In the Wenan Group’s office area, everyone was working as if facing a great enemy, each person seeming distracted.
Was it really necessary? Just a mercenary screenwriter temporarily joining the company? Did they have to be so tense?
The atmosphere even made Song Wuli a bit nervous. He couldn’t help but open the “Jinyin Hong San Jiemei” chat group, looking at their daily chatter, occasionally letting out a silly laugh to slightly ease his taut mood.
Just then, he received another message from Huang Yi.
The other party informed him of the interrogation results regarding that Ocean Trade Company employee—the suspect was dead.
The details were something they hoped to discuss face-to-face tonight. He asked Yin Lin to keep nine hours free, saying he would take her somewhere to handle something.
Setting aside the question of why the suspect died for now—even if the person was dead, why did they still need to take Yin Lin somewhere to handle something? What kind of logic was that?
Song Wuli didn’t understand. His first instinct was to refuse, but thinking that this matter involved a human life, and also wanting to get to the bottom of it, he ultimately agreed.
Putting down his phone, he couldn’t help but sigh. A person who was alive and well just two days ago was gone today… What about their family?
This thought had only appeared for a few seconds before Song Wuli shook it off. Back when he had just become a Magical Girl, he had also been quite heavy-handed. He really had no right to be all sentimental and compassionate here, nor should he be pondering such profound questions.
His philosophy was still caught in the collision between humans and Magical Girls.
The worldview formed by a thirty-four-year-old man should be unshakable. It should be like those old stubborn folks, difficult to accept others’ ideas and hard to doubt one’s own beliefs.
So he recovered quickly. After just pondering for a few seconds, he returned to his usual self, no longer caring about those new thoughts that conflicted with his own philosophy, and continued with his work.
After half an hour of busy work, what was bound to come finally arrived.
The corridor was bustling with people. Surrounded by a crowd, a somewhat balding man entered the Wenan Group office area. The man had a slightly pointed head and a somewhat strange appearance.
This was the Oscar-Nominated Screenwriter.
Fifty-eight years old, known as the “Screenwriter Benchmark,” possessing rich creative experience and having even published books.
His highest achievement was one of his films receiving an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Language Film—of course, it didn’t win, just a nomination, but that was already considered a top-tier honor.
A few months ago, he began taking on some of this company’s projects, being responsible for the Shao Hao version of Què Yì 2.0.
After that version launched, public opinion plummeted. The project team fired some people, but he himself remained completely unscathed.
Now he was about to be responsible for a new version, claiming he wanted to “redeem” the character named “Bage” in Què Yì, to make this character shine brilliantly, while simultaneously marginalizing the Main Character, turning them into a “camera.”
The Producer and the Screenwriter Benchmark were also aware of everyone’s doubts about the new version and knew that people didn’t quite understand this famous screenwriter.
That’s why they had arranged this inspection tour, planning to visit the various departments of the Què Yì project team.
He strode into the Wenan Group with his head held high, first scanning the room with a cold snort, then turned and went to the neighboring First Wenan Group. Noticing the “Second Wenan Group” sign next door, he snorted through his nostrils, clearly looking down on the so-called second group.
This was also a common phenomenon. In most companies, Group One or Group A were often the most valued, responsible for the most critical parts. Only a few companies were special, having other groups take on key work.
The Screenwriter Benchmark going to the First Wenan Group first was a behavior that made sense.
But Song Wuli’s impression of him immediately dropped significantly—sure enough, just as his colleagues had said, he was a detestable guy.
Xiao Liu gestured a few hand signals towards Song Wuli. Song Wuli didn’t understand.
Then, Xiao Liu sent a message: [I’m going to Group One to listen in on the situation]
Old Song agreed.
That kid nimbly slipped into Group One, quite bold. You had to know, the Screenwriter Benchmark had many people following him, elites from each group—like the Wenan Group elite, the Programming Group’s, the Art Group’s—each group had at least one core employee accompanying him.
Soon, a secretly filmed video appeared in the Second Wenan Group’s work chat—Xiao Liu had mixed into the crowd and secretly recorded it.
After watching it, all nine people in the Second Group were furious.
“So you’re the Wenan Group people? You look pretty ordinary. I don’t know why you write such confident copy.”
The Screenwriter Benchmark said arrogantly.
“I read a section. There’s a miner’s task about arranging meals for miners. You actually arranged greasy, salty food. Who wrote that? Don’t you have any common sense?”
“Don’t you know a diet needs balanced intake of various vitamins? You need vegetables, you need soup, you can’t be picky eaters to maintain a healthy body? Haven’t you gone to school?”
Not to mention how unhappy the First Wenan Group people felt hearing this, even the Second Wenan Group people were fuming.
This guy clearly wasn’t here for a visit. He was here to nitpick and find fault.
In the video, Xiao Liu continued secretly filming, and the Screenwriter Benchmark continued finding problems. He walked over to a colleague and looked at the content they had just written on their computer.
A Group One person was writing main quest copy. The Screenwriter Benchmark read it aloud:
“‘Thank you. May you also turn misfortune into blessing in your future adventures. Adventurer, thank you for everything you’ve done for us. We will not forget you…'”
The Screenwriter Benchmark frowned and asked the young colleague, “Young man, have you read the outline we distributed?”
The young colleague nodded nervously.
The Screenwriter Benchmark said, “This version of ours mainly revolves around the supporting character ‘Bage.’ We need to highlight his abilities, strengthen his position. What are you writing?”
The young colleague explained softly, “But… this plot is about the Main Character Adventurer solving a minor BOSS, and the villagers thanking the Main Character…”
The Screenwriter Benchmark immediately scolded, “See? The problem is right there! Didn’t you read the documents we sent at all? This should be solved by Bage! The villagers should be thanking Bage, not the Main Character!”
“You people get paid so much, and you can’t even write copy correctly? Your language reading comprehension is so poor, can’t you even understand an outline?”
At this point, an older colleague couldn’t help but raise his hand to speak.
“This plot was approved by you. There’s written approval. You said to let the Main Character solve the minor BOSS, and Bage appears to deal with the major BOSS. This part has already passed, hasn’t it?”
The Screenwriter Benchmark’s expression changed, clearly not expecting anyone to dare refute him. His voice rose in anger:
“We approved it, but you are not allowed to write the copy like this! You can’t write about thanking the Main Character; that weakens Bage’s presence! You need to write: ‘Thank you for the help of the Adventurer and Bage, especially for saving the villagers under Bage’s leadership.’ Understand?”
The faces of the First Wenan Group people were ugly, but no one responded. The Group Leader on the side kept making eye signals, telling everyone to hold back for now.
The smell of gunpowder in the air was so thick it was almost explosive.
Song Wuli also completely understood the intention of this Oscar-Nominated Screenwriter—
This guy was fundamentally here to “kill morale.”
It was what people commonly called “CPU.” In other words, this person was here to PUA everyone.