Chapter 107: The Copywriting Team Has New Work Again

“Old Huang, what do you mean by this?” Song Wuli was puzzled.

Isn’t this just my own Yuzu?

“Brother, I understand you.” Huang Yijun gripped Old Song’s hand tightly, like comrades sharing the same ideals.

Old Huang’s gaze was burning, his eyes shining as if emitting light.

Song Wuli defended himself, “What do you understand about me? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

Huang Yijun grinned mischievously, “Aren’t you a bit shy?”

He nudged Song Wuli’s side with his elbow and continued, “Linlin is a treasure from head to toe, so why did you only look at the shoes that day? And why did you draw the shoes? What do you think I wouldn’t know?”

That familiar sly smile—the kind only close brothers share—spread across his face.

Song Wuli was somewhat helpless.

He hadn’t expected Huang to still be hung up on the high heels incident.

And yet, to connect those high heels to Linlin’s Yuzu was a stretch.

Just as he was about to retort, he glanced at the pictures.

Regardless of the photographer’s skill or the feet themselves, both were top-tier.

They made one want to just lick them.

Those perfectly shaped long peroneal muscles along the fibula—neither bulky nor thin—exuded a delicate and graceful beauty;

The slim calves supported by slender tibia and fibula bones had flawless lines, wrapped by just enough fat and muscle to look like an exquisite work of art.

The filter enhanced the effect.

Song Wuli swallowed a few times.

Looking at those legs from his own perspective wasn’t as impactful.

He didn’t know if it was because of a lack of hormonal influence or if he had simply grown used to the angle.

But viewing those close-up photos from a third-person perspective struck him hard.

Maybe his “eggs” were affecting his judgment.

Time was almost up, and Huang Yijun said his goodbyes.

Song Wuli returned to his post and checked the team’s work files.

No new tasks—the previous day’s work had all been cleared.

Bored, his mind wandered back to those incomparable legs.

He took out his phone to look at them again.

Feeling distracted, to shake off this state, he took on some basic tasks within the team—things he used to do before—writing copy.

Mostly some unimportant game Side Missions.

As he wrote, he indeed forgot about the legs and immersed himself fully in work.

Near noon, a message came from the manager saying there would be a meeting in the afternoon.

Alright, after lunch and a nap, people from Copywriting Team 1 and Team 2 gathered in the meeting room.

As soon as the two teams met, tension filled the air.

After all, Copywriting Team 2 was responsible for ruining the company’s flagship game’s new version.

The 2.0 Version of “Que Yi” was already becoming the company’s laughingstock.

“You sinners! If you still have any shame left, you should dissolve immediately and get out of this company,” Team 1 cursed loudly.

“Thanks to you, our copywriting team’s reputation has become the worst in the whole company,” others from Team 1 complained.

“Because of you Team 2, the whole copywriting team lost our year-end bonus.” Someone threw a bottle of mineral water.

“Enough, quiet down!” the manager silenced everyone.

Stepping onto the stage, he began to speak about the meeting’s content.

To restore “Que Yi”’s reputation, the company planned a shockingly impactful storyline to make players forget the garbage that was the 2.0 Version.

A new Main Storyline would be launched in version 2.1.

The producer and an Oscar-nominated screenwriter had come up with a new plan.

“We need some heavy-hitting material—no bland plots to get through this crisis. The producer and the guest screenwriter spent a long time researching, and there are many options.”

The manager paused briefly, then continued, “As copywriters, we all know what heavy-hitting means—betrayal, revenge, fall from grace, and redemption.”

“We can’t touch the player-controlled protagonist’s storyline. We don’t want to change the protagonist’s character design. So, we plan to take previously appearing characters as the main viewpoint and cram all these heavy-hitting elements into their arcs.”

He then operated the projector, and a man’s image appeared on the screen.

This character was called Bage in “Que Yi.”

People from both Copywriting Teams whispered among themselves.

That man was familiar, having appeared in earlier versions of “Que Yi” as a villain, hated by many players.

Someone from Team 1 asked the manager, “Are you really going to build the story around this character?”

The manager replied, “Exactly. The Oscar-nominated screenwriter has a unique vision. We can incorporate all the heavy-hitting plot points into this character. Bage is a villain who has been betrayed and has sought revenge. We’ll make him fall from grace and then redeem him, moving players to tears with the classic ‘prodigal son returns’ story.”

The people from Team 1 applauded.

This was incredible—even just hearing the manager describe it, they felt it would go down as a legendary moment in copywriting history.

Seeing Song Wuli raise his hand, the manager called on him.

He stood and said, “Manager, I remember Bage’s reputation was already pretty bad.

Players want him dead. Is it really appropriate to use such a villain to push this crucial storyline?”

The manager had already prepared.

Flipping through the PPT, he showed Bage’s character profile.

He answered, “Precisely because Bage is a villain who’s done many bad things and left a deep impression on players, we want to redeem him, so players see that Bage also had unavoidable hardships. The satisfaction of redeeming him will be much greater.”

Song Wuli continued, “But Bage’s status is quite low, and what motivation would push him to do all these things?”

The manager replied, “We’re giving Bage the identity of Hero, and a previously appearing female character will admire him. This gives Bage motivation to redeem himself and complete his character arc, becoming part of the protagonist’s faction.”

Song Wuli was stunned and felt something was off. “Isn’t the Hero the player-controlled protagonist? If Bage is the Hero, wouldn’t that take away the protagonist’s spotlight?”

The manager flipped through the PPT again, showing materials from the Oscar-nominated screenwriter and producer. He replied, “In ‘Que Yi,’ the player’s protagonist is defined as the Witness. Don’t forget this. The protagonist witnesses the story of this land and holds a status even higher than the Hero. Players won’t care about such minor details.”

Chende Hao suddenly interrupted, “Manager, but players have already immersed themselves in the protagonist, integrating into this world and seeing themselves as part of it. Now you say the player is just a camera… no, a Witness—won’t that be too jarring?”

The manager said, “The producer insists this is how we position the player. The Witness just observes carefully.”

It was Song Wuli’s turn again. “Manager, I think Bage might be too flashy.”

The manager replied, “Precisely because he’s flashy, he can undergo betrayal, fall from grace, revenge, and redemption. An ordinary person couldn’t pull that off. Little Song, any more questions?”

Song Wuli scratched his chin and said, “Just a side note—there are rumors inside the company that Bage’s character was created on a whim by the boss. We’re not going to put so much effort into redeeming him just because of that, are we?”

At this, the meeting room fell silent.

No one dared speak.

Even the manager was drenched in sweat and cleared his throat several times.

Changing the subject, he said, “Because Team 1 is overloaded with work, the 2.1 Version storyline will be handed over to Team….”

“Team 2 is short-staffed. I propose the 2.1 Version Bage storyline be assigned to Copywriting Team 1,”

Song Wuli quickly interrupted.