Chapter 164: Is This How You Do An Advertisement?
“Feels like none of them look good.”
Because he needed to design a co-branded keyboard, Yu Wei had to create an art signature for printing on the keycaps.
Yu Wei had signed for fans a few times before, but he always just wrote it stroke by stroke without any special design.
This writing style was fine for everyday use, but printing it on a product felt somewhat out of place.
The key issue was that it wasn’t aesthetically pleasing…
The designer the company assigned to him wasn’t great, so he couldn’t be blamed for being picky; mainly, the character for “Wei” has many strokes, and the designs always ended up looking bloated.
In the end, Yu Wei simply had AI design one for him, and the result unexpectedly looked pretty good, better than the company’s choice.
After making some improvements to the AI version, Yu Wei’s art signature was finally settled.
After receiving the signature, Ling Yue Company quickly started on the sample design. The keyboard’s aesthetics were crucial, and the signature needed to be placed appropriately; sticking it on haphazardly would only ruin the overall feel.
While waiting for the advertisement filming these past few days, Yu Wei wrote out chapters seven and eight of Malice in one go, leaving only the ending in the final chapter.
Chapters seven and eight were the “truth chapter” before the ending, where the detective dismantles all of Yenoyaguchi Shu’s lies; the ghostwriting and affair were both fabrications.
The real motive was Yenoyaguchi’s jealousy of Higa’s talent and personality, as well as his hatred for his own cowardly life.
The plot’s development was unexpected; readers binge-read it satisfyingly, but right at the critical moment before the ending, Yu Wei stopped updating…
Keeping people hanging like this, huh?
Stopping right when it’s getting good—Yu Wei really knows edging.
In the novel’s book friend circle, everyone started intensely discussing the ending, of course including plenty of “interrogation” of Yu Wei.
“Little Rebellion: Has anyone noticed that in the first eight chapters of the novel, Yu Wei used dual-perspective narrative—first Yenoyaguchi Shu’s notes, then Detective Kahe Kyoichiro’s investigation records.
This structure made us involuntarily believe Yenoyaguchi Shu’s initial account.
I completely bought into Yenoyaguchi Shu’s words at first, thinking Higa was a despicable scoundrel who not only poisoned the neighbor’s cat but plagiarized his friend’s work and even drove his wife to suicide. But when Kahe started doubting in chapter seven, I realized we might have been tricked.
Damn, Yu Wei really mastered the narrative trick, and played it dirty…”
For suspense authors, being called a “sly old fox” is actually praise; Yu Wei gladly accepted it—that was exactly the effect he wanted.
There were plenty of readers who saw through the trick from the start, but they still gave the book high evaluation because Malice offered a great reading experience with lots of foreshadowing.
“LOVE. Lin Yi: Yu Wei planted so much foreshadowing, like Yenoyaguchi deliberately emphasizing the cat-killing detail, subtly implanting the impression that ‘Higa is a cruel person.’
Kahe noticed Yenoyaguchi said Higa smoked when they met, but Higa had a smoking habit while writing, yet there was only one cigarette butt in the ashtray.
This tiny timeline flaw was actually Yu Wei’s key foreshadowing.
And those seemingly casual details: apron, travel application form, photos…
When did Yu Wei get so detail-oriented? He used to even mistype the protagonist’s name.”
Slander, pure slander.
For web novel authors, that can’t be called a mistake—it’s a momentary slip unnoticed; sure, careless, but he can be detailed when needed.
Netizens these days are too smart; even without the ending, they’ve guessed most of it, just missing the final story thread wrap-up.
As for the last chapter, Yu Wei planned to write it on the day of the advertisement filming.
Ling Yue said it would be best to write something during the ad shoot, so there’d be discussion both on-site and off-site.
This decision was undoubtedly very smart; keyboard ads differ from other products—you can’t just pose for a few shots.
Nothing is more convincing than on-site trial use; Yu Wei personally writing something with the new keyboard would be more effective than any slogan.
Yu Wei uses it and says it’s great!
Posing coolly with a keyboard is too abstract; practicality is king.
Yu Wei conveniently saved the finale for that day, and he could promote Malice through the ad too—a win-win.
That’s what he thought, but readers were really getting impatient; stopping a suspense novel at the final chapter—who could stand that?
This book might be mediocre in that immortal fight era, but today, it’s without a doubt fine bran.
These years, not just web novels—physical book quality has dropped sharply too; good books are hard to come by.
A one-day hiatus is tolerable, but on the second day with still no ending, everyone was really getting antsy.
Yu Wei’s Why Does the Star Care So Much About Ratings? was still updating normally, so clearly nothing had happened to him.
Upon asking around, he hadn’t even participated in the Music Blind Box recording—nothing was wrong, yet he wouldn’t update; what could be more important than the novel’s ending?
Time to properly train him!
Especially seeing Yu Wei’s entertainment novel still updating diligently, they got even angrier: won’t write the good book, but persists in fabricating history, huh?
Thus, the entertainment novel’s new chapter comment section turned into a massive urge to update site—all novels, you can’t favor one over the other!
Isn’t Malice your own child?
Actually, no…
“Can’t see Malice’s finale, feels like ants crawling all over me—update one more chapter, bro, really just one; I swear I won’t touch this stuff again. Can’t sleep tossing and turning now.”
“Entertainment novel can take a two-day break; finish the suspense one first, okay?”
“State any demands boldly; I’ll pledge alliance, just update quick, okay?”
“You’re posting new suspense novel previews next door, but won’t finish the old one—I’m really gonna come at you.”
Malice was already high quality, plus his popularity boost, so it had plenty of readers; the urge to update momentum was huge once stirred.
What Yu Wei didn’t expect was even several acquaintances subtly urging updates; Shen Yutong jumped in with her plot guess, basically spot-on with the ending.
After all, the title is Malice—what the novel truly expresses is obvious to anyone perceptive; associating around human nature’s malice, the ending isn’t hard to guess.
Yu Wei couldn’t spoil it for her, just said they’d know tomorrow.
The second to urge was Qi Yuan, as one of Yu Wei’s most veteran readers, he naturally wouldn’t miss this work.
“British philosopher Frances said: One allows strangers to succeed, but absolutely can’t tolerate those close rising; I can somewhat understand Yenoyaguchi’s mindset.”
Malice protagonist Yenoyaguchi’s pathological jealousy—Qi Yuan had felt it too; though not that extreme, he once couldn’t accept seeing Yu Wei suddenly rise.
He eagerly awaited this ending, like watching his own bad ending…
“Tomorrow, tomorrow.”
Urged by so many, even as a salted fish, Yu Wei couldn’t sit still; tomorrow during the ad shoot, he really had to write the ending, or he’d get death threat blades.
The ad filming day was set for the first day of early autumn; Yu Wei specially brought his laptop to the shoot location.
The studio had sets with strong sci-fi and artistic vibes, arranged into three scenes: late-night writing, daytime office work, and gaming battles.
Though Yu Wei’s main use for keyboards was typing, Ling Yue couldn’t ignore game player audience; the ad had to include some of that.
Ling Yue even specially revised the slogan for this endorsement: “Ling Yue, lighting up every inspiration moment for you.”
Lighting up inspiration—they clearly tailored it around Yu Wei’s novel writing, emotional intelligence maxed.
Though the results were unknown, their sincerity was undeniable; Yu Wei naturally couldn’t waste their effort.
After shooting a few static posters, the staff let Yu Wei freestyle while they noted from the side.
“Got it.”
Without a word, Yu Wei picked up the new keyboard with his signature printed on it and started writing.
The light-colored signature pattern was very artistic; the stroke of “Yu” cleverly connected to the vertical heart radical of “Wei,” forming a continuous visual link—looked great without overpowering.
He typed two lines and discovered a little Easter egg: long-pressing “Y” or “W” key made his signature light up.
How wild is that? Nothing to say—just endorse properly.
Seeing Yu Wei focused on writing, the nearby photographer quickly snapped shots—professionalism shines.
Yu Wei’s fingers flying looked way more real than posed stars; hearing the crisp clatter of their own product, several staff nearly teared up…
It felt like a swordsmith finally finding a hero worthy of his precious sword—only he wouldn’t tarnish the equipment’s reputation!
Machine soul delighted.
But as they filmed, they soon sensed something off—wasn’t it supposed to be a quick recording and done? Why was he still writing?
He wasn’t really planning to write a whole chapter here!
Several staff instinctively wanted to call stop, but the director halted them; he didn’t see it as unnecessary—quite the opposite, he keenly spotted a new opportunity.
For a precious sword, what sparring in the arena beats real battlefield combat?
Release the full process of Yu Wei writing unedited—that’s the most authentic ad!
Ideals are plump, but after watching Yu Wei write for two hours, they went a bit numb…
“Sister Liu, does he usually take this long to write?”
The advertising creative director pulled Liu Ning aside and politely asked about the situation.
He’d thought a one-plus-hour ad would have huge impact, but two hours in, Yu Wei still wasn’t done.
“Not usually this long.”
Liu Ning knew Yu Wei’s habits somewhat; he wasn’t fast, but an entertainment novel chapter didn’t take this long.
Looked like he was writing Malice—that book was about 12,000 words per chapter.
“How much?”
The creative director was stunned—over 10,000 words? That’d take at least four hours…
Whose ad is this long?
“Maybe he feels your cooperation is sincere, so he’s taking it seriously.”
Liu Ning naturally had to speak up for her own artist now, though she was a bit numb inside too.
Who’s advertising like this—came to write a novel on paid time?
“Very honored, very honored.”
With them saying that, Ling Yue Company had nothing to add; the more serious Yu Wei, the better the ad effect.
Good for their product, just meant forced overtime today…
“Mr. Yu Wei is not only an influential star but a true spokesperson who understands and loves the product.”
Just seems to love it a bit too much.
When you one-update, tiny flaws get magnified, green writing gets criticized.
When you two-update, slight patience emerges, plot progress gets focus.
When you three-update, faint praise starts sounding, dead subscriptions drop.
When you five-update, reader defense forms spontaneously, praise grows louder.
When you ten-update, great scholars’ scripture debates deafen, tolerant attitudes permeate.
When you twenty-update, bookworms’ memories include you.
Even in long life, your name leaves a shining mark.
Updating may not solve all problems, but over 90% stem from insufficient updates.
So at this point, still slacking off without updating—fair to everyone?
