Chapter 23: The Promotional Theme Song

Inside Youxuan, where the new company logo was gradually being adopted, Gu Meng’s reputation soared like the midday sun.

To put it bluntly, as the company’s crown prince who had overseen the studio for ten years and controlled the filming team, his prestige was already on par with Gu Ritian.

After ascending to the top, he single-handedly accomplished a career-defining feat that defied fate.

In just one week, the new release, Pure Love, had already surpassed five million in sales, breaking the historic record for Maodou.

Now, even if the company founder, “Big Ri Ge,” were to be resurrected on the spot—without considering any supernatural elements that might come with revival—his reputation could not compare to Gu Meng’s.

It was utterly absurd to think about. Normally fond of acting and rarely involved in subsequent game production or business operations, young A Meng was thrust into crisis, returned as a war god, and took over the company.

With just a slight effort, he had already pushed Maodou to its limits.

In the past, his dominance in the film and gaming circles had been restrained.

Back then, rookie actors saw the imposing Dragon King Dou Di like frogs looking up at the moon from the bottom of a well.

Now, as the company began its transformation toward non-live-action films and games, his extraordinary maneuvers to rewrite destiny made employees see him like a mayfly glimpsing the vast sky.

It became clear he truly was a gaming master.

Previously, he refrained from acting because those film-game hybrids simply didn’t require a nuclear-level force like him.

He was truly the one propping up a crumbling building, turning the tide of disaster.

Against formidable foes, he deceived and outwitted them.

He anticipated their anticipations, casually leveraged their hired online trolls to boost his own popularity, and disguised potentially unapprovable gameplay mechanics as bugs.

And this influence extended beyond the company.

Gu Meng’s reputation, along with various related memes, was also documented in QQ groups.

One meme featured a distorted Sun Wukong with Gu Meng’s avatar arrogantly leaning back, saying, “I haven’t even exerted myself, and you’ve already fallen.”

Another showed a fishing-themed character with Gu Meng’s name on the head, decisively ruling over the ages and suppressing dark forces.

Accompanying captions read “Indescribable Terror,” “Father Coffin,” “Turning One’s Back on All Beings,” and so forth.

Those old images of the war god’s return in short videos experienced a Renaissance, becoming popular once more.

People realized that although these depictions were somewhat exaggerated, they might actually be true.

The lopsided-mouthed Dragon King really embodied the Dragon King persona in real life, with a protagonist’s story of reversal and a passionate spirit.

Short dramas and urban novels did not deceive; reality could indeed be this fantastical.

There was also a new series of memes featuring Gu Meng’s panda head holding a book titled Teacher Tong’s Diary, with the caption “Believe in me, and you shall have a harem.”

On another meme, Teacher Tong opened that book, revealing on the first page: “To master divine skill, seal your heart and lock away love.”

The second page read, “Bootlickers meet a miserable end.”

These were used to admonish the “pure love warriors” in the QQ group—those overly naïve about romance who poured their hearts out to the opposite sex only to receive no kind words in return.

The text on these memes could be swapped with any content from the book or unrelated sayings.

“Hesitation leads to defeat; sincerity is given in vain.”

“Don’t miss a good girl; don’t waste time on a bad woman.”

“If you pursue love with money, spend less emotion; if you pursue it with emotion, spend more money.”

“Money is meant to be seen by women, not spent on them.”

“Stop staring, young man, I want to learn this too.”

...

On this particular day, in the mystical realm of gaming, inside the CEO’s office, Gu Meng confirmed company renaming matters and the game’s current status with Wu Mengyou.

He then instructed her to have the operations team launch official accounts across major platforms to promote the promotional theme song scheduled since last week.

Gu Meng was diligent; after the rollercoaster meeting, he realized the situation was better than expected.

He believed in pursuing the fleeing enemy with remaining courage rather than seeking empty fame as a tyrant.

Having just left the conference room, he conceived a new plan, called Wu Mengyou for a private meeting, and checked the copyright database in this world.

He immediately set things into motion, and in just one week, the matter was settled.

In theory, any promotional theme song should be released before or simultaneously with the game launch.

However, the company previously lacked funds, time, and capable personnel, so this had been postponed.

Gu Meng, coming from a parallel world, enjoyed some advantages.

Although most works had similar counterparts and he did not have a replicable superbrain, a few could benefit from such crossing-over perks.

For instance, this time’s The Lonely Brave perfectly fit the criteria for plagiarism.

First, the brainwashed Gu Meng could recite the entire song from start to finish.

He had memorized all lyrics and melodies so thoroughly that they would be unforgettable for at least ten years.

“Love you walking alone through dark alleys, love your unyielding stance, love your defiance...”

Second, the duplication check revealed that fortunately, no similar song had been released in this world.

Finally, the song was fitting, and with Gu Meng’s remaining film resources, shooting a music video was easier than making a film and required little cost.

As for the singer, naturally, it had to be Gu Meng himself.

The company lacked any other well-known stars. Gu Meng was considered a top-tier celebrity in entertainment; the others were third-tier actresses or idol trainees with low recognition, so they were not considered for the time being.

Outsourcing would take time and money, and the song matched perfectly with the public image Gu Meng had cultivated during this period—a lone warrior challenging the world.

From a promotional standpoint, no one was more suitable to perform it.

Regarding singing ability, Gu Meng was an amateur before crossing over.

After crossing, he inherited some skills from his predecessor, making him effectively professional.

Old Deng had trained the predecessor to be a triple-threat star in film, television, and music, with some behind-the-scenes production skills and experience running entertainment companies—an all-rounder.

The predecessor’s greatest strength was acting, rarely matched among young talents.

His often exaggerated performances as a domineering CEO or a henpecked son-in-law were work necessities. As the top star, his acting was sufficient for art films and awards.

Next was voice acting, also excellent, with various tones and the ability to mimic a cute girl voice indistinguishable to most.

Other talents—singing, dancing, rapping, basketball, variety show charisma—were decent, better than some but not the best.

He was still learning photography, directing, and editing but at a professional level, with plans to transition behind the scenes if acting failed.

For some Maodou film-game hybrids, Gu Meng was a co-director and principal cinematographer, capturing actresses with exceptional sensitivity.

Even some formally trained directors with several years’ experience might not surpass his natural talent.

Being under thirty with so many skills was impressive; Old Deng’s claim that the predecessor was a genius was likely not an exaggeration.

Of course, even if Gu Meng’s singing fell short, it was not a problem.

The system also had functions to optimize promotional videos. The “fake last words” promotional budget originally meant for the protagonist last week was arranged entirely by the system’s operator.

Though expensive, it was flawlessly executed.

Audio tuning and optimization were minor tasks, and Gu Meng already possessed professional-level singing skills, so the cost was reasonable and affordable.

Thus, the vocals in the audio source were on par with a singing god.