Fang Zhijing gave a cold snort, then turned back to Wang Ke. “Just find people to tear her apart — the worse the better. The ideal outcome is to destroy her completely. These old academic types care desperately about their reputation — even if we can’t finish her off, we’ll strip away a layer of skin.” He looked over at Gao Jianhong with a faint trace of mockery. “Any objections from Director Gao?”
Gao Jianhong set down the phone.
“Do as you like.”
Fang Zhijing turned back to Wang Ke. “How long will the project take?”
“If we’re just reskinning it, not long at all,” Wang Ke said. “Swap out the visual assets, repurpose our existing Three Kingdoms game resources with a Warring States coat of paint — two months, roughly.”
“You have one and a half months,” Fang Zhijing said. “Get it done.”
Wang Ke’s heart sank.
“And for that one and a half months,” Fang Zhijing continued, “coordinate with the marketing team to start building early buzz. Get the game warm before launch.”
Wang Ke took the new assignment and hurried back to call an emergency meeting with his planning team.
Fang Zhijing sank back into his chair, serene and satisfied.
---
Ji Li’s efficiency was staggering. Within less than a week, Invincible Warrior’s ratings across every major forum had been driven into the ground. Zhang Fang watched the numbers fall, and for once voluntarily worked overtime trying to push them back up — but he was outnumbered and outgunned, and could only watch helplessly as the ratings cratered.
Zhang Fang was furious to the point of hyperventilation.
“Who?! Who is doing this?! What kind of people sabotage a small company that never did anything to anyone?!”
Zhu Yun took one look at the blatant review manipulation and knew perfectly well whose handiwork it was. To avoid spreading panic, she said nothing to Zhang Fang or the others about Ji Li.
She did her best to calm Zhang Fang down.
“Just focus on your own work. Don’t worry about this sort of thing.”
Zhang Fang beat his chest in frustration. “I can’t let it go!”
Zhu Yun glanced at Li Xun. He wasn’t reading this time — he was writing something on paper, deeply focused, and had paid absolutely no attention to anything happening with Invincible Warrior.
His calm steadied her somewhat, and she forced herself to settle down.
But that forced calm didn’t last long.
Not long afterward, the smear articles targeting Professor Zhao Guowei began spreading across forums and blogs. The general public, lacking full context, weighed in with predictable indignation: academics selling out for money, professors who were never as noble as their reputations suggested. Some of Zhao Guowei’s own followers expressed disappointment at her involvement with the game — the more measured ones offered measured criticism, while the more excitable ones went straight for insults.
This time, Zhu Yun could not stay calm. Yet Li Xun was the same as before — reading his books, doing his own work, treating the chaos around him as though it were invisible.
Zhu Yun went to him and asked what they should do. Li Xun turned it back on her: “What did you tell Zhang Fang earlier?”
Just focus on your own work. Don’t worry about this sort of thing.
Zhu Yun remembered perfectly well what she had said. But this time, Zhao Guowei was involved — and thinking of that kind and gracious professor, then picturing those articles circulating online, Zhu Yun’s brow furrowed. “What they’re doing is borderline defamation.”
“Articles like that are everywhere,” Li Xun said.
Zhu Yun had no response.
Li Xun looked up and noticed the small sore that had formed at the corner of Zhu Yun’s mouth. He set down his pen and said coolly: “You spend every day worrying about this and that — how come you never worry about me?”
Zhu Yun met his gaze, her expression flat. “You? You’re indestructible. Why would anyone need to worry about you?”
“Go pick something up and visit Zhao Guowei,” Li Xun said lazily.
“You’re not coming?”
“I could. But by nature, I tend to come across as lacking sincerity.”
You actually know that about yourself?!
Li Xun reached into his pocket and produced a bank card. Zhu Yun frowned. “Where did you get money from?” Li Xun would never ask his brother for money, and all his paychecks went toward buying equipment.
“I have a little saved,” Li Xun said.
“No need — I’ll ask Dong Siyang to approve it through company expenses.”
Li Xun set the card on the desk and went back to his book. “Take it,” he said quietly. “Buy something nice. Consider it a small token from me as well.”
Zhu Yun slowly reached out and took the card. “What’s the PIN?”
“Six eights.”
“…”
---