Bao Xu had finished optimizing “The Ghost General” and “Sea Fortress” and recently had some free time.

Lü Mingliang immediately handed “Game Producer” to Bao Xu to experience.

After all, he was the company’s chief experience tester and the person who best understood Mr. Pei’s intentions!

Lü Mingliang, feeling very uncertain, needed to gain some confidence from this expert.

Bao Xu ran through the game earnestly.

He didn’t complete all the endings because that would take too much time, just followed his instincts and experienced two or three endings.

“How is it, Brother Bao? How do you feel about this game? Is there any room for improvement?” Lü Mingliang asked.

Bao Xu didn’t answer immediately.

After a moment, Bao Xu asked in return: “What do you all think?”

Here, “you all” naturally referred to all employees responsible for developing “Game Producer,” including Lü Mingliang.

Lü Mingliang hesitated for a moment, then decided to answer honestly: “Many people feel… this game is a bit boring. Except for Lin Wan, others don’t have much confidence in this game.”

“Although this game was personally designed by Mr. Pei, it feels like… there’s not much motivation to play through it…”

Lü Mingliang’s mood was conflicted.

On one hand, he felt a bit lost and ashamed.

Think about the previous game, Huang Sibo and Bao Xu together made “Sea Fortress,” which was an instant hit!

But when it came to him, taking over from Huang Sibo, he still needed Mr. Pei to personally modify it…

It felt like he was dragging everyone down, very embarrassing.

On the other hand, he was genuinely worried.

The gameplay was designed by Mr. Pei, the art was overseen by Master Ruan Guangjian—from all aspects, this game should be a super hit.

But in the experience, there wasn’t a feeling that “it would become a hit.” Instead, many people in the design team found it quite boring!

This contradictory feeling made Lü Mingliang constantly anxious.

He couldn’t possibly ask Mr. Pei directly, so he wanted to hear Bao Xu’s opinion.

Bao Xu pondered for a moment.

“I think this perception of yours is a case of being too close to see clearly.”

“You’ve all seen the game script early on, you’re already familiar with all the choices, it’s like being spoiled in advance, so your feelings naturally aren’t as acute.”

“As an outside observer, I think this game is very interesting, exceptionally unique.”

Lü Mingliang was surprised; he hadn’t expected Bao Xu to give such high praise.

Very interesting?

Exceptionally unique?

These might seem like ordinary descriptions, but the key was who said them!

Who was Bao Xu? He was a gaming legend who had dominated all games, played countless titles—his vision was much broader than average players.

Like that little girl added to “Sea Fortress.”

For many domestic players, it was their first encounter with such gameplay.

But the reason Bao Xu created this design was because he had seen and played it in many foreign AAA games.

This was the difference in perspective.

If Bao Xu, who had played so many games, thought it was “exceptionally unique,” it showed that “Game Producer” truly was exceptionally unique!

But Bao Xu hadn’t finished speaking.

He added solemnly: “But this doesn’t mean this game will make money.”

“I believe this is Mr. Pei’s attempt at something too highbrow, which might either make him legendary or end in dismal failure. It all depends on the market’s feedback.”

“Please enlighten us, Brother Bao,” Lü Mingliang listened humbly.

Bao Xu organized his thoughts.

“I can only try to understand Mr. Pei’s intentions based on my limited gaming experience.”

“I feel that Mr. Pei has always been a very lonely person.”

Lü Mingliang was surprised: “Mr. Pei is a lonely person? What makes you say that? I think… Mr. Pei is quite optimistic and cheerful.”

“Is that so?” Bao Xu asked in return. “Do you remember Mr. Pei’s state during the last company dinner?”

Lü Mingliang was a bit stumped by the question.

He recalled carefully.

The last dinner was to celebrate the successful development of “Sea Fortress.” Mr. Pei had taken everyone to an all-you-can-eat buffet costing over 400 yuan per person.

Because they had enjoyed the food so much, Lü Mingliang still remembered it vividly.

What was Mr. Pei like then?

He really couldn’t recall.

Trying hard to remember again.

“It seems… Mr. Pei was sitting quietly the whole time, not eating or drinking much, seemingly preoccupied, constantly thinking about something…”

Lü Mingliang looked at Bao Xu.

Bao Xu nodded: “Exactly, in such an environment, you can see a person’s true psychological state.”

“Normally, Mr. Pei is quite easygoing at the company, in front of us, because as a leader, he needs to constantly inspire and motivate us with his best mental state.”

“But on occasions like dinner gatherings, people who are truly lonely inside will still reveal their true emotions to some extent!”

“Think carefully, at that time, ‘Sea Fortress’ had been completed and was about to be a great success, everyone had delicious food in front of them—from all aspects, there was no reason to be worried or lose appetite, right?”

“What could make Mr. Pei so downcast?”

“It could only be his inner loneliness!”

Lü Mingliang blinked, feeling there was some truth to it.

Analyzing it logically, Mr. Pei’s mental state at that time did seem somewhat concerning!

Bao Xu continued: “Moreover, recently, while optimizing and modifying ‘The Ghost General’ and ‘Sea Fortress,’ I also felt similar emotions, emotions that must have been embedded deep in the soul of the games when Mr. Pei was doing the basic design!”

“Take ‘The Ghost General’ for example. Why set the price at 10 yuan and the lifetime card at 30 yuan? I believe this is like a ruthless mockery of the gaming industry.”

“Mr. Pei believes from the bottom of his heart that such games aren’t worth that much money! A card being speculated up to several hundred or thousands? A scam!”

“The emergence of ‘The Ghost General’ was to expose this scam, to make players realize how ridiculous it is to spend hundreds or thousands to draw a card!”

“From ‘The Lonely Desert Highway’ to ‘The Ghost General’ and ‘Sea Fortress,’ and now to ‘Game Producer,’ Mr. Pei has been using this unique approach to satirize the current impetuous, profit-driven gaming industry.”

“It’s just that… ‘Game Producer,’ compared to the previous games, is more straightforward, more scathing, and more profound!”

“And… less likable.”

Lü Mingliang’s eyes gradually brightened.

So that was it!

This way, everything is connected!

But then, Lü Mingliang had a new confusion.

“But, if the game’s connotation is so profound, why do you think it might either become legendary or end in failure, Brother Bao?”

Bao Xu looked out the window, gazing at the distant scenery: “Isn’t that how works ahead of their time always are?”

“True artists are often not understood by the general public, so commercial failure is quite normal.”

“If ‘Game Producer’ fails, it’s not Mr. Pei’s failure. Rather… today’s players don’t deserve such a good game.”

“Perhaps in the future, they will gradually understand the deeper meaning of this game.”

“But now… can the impetuous market see through the true meaning behind this game? I don’t know.”