Alarm Clock: @Lao Mo
Lao Mo: What’s up?
Alarm Clock: I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?
Lao Mo: Bad news first, then.
Alarm Clock: [Shared a news link]
Alarm Clock: You guys got called out and criticized. Not just you, though—a few other studios got hit too.
Alarm Clock: Check the details yourself.
So soon?
Mo Xiangwen’s brow arched slightly. In his previous life, similar projects had eventually faced backlash, but that had come much later.
It had only been three days since their game went live, and they were already on the radar? The efficiency was staggering.
On second thought, it made sense.
After all, Fox Tour Chang’an had truly exploded over those three days, sweeping across the nation and flooding everyone’s social feeds.
Their promise to donate all proceeds to charity had poured fuel on the fire, amplifying the spread to astonishing levels.
Mo Xiangwen tapped the news link. Sure enough, as Zhong Taihong had said, their studio was named.
Yet, despite being the hottest little game around right now, their name sat fairly low on the list of those criticized.
Leading the pack, naturally, was that unavoidable “mountain” of the internet world.
Lao Mo: Got it. The rectification notice is probably already on its way.
Alarm Clock: What are you gonna do?
What to do? Follow the rules and revise it, of course… or wait.
A thought flickered in Mo Xiangwen’s mind. Actually, there was another path—not revise, just take it offline.
The explosive growth of the first three days was where the real money lay.
Once that seven-day rectification period ended, a casual game like Fox Tour Chang’an, with its limited depth, would likely bore players quickly.
Why pour effort into tweaking it to meet new rules when they could let it bow out gracefully?
The loss to them would be negligible. Instead, it might leave players with a cherished, rose-tinted memory.
Calling it a “rose-tinted memory” might be a stretch, but that was the idea.
Things frozen in memory were often the most perfect.
Players probably wouldn’t return anyway. Even if they picked it up occasionally, a quick playthrough would leave them unsatisfied.
If that was the case, why not let it go? Turn it into something players reminisced about fondly.
Any vaguely similar game in the future would prompt mentions of theirs.
Lao Mo: Probably just take it offline. Too lazy to revise.
Xi Shao: Lao Mo, this is millions of clicks and shares territory.
Xi Shao: You’re really just gonna pull it?
Xi Shao: Oh, right—are you seriously donating all the ad revenue? Not keeping any for yourselves? I don’t know the exact numbers, but with those clicks and shares, it has to be a decent chunk.
Money. Money was a wonderful thing.
Even after a lifetime in his previous world plus this one so far, he had never made this much.
He had been burned once before, so pretending he did not like money would be a lie.
Lao Mo: All of it. On the hot seat like this, any funny business could backfire.
Lao Mo: Besides, we can always make more money.
Lao Mo: You’ll get it someday. In an industry where competitors keep imploding and reputations tank, a studio branded with “good reputation” is pure gold.
Lao Mo: Even if that rep doesn’t come solely from past games, it can evolve over time.
Alarm Clock: Who turns down money, though?
Exactly. Spot on.
He had thought the same once—until reality dished him a bitter lesson.
No rush. Time would prove it.
Alarm Clock: Take it offline? I get you’re upset about the criticism, but hold off.
Alarm Clock: [Forwarded a news link]
Alarm Clock: Check out the good news.
Mo Xiangwen opened it. It was from another heavyweight outlet he knew well. No surprises there—just praise for their rare sense of social responsibility.
But as he scrolled to the bottom, the title of the related article grabbed him instantly.
He clicked in, and a knowing smile tugged at his lips.
Well played. Right after the criticism hit, they had gone down on their knees in apology at lightspeed.
Not only pledging to donate Fox Tour Chang’an’s proceeds to charity, but also offering up their platform’s share of ad revenue.
Impressive. Top-tier PR, as expected from them.
Alarm Clock: That internal tug-of-war? No clue.
Lao Mo: Eh, different departments, after all.
Lao Mo: Criticism is criticism; praise is praise.
Lao Mo: Stuff that’s worth discouraging to prevent copycats needs the slapdown. Standard procedure.
Alarm Clock: I don’t get the politics. So, still taking it offline?
Lao Mo: Yeah, probably.
After replying, Mo Xiangwen forwarded the criticism news to another group chat.
What started as a fan game group had basically turned into the studio’s internal line.
The moment he sent it, the screen lit up with replies.
Pass One Charm: Huh??? Named and shamed?! [Shocked]!
Bai Bai: Huh? Already getting criticized? [Confused] So fast… What do we do now, Xiao Yi?
Don’t Play Holy Slash: It was bound to happen… Knew it was coming eventually, but this speed is wild.
Yan Nuoya did not chime in right away. Instead, she turned her head slightly, her clear eyes holding a faint, unspoken worry as she gazed silently at Mo Xiangwen.
Mo Xiangwen smiled at her and shook his head, signaling not to worry.
Normally, Nuoya would have guessed he was building suspense by sharing such demoralizing news.
She must still feel a bit off.
Human-Dragon Unity: [Shared a news link—Major corp announces full donation of Fox Tour Chang’an platform revenue share]
Human-Dragon Unity: Check this.
The news dropped like a stone in still water.
Pass One Charm: Pfft! [Spitting water] They’re donating? Even their platform cut?! So generous this time?
Bai Bai: Whoa, for real.
Don’t Play Holy Slash: Huh? [Surprised] That’s… a nice surprise. Seeing them move this fast feels kinda… heh, satisfying? [Smirking]
Human-Dragon Unity: Feeling better now? [Smiling]
Pass One Charm: Way better! [Hands on hips] Yeah, we got criticized, but someone knelt faster and lower.
Bai Bai: Yup yup! Feels great!
Don’t Play Holy Slash: Yeah… a lot better.
Human-Dragon Unity: Hold on, there’s more.
Human-Dragon Unity: [Shared a news link—Praising Fox Tour Chang’an and the studio]
Pass One Charm: Named and praised? For real?
Bai Bai: I just pinched my cheek—still hurts… Gotta be real, right?
Seeing Bai Shishi’s goofy message, Mo Xiangwen instinctively turned to her.
There she was, still doubting it, her fair fingers gently prodding her flushed cheek. Noticing his gaze, she froze, then her little face blushed deeper as she flashed him a shy smile.
Don’t Play Holy Slash: I double-checked. It’s legit…
Su Mengli’s confirmation ignited their bottled-up joy.
Watching them bounce with excitement, Mo Xiangwen’s own lips curved into a smile.
Just yesterday, the studio had been heavy with gloom. Now, a single day and good news later, the clouds had parted.
With these solid results in hand, it was time to ask Elder Li about that off-campus housing application.
And give a certain patient a better spot to recover.
Though… by the time the application went through, that little cold would probably be gone.
