“I am not going anywhere.” Wei Ran gripped Lin Shenzhi’s hand tightly.
Wei Ran tried to say a bit more, but thought better of it and gave up. These kinds of matters could not be resolved with just a few words of persuasion, just like how his fear of bugs would not magically disappear no matter what anyone said.
On the way back, the car was exceptionally quiet.
After returning home, Lin Shenzhi did not return to the company for the afternoon, joining in on the wedding preparations instead.
After a whole afternoon of discussion, they chose the Drunken Red Mansion as the wedding venue because Wei Ran liked the food there. The specific date for the wedding was set for Sunday, five days later.
The next day, Lin Shenzhi had Jin Qili come over to the villa, accompanied by representatives from a wedding planning company that Jin Qili had contacted.
Even though Wei Yun was already managing things, leaving everything entirely to him was clearly unrealistic since they only had four days left.
With the help of the wedding planning agency, the efficiency of the preparations skyrocketed.
That very afternoon, Wei Ran was presented with dozens of options for invitations, candy types, and candy box styles to choose his favorites from.
Faced with that pile of items, Wei Ran was instantly driven to a state of extreme indecision.
Fortunately, Lin Shenzhi was already accustomed to calling the shots and making decisions, quickly sifting through the options to select a few styles that looked more refined and fitting.
While the hotel reservations and wedding favors would be handled by the agency, the invitation cards needed to be written out by Wei Ran and the others.
That night, Wei Ran, Lin Shenzhi, Wei Yun, and Jin Qili gathered around the table to write out the invitations, working until late into the night before finally finishing all of them.
Before dawn the next day, Jin Qili left with the majority of the invitation cards to have them mailed out.
Wei Yun also woke up early to start making phone calls, notifying friends and family on the Wei family side.
Wei Ran and Lin Shenzhi were not idle either, starting early to take body measurements so they could custom-order new suits to wear as wedding attire.
By the time the measurements were finished, it was already past ten o’clock in the morning. Lin Shenzhi had to head over to the company and drop off an invitation card for Chen Jiyun along the way, so Wei Ran took the opportunity while Wei Yun was not looking to grab the invitation meant for Fang Zheng and sneakily hopped into the car.
Once inside the vehicle, Wei Ran collapsed into a limp heap.
Preparing for a wedding was an exhausting ordeal. While Wei Ran had been full of enthusiasm and fighting spirit at the very beginning, after two or three days of hectic chaos, he already felt like a salted fish drained of all its energy.
Looking at Wei Ran like that, Lin Shenzhi’s cold brows and eyes softened.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Wei Ran asked, since Lin Shenzhi was heading out to deliver the invitation to Chen Jiyun shortly.
“No need.”
Wei Ran did not insist.
Chen Jiyun did not like him, and that dislike was written all over his face, which meant Wei Ran did not care for Chen Jiyun much either. Nobody would go out of their way to smile and cozy up to someone who glared at them with open hostility.
Sensing Wei Ran’s unhappiness, Lin Shenzhi said softly, “Jiyun is not a bad person. He will understand.”
Wei Ran gave a noncommittal hum.
“I am heading over to Fang Zheng’s place.” Wei Ran pulled out the invitation card meant for Fang Zheng.
After the car dropped him off downstairs at Lin Shenzhi’s company, Wei Ran declined the driver’s offer and walked to Fang Zheng’s studio instead.
Fang Zheng lived in the same residential compound as him, and the two of them had grown up together, remaining classmates all the way through university. After graduation, Fang Zheng had opened a gaming company funded by his father.
The gaming company had been running for half a year now, and just a few days ago, the studio’s very first independently developed game had officially launched.
Aside from delivering the wedding invitation, Wei Ran was also planning to check up on how Fang Zheng’s game was doing.
Fang Zheng’s studio was not far from Lin Shenzhi’s company, though its location was much more remote. Wei Ran had to take a detour before finally locating the studio inside an ordinary residential building.
When Wei Ran pushed the door open, Fang Zheng and his handful of employees were all staring at their computer screens with gloomy, distressed expressions. It was not until Wei Ran spoke up that they noticed an extra person had entered the room.
“You are here,” Fang Zheng muttered, raising his head without getting up. He and Wei Ran were past the point of needing polite formalities; they had even seen what each other looked like wetting their pants as kids.
“How is it going?” Wei Ran pulled up a stool himself, dragging it over to sit beside Fang Zheng’s workstation.
Displayed on the screen in front of Fang Zheng was the download page for his game, and Fang Zheng was currently reading through the user reviews below.
There were not many reviews, totaling only a dozen or so pages with twenty comments per page.
“Not looking good. Way worse than expected,” Fang Zheng said, wearing a troubled expression.
Fang Zheng had started planning and writing this game back in his junior year of college. He had originally been full of confidence, even preparing himself to become an instant overnight success, but reality had dealt him a harsh blow.
The game had been released for almost a week now. While there were quite a few players downloading and trying it out, most of the reviews they left were quite poor.
Most gaming platforms used a ten-point grading system. A breakout hit usually scored an eight or nine out of ten right out of the gate, while mediocre games could still pull a seven. But his game’s score had already plummeted down to a six.
With a score of just six right at launch, the final rating might not even clear a four later on, falling far below the passing mark.
Wei Ran took the mouse and scrolled through the reviews. Some of the feedback was phrased politely, stating simply that the game lacked novelty and fun, while other comments were brutally direct and hurtful, even containing outright curses.
Among them were also a few serious, well-thought-out suggestions spanning long paragraphs. Wei Ran checked one or two of them, but they ultimately proved unhelpful.
It was not that the serious reviews lacked value, but rather that if they actually rewrote the game according to those suggestions, the entire project would have to be scrapped, turning it into something completely different from the original vision.
Besides, even if they followed those suggestions, there was no guarantee it would turn out better than the current version since everyone had different tastes.
Faced with this situation, Wei Ran was unsure of how to offer comfort.
Fang Zheng stood up to pour a glass of water. “Actually, I was not completely unprepared for this outcome. Looking back now, I vaguely sensed something was amiss during the development process, but back then, I always thought I was some kind of genius who would definitely blow up overnight.”
Wei Ran listened quietly.
After talking for about ten minutes and thoroughly analyzing the game from start to finish, Fang Zheng finally stopped.
Looking over at Wei Ran, Fang Zheng asked, “How is your job hunt going?”
Wei Ran shook his head. “Still nothing.”
Wei Ran and Fang Zheng had graduated from the same university. Right after graduation, Fang Zheng moved directly into the studio he had been planning, while Wei Ran entered an endless, grueling period of job searching.
It was not that Wei Ran could not find a job. On the contrary, back in his junior year, he had independently designed a breakout game that won a best game award and enjoyed a massive wave of popularity. Countless small studios had extended olive branches to him, but Wei Ran had turned them all down.
Wei Ran had his own plans.
He had little interest in small studios because joining one usually meant doing miscellaneous chores like handling outsourced coding tasks or checking for bugs.
He wanted to enter a large studio, ideally joining a core game design team. Only by doing so could he participate in research and development, learn proper skills, build up experience and industry connections, and eventually lead a team to develop his own original game in the future.
He wanted to create a game entirely of his own.
There was a game concept he had been mulling over and tinkering with ever since his freshman year all the way to graduation. He had already written the gameplay mechanics and foundational programming, waiting only for the right opportunity.
However, large studios rarely hired casually, and when they did, they only took on logistics or customer service staff. As a result, every single resume Wei Ran sent out after graduation had been thoroughly rejected.
Fang Zheng had previously invited Wei Ran to join his studio as a technical equity partner, but Wei Ran had turned him down.
“If you ask me, you should just get Lin Shenzhi to set up a studio for you. He is so rich, would he really mind spending pocket change like that? All you have to do is say the word, and you can get whatever you want,” chimed in a man around their age who walked over.
He was also one of Wei Ran’s college classmates and acted as one of Fang Zheng’s financial partners, a man named Wu Mingyi.
Wei Ran’s smile faded. He detested it most when people brought up that topic.
There was a disparity between him and Lin Shenzhi, but he had not married Lin Shenzhi for money.
“You are just being overly idealistic. What is wrong with being realistic? Money is only truly yours when it is in your own hands.”
“Do cut it out,” Fang Zheng interrupted, cutting Wu Mingyi off.
Wu Mingyi glanced at Wei Ran, muttered that it was a bore, and walked away.
Fang Zheng withdrew his gaze. “Don’t pay attention to him. He is just feeling unbalanced inside. Everyone was on equal footing back in school, but once you step out into society, the gaps start showing.”
Back in school, Wu Mingyi used to be a campus popular figure, a student council officer, decent-looking, smooth-talking, and well-liked.
Yet after graduation, while other ordinary, unremarkable classmates either opened their own studios, entered large corporations arranged by their parents, or went abroad to study, Wu Mingyi, the former campus star, had struggled for ages only to find that a few tiny studios wanted him, offering miserably low wages.
Nowadays, “being realistic” had practically become his catchphrase.
“Yeah.” Wei Ran’s expression softened slightly.
Pulling out the invitation card, Wei Ran handed it to Fang Zheng. “The wedding is on Sunday, at the Drunken Red Mansion.”
Fang Zheng already knew that Wei Ran was busy preparing for a wedding. After taking the invitation to inspect it, he dropped his previous bitter expression and glared at Wei Ran. “Forget Wu Mingyi, even I am getting jealous. How on earth did Lin Shenzhi set his eyes on you and actually marry you? What on earth does he even see in you?”
Wei Ran burst out laughing at Fang Zheng’s look of envious grievance. “He sees my handsome face, obviously!”
It was not as though Wei Ran had never pondered this question himself.
Lin Shenzhi was the largest shareholder and CEO of the Lin Group, boasting a net worth in the tens of billions, whereas he came from an ordinary background and had just graduated from college, putting them in completely different worlds.
What could Lin Shenzhi possibly want from him?
Thinking of Lin Shenzhi, and recalling the golden God of Wealth figurine sitting in Lin Shenzhi’s office, Wei Ran could not help curling the corners of his lips into a silly grin, instantly wiping away all the exhaustion brought on by wedding preparations.
Radiant with high spirits, Wei Ran joked, “I must have saved the entire universe in my past life.”
“Oh, give it a rest.” Fang Zheng rubbed his arms in mock disgust.
Over at the Lin Group:
Lin Shenzhi stood downstairs, quietly watching Wei Ran walk away until his figure disappeared into the distance before finally stepping into the elevator.
His office was on the seventeenth floor, a commute up and down that he was thoroughly used to every day. But this time, the moment the elevator started moving, a fierce wave of nausea suddenly surged upward, making it feel as though he were riding a roller coaster instead of an elevator.
Emerging from the elevator, Lin Shenzhi rushed straight into the restroom, emptying the contents of his stomach before the sickening sensation finally subsided.
After finishing, a look of helpless resignation crossed Lin Shenzhi’s brow.
He had begun taking over the Lin Group before graduating from university, and over the past few years, he considered himself well-accustomed to high-pressure scenarios, never expecting a wedding preparation process to make him this nervous.
As he thought about the wedding and about Wei Ran, Lin Shenzhi reached for his phone, intending to ask Chen Jiyun where he was.
Opening WeChat, his gaze paused when he saw his final chat history with Chen Jiyun, causing his face to slowly turn deathly pale.
Chen Jiyun: “Then have you ever thought about what you will do if you end up pregnant?”
Chen Jiyun: “Even if you try to hide it from him, how long can you keep it a secret?”
Chen Jiyun: “What are you going to do if he finds out?”