The screenwriter’s status was too high. Even though the copywriting team 1 was furious, they still had to endure it. In his view, taking on freelance work as a mercenary at this company was already condescending.
What kind of work did he usually do? At the very least, he would appear on variety shows to chat. The rest of the time, he wrote books and offered critiques. That was movies; he occasionally even received screenwriting gigs for the big screen. What was the big screen? That was high art!
And now, he had actually fallen to writing stories for a video game company, the kind of place only delinquent kids played at.
He was also full of resentment himself, looking down on this company and even more so on this project team.
So why did he come here to take on work?
Besides owing the producer of Què Yì a favor that needed repaying, the money this company offered was truly substantial and hard to refuse.
Relying on the producer’s backing, the screenwriter also continuously vented his dissatisfaction, not even bothering to hide it. If he didn’t like someone, he would just find fault.
Even Song Wuli didn’t understand how such a person could exist. Wouldn’t it be better if everyone got along peacefully? Harmony between superiors and subordinates, a joyful and harmonious atmosphere, maintaining a good working environment—shouldn’t that be a win-win?
No matter how reasonable or logical, judging by Earth’s long history, if you weren’t ruthless enough in daily life, it was very difficult to rise to management.
Old Song deserved it for working so many years and only just getting promoted to team leader, and even that was through semi-nepotism.
The screenwriter was still picking faults with copywriting team 1, not only targeting the content of the copy but also the things on people’s desks. No figurines allowed, no stickers allowed, nothing unrelated to work allowed—he claimed it lowered work quality.
He was just a screenwriter, not even a full-time employee. What right did he have to overreach like this?
Everyone understood the principle, but no one dared to confront him.
Xiao Liu had performed a meritorious service. After passing the recording back, everyone in copywriting team 2 immediately cleaned up their desks, putting away the plants and personal items they usually kept at their workstations.
Song Wuli had initially wanted to tidy up too, to avoid being scolded by the screenwriter. But seeing his colleagues’ humble, fearful expressions as if facing a great enemy, his right hand, which had reached for his backpack, stopped.
He looked at the nameplate on his desk, which read [Team Leader: Song Wuli].
He suddenly felt a bit emotional. He was already a team leader, no longer that transparent P1-level employee who only needed to do his own job well without thinking about other issues.
Now he was a big brother at the P2 level.
Maybe… he should try being a tough guy in Song Wuli’s world too.
Thinking this, he put the backpack back.
Taking out his phone, he sent a message to Huang Yijun: ‘We’re buddies, you and the director are buddies, so if I mess up a bit at the company, as a buddy, you should cover for me, right?’
Huang Yijun replied quickly: ‘Old Song, what are you doing? You’re making me nervous. Don’t do anything stupid.’
Song Wuli: ‘What would happen if I cursed someone out at the company?’
Huang Yijun: ‘Huh? That’s it? Go ahead.’
Old Song threw himself back into his work, focusing on handling his tasks.
Half an hour later, the trouble that was bound to come finally arrived.
After leaving team 1, the screenwriter reached a fork in the path. He was supposed to leave, but out of boredom, he glanced towards copywriting team 2.
Most people were as nervous and scared as he expected, their little eyes darting towards him from time to time, watching his movements.
The screenwriter was satisfied and was about to leave when he suddenly took another look. He noticed a man in the distance working contentedly. He looked to be in his thirties, dressed neatly and casually.
Wasn’t this the age where you worked desperately to avoid being laid off? Once laid off, it would be very hard to find another job.
How dare he work so intently? Didn’t he know I was coming?
For some reason, seeing his relaxed expression made the screenwriter extremely unhappy.
His originally departing footsteps stopped. He turned and walked into the copywriting team 2 he looked down upon.
With his hands behind his back, he put on an act, walking around the team 2 office area as if he were a leader on an inspection tour.
He enjoyed the fearful looks Xiao Liu and Xiao Zhao gave him when they saw him.
Seeing Xiao Liu writing a text description for a new in-game item, the screenwriter nodded and shook his head intermittently, then pointed at his screen and said:
“This isn’t written very well. For example, your introduction for this steamed bun only says: ‘This is an ordinary meat bun.’ Just nine short words. How can players clearly know what this is? How can they know its function? You’re being too lazy here.”
Xiao Liu bowed his head obsequiously, not daring to reply.
The screenwriter taught him how to revise it, forcibly turning this ordinary bun item into a five-hundred-word ultra-long description, making it seem like some top-tier item.
After instructing Xiao Liu, he went to find Xiao Zhao, making a mess of changes, leaving the three newbie brothers feeling rather apprehensive.
Finished there, he went to find the even newer employees, Chang Yong and Chang Kaihuai.
Chang Kaihuai was clever. He closed the unfinished copy and created a new blank document, writing only two words.
The screenwriter took one look, frowned, and quickly found an angle:
“Young man, everyone else is working. Why aren’t you? Our schedule for this new version is very tight; we need to produce the first draft in just over a week. What are you getting paid for? Are you here on vacation?”
“He just submitted the text to me. I was communicating with him, so I paused for a moment.”
“Let me introduce myself. I’m Song Wuli, team leader of group 2.”
Song Wuli walked over, extending his right hand towards him.
Neither humble nor arrogant—it was a perfectly normal attitude for communication, but in the screenwriter’s eyes, it became an affront.
Why wasn’t this man bowing and scraping?
Of course, he didn’t shake hands. Instead, he reprimanded:
“Team Leader Song? Can you leave your workstation during work hours?”
Song Wuli: “Yes, our company allows short breaks from the workstation during work, for example, to use the restroom or handle work-related matters.”
Screenwriter: “So, are you going to the restroom now?”
Song Wuli: “Isn’t that why you came here? For work?”
This directly shut the screenwriter up, instantly igniting the fury in his chest.
In this company, this was the first time he had encountered someone daring to talk back to him, and it was just a mere team leader.
The elite employees following him were also dumbfounded, constantly giving Old Song meaningful looks, signaling him not to act recklessly and to endure it.
Old Song ignored them. He had his own ideas.
The screenwriter, filled with anger, asked sharply:
“Team Leader Song, you don’t look young, and your courage is equally big, consistent inside and out. Do you know who I am?”
Song Wuli: “No, I don’t. I introduced myself. You haven’t introduced yourself yet.”
The anger meter instantly rose another large chunk. The screenwriter was almost about to explode.
He knew Song Wuli definitely recognized him, and he indeed hadn’t introduced himself. The other party could completely pretend not to know.
“I am the special guest screenwriter your company hired. Even your producer treats me with respect. Kid, you have quite the nerve.”
He practically spat these words out through gritted teeth.
“Oh, so you’re just a contractor? You’re not even an employee of our company?”
Song Wuli said lightly.