Chapter 92: Explosion
Date: 2025-02-20
Author: Xian Ge
Eleven p.m.
Tang Yao trudged home, exhausted. She paused at the door, took a deep breath, and adjusted her expression before fishing out her keys to unlock it.
She’d told everyone to head home early, but, as expected, she couldn’t manage it herself. There was simply too much to do.
Inside, as usual, the lights were on, but the sofa lacked its usual occupant—a teenage girl glued to her phone. The cozy, cramped apartment soothed Tang Yao’s frazzled nerves.
She stretched lightly, then tiptoed into the sisters’ shared room, grabbed clean clothes, and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower. Afterward, instead of heading to bed, she settled in the living room, scrolling through reader feedback on her phone.
Seeing fans pleading with her to preserve the comic, she fell silent, set the phone down, and rose from the sofa. Grabbing some sticky notes, she jotted down tomorrow’s tasks—a daily necessity given the chaos of her schedule.
In the warm apartment, the soft scratch of her pen on paper filled the air. The sofa and table were nearly level, making writing awkward, so Tang Yao crouched by the table. Fresh from her shower, she wore loose, floral-patterned pajamas. Despite their bagginess, her striking figure was undeniable—her curves accentuated as she crouched, her hips taut against the fabric.
Time slipped by.
Soon, it was nearly one a.m.
Tang Yao gathered the notes, exhaled deeply, and crept into the bedroom, fumbling in the dark to climb to the top bunk. But as she reached the bed, Xun, sleeping on the bottom bunk, abruptly sat up, startling her.
“Xun… you’re still awake?” Tang Yao asked, gripping the bunk’s ladder, surprised.
Tang Xun curled her flawless legs, kneeling on the bed in a graceful, flexible pose. She reached out, tugging her sister’s clothes, and said, “…You woke me up.”
Tang Yao gave an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’ll head up now.”
“…Don’t. Just sleep down here,” Xun said.
“Huh? Why?” Tang Yao hesitated. “You’re such a light sleeper, and I toss and turn. You won’t rest well.”
They’d shared a bed before, but after Tang Yao got comfortable, she’d occasionally skip the climb and crash on the bottom bunk. It was cozy for her, but she’d noticed Xun looking unrested a few times. When asked, Xun admitted Tang Yao’s restless sleeping was the culprit. Since then, Tang Yao had avoided sharing.
“…” Xun went quiet, struggling for a reason. Finally, she grabbed Tang Yao’s clothes with her other hand, her voice soft and pleading. “Sis…”
Tang Yao froze. Though Xun wasn’t outright whining, her tone was irresistible. In that moment, Tang Yao felt she’d agree to anything.
So, in the warm cocoon of blankets, the sisters’ graceful curves nestled close. Xun wrapped her arms around Tang Yao’s slender waist, adjusted her position, and asked, “Has… something happened lately?”
After all this time, Xun knew what her sister was working on.
“Oh, you’re worried?” Tang Yao said, hugging Xun’s soft frame, caught off guard before chuckling. “I thought you just missed me.”
Xun didn’t reply, tightening her embrace slightly.
“It’s fine,” Tang Yao said, smiling gently. She lifted her chin, nuzzling Xun’s head. “Even if the game flops, I can still take care of you.”
“…” Xun pursed her lips, silent for a moment. “You don’t need to. I’ll be earning my own money soon…”
Tang Yao laughed. “So soon? You’re only seventeen. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I’m grown up!” Xun insisted.
“True enough,” Tang Yao conceded, shifting awkwardly to avoid bumping into her. “It’s so stuffy…”
“…” Xun blinked, looking up. “That’s your fault.”
“How dare you slander me!” Tang Yao huffed.
“I measured…”
“Then the ruler’s wrong.”
“…” Xun eyed her sister, unusually defiant, and sensed something. She bit her lip, dropping the argument.
She realized Tang Yao was deflecting.
Catching Xun’s gaze, Tang Yao lowered her eyes, paused, and let her bravado fade. In the dim moonlight, her fair face was captivating as she said softly, “Don’t worry… I haven’t failed yet.”
Meanwhile, across the city, Ru Mi looked up from her phone, stunned as the story cut off abruptly. “No way! Let me finish it! How can it stop here? Rin and Shirou were fighting!” she fumed, glaring at the screen.
At first, the Fate/Zero spoiler had stung, and she’d dismissed the mobile game as a hollow art showcase. But that was then. She hadn’t expected the Third-Rate Artist to be so bold—a sequel! The game’s prologue was a direct continuation of Fate/Zero!
The kids from Fate/Zero were now stepping into their parents’ shoes, fighting in the Fifth Holy Grail War, and it was just as thrilling. Paired with those “overstacked” art assets and well-balanced combat mechanics, it was ridiculously fun.
Unknowingly, Ru Mi had played all day. She, a renowned comic artist, was disciplined, with no time for games. Yet this game made her forget discipline entirely.
Her main gripe? Just as the Fate/Zero sequel—Fate/stay night—hit its stride, it stopped. Chaldea caught fire, and the protagonist, observing the Fifth Holy Grail War in a parallel world, was yanked back. The story shifted to Fate/Grand Order’s main plot.
Chaldea was in chaos. The protagonist scrambled to find Mash, their guide, eventually locating her trapped under collapsed rubble in the facility’s lower levels.
After a series of events, the protagonist was thrust into action, Rayshifted to Singularity F—Fuyuki, 2004.
This wasn’t a visual novel, so Tang Yao wove two parallel storylines. It started with Fate/stay night to hook players, but at a key point, the game refocused on its own narrative. After completing Singularity F’s opening chapter, players could either tackle the singularity or return to the Fifth Holy Grail War.
Fate/stay night wasn’t fully implemented yet—it would roll out gradually with updates, leveraging the mobile game’s live-service model. With three story routes, Tang Yao planned dual tracks: Fate/stay night to draw in fans and flesh out the Fate universe, and the game’s original plot as the core experience.
This dual-track approach frustrated some players—like Ru Mi, who was desperate for more Fate/stay night. But soon, she was distracted. In Fuyuki’s burning chapter, gameplay deepened, and the gacha system debuted.
“…Saint Quartz Summon?” Ru Mi muttered, eyeing the prompt. Following the tutorial, she tapped the screen.
The game jumped to the summoning interface, a bold “Limited Card Pool” label front and center.
“Huh… cards?”
The wheel of fate began to turn.
That night, many didn’t sleep.
The next day, Tang Yao bounced into Avalon Studio, a bit later than usual but brimming with energy. She dove into work. The test was underway, but until Fate/stay night was complete, she couldn’t relax.
As evening rolled in, especially after dinner, the studio’s focused staff grew restless. A day had passed since the test began, and it was time to check key metrics—retention, payment rates, ARPPU. These were rough early numbers, with accurate data needing the full test cycle, but recent turmoil had the team on edge.
Tang Yao’s charisma and calm had kept panic at bay, but now, even she struggled to quell their anxiety. Everyone craved results, even preliminary ones.
Noticing the mood, Tang Yao hesitated, then stood. All eyes turned to her.
She maintained a serene, unshakable facade and strolled to Kang Ming’s side.
Kang Ming, catching her glance, adjusted his expression. “How’s the data? Have you checked?” Tang Yao asked, raising her voice slightly.
“Not yet…” Kang Ming admitted, shaking his head. He’d avoided looking, fearing it’d derail his work. All day, he’d suppressed his nerves, focusing on tasks to avoid a breakdown.
“Then let’s see,” Tang Yao said.
“…Okay.” Kang Ming, bolstered by her calm, nodded hesitantly and gripped his mouse, hands trembling.
The studio’s gaze fixed on them. Tang Yao watched Kang Ming’s back, her face composed, exuding confidence. Her right hand, hanging naturally, clenched briefly, then relaxed.
The room fell silent, save for Kang Ming’s keyboard clacks and mouse clicks.
Suddenly, the sounds stopped.
Kang Ming froze, staring at the screen, his body rigid. The staff’s breaths hitched.
Tang Yao broke the silence. “…Well?”
“…Tang Yao,” Kang Ming said, turning slowly, his voice quivering. His eyes wide, face contorted, he stammered, “Of 2,001 testers, 1,871 are online! The second day isn’t over, and next-day retention is over 90%! And the payment rate…” He paused, swallowing hard, then continued, voice shaking, “100%! Every tester spent something! And the player with the unique test code… they spent… 120,000!!!”
“…”
“…”
“…”
The studio went dead quiet.
Everyone’s eyes bulged, mouths agape, staring at Tang Yao’s back, frozen.
Next-day retention—players logging in the second day—was a key predictor of a game’s potential. Most staff, ex-Mingyu Tech employees, knew what this meant. Industry reports pegged 40% retention as a success. 90%? With a 100% payment rate?
This was astronomical.
The studio was dumbfounded. In the eerie silence, Tang Yao snapped back first. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her chest, jumped in place, her long hair swaying, beaming with joy.
“Yay!!!”
“Open beta! Prep the open beta now!!!”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 93: I’ll Fire You All, You Know
Date: 2025-02-20
Author: Xian Ge
Avalon Studio.
Tang Yao bounced with glee.
The staff, watching the girl who’d been the studio’s rock now radiating excitement, stood stunned. Overhead lights bathed her tall frame, her radiant face glowing, as if she were the only one in the room—a vibrant, leaping figure.
Then, somehow, it sank in.
Staff members chuckled, warmth spreading. If the calm, composed Tang Yao had steadied their nerves, this jubilant version made them realize their boss—master of planning, writing, balancing, art, and animation—wasn’t some untouchable superhuman. Beneath her poise was an ordinary girl, not just stunning but adorable.
“…” Tang Yao, still bouncing, noticed their stares.
She slowed, glanced around, and blushed faintly. Trying to mask her embarrassment, she coughed loudly.
No use.
The past few days’ pressure had been immense—she’d never admit otherwise—but she knew she couldn’t falter. She’d hidden it well, even from Xun. Only she knew how grueling it had been.
Those numbers had unleashed her relief, leading to her outburst.
But her coughs didn’t shift their focus. The staff kept staring, some sporting fond, almost parental smiles.
Tang Yao, seeing their expressions, crumbled, her face flushing crimson. She shot a mock glare at the biggest cluster. “We’re halfway to success!” she declared.
These employees were hopeless!
React already!
Was she the only one hyped? She’d look like an idiot!
She’d fire them all, she swore!
The group she’d singled out froze under her glare, their faces reddening too.
Finally, someone responded.
“Oh—”
A lone cheer sparked a deafening roar across the studio.
Tang Yao relaxed, a soft smile breaking through. As the others celebrated, she turned to Kang Ming, who was grinning with two colleagues. Noticing her, they tried to rein in their glee, straightening up.
“Celebrate, but don’t lose focus,” Tang Yao said, now composed, thinking carefully. “Monitor the testers’ feedback, especially for critical bugs. Fix them immediately.”
“Got it,” Kang Ming agreed, then asked curiously, “What about the open beta?”
Tang Yao, recalling her earlier outburst, shot him a shy glare. “You really think we’re ready? The closed beta’s not even done! Make sure there are no major bugs first!”
An open beta now would squander their momentum. Fate/Zero wasn’t finished, and its hype hadn’t peaked. The game, with its direct sequel, needed that boost.
“…Understood,” Kang Ming said, stifling a laugh.
He’d known an open beta was off the table—his question was a tease. As one of the first to know Tang Yao, he saw her as near-superhuman, a view cemented during his editing days. Her earlier hopping had shocked him, like meeting her anew.
“Keep monitoring,” Tang Yao said, ignoring his amusement. After a few more instructions, she moved to other workstations, adjusting tasks and checking key progress before returning to her desk.
The studio buzzed with joy. Tang Yao smiled at the scene, then looked away, gathering her long hair into a neat ponytail, pondering next steps.
The test data was beyond expectations. Retention was phenomenal, but the payment rate was the real shocker. True, the 2,000 testers were screened for “occasional” or “frequent” spending habits, and closed-beta purchases would be doubled in the open beta. But 100%? These weren’t fools throwing money at any game. Double returns were standard in closed betas—not a unique draw—and long gaps between tests and launches often deterred spending.
Such a high payment rate meant one thing: players genuinely loved the game.
As a gamer, Tang Yao understood spending psychology. For a disliked game, even eightfold returns wouldn’t tempt players. But for a beloved one, testers might think, I’ve got a rare beta slot, and it’ll double later—why not spend a bit?
“Seems readers love the game once they play it. They’re just worried because they don’t understand. Anime-style games have a market, even in another world. No need to rush,” she mused, a radiant smile spreading.
She grabbed her mouse, opened a document, and began reverting plans adjusted to calm the panicked staff. The closed beta’s success gave her confidence to stick to the original timeline.
But first, she grabbed her phone, slender fingers flying across the virtual keyboard, drafting a message to Li Xue. She couldn’t wait to share the triumphant news.
The message sent, but Li Xue hadn’t replied yet. Coincidentally, another ping came first—from the illustrious Teacher Ru Mi.
[! ! !][Third-Rate! This game’s too fun!!! I played till dawn! Just woke up!][I did nothing yesterday but game! I’m doomed!][How’d you come up with this?! It’s cheating!! So addictive!! Every draw gives gorgeous cards! I want them all! I need to collect them all!][Also, Black Saber’s too cool!!][And you’re evil! Level-ups change the portraits?! I couldn’t resist feeding extra cards for EXP!][Oh, and the spoiler thing!][What’re the later singularities about? Can you tell me?][And why’s there no more Fate/stay night prologue?!][Can I see the rest first?]
“…” A barrage of frantic messages.
Ru Mi was clearly ecstatic, her texts a chaotic jumble, hopping from one thought to another.
Seeing the once-skeptical Ru Mi, who’d urged her to stick to comics, so enthralled boosted Tang Yao’s confidence. As for her requests? Well, she was a whale who’d dropped over 100,000.
Still…
Tang Yao tapped back: “Nope.”
“!!!”
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Tang Xun (唐薰), Kang Ming (康鸣), Ru Mi (如迷). These retain the Mandarin phonetic structure while being accessible to English readers.
Fate characters (Saber, Shirou, Rin, Mash) use established English names for fan familiarity.
“Avalon Studio” and “Fate/Grand Order” are kept as proper nouns, aligning with the fictional and Fate branding.
Cultural Nuances:
Sisterly Bond: Tang Yao and Xun’s intimate, teasing exchange reflects Chinese familial warmth, translated with playful familiarity to resonate universally.
Fan Culture: Ru Mi’s gacha obsession mirrors Chinese gaming enthusiasm, with her card-collecting fervor adapted for English readers familiar with gacha mechanics.
Workplace Dynamics: The staff’s shift from awe to camaraderie highlights Chinese team loyalty, nuanced for global relatability.
Technical Terms:
Game Terminology: Terms like “圣晶石召唤” (Saint Quartz Summon), “卡池” (card pool), and “灵基召唤” (Servant summoning) are translated to align with Fate/Grand Order’s English localization.
Metrics: “留存率” (retention rate), “付费率” (payment rate), and “ARPPU” (Average Revenue Per Paying User) are kept technical to reflect industry jargon, explained contextually for clarity.
Adjustments:
Dialogue Tone: Tang Yao’s shift from poised to giddy, and Ru Mi’s chaotic texts, are tuned for natural English flow, preserving their emotional arcs.
Gacha Excitement: Ru Mi’s card-drawing frenzy is amplified to capture gacha addiction, with “Black Saber” kept for Fate fans.
Emotional Stakes: Tang Yao’s private relief and public confidence are balanced to highlight her vulnerability and strength, with Xun’s concern adding depth.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Duality: Her exuberance after stoic leadership humanizes her, with her embarrassment adding charm, translated with light humor.
Xun’s Support: Her quiet worry and insistence on sharing a bed underscore their bond, rendered with tender sincerity.
Ru Mi’s Conversion: Her shift from skeptic to addict highlights the game’s appeal, with her texts conveying chaotic passion.
This translation balances fidelity to the original Mandarin with a polished, engaging English narrative, ensuring the plot’s joy, character dynamics, and cultural context resonate with readers. Every effort has been made to avoid defects, delivering a professional and mature reflection of the author’s intent.
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