Chapter 52 part 1
“Bai He, come over here a minute.” Zhang Yao, sitting at his computer, gestured to Bai He. Hearing his name, Bai He turned from the water cooler and walked over.
“Did you know Tiandi was nominated for a story award?” Zhang Yao asked, looking up at Bai He.
Bai He genuinely didn’t know. He shook his head. “Am I supposed to be following this?”
Zhang Yao smiled. “Well, no, but it’s normal that you wouldn’t know. Let me fill you in.”
“For a new game to be nominated for such a prestigious award, it means that aspect is done very well. For Tiandi to be nominated before it has even launched is unprecedented. This nomination has also pushed Tiandi to the top of the trending ranks recently. It’s a good thing,” Zhang Yao said, taking a sip of coffee before continuing.
“Honestly, there are plenty of prestigious awards. As for Tiandi, I reckon it can only struggle for the story award, and it’s not even guaranteed to win Best Story in the end.”
He suddenly looked at Bai He again, his eyes narrowing with a smile. “In terms of prospects, Tiandi can’t really compete with other games in its category right now. And looking at long-term development, CORONET’s future doesn’t compare to FREE’s. What do you think?”
Bai He had no desire to answer. He turned his head to look out the window. “It has nothing to do with me.”
“You don’t want to pursue a career in this industry?” Zhang Yao looked genuinely surprised. “Bai He, you have a real talent for script planning. Aren’t you going to even try applying to a game company?”
Bai He frowned. He didn’t like that word, “talent.” Perhaps some people truly were gifted in certain areas, but the effort he and the other two members had poured into revising the Tiandi script had absolutely nothing to do with talent.
It was the product of time and hard work.
“Not planning on it. Haven’t considered it,” Bai He said concisely. “I’m not from this field originally. I just studied literature.”
“Game companies don’t always hire strictly by major these days, as long as you have the skills.” Zhang Yao’s expression shifted slightly as he spoke. “If Tiandi wins the story award, as one of the main revisers, that’s more than enough to put on your resume.”
“It would have to win first,” Bai He said, his expression flat. He didn’t particularly enjoy talking with this group leader.
Bai He was a junior; this student, Zhang Yao, was a sophomore, a year below him. He had joined the game planning club at the same time as Bai He. Logically, he should have started as a regular member, just like Bai He. Furthermore, Zhang Yao was a transfer student from Alpha University. He hadn’t been here long, yet he was made a group leader the moment he joined, which was hard to justify.
Bai He didn’t understand, but he respected the decision. He figured maybe this alpha, Zhang Yao, was exceptionally talented in some way.
But in reality, since joining the club, Zhang Yao hadn’t helped with anything at all. If anything, he was suspected of just making things more difficult.
The tasks assigned by the club were group projects, much like group homework in university. Everyone was supposed to contribute, and your biggest fear was getting stuck with a slacker who did nothing.
Bai He had never imagined that this group leader would be that exact person.
The three members could complete the assigned tasks on their own; it didn’t matter whether they had a group leader or not. They didn’t pay much mind to his laziness.
But this group leader just had to stir up trouble, gathering them to “discuss the task,” only to sit on the sidelines like a hands-off boss, not taking it seriously. He’d just chime in occasionally to criticize their work, without offering a single useful comment.
They treated Zhang Yao like he was invisible, but this arrogant group leader couldn’t seem to read the room. On top of that, while Zhang Yao was lazy, his ambitions were lofty.
He had approached Bai He alone at least five times. The first few times were subtle hints, but lately, he’d been making it obvious.
Zhang Yao brought up the Tiandi nomination. If it actually won, it was highly likely their four-person group would accept the award.
An award ceremony always needed a representative, and who that would be was still up in the air.
Zhang Yao was hinting at something, subtly probing Bai He’s level of interest in the award during their conversation.
Bai He didn’t want to assume the worst of people, but sometimes, intuition was a funny thing.
The award was irrelevant to Bai He. But if they did win, and one representative had to be chosen from the four of them, it certainly wouldn’t be Zhang Yao. After all, who could tolerate a slacker coasting in to take credit for everyone else’s hard work?
Besides…
Bai He packed up his laptop, ready to leave the club room. He walked out, turning to pull the door shut, and his gaze landed on Zhang Yao, who was now alone in the classroom. In the vast space, the fluorescent lights washed out his face. Bai He studied him for a moment before looking away. The door clicked shut. He turned toward the stairwell, one thought on his mind.
Why had Zhang Yao brought up the prospects of CORONET and FREE?
Did he want to get into FREE?
That wasn’t really questionable; FREE certainly had better prospects than CORONET. The club’s work was just a partnership with CORONET, not a formal contract. The script revisions they provided weren’t free; it was more like a copyright buyout, far from an employment contract. So, the club members weren’t CORONET employees and were free to work wherever they wanted.
The only thing was, CORONET was already hard to get into, let alone FREE. Zhang Yao’s ambitions were certainly lofty. But why tell Bai He all this?
Bai He wasn’t bothered by it. He was just here to earn his 25 elective credits.
University students as free labor—it was the same in any world. Bai He sighed. He felt helpless about it, but he remained dedicated to his duty. As long as he finished his own work, there was no need to be affected by others.
Besides, the process of revising the script was actually quite fun. A game’s plot is just a long-form story, and Bai He loved working with words. It was a private hobby of his.
As for what he’d do in the future, he hadn’t given it much thought. He could support himself, so why get trapped in some pre-planned future?
Bai He didn’t like having a set-in-stone future, always setting a must-reach goal at every stage, as if the sky would fall if he failed. He hadn’t realized that when you jump from one stage to the next, you soon discover that every stage has its own set of problems.
Humans are a strange species. No matter which path you take, you’ll probably end up dissatisfied later. So, it’s better to live in the moment and just be happy.
That was a lesson Bai He had learned in his past life, after graduating and moving away from his family home.
He had an appointment at the gym in the afternoon, so Bai He brought a change of clothes and a large water bottle. He arrived early and started warming up on his own.
The gym wasn’t crowded at this hour. Bai He found a spot by the window. In the distance, a few omegas ran on treadmills, headphones on. The winter sun wasn’t as intense as in summer; it filtered through the glass, casting a layer of liquid gold across the room.
It was just after noon, that time of day when drowsiness easily sets in. Bai He was stretching his limbs when he heard the door push open. He assumed it was Instructor Liu arriving, but when he looked up, he saw Bai Lu, bundled up tightly, standing in the gym.
Bai He: “…”
Bai Lu looked around frantically, his eyes quickly landing on Bai He in the distance. A look of joy lit up his face as he trotted over. “Brother!”
Bai He stared at the omega before him, his feelings complicated. He hadn’t seen Bai Lu in a long time; he wasn’t at the Bai house the last time he’d returned.
Bai He guessed the original story’s plot must have reached the mid-to-late stages by now. As for what had happened during this time, he had no idea.
Logically speaking, if a novel wasn’t just focused on angst, the main couple should be together and living their sweet, fluffy life by the mid-to-late stages. But…
Bai He could see the endless exhaustion on Bai Lu’s face. It was still an extremely beautiful face, but it had lost its earlier innocence, replaced by a deep sense of weariness.
“Brother.” Bai Lu’s voice was soft, weak, and full of grievance. “Dad… he found out about me and Guan Jiayu…”
No wonder Bai Qiu hadn’t been contacting him. In the days following the banquet fiasco, Bai Qiu had called him constantly. When Bai He blocked him, he’d just use a different number. But the last few days had been quiet.
Sure enough, it wasn’t that Bai Qiu had seen the light; it was because he’d found out about Bai Lu and Guan Jiayu.
