them to "keep it up"!
This meant their direction was correct!
Ye Zhizhou was instantly filled with renewed motivation.
So this was the kind of qualitative transformation a good boss brings to a company?
...
...
May 20th.
The two new branches of Moyu Internet Café officially opened!
Pei Qian, Ma Yang, and Zhang Yuan—the three managers of the net café chain—naturally came to attend the opening.
However, the scene was a little awkward.
It was dead.
Even worse than the flagship store’s opening day.
The main issue was that both new branches were located in less desirable areas than the flagship store, and Pei Qian had explicitly ordered no gimmicks:
No firecrackers, no flyers—be as low-key as possible.
So opening up in some out-of-the-way corner, without a sound, of course ended up... totally deserted.
Pei Qian, however, was quite content. He sat in the café area, sipping coffee while basking in the warm sunlight, enjoying the peace and quiet.
The two new store managers were a little embarrassed, but since they had transferred from the flagship store, they were used to this kind of scene. They knew President Pei wouldn’t blame them, so they stayed calm.
The newly hired waitstaff, on the other hand, were visibly uneasy. None of them had ever witnessed such a bizarre opening. They didn’t know what to do with themselves, and the whole store felt kind of… cursed.
In a quiet corner of the net café, Ma Yang and Zhang Yuan whispered to each other.
“Why’d you stop me just now?” Ma Yang asked, confused.
A moment ago, Ma Yang had wanted to lift everyone’s spirits in the face of the depressing turnout. He’d planned to tell Pei Qian the good news about the flagship store.
Thanks to Chen Lei’s great performances, the café's alcohol sales had been steadily increasing, and foot traffic was also visibly improving!
Ma Yang felt like this business model could be rolled out to all branches of Moyu Internet Café.
But before he could speak up, Zhang Yuan stopped him.
Zhang Yuan clearly knew what he was about to say and whispered:
“Brother Ma, it’s not that you can’t talk about it—it’s just that now isn’t the right time. It’d be too reckless.”
Ma Yang was puzzled: “Huh? Why?”
Zhang Yuan explained:
“Right now, our alcohol sales have barely started to rise. Even with rough estimates, we’re only making an extra 20 to 30 thousand yuan per month, tops.”
“But our net cafés are losing 300,000 yuan a month!”
“That kind of achievement is just a drop in the bucket. It’s not exactly worth celebrating, is it?”
“Imagine: you go to President Pei all excited, and he says, ‘Good work—so how much did you earn?’ and you answer, ‘Uh… we’re still losing money.’ Super awkward, right?”
“Sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut. If you oversell it, you only raise President Pei’s expectations. Then he’ll be even more disappointed.”
“If you ask me, we should wait until we’re actually turning a profit, then tell President Pei and give him a surprise. That way, he’ll think even more highly of us and of Moyu Internet Café!”
“Wouldn’t you agree, Brother Ma?”
Ma Yang thought about it and realized Zhang Yuan had a point.
They were still a long way from profitability. Telling Pei Qian about this now really would just make him look like someone who brags about minor accomplishments.
Not a good look.
Ma Yang nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. We’ll hold off for now.”
“When the flagship store of Moyu Internet Café really turns a profit, that’s when we’ll give Brother Qian a real surprise!”
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind spending $5 monthly to see till the latest chapter, please go to my Patreon
Latest Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 180: Plug One Leak, Another Springs Open
Link to the latest chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/134900537?collection=1399284
https://www.patreon.com/collection/1399284?view=expanded
Comments (0)
Please login or sign up to post a comment.