Chapter Fifteen: I Am Here to Help You!

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As a rare content creator who accepted this promotional business deal, Gu Meng had once followed "It's Dog Trash, Not Xun Yu" on Bilibili with his alternate account "Little Sun." Gu Meng now had quite a few accounts on Bilibili; his main popular account was called "Supreme Dragon King," boasting 2.5 million followers. The videos he posted were mostly self-parody and behind-the-scenes clips from filming, often interacting with actresses. His most famous series was "Young A Meng’s Dream Pursuit in the Entertainment Industry," which had been on hiatus for a long time. He also had other public alternate accounts, such as "Returning War God" and "Bean Emperor Strongman," which occasionally uploaded short videos. These accounts also had a large following, but their private messages were flooded with insults, now unreadable. Gu Meng felt he deserved this; he thought of himself as careless and bungling everything, worthy of severe punishment. Only "Little Sun" was his frequently used private account on his phone, mainly for browsing borderline and mildly risqué videos. As a public figure navigating the world, he naturally had to use alternate accounts carefully to avoid accidental slips. Incidentally, on foreign platforms, Gu Meng liked to use the nickname "Pendragon," representing the Dragon King, though he had few followers there. Additionally, the company's official accounts "Mao Dou Games" and the old dormant account "Mao Dou Media," along with some related official accounts, were also under his control but usually managed by Mao Dou’s operations team. He also held both the main and alternate accounts of the veteran streamer Feitian Old Deng, named "Big Ri Ge" and "Little Ri Ge." The mutual followers and friends on those accounts were all beautiful women, part of Old Deng’s legacy. Since all close relatives of this couple had died unexpectedly, Gu Ri Tian had naturally thought deeply about the possibility of his own sudden death. After witnessing Gu Ri Tian being tragically hit by a dump truck, Gu Meng, the previous incarnation, respectfully honored his will by thoroughly destroying some mysterious hard drives without even opening them—truly filial.

While reminiscing, Gu Meng clicked on that content creator’s video. The title read: “Green-Haired Turtle Simulator? Not Quite!” The tags below bore the official Bilibili game promotion mark, a mechanism common to all major websites in this world, indicating a formal sponsorship process. Judging by the title alone, it was barely standard, not particularly engaging. However, given that it was still defending Mao Dou in this environment, it was glaring enough to attract many viewers. Gu Meng clicked play.

“Hello, dear viewers! I’m Xun Yu, who has no income if I don’t make videos. A quick reminder before we start: this is a sponsored video...”

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The number of viewers online quickly rose to five digits, with sparse comments flying across the screen—some already insulting before even watching. “Sure enough, not Xun Yu but dog trash...” “Teacher Xun, you’re not like this, please wake up!” “Who’s still defending this awful game?” “Even worse than Director Ao!” “A paid troll...” Before watching, everyone had labeled this content creator a clown seeking attention. Gu Meng didn’t hold out much hope either, not believing a small creator with just over a hundred thousand followers could reverse public opinion by defending the game. To change the tide, at least the TGA had to step in and award it annual best game, then maybe Gu Meng could try to salvage the situation. Could this video compare to the TGA—regarded as the “Oscars of the gaming world”? Impossible. Gu Meng was simply curious. Why? Normally, under these circumstances, this small creator should have decisively declined the deal and made a righteous break. The sponsorship fee from Mao Dou was only slightly above market price and shouldn’t have driven him to this extent. Could he really be a Mao Dou fanatic? Or a deliberately provocative troll hoping for any kind of attention?

“Today, I want to introduce the game that has recently caused a huge stir in the gaming community: ‘Pure Love Warrior Simulator’!” Xun Yu spoke rapidly, even faster when reading lines. His enunciation was fairly clear, and with subtitles, viewers wouldn’t misunderstand. As he skillfully launched the game and loaded a saved file, he explained to his audience: “I’ll get straight to the point—this game is Mao Dou’s all-out effort, pouring every resource and thought, investing heavily.” “It’s Mao Dou’s final gamble, with quality beyond imagination for them.” “The official game startup even explicitly states ‘Mao Dou’s Last Work’ and ‘Dedicated to the Eternal Big Ri Ge’—a truly heartfelt creation.”

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“The simulation of part-time jobs in the game offers so many interesting and innovative features. Priced at 68 yuan, I worry they won’t recoup costs. I believe this is a genuine masterpiece.” More negative comments flooded the screen. Even though Gu Meng had caught this video relatively early, many viewers seemed to fast-forward through it, completely losing patience here. “How much were you paid?” “The game is garbage at its core—no matter what else is good, it’s still trash.” “You paid troll, I’m so disappointed—unfollowing!” On screen, Xun Yu loaded a save file dated December of the game’s third year. The full game normally lasted two and a half years (starting in summer graduation season of year one), so it was clearly nearing the end. Xun Yu was already controlling the protagonist riding a bike toward Youth City University for a “charge of love,” heading directly to trigger a hidden ending. “You might think my conclusion makes me a paid troll, since the mainstream opinion has already clearly explained the player’s unacceptable points.” “Plot-wise, the heroine is a shameless person, and the protagonist appears to have no countermeasures, forced to accept being cuckolded—this is a cuckold simulator.” “The promotion never mentioned this was some niche, perverse Japanese work; instead, it was advertised as a spiritual sequel to ‘Master of Picking Up Girls Simulator.’” “Moreover, all Mao Dou games adopt a male perspective, now a brand hallmark.” “Those who understand Mao Dou know that unless explicitly stated otherwise, everyone assumes the romance will be simple, and the heroine, unless openly marked as a villain from the start, will be wholeheartedly devoted to the protagonist, not disgusting players.” “Just as in male-oriented thrillers, the rule is clear: the protagonist can’t be cuckolded.” “So, considering this game is labeled a Mao Dou romance game, the only heroine the protagonist can date in the normal storyline, Tian Wenjing, is this kind of person.” “We can conclude Mao Dou deliberately disgusted the players.” “No matter how fun the earlier parts are, this game at best is a beautifully packaged piece of ‘trash.’” Xun Yu spoke with confident ease.

“? When I put a question mark, it’s not that I have a problem, but that you do. Isn’t that clear enough, content creator?” “Diagnosis complete: split personality content creator.” Comments of confusion floated by. Gu Meng was somewhat puzzled too. Yes, that was the reason. Wasn’t it explained quite clearly?