The muscles in Quan Heng’s jaw instantly tightened. His hands slowly clenched into fists at his sides, his nails nearly digging into his palms.
No one knew better than him how much effort he’d spent to reclaim the Death Party project and push it to its current heights.
“My project—how could I possibly hand it over.”
Quan Heng looked straight into Shen Ning’s eyes. “President Shen, the game’s operation has no issues. The current public-opinion fluctuation is temporary. As long as the funds arrive, server expansion and the public relations team’s intervention can immediately quell this storm.”
Shen Ning looked at him, slowly pacing around Quan Heng, her tone turning intriguing: “President Quan, what exactly are your special thoughts about those two popular players in the game—Yu Huaiting and Fu Songcheng? Is it a personal grudge, or are you running some kind of data test on them?”
Quan Heng’s heart skipped a beat, but his face showed no change. “They’re just ordinary high-level players. The system treats all players equally.”
“Whether it’s equal, you know in your heart—and I have eyes and can see clearly too.”
Shen Ning stopped pacing and sat back behind her desk. “Right now, because of your unseemly moves, there’s a huge uproar. I don’t want the economic benefits of black-red traffic, understand?”
She pulled open a drawer and tossed a document onto the desk.
“Their game progress from here on—I want my own team to conduct full oversight.”
Shen Ning’s tone was an unquestionable command. “Any data change targeting them must pass review by my team.”
“That’s impossible!” Quan Heng blurted out instinctively, stepping forward. “President Shen, the game doesn’t allow external data to connect directly. I will absolutely not agree to behavior that breaks the game’s architecture.”
“Not agreeing?” Shen Ning raised an eyebrow and lightly tapped the desk. “Fine. Then the disbursement process for the second-phase investment is suspended indefinitely. You can go back and calculate—without this money, how many more hours can you keep Death Party 4.0 running?”
Quan Heng gritted his teeth.
The new version’s launch had loaded all of Blue Star’s humans into the game, doubling server load. Without funding, the operating costs covered by traffic revenue and ad sharing were completely insufficient.
In the end, it was because Death Party had only just launched—though explosively popular, no more investors had joined, and with the current flood of criticism, even fewer dared to invest.
The only capital willing to enter—Shen Ning—could decide the project’s life or death with a single word.
Looking at Shen Ning’s position of certain victory, Quan Heng finally slowly lowered his head.
“I understand.”
“I’ll open a read-only bypass port. Your team can use that port for oversight of whether instances are fair.”
Shen Ning was satisfied.
“Would’ve been fine if you’d been this honest earlier. Oh, and President Quan, I have one more condition…”
…
Inside Death Party, in a transit space.
After a slight sensation of weightlessness, Fu Songcheng and Yu Huaiting, guided by Chen Ke, completed an extremely long-distance spatial teleport.
The scene before them suddenly opened up.
This was the “Dawn” guild’s exclusive territory—a player rest area of enormous scope.
Chen Ke stopped and turned to bow slightly to the two. “Please rest a while in the VIP area, both of you. I’ll go report Mr. Yu’s arrival to the higher-ups and register this gentleman along the way.”
Fu Songcheng and Yu Huaiting were led by several Dawn members in uniform to a soft sofa area to sit.
Soon, tea and snacks were brought over.
Yu Huaiting didn’t even glance at the tea and snacks.
His tall frame sank somewhat listlessly into the sofa.
He glanced around at this massive display of force, then at the Dawn members standing at a distance, ready to move at any moment, and finally brought his gaze back to Fu Songcheng.
He lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly, bringing his mouth close to Fu Songcheng’s ear to ask quietly: “Songcheng-gege, when can we go back?”
This kind of occasion—surrounded by a bunch of strangers, having to follow the rules—made him uncomfortable.
By comparison, he’d rather immediately grab his greatsword and go hack a few monsters in an instance.
Fu Songcheng tilted his head and looked at Yu Huaiting’s somewhat impatient yet forcibly restrained appearance, his heart softening slightly.
He raised his hand and, under the cover of the sofa cushion, very unobtrusively lightly touched the back of Yu Huaiting’s hand, soothing his emotions.
“Going back might not be possible.”
Fu Songcheng’s voice was very soft, only the two of them able to hear. “By my count, there’s less than nineteen hours left. We’ll probably have to enter an instance with this batch of newcomers.”
Fu Songcheng’s movements were careful.
After all, this was Dawn’s main base, with surveillance and eyes everywhere—he didn’t want to expose too much of their private relationship.
But Yu Huaiting was utterly reckless by nature.
The moment Fu Songcheng’s fingers were about to withdraw, Yu Huaiting caught them backhanded, taking Fu Songcheng’s hand firmly in his palm.
Not only did he not let go, he even pushed his luck further, resting his chin directly on their clasped hands.
He lifted his eyes, staring straight at Fu Songcheng, his tone carrying a trace of obvious grievance and accusation: “Then what about my extra meal tonight?”
Fu Songcheng looked helplessly at the acting-cute Yu Huaiting and was just about to say something.
“Ahem!”
A deliberately accentuated cough suddenly sounded a few steps away, interrupting the two’s low conversation.
Fu Songcheng’s expression remained normal as he unobtrusively withdrew his hand from Yu Huaiting’s palm.
He smoothly picked up the black tea before him and took a light sip, his posture elegant as if nothing had happened.
Yu Huaiting’s hand came up empty. He frowned in displeasure, his gaze instantly turning cold and sharp, sweeping coldly toward the source of the sound.
Chen Ke stood not far away, a few beads of cold sweat on his forehead.
Beside him stood a middle-aged man who commanded respect without anger. The man wore a crisp gray Zhongshan suit, his hair combed immaculately, his gaze sharp as an eagle’s.
Chen Ke hurried forward a step and respectfully introduced: “You two, this is the head of our Dawn A3 district, Mr. He.”
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