Chapter Sixteen: Are You Truly Ready to Accept This Reality?

The Easter egg left by Meng Juju was far too blatant, too outrageous, and too lethal—like a blazing dragon-slaying sword thrust straight into the heart.

It struck directly at the core, causing Gu Meng—the “Big Heart, Dragon King,” who had lived two lives and returned from death—to abandon all thought.

There was no cure, no salvation. Just wait for death.

The only half-decent plan he could come up with was immediate damage control: claim it was the personal act of a senior executive, unrelated to the company.

Then, anonymously leak all of Meng Juju’s quotes from the meeting room online to paint Gu Meng as someone who had momentarily lost his mind.

Portray the whole thing as the work of treacherous ministers, with the emperor himself blameless.

Use the official account to “accidentally” like the post and confirm its authenticity, stirring up some hype.

In truth, that was the reality... Tsk, they should have had Meng You record the meeting.

Next, swiftly delete that disgustingly hidden ending and rewrite all the storylines involving the heroine.

Turn the inherently evil heroine into a pure, innocent, and kind-hearted girl.

Shift the protagonist’s financial demands away from the heroine to other reasons, so the heroine begins working part-time to help the hero overcome difficulties, adding a “hardworking” trait to her character.

If the hero deeply appreciates the heroine’s great kindness, then any close interaction with other female NPCs would trigger his conscience and moral guilt, breaking his mindset. That seemed plausible.

However, such a drastic reversal of the heroine’s image might be hard for players to accept.

Besides, the opportunity for optimization had been used up; Gu Meng no longer had the funds to make major changes to the system-made game.

If he explained to players at this point that the game was created by the system and that Mao Dou had no ability to modify their own game, would anyone believe it?

So, there was no hope. Just wait for death.

Gu Meng seriously began considering his backup plan.

He couldn’t repay the bank loan, and the company was doomed.

Banks were like lending umbrellas on sunny days and collecting them when it rained.

Mao Dou was built from scratch by Gu Ritian, with no powerful connections.

Otherwise, the previously permanently removed “Sun Never Sets Adventure” wouldn’t have been taken down.

Trying to raise money by suing relatives or collecting debts to get through the crisis could take who knew how long.

Besides, most of it probably couldn’t be recovered anyway, having been squandered on buying African male models.

If those models had convinced their owners with true talent to regain freedom and break from their constraints, they were probably now enjoying themselves in various coastal cities, not wanting to leave.

Tsk, the earlier joke about “Mao Dou’s demise” had become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Now that he was considering fleeing to America, was it still in time?

Gu Meng said he could return to the country next week.

Once he restarted abroad and earned enough to clear all debts, he would see how things stood at home.

If possible, he would return.

If not, once he became a god of gaming and a cultural icon with unifying value in this world, he would surely be able to come back—no matter that he had fled because of debt, as it wasn’t a matter of principle.

His adversaries weren’t like the public imagined—no ruthless underworld forces capable of sharking people on the street with impunity, forcing police to cover up and tell lies.

Gu Meng personally had no great enmity with those companies—just normal business rivalry, the kind Gu Ritian had dealt with before.

In the old man’s safe was a huge gold nugget left as a hidden backup resource for his son.

After escaping abroad, Gu Meng intended to continue making games; any fool wouldn’t use the system, and this world was a parallel universe where games held greatly increased importance.

Unfortunately, after such a blow, Gu Meng’s reputation was ruined.

One careless mistake left a permanent stain.

It seemed that even the Dragon King, even the sun itself, could not avoid shadows and detractors.

He could only accept reality.

At that moment, the tablet crackled with the not-so-standard Mandarin of the Southern Emperor City—Gou Tong’s voice.

“Will you really accept this reality?”

For Gu Meng, Gou Tong’s voice was deafening.

Like a beam of light, it briefly dispelled the shadows in his heart and steadied him once more.

“Green slave, no choice, the only heroine—I can only say, none of this is true.”

“I don’t understand an ending that cannot be changed.”

On screen, Gou Tong sped up the long, difficult cutscene of the protagonist struggling to ride a bike, skipping past the scenes where the hero learns the news, collapses mentally, and seeks out the heroine.

The one-against-six battle began.

“Some things run too deep. I don’t know how much I can reveal.”

While fighting, Gou Tong narrated, probably using post-production voiceover.

This battle was quite difficult and required full attention.

“I’ll only ask one thing.”

After defeating the first enemy, the hero sustained minor injuries, and the enemy’s stamina was depleted.

“Do you really think—”

The second enemy fell as well.

“...that Mao Dou, which accompanied our youth—”

The third fell.

“...would use this company’s final work, with Gu’s tribute to his deceased father, to deliberately disgust us?”

All the male antagonists were down.

“Hard to say!”

“Cool, pure love boxing champion, cool!”

“The streamer’s kinda cool.”

“Regardless of morals, the skill is impressive. The game’s protagonist is just a mortal with a maximum stat of twenty. All six endings feature a blond who is a super high-level fighter armed and dangerous. To be able to 1v6 under such severe stamina drain riding a bike to Youth City...”

“Too bad some experts have tried it. Even with good early management, saving money, and training fighting skills to professional level, the ending still isn’t good after suppressing these six.”

“Why would Teacher Gou show us such a bad ending? What’s the point?”

“The streamer probably means… Oh crap, I get it. He means there’s another hidden ending? He’s going to show us a non-disgusting ending—that’s the real ending!”

“Can we stop with the green slave stuff? Can the hero just walk away without forgiving the heroine?”

“Really? I don’t believe it.”

“Actually, if you watch other top streamers’ latest videos, if you never choose forgiveness, it’s also a bad ending—the hero commits suicide.”

“Oh damn, that’s still a bad ending. Mao Dou really is just messing with us.”

On screen, the hero stood before the heroine, beginning to hear those outrageous statements. In the game, his expression was full of despair.

In the end, only one choice remained:

[Of course, forgive her.]

The barrage of insults on screen diminished. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something.

Even Gu Meng was.

Everyone hoped for a miracle.

“Could there really be another hidden ending? But there shouldn’t be—I never gave the system such an instruction, and Meng Juju probably didn’t hide another ‘Easter egg’. This top streamer can’t possibly know more about the game than me, the listed designer... Impossible...”

Thinking of the huge trouble Meng Juju had caused him, Gu Meng gritted his teeth.

No one else, not even the idiot who said Gu Meng “would have no good outcome for disowning his family,” carried as much weight as Meng Juju.

He would never let her off!

Meanwhile, on the other side, Meng Juju, having been carried out of the company, was rolling around on the street, throwing a tantrum, shouting wildly.

Suddenly, a crowd noticed and surrounded her.