Part 2
Qin Yao just hummed in agreement. He was sitting in his office chair, the large screen in front of him displaying the Xingchen game interface. The rapid, crisp clacking of the mechanical keyboard wasn’t noisy in the office; in fact, it was rather stress-relieving. He cleared one dungeon after another, trying them all out before running through some maps and a bit of the story.
It had been like this for the past few days—either handling feedback or playing the game to find issues. Even though the reception was good, small problems still remained.
“Hey, I heard Tiandi was nominated for a story award? Isn’t that game still in its second closed beta?” Zhang Wenyi’s words finally caught Qin Yao’s attention.
His gaze still locked on the screen, Qin Yao replied without expression, “They’re probably rushing for an open beta before the end of the year. If they can grab a wave of traffic at launch and the reception is good, it could win an award.”
“That’s weird, you’re actually saying something good about another game.” Zhang Wenyi’s expression was hard to read. “Bro, you know Tiandi is from CORONET, right?”
CORONET, the Crown Game Company.
The games they produced were basically all direct competitors to FREE. Their person in charge was an old acquaintance of Qin Yao’s—Guan Jiayu.
Qin Yao finally glanced at the overly expressive Zhang Wenyi, then looked back at his screen. “So what if it’s CORONET? What are you worried about?”
“If Tiandi wins the award, wouldn’t that mean Xingchen got beaten?” Zhang Wenyi said, immediately patting his own forehead. “Fine, just ignore me. I’m talking nonsense. We poured so much of our blood and sweat into Xingchen, it’s not like it can be beaten that easily.”
Qin Yao was amused by Zhang Wenyi’s one-man show. It also reminded him about Tiandi‘s story. He’d heard Bai He mention a few days ago that his club’s revisions had apparently been adopted. That meant a large part of Tiandi‘s latest story script came from Bai He’s club, and Bai He himself had participated.
Qin Yao didn’t care if Tiandi won an award or not. If it did, he’d be happy for Bai He. If it didn’t, it just meant that Guan Jiayu fellow was incompetent.
As Qin Yao was lost in his own thoughts, Zhang Wenyi watched him for a good while.
Suddenly, he said, “Qin-ge, you seem to be in a good state recently.”
“How so?” Qin Yao glanced up.
“A ‘state’ is intangible,” Zhang Wenyi said, looking Qin Yao up and down. “But right now, you seem to be radiating… this visible glow of someone in love. It’s a shitty metaphor, I know, but I can’t find another way to describe it. Just go with it.”
Qin Yao was amused. “Maybe it’s because I’ve had a few good nights of sleep.”
That made it even weirder. Anyone who knew about Qin Yao’s condition knew he was a chronic insomniac. A “good night’s sleep” was a luxury for him. To be sleeping well meant his condition must be improving. And if his condition was improving, that meant…
“You didn’t… you didn’t get a boyfriend behind my back, did you?!” Zhang Wenyi’s expression froze.
Qin Yao looked at Zhang Wenyi, a mysterious and very punch-able smile on his face. “Why would me getting a boyfriend be ‘behind your back’? I’ve been completely open about it, okay?”
“Fuck!” Zhang Wenyi slammed the desk and shot up, half-angry, half-amused, but he hit the nail on the head with one guess. “It’s him, isn’t it? Bai He?”
“Mn.” Qin Yao stopped playing the game and leaned back in his chair. “That’s right.”
“Ahhh!” Zhang Wenyi clutched his head and paced the office a few times, then spun back, pointing at Qin Yao’s face. “I knew it! You’ve been so weird lately! He just gives you a hug in physiology class and you start spewing pheromones! So you were plotting something against him!”
Qin Yao replied lazily, “I have to clear my name. In that class, Bai He didn’t just hug me.” He pointed to his own nape, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “He also kissed my gland. Do you know what it feels like to have your gland kissed? Who could possibly hold back? Oh, right, I forgot. You don’t have a partner. Well, let me describe the feeling for you…”
“Bro, can we not?” Zhang Wenyi wiped his face and quickly started packing up his computer. “I’m not sticking around for this, damn it! You can savor the memory by yourself!”
With that, he grabbed his gear and, half-angry and half-laughing, strode out of the office.
Qin Yao’s fingers tapped on the desk, the smile on his face gradually fading.
Tiandi being nominated for the story award wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Xingchen was also nominated. There was only one “Best Story” award, and it wasn’t certain who would get it. While Qin Yao was confident in Xingchen, he was also confident in Bai He. From what he knew, Bai He was a key part of the team revising Tiandi‘s story script. He’d seen how much effort Bai He had poured into those revisions.
Later in the day, Nan Yu called Qin Yao. It was nearing the end of the year, and it was almost Qin Diandian’s birthday, so the Qin family was planning to host a small banquet. Qin Yao had been helping buy supplies for it.
After the previous butler was dismissed, the family hadn’t hired a new one. They just hired an ayi for cooking and cleaning. Sometimes Qin Yao and Qin Wei would help with the shopping, and Old Mr. Qin would even remember to buy groceries when he was out for a walk.
“I’ll head back after work,” Qin Yao said, getting up to make coffee with the phone clamped between his shoulder and ear. “Oh, right, Little Dad, I want to bring Bai He to Diandian’s birthday.”
The other end chuckled warmly. “That’s perfect. You should bring him. We need to apologize to him anyway.”
Qin Yao laughed. “I haven’t even said anything, and you already figured it out.”
“It wasn’t hard to guess,” Nan Yu said. “You need to be even better to Little Bai He, you understand?”
“Understood.” Qin Yao nodded at the air, nearly dropping his phone. He steadied it, said goodbye to Nan Yu, and sat back down in his chair.
Just then, an email notification popped up. He had just sat down and hadn’t even taken a sip of coffee. He opened his inbox and saw a message from an unfamiliar sender.
Qin Yao didn’t recognize the email address. He clicked the attached zip file, unzipped it, and saw a long list of files. Every single one was a final-version script for Tiandi.
Qin Yao narrowed his eyes. He was extremely familiar with this script; he had watched Bai He revise it. But this email address clearly wasn’t Bai He’s, because it was followed by another message.
—Senior, this is the final version of the Tiandi story script, absolutely authentic. I thought you might find it useful.
It was a simple sentence, and most people wouldn’t see anything wrong with it, but Qin Yao immediately sensed what was going on.
Sending the main story of an unreleased game to its direct competitor was a major leak. If the competitor decided to use this data, they would only need to hire an online “water army” to stir up controversy. The game could easily be killed off by the pre-fabricated negative hype shortly after its launch.
Obviously, the person who sent this was from the rival company. But what was their angle? Were they trying to jump ship to FREE, using this as leverage?
Qin Yao chuckled softly.
He clicked reply.
—Junior brother or sister, this isn’t necessary. Xingchen doesn’t need it. You’d be better off putting this energy toward doing things the right way.
After sending it, he almost deleted the email, but he paused, then left it. He picked up his phone and leaned back in his chair.
They called him ‘Senior,’ so it had to be someone from the university.
Qin Yao’s narrow eyes squinted. He made a call.
It rang a few times, and then the other end picked up.
“Qin Yao?” Bai He’s voice came through, a bit muffled by background noise, but it quieted down a moment later. He must have found a quieter corner. “What’s up?”
Qin Yao’s voice was gentle. “What are you up to?”
Bai He glanced at the other club members in the distance. “I’m at the club. We’re working on something.”
“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Qin Yao asked, his fingers toying with his coffee spoon. “I have to stop by home, so I might be back a little late. Tell me what you want, and I’ll go buy it.”
“Page two of the meal plan,” Bai He said concisely. “I’m sticking to the plan.”
“Got it,” Qin Yao agreed. Then he added, “The club is still busy even though it’s break?”
“Yeah, we’re just going over the final version of the script. It’s just a few of us from the writing team.” Bai He’s fingers brushed against the leaves of a plant on the balcony. “Our group leader said this is the last time.”
“Last time? Does your group leader gather you for discussions often?” Qin Yao chuckled. “You must be exhausted.”
The other end was quiet for two seconds. “Not as tired as you. Qin Yao, are you still having trouble sleeping?”
Qin Yao paused, then collected himself. “Did Chen Wensheng tell you? It’s much better than it used to be. Don’t worry.”
Bai He hummed in acknowledgment. “I have to get back to work. Take care of yourself. I’m hanging up.”
Qin Yao sounded troubled. “We barely even talked. I’m going to report your group leader for overworking his employees. That guy’s name is Zhang Yao, right? Tell him your boyfriend is angry!”
He was only pretending to be angry, just joking around. He teased Bai He for a few more moments before hanging up, and the smile on his face gradually faded.
Bai He hadn’t refuted him. It seemed the group leader really was Zhang Yao.
Qin Yao had just recalled the name. Zhang Yao. A sophomore, an alpha. He’d submitted a resume to him before. This person wasn’t the president of the game planning club, just one of the group leaders.
A group leader… sending his own team’s hard work to a rival company.
How interesting.
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