Chapter 101: It’s Not About the Book, It’s About the Prestige
Chapter 101: It's Not About the Book, It's About the Prestige
If it had just been a few players grumbling quietly, Pei Qian could have easily pretended not to hear anything and brushed it off.
But judging by how things were escalating, if he didn't make some kind of move soon, the players definitely weren't going to let this slide.
If they got too riled up and somehow managed to push Ghost General onto the trending list…
That would be a total disaster!
After all, the system had a very strict rule: he couldn't let people question the existence of the system or the challenges it set. In other words, Pei Qian was allowed to do things that were a bit out of the ordinary—as long as it didn't draw too much attention.
Deliberately not releasing a new version for such a highly profitable game like Ghost General? Yeah, that's definitely not "normal behavior."
If no one noticed, he was in the clear.
But if it blew up and started drawing attention across the entire industry—then it could trigger a system violation.
And that was a risk Pei Qian absolutely didn't need to take.
So, after giving it some thought, he decided: once Game Producer wrapped up, he'd consider pushing out a new version for Ghost General.
It didn't have to be anything fancy. Buy a few card illustrations, slap on some half-baked new features using cheap templates, throw on a modest price tag—and boom! Done and dusted.
As for the next settlement cycle?
He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.
Whatever happened, he'd just think of a new way to lose money next time!
Just as that thought crossed his mind, he arrived at the Moyu Internet Café.
Outside, a few renovation workers were busy installing the signboard.
Above the entrance was a sleek glass facade, displaying a massive, abstract logo:
Front and center was a rather ridiculous-looking salted fish—a stylized version of the meme-worthy emoji fish. It struck a sassy pose, and if you looked closely, the tip of its tail almost seemed like it was starting to morph into a dragon…
Hovering above the fish was an abstract "M," shaped kind of like a hand scratching it playfully—or maybe like a crown perched atop its head.
Behind all of that was a bold, uppercase "Y," supporting the entire logo like a backbone.
Pei Qian stared at the logo, studying it with narrowed eyes.
"Hmm… got that casual flair, but with a strong sense of absurdity. And yet, there's a touch of artistic elegance buried in there…"
There was nothing else on the signboard—no Chinese, no English. Just that one big logo.
Pei Qian had a strong suspicion this had Ma Yang written all over it.
This logo was clearly custom-designed. Who knows what kind of bizarre and unhinged art brief Ma Yang had handed over to the poor designer?
Still, having no text on the storefront suited Pei Qian's tastes perfectly.
Let people look at the place and be struck with a feeling of "I don't know what this is, but it looks kind of awesome." That was exactly the vibe he wanted!
Pei Qian stepped into the internet café and looked around.
The interior was fully renovated. Two cleaning staff were busy tidying up.
Desks and chairs were all in place. In the café area, cardboard boxes were piled up like a fortress. Zhang Yuan was busy assembling machines, with two young assistants—probably freshly hired employees—helping him out.
"Yo, Brother Qian! What do you think? Pretty slick, huh?"
Ma Yang walked over with a proud grin plastered across his face.
Pei Qian gave a satisfied nod. "Mm. Looks pretty good."
Ma Yang followed him eagerly, half seeking approval and half showing off. "Anything else you want to adjust? What do you think about the bar counter? Layout of the tables and chairs? And the bookshelf—got any ideas on what we should stock it with?"
He zipped around like an overexcited puppy, clearly proud of having executed the job to perfection.
Pei Qian took a careful look around. All in all, the place had been renovated exactly to his specifications—maybe even a bit too well.
In the café area—or rather, the bar area—there was a stylish bar counter near the computer zone, where patrons could order drinks and cocktails. On the opposite side, a small performance stage had been set up, complete with microphones for singing or open mic events.
Even the odd corners and edges of the room had been cleverly turned into bookshelves, giving the place a strong literary, artsy vibe.
When Pei Qian saw the empty shelves, he figured it was time to give a few key instructions.
The bookshelves hadn't been stocked yet—Ma Yang was still undecided on what kind of books to buy. Options included comic books, bestsellers, or classic literature.
Pei Qian estimated that with this much shelf space, they'd need at least several thousand books to fill it.
If this were a Japanese-style internet café, the choice would be obvious—wall-to-wall manga.
At the very least, they'd stock popular web novels.
But Pei Qian would never go that route.
Fill the place with manga? What if that attracted a bunch of hardcore anime nerds with money to burn?
As the saying goes: "A wall of a fat otaku's collection is worth a condo in Beijing." That kind of spending power was dangerous.
Manga and figurines? Absolutely not. Banished!
Pei Qian cleared his throat and pointed at the shelves. "Old Ma, remember—what we're reading isn't really the point, the point is—"
Ma Yang jumped in eagerly, "Loneliness?"
"—Loneliness your ass! It's prestige! We're reading for the aura!" Pei Qian shot him an exasperated look.
"Ohhh, prestige." Ma Yang nodded solemnly, as if suddenly enlightened.
"Manga, novels—pfft! What a joke. That stuff's so tacky, it hurts to even think about it."
"I want highbrow. I want esoteric. Fill these shelves with the most pretentious crap you can find."
Pei Qian waved his hand with imperial flair, like a commander pointing toward a battlefield.
Ma Yang scratched his head. "Brother Qian, maybe just give me a few titles to look for? Make it easier to shop."
Pei Qian nodded. "Sure, let me think…"
"A Short History of Ukrainian Tractors, Beginner's Manual for Small Tractor Drivers, Forging Iron Bulls for the Motherland, Tales from the Tractor Station Supervisor and Chief Agronomist, Operation and Maintenance of Walk-Behind Tractors…"
Ma Yang's jaw dropped halfway through the list.
"Brother Qian, why are all of these about… tractors?"
Pei Qian responded with the utmost seriousness, "This is prestige. It's the art of anti-prestige. True highbrow hides in plain sight, you understand?"
"…Okay, yeah, that might be too deep for you. Here's what you do instead: go online and search 'books for hipster wannabes' or 'pretentious lit for artsy types.' If you don't understand the titles? Perfect. Buy them all."
"Or better yet, go raid a secondhand bookstore. Find the most beat-up, yellow-paged, moldy-smelling books you can. The more vintage the better!"
"Ohhh, got it, no problem!" Ma Yang nodded vigorously, eyes sparkling with newfound purpose.
The two of them moved on to the kitchen in the back.
The head chef hadn't been finalized yet, but several had already applied. With the generous salary and the relaxed atmosphere of the venue, it was easy to see the appeal—high pay, low workload. A sweet deal.
Pei Qian gave one more reminder, just to be safe.
"The chef has to be exactly as I said before. No sushi, no French cuisine, none of that fancy stuff. I want someone who's great at home-style Chinese cooking. Got it?"
Ma Yang thumped his chest. "Leave it to me, I've got this!"
Pei Qian nodded approvingly. "I believe in you!"
After doing a full walk-through, Pei Qian was thoroughly satisfied.
Shiny, stylish, high-end... It practically screamed money pit!
He looked at Ma Yang with genuine emotion.
"Old Ma, if it weren't for you, I really don't know what I would've done."
Ma Yang's long face bloomed into a goofy grin. "Oh come on, don't flatter me! I'm not that amazing. You keep praising me like this and I might get a big head!"
Pei Qian chuckled. "Get as cocky as you want. Humility's never really been your thing anyway."
The two of them wandered back into the main internet café area.
Zhang Yuan was still hard at work assembling the machines. He was efficient, but even so, only about half of the PCs were set up.
Pei Qian casually walked over to one of the finished setups and sat down.
Glorious.
The desk space was ample. The gaming chair was incredibly comfy. The keyboard and mouse were clearly top-tier—not cheap stuff at all—and the tactile feedback felt amazing.
Of course, that was just one of the many side effects of spending too much money.
"Listen," Pei Qian said, tapping the desk lightly. "Every station should come with a small pack of premium wet wipes. Customers should use them to clean their hands and faces before logging in. And they should wipe down the keyboard and mouse too—can't have those getting greasy and disgusting."
He sighed with mock helplessness. "But hey, if they get dirty anyway, there's only one thing to do—replace them with new ones."
Ma Yang blinked. "You sure about this, Brother Qian? Think people will actually remember to wipe their hands every time?"
Pei Qian paused.
Yeah... expecting customers to voluntarily clean their hands before using the PCs? That was a bit much.
"Okay, new plan," he said. "When someone comes in, have the staff personally present them with a warm, clean towel—just like in those fancy restaurants."
"And make sure those towels are properly washed and sterilized. Hire someone specifically for that if needed!"
Ma Yang's eyes widened. "That's... kind of excessive, isn't it?"
Pei Qian shook his head solemnly. "Do you know what kind of place we're running here? A high-end, multi-functional entertainment center! Our clientele is made up of cultured, refined individuals. Naturally, our service should match their standards. Got it?"
Suddenly, another idea hit him.
"Oh, and another thing. Smoking is completely banned in this internet café. No exceptions. If someone wants to smoke, they can take it outside."
"What?" Ma Yang was stunned.
He'd been planning to follow the typical internet café model—split the place into smoking and non-smoking areas. He'd even been about to order signage.
But Pei Qian was having none of it.
"But—" Ma Yang tried to interject.
"No buts!" Pei Qian cut him off. "We're creating a premium environment here. We're not turning this place into a smoke-filled dungeon. Got it?"
"Oh, and one more thing. Install a state-of-the-art ventilation system. Places like this get crowded—we need proper airflow."
Ma Yang could only nod numbly, unable to keep up with Pei Qian's ever-rising standards.
High-class venue, high-class rules.
Even if it bled money, it would bleed with style.
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