130 When are you going streaking?

Life is endless, and so is learning. For Li Daniu, this kind of grandiose rhetoric had somehow become an attitude he was forced to adopt.

After selecting a few suitable songs from the classic music of another world, Li Daniu began his journey into learning music composition. This was a necessity; since he had not yet found a suitable proxy, he had no choice but to take on the role of the creator himself.

"If only I had a T-1000 robot," Li Daniu sighed. It wasn't that he didn't want to masquerade as a genius, but even a genius has limits. Artistic creation is different from technological invention; every creator has their own style, and their works bear distinct characteristics.

It is much like the legendary wuxia authors Jin Yong and Gu Long—their works are so distinct that even someone encountering them for the first time, without seeing the author's name, could tell they weren't written by the same person. The same applies to movies: the same Batman character resulted in a box office disaster for one director, while Christopher Nolan’s trilogy was hailed as a classic. Songs are no different; how could someone who writes a patriotic anthem like "Qinghai-Tibet Plateau" also write a tacky pop song like "Love Trade"? Even if they could, they wouldn't.

Therefore, Li Daniu decided his path of plagiarism should involve selecting works whose styles were consistent and undeniably classic. Whether it was books, songs, or films, he only needed to produce a few absolute masterpieces to accumulate enough prestige. As for the rest, he wouldn't give them up, but would wait until he had the opportunity—perhaps by obtaining a robot like the T-1000, which was indistinguishable from a human and could be fully controlled without fear of complications—to disguise an identity and release those works through that proxy. As long as the profits from these works landed in his own pocket, wouldn't that be enough?

James Cameron filmed *Titanic* and dared to claim he was the "king of the world," and no one could refute him. After *Titanic*, he spent ten years sharpening his blade to produce the unrivaled *Avatar*. Was it that he had no other movies to make besides *Avatar*? Of course not. It was that he already stood at the pinnacle of the industry. Did he need to make those "lesser" movies? Even if they were profitable, like his own *Terminator* series, he wouldn't make them, because the purpose of his existence was to break his own records.

Li Daniu intended to follow this James Cameron route. Movies? Music? Sorry, anything produced by Li Daniu is a masterpiece. Want "boutique" content? My company has plenty, but here? No!

Crossing multiple industries and setting countless records was already an incredible feat. If Li Daniu were to personally write a hundred songs or direct ten movies with completely different styles, it would arouse suspicion. *You aren't a genius or a monster; you must have traveled through time, right?*

Li Daniu’s goal was to make his country stand at the very top of the planet, perhaps even surpass it. Whether it was songs, books, or movies, these were just minor aids along the way. Until he had the strength to produce epoch-making technology, these were just part-time jobs to earn some pocket money.

Thinking of the technology in film worlds that could create infinite wealth, Li Daniu swallowed hard and began his studies. The five-line musical staff is easy to learn; an ordinary person can learn to read numbered musical notation in two weeks. For a master like Li Daniu, who possessed internal energy and memory and reaction speeds far surpassing the average person, it was effortless.

Within five days, as the final episode of *The Voice* aired, Li Daniu was finally able to transcribe some of the songs from his USB drive into numbered musical notation. Of course, writing the notation was only one percent of the inspiration; the remaining ninety-nine percent was the "sweat" of arranging, which was a arduous task for him. He didn't understand musical instruments, so he had to constantly familiarize himself with the effects of various instruments, experimenting to find the best match for the original arrangements.

This work was undoubtedly tedious. For a seasoned musician, listening to a song twice is enough to identify every instrument used in the arrangement. But for a beginner like Li Daniu, it often meant listening to a track ten or twenty times on repeat while getting to know the sounds of different instruments.

"Why does arranging have to be so complicated? Some songs use over a dozen instruments! Wouldn't it be better to just play a guitar and sing?"

Just as the miserable Li Daniu finished his first song, he received some heartening news.

"Your Majesty, the fifty thousand copies of *Harry Potter* have sold out, and the reprints are already on shelves. Based on current momentum, we have set the second batch for one million copies. Furthermore, we have coordinated with publishers in other countries, and the global release can begin on the first Saturday of next month."

Hearing Louis’s excited voice, Li Daniu asked curiously, "It’s only been a few days; how could it sell so fast? Did you guys use some kind of trick?"

At this point, it was four days shy of a month since the book's release. This meant the book had sold 350,000 copies in the U.S. in just one week—a figure rivaling even *The Lord of the Rings*.

"Uh... Your Majesty, we really didn't use any special tricks. You... you really don't know why it sold so fast this week?" Louis felt very awkward at Li Daniu's feigned ignorance, as he believed the high sales were due to some maneuvers Li Daniu had orchestrated himself.

"What do you mean 'I don't know'?" Li Daniu said into the phone. "Are you implying I spent money to have people buy them?"

"No, no, Your Majesty, you misunderstand," Louis hurriedly explained. "It’s just that of those 350,000 copies, nearly 250,000 were... were..."

"Were what? Speak up."

"They were purchased by tourists from China or overseas Chinese." Louis mustered his courage and said it all at once. To him, this had to be some special deal between Li Daniu and China. Otherwise, why would every Chinese person visiting the U.S. lately insist on buying a dozen copies of *Harry Potter*? Not to mention they were English versions—didn't they find the weight a burden?

"What?" Li Daniu was also stunned by this answer. Could it be that the Chinese people knew he was one of their own, so they came to support him?

"Your Majesty, not only that, but the sales of your *Lord of the Rings* in China have also surged significantly this week, more than doubling compared to the previous week," Louis reported another piece of good news before continuing, "I think your decision to take a Chinese name and learn to speak the language was the most brilliant move possible. Since China is becoming increasingly wealthy and powerful, the purchasing power of the Chinese people is now the highest in the world. I am already looking forward to the sales miracle that will occur when your new book is released in Chinese in China."

*Damn, "the most brilliant move possible"? I was Chinese to begin with!*

However, he wondered if his fellow countrymen were losing out by helping him this way. These books sold so many copies, yet they held no real collection value, and being in English, they didn't even suit the reading habits of the Chinese.

"Is China also launching my new book on the first Saturday of next month?"

"Yes, the translation work was finished long ago, but the sales data was unclear, so booksellers were hesitant. Now, everything has been settled."

"In that case, talk to the Chinese booksellers. I will personally fund the purchase of 250,000 copies of *Harry Potter*, and anyone who holds an English version can exchange it for a Chinese version of the same volume, free of charge."

Louis paused on the other end of the line before saying, "Your Majesty, that’s 250,000 copies! And even if you don't care about the money, you previously made a bet with the *Hollywood Daily*. Won't this give them ammunition against you?"

"The money isn't important. What's important is not letting people spend money on a book that ends up being used as a table prop," Li Daniu said. "As for the bet, what ammunition could this provide? I only decided to do this after the sales were already made. If they have no shame, they wouldn't honor the bet even if I didn't do this."

"Very well, I understand. I will arrange it immediately."

After hanging up, Li Daniu logged into his social media and posted a status in Chinese.

"There is a word in Chinese that I really like: 'fellow countryman.' When I made a bet with others, you were able to buy books across borders to support me, which makes me feel that you are truly my fellow countrymen. Therefore, I have decided that all Chinese readers who purchased the English version of *Harry Potter* can exchange it for a Chinese version for free. I love you, and I love China."

Li Daniu didn't consider whether this status would offend those with racial prejudices, because he was, after all, Chinese.

After posting, Li Daniu made another post, tagging the *Hollywood Daily*:

"500,000 copies have sold out. Are you going to go streaking now, or are you waiting until the end of the month to see even higher sales figures before you do? If you insist on saying I cheated, then I can only say one thing to you in Chinese: I bought a watch last year."