Silver Wolf's AI tutorials were exhaustive, and Julian Reed spent his morning immersed in the logic of digital brushstrokes. He was forced back to reality when a stack of actual archival documents landed on his desk, requiring his reluctant attention for the rest of the shift.
By the time the clock struck the hour, he was ready to collapse. He headed to the cafeteria, hoping a warm meal would fuel his brain for the long night of planning ahead.
The dining hall was buzzing with the post-work rush. Julian spotted Qingque at her usual table, already halfway through a bowl of noodles. For her, a meal at the Commission was a victory—a high-quality perk that saved her both money and the effort of cooking.
She looked up as Julian approached, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and his troubled expression.
"Why the long face?" Qingque asked, waving him over. "Did the Master Diviner catch you slacking? I told you, you have to keep one eye on the door at all times."
Julian sat down with a heavy sigh. He looked at her, his eyes suddenly lighting up. Qingque was more than just a slacker; she was a social butterfly with a network that reached into every corner of the Luofu. If anyone knew a shortcut, it was her.
"Boss Qingque," Julian leaned in, his voice low. "Do you know any way to make a lot of money? Fast?"
Qingque froze, her chopsticks hovering mid-air.
"I don't have any money!" she blurted out, instinctively shielding her bowl. "You can invite me to a game of tiles, but if you're looking for a loan, I'm as broke as a fragmentum shadow."
"I'm not asking for a loan," Julian hissed, pulling her back before she could bolt. "I need funding for a project. I'm trying to develop a game."
"A game? You?" Qingque sat back, her suspicion replaced by genuine surprise. "Is this what you were acting so mysterious about yesterday? I didn't know you had it in you."
Julian offered a helpless shrug. He couldn't exactly explain the "System" or why he was currently stuck with a piece of 8-bit ancient history.
"Now that you mention it," Qingque said, tapping her chin, "I might actually have a lead. I was playing tiles with a friend from the Sky-Faring Commission's trade guild. She mentioned the higher-ups are pushing a new investment plan—something about boosting the Xianzhou's cultural and entertainment footprint across the galaxy. They're sitting on a massive pile of Credits and can't find a project that fits their criteria."
Julian's heart skipped a beat. "An official investment? Why would they look at a project from a junior clerk like me?"
"Because the criteria are weird," Qingque whispered. "She was complaining that everything being pitched was 'too traditional' or 'not marketable enough for the outworlders.' It's worth a shot, right? If it doesn't work out, don't blame me."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Thanks, Boss Qingque."
Julian was a man of action. He skipped the rest of his meal and headed straight for the Sky-Faring Commission.
The Commission never truly slept. Because they managed interstellar trade and traffic across dozens of time zones, the service hall was fully staffed even after dark. When Julian inquired about the "Cultural Investment Plan," the receptionist didn't just give him a form—she lit up with an almost desperate excitement.
Within minutes, Julian was ushered into a private reception room. He was served high-grade tea and delicate refreshments, treated with a level of hospitality that made him deeply uneasy. Is this a scam? he wondered. Is the investment plan a trap?
He had barely taken two sips of the tea when the doors slid open. A woman with long, teal hair and fox ears walked in, her white-clad legs moving with an elegant grace. Behind her, a fluffy tail swayed with measured rhythm.
Julian nearly choked on his tea as he stood up. "Madam... Madam Yukong!"
In the game, players interacted with the Head of the Sky-Faring Commission as equals because they were famous Trailblazers. In reality, she was a galactic-level official. For a clerk from the archives, meeting her was like a commoner suddenly being granted an audience with a queen.
"No need for such formality," Yukong said with a disarming smile, gesturing for him to sit. "I heard a young man from the Divination Commission brought us a game proposal. Do you have the documentation?"
Julian cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "I... I mainly came to gather details on the requirements. I wasn't sure if my project qualified."
"Is it intended for a galaxy-wide release?" Yukong asked, her sharp eyes fixed on him.
"That was the original plan," Julian replied, gaining confidence. "But due to technical costs, my partner and I decided to start with a localized version to build capital before expanding to the stars."
Yukong's eyes brightened. "Tell me more. Show me what you have."
Julian didn't hold back. He transmitted the modernized proposal via his Jade Abacus and projected the remastered animation clips Silver Wolf had helped him touch up. He explained the "Lite" strategy—how the anime would build the emotional bond, and the game would provide the interactive outlet.
Yukong watched the footage of the boy and the Pikachu. She watched the fluid, high-octane battle sequences Julian had envisioned for the final version. She was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
She wasn't a gamer, but she was a stateswoman. She understood the power of cultural export. She turned to the secretary standing by the door.
"Summon Tingyun and Yanming," Yukong commanded. "I want our best trade specialists to vet this immediately."