Chapter 63: Third Update

Chapter 63 [Third Update] Sang Yu hit them with a triple denial: 'Those are the boss's dogs, not mine.

And if anyone's a dad of twelve, that title fits someone else way better...' His alt account had nothing to do with it.

Sang Ying got curious: 'Big bro, why'd the boss buy so many dogs anyway?' Sang Yu had no idea.

How would he know?

But he was already running the playbook — brainstorm first, find reasons later.

'You know Aurora Entertainment just launched a new rural-support short drama, right?' 'Oh, I know that one, I've been watching it nonstop!' Sang Ying was hyped.

She wasn't even into short dramas originally, but Aurora Entertainment's promo had reeled her in hard.

The main character's identity as a rural-support influencer on Douyin?

Perfect fit for the format.

Total immersion.

Sang Yu lied through his teeth with a straight face: 'Those dogs might be future internet celebrity dogs for Aurora Entertainment's promo account matrix.' 'Internet celebrity dogs?' Sang Yu nodded like he was dropping insider intel: 'Pet accounts are huge right now, aren't they?

You run a pet shop — you must scroll past them.' Step two: bounce the question back.

That landed.

Sang Ying felt it: 'Okay, fair —!' Pet accounts, personal accounts — both are tough, but pets just need to be cute or unique and the algorithm does the rest.

Some super-smart dogs go viral just by showing off 'I understand human speech' or 'real-time reaction' energy; some coast purely on looks — ugly-cute in a way that's so distinctive you'd recognize them anywhere; some are disabled but hilarious, learning tricks only three legs can pull off; some are just adorable enough to become the mascot that drives foot traffic to their owner's restaurant...

The pet influencer lane is wide open.

Way more room than the human lane.

Sang Ying was building her own social media presence partly to grow her expanding pet shop business.

Mangguo had been running alongside her for a while now — the resident star dog of the shop.

She was already prepping to launch a second one.

'So the boss bought that many dogs because — with more dogs, you can try multiple directions at once?

If one blows up, they can cross-promote each other!?' Sang Yu: '...Yeah.' He hadn't thought of that before, but hey — it worked now.

Sang Ying caught on, then frowned: 'Wait, why are you spoiling this for me?

What if I leak it?' 'Go ahead and leak it.' Sang Ying perked up.

'After you leak it, big bro loses his job, owes damages, your apartment gets seized to cover the debt, your pet shop goes under...' 'Okay!

Okay!' Sang Ying threw up a stop hand.

'I get it, we're tied to the same rope — if you go down, I go down...

I wish you'd never told me!

Keeping secrets is genuinely hard, you know?

I won't — I wouldn't do it on purpose, right?!' Sang Yu: *smiling.jpg* Sang Ying flipped him off.

'Hanging up!' · The call with Sang Ying had been loud and chaotic, but the whole time, the dogs hadn't made a single sound — just sleeping or staring.

The pups were curled up against each other, patches of yellow, white, and black all piled together with the Da Huang Dog mom in one big heap, looking pretty pitiful.

The dad was probably the Black Dog — just a guess.

The Black Dog was pretty handsome, though Sang Yu personally thought a wolf-grey or a Tibetan Mastiff was more impressive-looking.

Da Huang... was actually pretty striking too, he had to admit.

Especially the mom — short coat, long legs, muzzle just the right length.

Probably lean from nursing; her back had this sleek, streamlined look.

Honestly as good-looking as Mangguo — Sang Ying's shop's resident internet celebrity dog.

Sang Yu walked over and reached out.

Then he remembered — you're supposed to let a dog sniff the back of your hand first, let it get used to your scent.

But before he could even pull back, the mom dog proactively dropped her ears and pressed her head up into his hand.

Sang Yu: '...' Huh?

If these dogs had been a little more difficult, or thrown a tantrum, he'd have had a perfectly good excuse to offload them on the spot.

But deep down, Sang Yu was the type who folded for soft and sweet.

He let out a breath.

Sang Yu's registered pet count had gone from 0 to 13 in a single trip to a rural market.

Life really does come at you fast...

Since binding with the Golden Spoon System, this was the first time Sang Yu had encountered something genuinely tricky.

Dogs really are built different — they just keep producing!

Twelve pups in one litter.

That number was terrifying.

He couldn't just dump them at Sang Ying's place — she'd actually kill him.

After going back and forth, Sang Yu landed on: get that dog café at The Zoo up and running, fast.

Or maybe a doggy daycare situation.

The Zoo shoot wouldn't stay in one location forever, so there'd definitely be space for the dogs, but Sang Yu was certain — they could not stay with him permanently.

After filming wrapped, into the dog café they'd go.

Otherwise he was cooked.

Oh right — that internet celebrity dog plan he'd pitched to Sang Ying... that could actually work.

Register a new Weibo account for the whole dog family — one account per dog?

Actually, no — merge them for now.

What to call it? ...

Sang Yu was terrible at naming things.

But he had options.

'Three-Tone Yellow-Black-White Litter,' 'Daily Life of a Family of Thirteen,' 'Single Dog Mom Raising Twelve Kids'...

Ugh.

Awful.

Completely exposed his skill level.

Try again...

With over a dozen dogs, you'd want to develop each one's niche, dig out what makes each one unique — that's how a proper matrix works.

Even if they're all from the same litter, dogs are still individuals, right?

Maybe some could go the looks-influencer route, maybe some... would turn out to be little menaces.

Sang Yu wagged a finger and flicked off the tiny puppy that had woken up, found his finger, and was gnawing on it — unclear if it was nursing or teething. · Meanwhile, Secretary Ge Rui had been listening to a rundown of the boss's full itinerary that day, trying to figure out Sang Yu's angle.

He'd been buying from start to finish, after all.

Then he'd gone to visit locals' homes.

Was it really just... scoping out the real local prices for agricultural products?

Ge Rui had worked her way up from the grassroots and had seen all kinds of people.

Playing around?

Sure, he'd bought nonstop from start to finish, hauling bags like a first-time city tourist at a rural market.

But looking closely at what he'd actually bought — sweet potato noodles, chili paste, bamboo crafts, handmade cloth shoes — all handmade by villagers.

Not the kind of assembly-line 'local specialty' you'd find at any tourist trap across the country.

And the questions he'd asked sounded casual, but they were familiar — 'How many sweet potatoes does it take to make a jin of noodles?' 'What kind of chili goes in the paste?' 'How many households in the area still make handmade noodles?' If she didn't know for a fact that Sang Yu wasn't a government official, she'd have assumed he was doing a field survey.

But Sang Yu hadn't just asked — he'd bought large quantities of agricultural products at above-market prices and quietly built a basic supply chain.

Going forward, if there were good products, they could reach out to his assistant.

For some of the villagers, that was more reliable and sustainable income than what the short drama shoot would bring.

Ge Rui had always known that farmers' effort and income were wildly out of proportion — but that was the market.

Raise prices and things stop selling.

Someone like Sang Yu, who actually held pricing power and chose to pay more, was doing something real.

It reflected the actual value these products deserved.

She felt good about it — then immediately worried.

This kind of thing rarely lasted.

Subjectively or objectively...

Ge Rui tapped her pen.

There was still the question of post-drama sponsored pricing to work out.

She couldn't only think about the farmers' side — buyers mattered too. · On the other side of things.

The male lead of the rural-support short drama — Xuan Leron — had arrived in Shanshui Town early to learn farming.

There was a lot to learn.

Just mastering the different farming tools nearly fried his brain, and that was only one part of it.

Beyond learning to shuck corn, cut pig feed, plow fields, and raise pigs, he'd picked up all kinds of essential rural survival skills.

Now... he could wade into the water and catch crayfish and river snails for a bonus meal without thinking twice.

Xuan Leron felt like he was drifting further from being a celebrity and closer to being a full-time farmer.

But honestly?

Pure physical labor was great for clearing your head.

All the random noise that had been rattling around in his brain before — gone.

Every day was just 'work + eat + read the script,' on repeat, full throttle.

Since the role required him not to look too built, he'd added Pilates to the routine.

A little extra each day.

It was starting to feel like 'suffering builds loyalty' — he had to check off every item daily, and if he missed one, he'd feel off.

One day slipped by before he even noticed.

During this period, Xuan Leron's brand deals were mostly paused — given the nature of this particular short drama, brands understood.

But he hadn't gone dark.

He was regularly active in his official fan forum, interacting with fans in all kinds of ways — selfies, replying to messages, and also dropping agricultural knowledge like some kind of middleman reseller.

The production's professional consultant would brief Xuan Leron first, and then he'd pass it on to his fans.

Which somehow got him another wave of crossover attention.

Not every top-tier celebrity would play 'identify this wild herb' or 'spot the pest damage' games with their fans.

Xuan Leron thought of it as a mix of sharing and venting, but it weirdly earned him a flood of positive responses.

His fan forum gained followers.

The earlier defection drama had been loud, but with official backing, a chunk of the people who'd left came back.

Because Xuan Leron was still a top-tier star — and now looked like an even safer bet.

Accounts that had gone quiet could just do a sit-up and come back.

The ones with black profile pictures couldn't.

Too impulsive — all they could do was open a side account and quietly keep following, which is why the forum numbers kept climbing.

Xuan Leron's assistant was thrilled.

Xuan Leron: *unbothered.jpg* Hard to be anything but unbothered.

Too exhausted to have feelings about it.

Then one day, Xuan Leron got word: the dog he'd be acting alongside was getting its own account.

Not a diss, not shade at anyone — a literal fluffy dog.

A whole Da Huang family.

The account launching across all platforms was called: Has a Dog Become an Internet Celebrity Today (0/13).

Xuan Leron choked.

Who came up with that?!

Way too on the nose.

And there's a progress bar in the name?!

Weren't they worried about people snatching the username?!

Oh — they probably pre-registered everything already, Xuan Leron nodded.

Of course, at first it would ride the coattails of the boss, A Cultivator Becomes a Rural Internet Celebrity in the Modern World, and the lead actor's fanbase for a head start.

Built-in base from day one.

Then, probably to sync with the short drama shoot schedule, the account launched and immediately dropped a massive wave of new content. · 'Family photo.' 'Douyin-verified purebred yellow coat, potential future champion-grade Da Huang Dog — Old Yi (No. 1)' 'Douyin-verified mixed yellow coat, one corner of the right ear jet black, fully black nose, mole on the muzzle — Old Er (No. 2)...' 'Douyin-verified...' ...

'Trainee Old Wu (No. 5) showed impressive results today — has mastered rolling over, rated A, absolutely destroying the other trainees.' 'Special public notice: Trainee No. 12 committed a serious violation today!

Being the maknae is no excuse — you do NOT poop on your older siblings' heads.' 'The trainees' first monthly evaluation is coming up — who are you picking?' ...

Wait?!

This was the vibe they were going for?

Everyone assumed it'd just be cute photos and a small fandom having fun in their own corner.

But guided by the official account's framing, the comment section slowly caught on.

And then they started playing along — 'Teacher, is my Zihan standing in the back row?

Doesn't everyone know the cute ones go in the middle?' 'Responding to commands, designated bathroom spots, not chewing slippers — Old Wu has that on lock, already at the next level.

Whoever's coming for him, please stop the comparison, thanks.' 'Top 3 already locked in at A-grade, No. 12 is dancing on the edge of a violation — honestly, just lean into the 'lovable disaster' persona, there's still hope.' 'Jiujiu's camera presence is insane — born for this, natural talent!' '[heart] Jiujiu's visuals are consistently delivering [laser] confirmed face of the group [star] so beautiful even the ants on the road hold their breath [heart]' 'Some of these pups... the visual decline is real.

Was it all filters before?

Getting absolutely wrecked in comparison, the gap is obvious.' 'One second drinking milk, next second face-first in the food bowl — don't let the antis cherry-pick bad screenshots.

Normal people know what No. 10 actually looks like.' ...

The comment section was absolutely popping.

Everyone had jumped in on the bit. · Xuan Leron had to admit it: these dogs were more like celebrities than he was right now... orz.

Whoever was running this account was seriously good.

His own team was a scrappy little operation, running lean on purpose — too many people and you'd step on landmines.

So who was actually behind this account?

Could they help him out. · Nobody knew that all of this content had come straight from the boss himself.

Because Da Huang only listened to him — anyone else who got close got a low growl, making it impossible to touch her, let alone film her.

Sang Yu was quietly smug about it...

Out of respect for Da Huang being this cooperative, he absolutely would not abandon the 12 pups he'd 'adopted' halfway through a market trip.

For the first time, Sang Yu felt something ignite inside him — moved, even (wipes away a single tear).