Chapter 101: The Fundamentals

Game promotion is also the primary source of business collaborations for gaming content creators, so Bai Renzong planned to test his promotional ability through this mod.

Previously, when he made a review video for "Apocalypse Survivor," his promotional power had already shown its potential. One of his videos alone helped the game sell over ten thousand copies, forcing the game publisher to hastily add a new server cluster for the Chinese server players.

Unfortunately, the publisher still has no idea why their sales suddenly soared, and Bai Renzong never received any payment for the promotion.

Next, he intended to conduct an experiment using this mod to gauge his "game promotion" ability.

Since the base game's sales are influenced by the game's quality and platform recommendations among other factors, they cannot fully serve as data reflecting Bai Renzong’s promotional skills.

However, this mod was different.

It was newly created and, unlike a full game, it wouldn’t receive platform recommendations, spreading solely through player networks.

Therefore, Bai Renzong produced a review video about this mod to see how many people would subscribe to it afterward. The data collected would provide the clearest and most direct demonstration of his promotional power.

With these numbers, he could negotiate prices with game developers.

The next day, since he had to visit a store in the evening, Bai Renzong spent the daytime challenging achievement tasks within the app.

Today’s challenge came from the "Film Appreciation" category, featuring a movie that had just been released a few months ago, "Fortress SH."

At first, Bai Renzong felt a bit dismissive when he saw the challenge: It’s just a movie—how bad could it be without being watchable?

But after watching it, he realized how naive he had been.

“I declare the challenge failed,” Bai Renzong said with a faint smile, then slapped his computer screen. “What trash! It’s an insult to my intelligence! This movie has a 2.9 rating? Out of a hundred?”

Fuming, he closed the movie and then posted his game review for "Apocalypse Scavenger," before heading over to Yijiaxuan for lunch.

“Remember, there’s a business collaboration tonight,” Bai Renzong reminded as he paid the bill.

“Got it!” Han Jiayi nodded cheerfully. “I’ll get ready as soon as I get off work.”

“You…” Bai Renzong glanced at her with mild concern. “Are you sure? Won’t this be too tiring?”

“No problem,” Han Jiayi smiled, then asked curiously, “Are you worried about me?”

“Tsk…” Bai Renzong frowned and glared at her. “Isn’t that a rhetorical question? Straight woman.”

Bai Renzong decided not to respond and turned to leave. “See you tonight.”

“You could just say ‘yes’… such a straight man!” Han Jiayi shot a sharp look at his back before turning back to her tasks.

After work that evening, Han Jiayi quickly freshened up, and the three of them headed to the venue for the business collaboration.

The restaurant was named "Licorne," which means "Unicorn" in French, and its decor was quiet and elegant.

The original Licorne was located in Nanhua City, a Western-style restaurant with an average meal price of 1,200 yuan per person. The head chef, Laurent Bichard, had once served as sous-chef at a three-Michelin-star restaurant in France.

Though Michelin stars don't cover Chinese cuisine, their standards for Western food are extremely rigorous, especially in France, where earning three stars is exceptionally difficult.

Tonight’s collaboration involved tasting a specified set menu, with the only requirement being honest feedback.

Even in Beichang City, a second-tier city, this restaurant's average price was over 800 yuan, placing it on par with Lanwa House. Whether the food matched Yang Hua’s level, however, was unknown.

Soon, the appetizer arrived: whole egg stuffed salmon.

Like stuffed tofu or stuffed peppers, the “stuffed” here meant filled. Half a boiled egg had its yolk replaced with salmon meat, with the remaining liquid yolk visible underneath—clearly a soft-boiled egg.

Wang Bei nodded to indicate they could begin, and Bai Renzong gave a brief introduction with Han Jiayi by his side.

“Good evening, viewers. I’m Lao Bai. Tonight, Han Mu—” Bai Renzong quickly corrected himself under Han Jiayi’s fierce glare, “...Han Jiayi and I have come to a restaurant called ‘Licorne.’ This is a branch of the Nanhua City original, whose head chef Laurent Bichard previously served as sous-chef at a three-Michelin-star French restaurant…”

After the brief introduction, Bai Renzong turned to Han Jiayi. “Shall we taste it?”

Han Jiayi smiled softly and nodded, and together they sampled the dish.

The soft-boiled egg was perfectly cooked: tender, springy whites and yolk mixed into the salmon flakes, preventing dryness. The salmon was simply seasoned with black pepper and a dash of lemon juice, but the dark green granules sprinkled on top were crucial.

“This seaweed salt is used expertly,” Bai Renzong mused, resting his chin on his hand. “It enhances the salmon’s flavor.”

Next came the classic French onion soup: caramelized onions sautéed with thyme, mixed into beef broth, then flambéed with brandy. After seasoning, topped with bread slices, it was ready.

“The combination of bay leaf and white pepper works well,” Bai Renzong said briefly, signaling for the side dishes.

The side dishes were the French-style baked escargot and the main course, pan-seared foie gras. Bai Renzong’s comments were succinct.

Not because he couldn’t detect their nuances, but because the essence was straightforward.

“This entire set menu…” Bai Renzong frowned, “how to put it? Simple and direct. Seasoned and cooked using classic French techniques, no frills—just pure harmony of flavors and textures. If I had to say, it’s a display of rock-solid fundamentals.”

He then turned to the waiter: “This was prepared by the head chef from the original store, right? Such skilled craftsmanship can only be achieved by someone with decades of experience in French cuisine. Honestly, there’s little to critique here—commenting on this set is essentially commenting on ‘French cuisine’ itself.”

After the waiter left, a lean, fifty-something white man with a thinning crown emerged from the back—presumably Laurent Bichard, the head chef.

He looked visibly impatient, speaking rapidly in French to a woman dressed in office attire beside him, pointing at the dishes on the table.

“Our chef asks: from a local’s perspective, is this set menu acceptable?” the woman asked with a smile.

“Of course, why?” Bai Renzong answered, puzzled.

The woman translated his response to Laurent, who covered his forehead and frowned, muttering something that she didn’t translate.

“He says his French cuisine is absolutely perfect. So why don’t the locals come here to eat? People in Nanhua City love it…” Han Jiayi quietly translated for Bai Renzong.

“That’s quite arrogant…” Bai Renzong frowned, “Sounds like he’s passing the blame.”

Both the chef’s attitude and his confidence in “classic French cuisine” came off as somewhat... arrogant.

“French cuisine is flawless?” Bai Renzong sneered to himself. “Well, today I’ll be reviewing the decades of sous-chef experience behind this ‘French cuisine.’”

(Thanks for the two monthly votes from Kanzhuku, and thanks to Demon Lord Jin Xuan, Flowing Years Like Water Finger Sand, Endless Life Holy War, and Rampaging Flathead Brother for their monthly votes.)