Chapter 42: The Makeshift Troupe

After a few days of hurried adjustment, Legendary Entertainment finally found its rhythm. They had recruited over a dozen programmers, artists, testers, and an outsourced localization team in the country. Together with the five core members brought by Dongyi, the development team had at last managed to gel. Although the company was barely more than twenty people, it had all the essential functions of a larger enterprise.

Gu Cheng set a target for everyone: within two weeks, they needed to deliver a stable, closed-beta-ready version of "Legend." The timeline was extremely tight. According to Cherry, when WEMADE sold all the code for "Legend" to Gu Cheng, there was still at least another month or two of programming and testing left. Now, forced into a two-week sprint, overtime was inevitable.

It was clearly unrealistic to expect the Dongyi employees to pick up Chinese overnight, so for the time being, Gu Cheng personally chaired every project meeting. At this point, he was the only one in the company fluent in both Chinese and Dongyi, and knowledgeable in both technology and planning—able to manage everyone's needs and objections.

Fortunately, programming languages are universal, which saved them a lot of collaboration headaches.

In September, the autumn heat still scorched Qiantang. The company hadn’t had time to install split air-conditioners—which would require a renovation crew to punch holes in the walls, lay copper piping, and vacuum-seal everything—so they made do with two window units for the time being.

As for the apartment serving as the staff dormitory, the bedrooms were unbearably stuffy, so it was put out of use for now. Every night after work, the five Dongyi employees would roll out bedding in the air-conditioned living room and sleep on the floor.

Gu Cheng worked late alongside everyone, sharing in their hardships. He felt it wasn’t proper for the women to sleep alongside the men, so he bought several folding screens from the furniture market to provide some semblance of privacy.

Only when mid-September brought cooler nights, and electric fans sufficed for comfort, did the women return to sleep in their rooms.

Conditions were tough, but seeing the boss himself working and suffering alongside them kept morale afloat.

Sometimes even Pan Jieying, after running around to secure loans and returning to the company, couldn’t help but pity them when she saw the bustling scene, and tried to persuade Gu Cheng to slow down.

Gu Cheng, who usually listened to his elder sister, stood firm on this point.

“Jie, it’s not that I’m pushing so hard. After the internet bubble burst, those with foresight will soon realize that online gaming is the best sector to be in during a downturn. There will soon be other internet companies switching tracks to compete with us.

“For example, I’ve heard that in Shanghai, there’s a company called Shenda Networks, run by a man named Chen Tianqiao. He’s already flown to Seoul looking for online games to partner with. If they get their hands on a good product and fill the gap in the RTS-style MMORPG market before us, we’ll have a much harder time.”

Of course, Gu Cheng’s so-called “information” had no real source—it was all his own speculation about Chen Tianqiao.

Even though Gu Cheng had bought “Legend,” Chen Tianqiao’s strategic vision remained. If he couldn’t buy “Legend,” he might pick up a similar product. Gu Cheng couldn’t afford to be careless.

The randomness of the internet world had already proven that there was no shortage of smart people out there. It’s just that luck only favors one in ten, and the other nine are left forgotten by history.

If Chen Tianqiao falls, another will surely rise in his place. The wildfires may burn, but with the spring breeze, the grass grows anew.

Legendary Entertainment still did a good job with staff welfare, hiring a dedicated cook to provide three meals a day. Breakfast, late-night snacks, fruits, and drinks were all covered by the company via group takeout orders. Overtime was generously compensated.

Plus, the official owner, Pan Jieying, was a beautiful young woman, and there were a few more attractive women in planning and art. The programmers genuinely felt motivated in a way that other internet companies could never match, working with the intensity of someone injected with adrenaline.

As for stock incentives, Gu Cheng was far too smart to bring that up directly: for now, real overtime pay and project bonuses worked far better than any options.

After the recent crash, everyone preferred real, tangible rewards over the empty promises of stock options.

This was also why Gu Cheng waited for the bubble to burst before registering the company in China—before the valuation ballooned into the billions, no outsiders would covet their shares, and the siblings would retain full control.

...

That day, it was already September 20th—exactly two weeks since Gu Cheng returned to China.

At last, the porting of “Legend” had cleared all major hurdles and was up and running.

At the end of the workday, Gu Cheng made a public announcement:

“Starting tomorrow, ‘Legend’ officially enters closed beta testing! Thank you all for your hard work—every project member will receive a bonus equal to one month’s salary! Let’s keep up the momentum: we aim for internal testing before National Day, open beta in November, and paid operations by New Year’s Day. The company will not let you down!”

He then took his sleep-deprived colleagues out for a lavish meal and popped a few bottles of champagne. Afterwards, the company treated everyone to a spa and massage at Eastern Venice.

Gu Cheng’s approach was truly heartwarming.

After all, most internet company bosses at the time thought winning loyalty meant drinking skewers and talking life philosophy at a roadside stall.

Inviting the entire development team for a spa and massage (without any unsavory services) was clearly a step above.

After their bath and a late-night snack, all the local staff went home for a well-deserved rest, with the next day off.

The Dongyi staff, who lived in the dorms, had nowhere else to go, so they took a cab back to the company.

Cherry shared a room with two other Dongyi women. Perhaps it was the drinks at dinner, but the three young women chattered away long after they returned, still wound up despite their fatigue.

The scriptwriter hugged her pillow with a sigh, “I never expected a Chinese boss to be so approachable—so much better than the strict hierarchy at WEMADE. When I saw how hard he was pushing us to work overtime, I almost wanted to go home.”

The artist agreed with a sigh, “Yeah, but inviting employees for a sauna and massage is pretty unusual, especially including the women. At first, I was worried the boss was up to no good.”

The scriptwriter rolled her eyes in disdain, “With your looks? Even if the boss wanted to ‘cast a couch,’ you’d be lucky. Cherry is prettier and more loyal, and she hasn’t gotten a turn.”

As a scriptwriter, her job was to make the game’s story as engaging as possible, so she’d long stopped worrying about propriety—her words were sharp as ever.

Even Cherry, caught in the crossfire, blushed and spat, “Jin, cut it out!”

“Oh really? Who was it in Seoul who talked up the boss’s company like it was heaven on earth and lured us all over? If you weren’t taken with the boss’s ‘personal charm,’ I wouldn’t believe it for a second.”

Put on the spot, Cherry was at a loss, but luckily a knock at the door interrupted their banter.

It was Gu Cheng, knocking politely from the living room. “Are you asleep?” he asked.

The other two women immediately perked up, gesturing for Cherry to answer.

Cherry replied nervously, “Not yet, but we’re about to sleep.”

Gu Cheng, ever the gentleman, said through the door, “It’s not convenient for me to come in. Cherry, please come to my office.”

With that, he left.

“Wow! Maybe the boss had too much to drink and wants a little heart-to-heart. Go on, go on!”

“You gossips, stop it!”

Face flushed, Cherry left the dorm and headed next door to the office. She returned ten minutes later, her face even redder, and her eyes rimmed with pink.

“Cherry, did you just sacrifice yourself?”

“No way, could the boss be that quick?”

“Shut up, you heartless idiots—here, this is a present from the boss for everyone.” Cherry’s expression turned serious as she handed them each a glasses case with their names on it, putting an end to their teasing.

The women examined the cases. “What’s this…?”

Cherry announced with pride, “Three days ago, I worked overnight and my contacts dried out—I had to use half a bottle of eye drops to get them out, and the boss noticed. So, based on our pre-employment health checks, he got everyone prescription glasses. He said from now on, when working late, we’re to wear glasses instead of contacts!”

“So he just wanted to give you a little gift… You blushed so much I thought—”

“Jin, that’s enough. Cherry is just grateful for a boss who appreciates her—you wouldn’t understand~”

The little farce finally settled down.

...

Gu Cheng was quite satisfied with the effect of his small gesture. After returning to his office and reviewing some documents, he prepared to unfold his cot for sleep.

Just as he finished tidying up, he heard the elevator stop outside the glass door. Curious, he glanced over.

While the building was nominally mixed-use, almost everyone used their units for business—few actually lived there. So, late at night, the halls were usually deserted.

“Could it be a thief?” Gu Cheng wondered, rising to check.

A few seconds later, he heard the sound of leather shoes approaching—the visitor made no effort to hide his presence.

A short, monkey-faced man with striking features appeared at the glass door of Legendary Entertainment and peered inside.

Gu Cheng couldn’t help stepping out and challenging, “Hey, what are you doing?”

The man, caught in the act, remained unfazed and smiled ingratiatingly. “I’m from one of the upstairs companies, just passing by and got curious—are you making online games?”

“Yes…” Gu Cheng sized him up, seeing no harm in telling the truth.

“That makes us half colleagues, then. We’re an internet company too—doing e-commerce. You’re new here, right? Before you moved in, no one else ever worked later than us.”

Sensing no ill intent, only a businessman looking to make connections, Gu Cheng unlocked the door and let him in.

Once seated, the visitor glanced around amiably and offered his business card with both hands. “Here’s my card.”

By business etiquette, Gu Cheng ought to accept it with both hands, but he was brewing tea at the moment and took it with one hand, setting it aside.

It was only after the tea was ready that he glanced at the card.

“Ma Feng, CEO of Alibaba.”

Gu Cheng’s hand trembled—thankfully, the card was light and didn’t fall. Had he seen the name five seconds earlier, he would have shattered the teacup. Five seconds later, and he’d have spewed his tea everywhere.