While it made sense to be vigilant in theory, Meng Chang had no idea how to actually do it.

After Mr. Pei had notified all related departments and agreed that employees could still earn commissions even if there were internal leaks, Meng Chang believed the probability of problems arising within Tenda was negligible, practically nonexistent.

How else could he be vigilant?

Was he supposed to track down every player through their internet connections, grab them by the collar, and say, “You’re not allowed to discuss anything about the Inspiration Class”? That wasn’t possible.

This question stumped Pei Qian as well.

How to be vigilant?

If I could predict these things, would I be racking my brains every day trying to figure out how to lose money? Would I need to constantly review all departments’ work reports and monitor the secret reports from the Loss-making Specialists?

Solve your own problems! I’ve already done my duty by warning you!

After a moment of silence, Pei Qian said, “I don’t know either. Think carefully about whether there are any oversights on your part. Anyway, don’t blame heaven or others if you can’t get your commission in the end. I’ve already warned you.”

After hanging up, Meng Chang stared at his phone, deep in thought.

He suspected Mr. Pei had already identified the problem but deliberately wasn’t telling him.

This was completely understandable, since Mr. Pei’s interests were directly opposed to his. The fact that he’d given this warning was already above and beyond—he couldn’t expect more.

But… where exactly was the problem?

There shouldn’t be any issues within Tenda, so he should focus externally, on the player community.

Especially since the “Eternal Cycle” DLC had been added to the development schedule, and reportedly even had design drafts taking shape. If something were to go wrong in the near future, it would most likely involve this project.

And this was another gaming project…

After thinking for a long time, Meng Chang suddenly had a flash of inspiration. A very dangerous figure appeared in his mind.

Qiao Laoshi!

When it came to gaming issues, how could he forget about Qiao Laoshi?

Many of Tenda’s games had become popular due to Qiao Laoshi’s recommendations.

Although Tenda games had grown increasingly well-known and Qiao Laoshi’s influence wasn’t as prominent as before, he still often acted as a catalyst—something that couldn’t be ignored.

The more Meng Chang thought about it, the more he realized that failing to take any precautions against Qiao Laoshi was a huge mistake. If Mr. Pei hadn’t reminded him, he might have faced disaster in the next few days, just when he was feeling most complacent.

He had to take necessary measures to keep Qiao Laoshi from getting involved. Ideally, he could hold out until the end of the month, but at the very least until next week!

But how?

Make Qiao Laoshi keep quiet?

That wouldn’t be easy to implement and might actually draw more attention to what he was trying to hide.

Offer a silence fee to ensure Qiao Laoshi wouldn’t mention anything about “Eternal Cycle”?

The problem was that such a fee couldn’t be counted as promotional expenses.

And if he paid out of his own pocket, with the few coins Meng Chang had, Qiao Laoshi wouldn’t even consider it.

Besides, Meng Chang’s base salary barely lasted the month—he didn’t have spare money for this, and even if he did, he wouldn’t be willing to spend it.

So ultimately, the solution had to involve promotional funds.

Meng Chang quickly thought of a plan.

He couldn’t try to cover things up, but he could divert attention.

Use some promotional funds to redirect Qiao Laoshi’s attention elsewhere. If he had no energy or time to focus on “Eternal Cycle” and Inspiration Class works, wouldn’t that solve the problem?

But where should he redirect attention to…

Meng Chang suddenly thought of a good direction: Chi Xing Studio’s VR project and their new game in development, “Animal Island”!

Allocate some promotional funds to let Qiao Laoshi experience “Animal Island” in advance.

Chi Xing Studio had Tenda’s investment, so it wasn’t unreasonable for Tenda’s promotional department to spend a little money on preliminary promotional work.

Of course, “Animal Island” would need promotion eventually. But by then, Meng Chang could simply choose other projects instead of this one, couldn’t he?

Giving up this likely-to-succeed project to earn this month’s commission seemed like a very worthwhile trade to Meng Chang.

Moreover, since Qiao Laoshi was a gaming enthusiast, he would surely be delighted to experience a new VR game that Tenda was involved in developing ahead of time.

Then, under the pretext that the new project required confidentiality, Qiao Laoshi could be secluded until the end of the month for the experience, cutting off his connection with the outside world as much as possible. Wouldn’t that perfectly achieve the goal?

The more Meng Chang thought about it, the more suitable it seemed. He immediately inquired about the VR game’s development progress.

Currently, Chi Xing Studio’s work was proceeding smoothly, and “Animal Island” already had an initial playable demo.

Although the VR headset wasn’t finished yet, they could use other foreign brands of VR headsets for testing.

After all, the development and testing of “Animal Island” required VR headsets—they couldn’t wait until Shenhua’s VR headsets were completely developed to start working on the game, as that would be too late.

So Meng Chang planned to first communicate with Chi Xing Studio, saying that Qiao Laoshi was interested in experiencing the new VR game, testing it, and providing feedback. Then he would approach Qiao Laoshi, telling him that Chi Xing Studio was developing a VR game and wanted to invite him as a special tester to experience it in seclusion for a period, helping to improve the game, with a dedicated evaluation fee.

This operation was similar to the “Bill Gates’ son-in-law” joke.

The only difference was that the joke was pure nonsense with no feasibility, but Meng Chang’s operation was feasible, with a success probability approaching 100%!

Meng Chang immediately put his plan into action, starting by contacting Chi Xing Studio.

This matter couldn’t be delayed—each day of delay meant another day of risk.

Qiao Laoshi posed a huge threat to Meng Chang’s commission. He couldn’t allow him to roam freely outside. Only by quickly confining him would Meng Chang feel at ease!

……

……

June 14, Thursday.

Terminus Chinese Website Authors’ Inspiration Class.

Yu Fei, the original author of the “Eternal Cycle” novel, was in the working area, brows furrowed, seriously revising the plot.

The once quiet workspace was now mostly filled.

Not only were Cui Geng and the other two authors whose works had secured copyright development busy revising their works, but other Inspiration Class authors were also busy creating!

Some were polishing their works, some restructuring entire story frameworks, and others rushing to complete their current works so they could start new ones.

The atmosphere in the entire Inspiration Class had made a 180-degree turn compared to before!

Clearly, Mr. Pei had reinvigorated the class with new life and energy.

Previously, everyone had been writing solely for the buyout money. They had been enthusiastic at first but quickly lost their purpose.

Because once a book’s performance was established, it was very difficult to make breakthroughs no matter how hard they tried, so the authors naturally became weary.

But the copyright development of these three works had given all the authors a glimpse of hope.

If they could do it, then with enough effort, surely I can too!

So, everyone found their goals again, and more and more authors were seriously creating in the workspace.

Yu Fei was particularly hardworking.

This was because “Eternal Cycle” had been confirmed for development by Tenda Games as an official DLC for “Turn Back is the Shore,” and Mr. Pei had even proposed a series of brand-new designs in the meeting, exciting Yu Fei, a longtime player of “Turn Back is the Shore.”

As a fan fiction author, there was nothing more blissful in the world.

His fan work had been recognized by the official team and was being developed as an official canonical sequel. They were even making major revisions to the game’s original gameplay based on the characteristics of his work, making the game itself more consistent with the novel.

It was truly an unexpected honor!

Therefore, Yu Fei had to ensure the content of his novel was perfect enough not to hold back the game.

After revising another plot segment, Yu Fei leaned back in his chair, stretched, and took a sip of coffee to stay alert.

During his break, he opened his fan group chat, habitually checking what his quirky fans were discussing.

“Huh? The damn author is revising the content of ‘Eternal Cycle’ again?”

“Really? How do you know?”

“I was bored and rereading it, when suddenly the app notified me that the chapter content had been updated. When I refreshed, the entire plot had changed…”

“Indeed, all the content I had previously cached disappeared too, and I need to download it again. And there are so many changes—out of the first hundred or so chapters, at least sixty have been modified…”

“Isn’t that almost like rewriting it?”

“Not exactly. Some chapters only had dialogue and item names changed, which doesn’t affect the plot. Only a few chapters had major plot revisions.”

“That’s still a lot of work! Anyone who’s written a book knows that major revisions are much more painful than writing a new book. Writing a new book is like drawing on a blank canvas, with almost no limitations. But major revisions require attention to the plot and foreshadowing in both previous and subsequent text—it’s like untangling a mess of threads, very exhausting!”

“Has the damn author lost his mind? Is there any need for major revisions to this book?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary either. This book isn’t bad, it just doesn’t quite fit the web novel format. From a ‘Turn Back is the Shore’ player’s perspective, I’d give it 80 points. Major revisions would at most raise it from 80 to 85 or even 90 points, but even 90 points is useless. It won’t attract many new readers, and with the buyout payment system based on word count, there won’t be additional income after revisions.”

“If you ask me, with this much energy, the damn author would be better off starting a new book. There’s really no point in obsessing over a book that’s already taken shape.”

The group members expressed various opinions, but clearly most didn’t understand Yu Fei’s actions.

In the realm of web novels, “major revisions” were generally discouraged. The benefits gained from meticulously refining details and pursuing perfection often didn’t compare to simply updating more content—quantity over quality.

Rather than engaging in such thankless efforts, it was better to write more new content.

Yu Fei, as a veteran author on Terminus Chinese Website, clearly understood this principle, yet he continued making major revisions with no intention of stopping.

This left many of his longtime readers extremely puzzled.

Yu Fei couldn’t help but smile.

He really wanted to immediately share the good news about the copyright development with his readers!

But Mr. Pei had said to keep it confidential, and the authors at Terminus Chinese Website naturally had to abide by this rule.

So Yu Fei decided not to respond and continue focusing on his revisions.

After all, his clever and astute fans would figure it out sooner or later.