127: Chapter 127 A Call from the Galaxy, Platinum?

Everyone present couldn't help but look at Chen Fan, who was sitting in the main seat.

Being able to achieve all this had a lot to do with this young boss.

The game's mechanics were set by him, the art style was decided by him, and even details like the monetization model and the pacing of the levels were mostly his suggestions.

What they did was simple to describe—they just took what was in the boss's mind and brought it to life with code and art.

After hearing the data, a flash of excitement crossed Chen Fan's eyes.

Over 15 million.

To be honest, he hadn't expected his first game to achieve such results.

In his previous life, "defend the carrot" had indeed been popular, but that was back in 2012, and the market environment and channel policies were completely different.

Copying it over, he actually didn't feel confident—what if it didn't adapt well to the new environment? What if the players didn't like it?

Now that the data was right in front of him, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

However, this excitement only lasted a few seconds. Chen Fan quickly composed himself and picked up his water cup to take a sip.

"Mr. Chen, there is one more thing." Zhang Tao flipped through the documents in his hands, his expression becoming slightly subtle. "There are already imitators of our game on the market."

"So soon?" Chen Fan put down his water cup.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about the game being plagiarized once it became popular, but this speed still exceeded his expectations.

"Have you played it? How does it compare to our game?"

"I have. It's called 'defend the cucumber'." Zhang Tao stifled a laugh. "The gameplay and art style are very close to ours; they just reskinned it. The download numbers are far behind ours, but it's truly disgusting."

Hearing this name, Chen Fan almost laughed in anger.

What the hell, which company is this? They have no shame. If you're going to copy, just copy; why go out of your way to pick a similar name, as if you're afraid people won't know you're riding on our coattails?

"For this kind of plagiarism, is there any way to sue?"

Zhang Tao shook his head. "It's difficult. Game mechanics aren't protected by copyright law, their art assets were redrawn, and the code was written by themselves, so the chances of winning a lawsuit are slim. Plus, even if we won, the compensation wouldn't cover the lawyer fees and time costs."

Chen Fan rubbed his temples.

If he couldn't win a lawsuit, was he just going to let them copy him like this?

If he just ignored it, he wouldn't feel comfortable.

"How about this." He looked at Wang Jing, who was in charge of operations. "Hire some internet trolls to post and expose them on major gaming forums and Tieba. Put up comparison pictures, let the players see which one is the original and which one is the knockoff. While you're at it, promote our game and include the download link."

"Alright, Mr. Chen."

To be honest, Chen Fan didn't have high expectations for the effect of the posts. Things like internet trolls steering the narrative could, at best, annoy the other party and maybe drum up some traffic for his own game, but it treated the symptoms, not the root cause.

But since it was something he could do easily, it was better to do it than not.

...

Returning to his office, Chen Fan had just rested for a while when the office door was pushed open and Qiao Linlin walked in.

"Boss, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Now that the staff has increased, we don't have enough office space."

Not enough office space. Hearing this news, Chen Fan instinctively rubbed his chin.

When he first rented this office, he hadn't even imagined the company would develop so quickly.

Two hundred square meters was more than enough for a dozen people; he even thought he had rented a space that was too big.

Yet, how long had it been? The company already had over twenty people.

The office, which used to be quite spacious, was already getting crowded.

Once "happy elimination" goes live, they would need to hire another batch of people, and by then, there wouldn't even be room to stand.

"It looks like we need to change offices." He leaned back in his chair and looked at Qiao Linlin. "What size do you think would be appropriate?"

"Five hundred square meters should be about right. It can accommodate around a hundred people, and it's enough to split into several departments."

Chen Fan didn't answer immediately; he went over the numbers in his head.

Five hundred square meters, at current rental rates, would be about thirty or forty thousand a month.

It didn't sound like much, but at the rate the company was growing, five hundred square meters probably wouldn't last long.

If they had to move again later, the cost aside, it would just be a hassle.

"Are there any empty offices next to us?"

"There's only one left on this floor, but it's not next to us."

"In that case—" Chen Fan thought for a moment. "Go ask the building management if there's a whole floor available. Let's just rent an entire floor."

Qiao Linlin was stunned. "Rent an entire floor?"

"Yeah." Chen Fan nodded. "Do it all at once to save us from running out of space again in a few months. Even if a part of it sits empty for a while, it doesn't matter."

"Alright, Boss, I'll go ask right now."

Qiao Linlin turned to leave but suddenly stopped. "By the way, what if the building doesn't have an empty floor?"

"Ask around the surrounding office buildings too." Chen Fan paused. "Prioritize closer ones so it's convenient for everyone to get to work."

"Understood."

Qiao Linlin walked quickly out of the office and closed the door behind her.

Chen Fan leaned back in his chair and glanced at the office buildings outside the window.

When he first rented two hundred square meters, he thought it was already big enough.

Now, it was the opposite; the employees were running out of seats, and he had to take the initiative to find a larger place.

When a company grows too fast, sometimes it's a happy problem.

...

It was past two in the afternoon. Chen Fan was lying on his office chair resting with his eyes closed when his phone on the desk suddenly vibrated.

He picked it up to look, and a flash of surprise crossed his eyes. It was actually a call from Xinghe, his editor at Qidian, whom he hadn't been in contact with for a long time.

He didn't know what he was calling for; could he be urging him to start a new book?

With this question in mind, Chen Fan answered the phone.

"Hello, Pen name."

"Xinghe, is something the matter?"

"The Qidian Platinum list for this year is out, and you are definitely on it. The Platinum contract is ready. When would be a convenient time for you to sign?"

Chen Fan was stunned for a moment. He hadn't received any news before, so he thought he hadn't made the Platinum list this year.

He hadn't expected Qidian to promote him to Platinum after all.

However, Chen Fan wasn't in a rush to sign; he had to look over the contract first.

"Send the contract to me, and I'll take a look first."

"Alright, I'll send it to your email. Please keep an eye out for it."

After hanging up, Chen Fan turned on his computer, logged into his QQ email, found the email sent by Xinghe, and clicked to download the attachment.

Opening the contract, he began to examine it carefully.

Five minutes later, Chen Fan frowned.

Compared to a normal author's contract, this contract didn't have much difference in terms of revenue sharing.

But it had significant advantages in other resources: advance creative funds, site-wide promotional resources, a higher base manuscript fee, monthly ticket bonuses, and so on.

For an ordinary author, these were indeed dream conditions.

But Chen Fan's gaze landed on another clause—copyright ownership.

The contract stated it clearly: all works created during the Platinum contract period would have their copyrights owned entirely by Qidian, with no relation to the author themselves.

This meant that in the future, whether it was film and television rights or game rights, even if they sold for 100 million, the author wouldn't see a single cent of it.

This was something Chen Fan could not tolerate.

He knew that over a decade later, the income composition of top authors would only have a small portion from manuscript fees; the real bulk would be from copyright.

How could he possibly give away his copyrights?