Chapter 1
Summer, Dao Mei Entertainment.
In the office, the air conditioning was set to eighteen degrees. Wen Xingze sat on the fabric sofa, nibbling on a lollipop, and cradling his cracked phone. His long legs rested casually on the armrest, one fair-skinned calf dangling in the air.
When the boss and the manager walked in, they were greeted by this scene.
The manager, Wu Youjin, glanced at Wen Xingze’s phone and almost choked: “Wen Xingze, what are you doing?”
Wen Xingze replied, “I’m helping Little Green check in on my Weibo. What’s wrong?”
This ‘Little Green’ was one of Wen Xingze’s only seven active fans. Apparently, Little Green was preparing for the college entrance exams and didn’t want to lose her Weibo streak, so she entrusted her account to Wen Xingze for check-ins.
The relationship between an artist and their fans couldn’t get any closer than this.
“I know you’re helping her check in,” Wu Youjin said, “but let’s talk about your choice of image! What kind of celebrity posts something like that?”
Little Green had a habit of posting daily blessings on Weibo, always accompanied by a photo of Wen Xingze. He had continued this tradition on her behalf.
However, today’s Weibo post was fine text-wise, but the image was a different story: it featured Wen Xingze riding a beat-up tricycle, munching on a cheap popsicle, with a cardboard sign in front that read, “Recycling old TVs, refrigerators, and computers.”
Before Wu Youjin could stop him, Wen Xingze had already sent out the post. His explanation came afterward: “She wanted a photo of me, and I couldn’t find any unused ones. So, I used a picture my neighbor took yesterday.”
Wu Youjin sighed.
“Never mind,” the chubby boss intervened, “I understand. Wen Xingze doesn’t have many endorsements, and not many people follow his Weibo anyway.”
As expected, after the Weibo post went live, it received zero likes and zero comments for quite some time. Eventually, a few staff members from Dao Mei Entertainment and Wen Xingze’s meager six fans started liking it.
The only one in the room who cared about career prospects was Wu Youjin, and he felt a second pang of disappointment.
He stared at the photo of Wen Xingze pedaling the tricycle.
Considering the poor shooting conditions and the fact that he was makeup-free, Wen Xingze’s natural looks were exceptional. But fate seemed to conspire against him: auditions always led to nepotism, and variety shows got canceled due to budget constraints. Even his role as the eighth male lead in a palace drama was cut short by strict censorship.
Otherwise, with a face like his, he should have been a star by now!
If only their company hadn’t fallen into this predicament.
Over by the sofa, Wen Xingze made room for the boss.
The boss sat down, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and began sipping tea.
“Why am I so unlucky to have both of you as my deadweight?” Wu Youjin’s anger flared up as he looked at the two slouching figures on the sofa. “Wen Xingze! You say you’re not working hard, but you’ve had opportunities, and yet you can’t seize a single one. Are you worthy of that face of yours? Look at Xu Baijing, who debuted alongside you!”
Since Wen Xingze’s debut, Wu Youjin had constantly compared him to Xu Baijing, another contestant from the same talent show. Initially, there was some basis for comparison, but now it was no contest.
Xu Baijing had become a red-hot A-lister, while Wen Xingze remained a low-tier artist.
Living in a ten-square-meter basement, riding a tricycle, and occasionally selling homegrown chives at a street stall — Wen Xingze’s life resembled that of a retired old man. Wu Youjin, always sharp-tongued, had practically turned into a sourpuss over the years.
Wen Xingze: “…”
Wen Xingze wondered how he could even compare himself to Xu Baijing. Xu Baijing was the designated protagonist of a popular novel, while he was merely the impoverished contrast—a cannon fodder character.
Yes, Wen Xingze lived within the pages of a book.
The book was titled “The Wealthy Koi and His Lavish Life”, and as the name suggested, the protagonist, Xu Baijing, was a red-hot celebrity with five wealthy fathers.
Wen Xingze, on the other hand, was his foil — a naturally destitute character who harbored envy for the protagonist’s opulence. He persistently opposed Xu Baijing, only to meet a tragic end.
The original host’s final appearance occurred near the story’s climax. The protagonist encountered the former host working as a mechanic in a repair shop. Covered in grease, the once striking face was now hidden behind oil stains. The host was unrecognizable.
Moved by pity, the protagonist handed the former host some cash, and the host gratefully knelt down.
Then a passing Lamborghini sprayed exhaust fumes in his face.
In short, poverty was Wen Xingze’s fate in this novel.
Once, he even won twenty thousand yuan in a lottery, but before he could deposit it in the bank, he was robbed. He ended up with a broken leg and medical bills. Wen Xingze’s bank account would never exceed four digits.
Since he was inherently poor, achieving fame was an impossible dream. After all, becoming famous meant making money, which contradicted his destiny.
“…”
After briefly recalling the plot, Wen Xingze noticed that Wu Youjin was still grumbling: “It’s been five years, and even marketing bots have more followers than you — whatever, it doesn’t matter now.”
Only now did Wen Xingze sense the odd tone in Wu Youjin’s words. He thought, why was the other person unusually irritable today? The reason became clear…
“Is our company going bankrupt?”
Wu Youjin replied, “Hmph, ask him.” He pointed at the boss.
The boss wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
After a while, Wu Youjin’s glare nearly reduced the boss to tears, and he weakly confessed, “Not exactly bankrupt, but our financial situation isn’t good. Temporarily… well, yes, we’re closing down. Sob.”
Their tiny company, with only one low-tier artist, had no potential buyers.
Wen Xingze sat up, feeling a pang of sadness.
All good things must come to an end. Although he and the company were both struggling, they had developed a bond over the years.
Given the company’s history, Wen Xingze had anticipated this day. It was sudden, but he had already prepared for it — down to the tricycle he used for collecting scrap. If the boss had nowhere to go, he could invite him along.
“…”
With no other recourse, Wu Youjin’s anger subsided.
After all, he and the boss, along with Wen Xingze, had started this venture together. Their time together was real. But Wu Youjin couldn’t keep wasting his talent in this dead-end place. He sighed:
“Wen Xingze, let me be frank. I’m also leaving. I’ve got a new job with Xu Baijing’s junior in the entertainment industry. They're better than you and work harder.”
“Your afternoon variety show is your last gig.”
________________________
Galactic Era 243, the Muse Empire.
Today was a highly anticipated day. Yua, an elven secretary in the Imperial Cabinet, rose at five in the morning to prepare for work. Like almost everyone in the empire, she felt no fatigue until two in the afternoon.
And as that moment approached, her heartbeat quickened.
According to the Light Tower’s notification, today marked the launch of the game “Cub Raising Program”.
Yua had served in the Cabinet for years, catching only a few glimpses of the Emperor. Yet, she had no regrets. At this very moment, she felt immense gratitude: her position in the Cabinet granted her the coveted opportunity.
——She had secured a spot in the closed beta test for Cub Raising Program!
As the name suggested, it was a nurturing game where players could accompany and raise in-game “cubs.” By completing tasks or spending in-game currency, players helped these cubs grow.
Such games weren’t uncommon; they had existed in various forms for centuries. However, Cub Raising Program was unique. Just last week, the Light Tower released a game trailer:
The sky was a brilliant blue, cicadas chirping in the background. A young man with black hair and light eyes appeared on screen, gradually approaching. His hair tips were damp with sweat, clinging to his cheek, and his amber eyes seemed to hold the essence of an entire summer.
The protagonist of the trailer had a teardrop-shaped mole at the corner of his eye.
His well-proportioned figure moved casually and carefree as he pedaled a tricycle collecting scrap through a bustling market. The entire scene exuded a cinematic quality, captivating viewers.
…This trailer ignited universal enthusiasm. The protagonist’s character model was unbelievably handsome, but what drove everyone into a frenzy wasn’t just his looks — it was the fact that he looked exactly like the Emperor!
From the trailer, people deduced that the game was modeled after their ruler. Not only did the protagonist share the Emperor’s face, but his personality mirrored the Emperor’s as well.
Who knew that the long-dormant Light Tower would suddenly release this news, causing a seismic wave across the entire universe? Even the reservation channels for watching game livestreams froze within half a second. Only one in a million people across the stars would be lucky enough to qualify.
After all, who wouldn’t want to raise an emperor in their terminal?
Their Emperor was flawless in every way, except for one drawback: he rarely appeared in the media.
But that couldn’t be helped. The Emperor suffered from a mysterious ailment, spending eighty percent of his time in slumber. In the past month, he hadn’t awakened once.
Once upon a time, the Emperor would wake up for only a few hours each day—dealing with paperwork, inspecting territories, and handling diplomatic affairs. Everyone yearned to see him, so they replayed his scarce news interviews over and over.
But things had changed. Now, by downloading Cub Raising Program, anyone could interact with the Emperor anytime, even witness his growth firsthand.
It felt like a dream. Yua hugged her terminal in sheer delight.
“…”
Amidst everyone’s anxious anticipation, the clock ticked toward three in the afternoon.
Cub Raising Program was launching across the entire empire!
________________________
Author’s note:
What better day than today, during the Dragon Boat Festival, to introduce A'Ze to everyone. Wishing you all a happy festival! Celebrate with us! Leave 66 little red envelopes in the comments. Cheers!
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