[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo":3,"chapter-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-976":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Becoming a Goddess in Tokyo",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2339960,4573,"Chapter 976: Where Would I Find the Time?","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-976",976,"\u003Cp>“But…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan said so much, but all of it before was nonsense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I don’t have the time,” Luo Quan counted out her pale, slender fingers, looking into the camera. “I’m about to release a new album, shoot a new movie, occasionally film commercials, and plan a new game—plus I need to rest. Figure out how much time’s left.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She yawned lazily: “Even though I shoot movies fast, I can’t just drop everything and start. Especially sci-fi films take far longer to produce due to special effects. So if you’re hoping to see me make a good sci-fi movie anytime soon, it’s nearly impossible.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This speech doused the fans’ high expectations with a bucket of cold water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though it hurt to hear, it was the truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But to keep her fans from being too disheartened, Luo Quan paused and promised: “Still, don’t lose heart—sci-fi films have always been something I wanted to make, and I’ll definitely deliver one next year or the year after.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether it can save Chinese-language sci-fi cinema? That’s beyond our control. Maybe another domestic sci-fi film will emerge during that time, making my intervention unnecessary.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This kind of vague promise wasn’t the first time Luo Quan had made it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the promises Luo Quan made differed from others’—others issued empty checks freely, and few ever cashed them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan never made promises lightly, but once spoken, she always kept them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For example, she once joked that if fans crowdfunded her one hundred million U.S. dollars, she’d shoot a swimsuit photo book for them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She never actually expected such an impossible goal to be reached, but netizens actually raised the full amount—so she kept her word and immediately flew to the Maldives to shoot a swimsuit photo book that made people go wild.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the time, just after her debut, her online reputation wasn’t nearly as good as now; many were watching her, waiting for her to slip up so they could crush her in one blow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shooting a swimsuit photo book was extremely risky—it could easily label her as “unserious,” devastating her reputation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Luo Quan didn’t overthink it; she simply believed a person must keep their word, so even knowing it would spark controversy, she went ahead and shot it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And not only did she shoot it, she shot it extremely well, fully satisfying her fans’ demands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From then on, she learned a lesson: never casually make promises or set flags.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since she’d now made this promise to her fans, she naturally wouldn’t go back on her word—everyone just needed to wait patiently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two years at most—that’s the normal production cycle for a sci-fi epic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“By the way, you just mentioned a new game?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A fan quickly noticed this detail—Luo Quan had mentioned during her list of pending projects that a game was in development.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since Overwatch and Resident Evil were released, Blizzard has been silent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though both online games continue updating, for many gamers suffering from video game impotence, playing the same game for too long easily breeds boredom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And once this symptom appears, interest in other games quickly fades too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The most direct sign is when you buy a new game, excitedly downloading and installing it with high anticipation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the moment you open it and enter the tutorial, all interest vanishes instantly, leaving only emptiness and boredom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Staring at the character on screen, at the keyboard and mouse outside, you wonder: what’s the point of playing? Where’s the motivation?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually you shut it down and start searching for the next game that might spark interest, repeating the cycle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many people have experienced this video game impotence, but because there are so many games on the market, it rarely lasts long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Blizzard fans have now been spoiled—their tastes are refined, and ordinary games no longer appeal to them; theoretically, they’re even more prone to this condition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So hearing Luo Quan say she’s making a new game, they were wildly excited, flooding her with questions about its genre and scale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan considered what she could reveal and said: “It’s a multi-platform game playable on PC, PS, and mobile, with an anime art style, focused on open-world exploration and gacha mechanics.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She was still honest, directly putting the gacha mechanic on the table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fans reacted strongly to this element:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Gacha? Luo Bao, you’ve changed—you’re no longer the ethical planner I knew.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t do this! How is this different from those unethical domestic game companies?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course—the dragon slayer always becomes the dragon. Gacha mobile games are the true destiny.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I instantly lost interest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>……………\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Given the damage caused by domestic gacha online games, fans’ resistance was understandable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, most domestic online and mobile games operate on the strategy that paying equals power, greedily draining players’ savings while feeding them nothing but garbage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could people not resent this?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So when they heard Luo Quan was making a gacha mobile game, their first reaction was that she’d fallen from grace—and they immediately protested, urging her not to go down this path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan knew what her fans were thinking and explained: “My new game has no PvP or social features—most of the time, it’s just like a single-player game, you play alone.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The gacha content only unlocks characters and weapons—it enhances your experience and satisfies your xp, but you can still dominate the game without them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Most importantly, the resources needed to pull characters aren’t just bought with money—you can earn them for free through plenty of in-game activities.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So if you manage your resources well and have a bit of luck, even a zero-spender can own many characters.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Lastly, this game doesn’t sell stats or feature leaderboards—you don’t need to pay to keep up with others.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short, if you want to, this game is completely free.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…………\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan said all that just to make it clear to her fans: even though this new game resembles traditional gacha games, you can still play through it without spending a cent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fans rarely heard of such a free game, so their anger gradually calmed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But as everyone knows, the free things are often the most expensive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So while the game claims to be free, it’s likely to be just as costly when you start spending—details will only be clear after the A-test.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The game is still in intense development—you’ll have to wait a while before you can play.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan took a sip of hot water to moisten her throat: “We haven’t even started the A-test yet. After that comes B-test, C-test—earliest you’ll see it is next year. Until then, stick with World of Warcraft and Overwatch.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d drawn another big pie, but this one was meant to be hidden—she’d just accidentally let it slip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The online backlash against Shanghai Fortress continues; netizens are determined to nail it to the shame pole and prevent similar trash films from ever appearing on the big screen again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, anyone who dares speak up for Shanghai Fortress is instantly labeled a troll or a brain-dead fan, then mobbed by netizens.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though this overreaction is somewhat extreme, sometimes extreme environments yield better results.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like R-Hua—many Chinese think a gesture, expression, or appearance isn’t a big deal, not worth making such a fuss, and that it makes Chinese people seem overly sensitive and petty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Luo Quan thinks: if you know we’re sensitive, why do you still touch it? Isn’t that asking for it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And we must be sensitive and petty, so the world knows where China’s red line lies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just like Black people—look at celebrities and big corporations: who dares make Black people perform eating watermelon, picking cotton, or eating fried chicken?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because those things are absolute taboos for Black people—touch them and protests erupt—so no one dares.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now people think Chinese people reacting the same way is just being sensitive and petty—it’s pure double standards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If every Chinese person were this “big-hearted,” foreigners would grow bolder and bolder in mocking China.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So overreaction is necessary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The same applies to the film market—make investors know what audiences taboo: touch it, and we’ll make you pay.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shanghai Fortress and The Ferryman are the best examples—each lost over 500 million yuan; any future similar film will face the same fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If this method can change the Chinese-language film market, then this overreaction and sensitivity is effectively a public service.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While netizens were denouncing Shanghai Fortress, Luo Quan was negotiating a new contract with Chanel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In 2016, shortly after her debut, she signed a five-year global endorsement deal with Chanel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During that time, through her celebrity influence, she brought Chanel massive sales and visibility.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In return, Chanel paid only ten million U.S. dollars per year plus a few outfits—ridiculously cheap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, though her contract with Chanel still has over half a year left, Chanel had to urgently contact her to discuss renewal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why the rush? Because LV reportedly wants her desperately—LV’s CEO even publicly declared he’d offer her an offer she couldn’t refuse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s worth noting the context in which LV’s CEO made that statement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The global economy is declining, stock markets are volatile, and for both financial titans and ordinary investors, gains and losses can happen overnight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Recently, the world’s richest man—the Tesla CEO—due to his aggressive remarks, saw his company’s stock drop and his personal fortune fall, slipping from first to second place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The new number one? The CEO of LV.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Note that LV here doesn’t just mean Louis Vuitton—it’s one brand under the LVMH Group, which also owns Dior, Hennessy, Givenchy, and others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This conglomerate has long held the throne as the world’s top luxury company, and its CEO has always been a regular in the top ten of global wealth rankings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, amid economic downturn, luxury spending has risen, not fallen, with sales hitting record highs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Taking advantage of Tesla’s CEO’s plummeting fortune, LV’s CEO seized the moment to become the world’s richest man—and used it for brilliant marketing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan was both the marketing prop and a primary target.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the world’s hottest star, her four-year impact on Chanel’s brand value has been visible to everyone inside and outside the industry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If LV could sign her, even if it didn’t match Chanel’s gains, it would still secure massive boosts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chanel has monopolized this human billboard for five years—enough. It’s LV’s turn now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So LV’s CEO directly expressed on Twitter his desire to sign Luo Quan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Normally, in business, openly declaring interest in a product is irrational—it invites hoarding and price gouging.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Luo Quan’s value is so high that LV is desperate to secure her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And since she’s famously bad at checking emails, if LV’s offer got lost and she chose Chanel or another luxury brand, LV couldn’t accept that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So LV’s CEO chose to announce early his company’s desire for her, using Twitter to make a big splash so she’d definitely see it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now Luo Quan has seen it—but so have the others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chanel, sensing crisis, immediately contacted Luo Quan to negotiate a new deal, ready to pay a huge sum to keep her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’ve had four years of smooth cooperation; Chanel gave Luo Quan countless advantages, and both sides got what they wanted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Logically, such a harmonious relationship should have led to a seamless renewal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But for Chanel’s annual fifty million U.S. dollar endorsement fee, Luo Quan thought it was too low.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With her current influence, a signing fee exceeding a hundred million is perfectly normal; she was certain LV’s offer wouldn’t be lower than fifty million U.S. dollars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Chanel wasn’t as wealthy as LV; its offer could never be that outrageous, so falling short of her expectations was perfectly normal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Therefore, Luo Quan rejected Chanel’s offer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t that Chanel lacked sincerity—it was that she wanted more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When it came to earning money from luxury brands, she had zero psychological reservations; of course she aimed to earn as much as possible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even when she earned ten million a year, she never slacked off; by her second year, her value had already far exceeded the advertising fee.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So now, demanding better terms was entirely reasonable.\u003C\u002Fp>",2014,"2026-06-20T22:54:06.151Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","17bdfaebc270a9b7cfd58e2147c5dd83088fae1f6559224bd52f9db389368a31","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-977","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-975",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fbecoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-cover.jpg"]