Chapter 110: Redo It Just Like That?
Date: 2025-02-27
Author: Xian Ge
Two streets from Wenxin House, in a cozy café, the sunset’s golden glow bathed Tang Yao as she hurried inside. Her eyes quickly found Li Xue seated by the window, delicately sipping coffee. Graceful and poised, Li Xue exuded a subtle intellectual charm, her elegance framed by the fading sunlight, radiating an alluring warmth.
At the same moment, Li Xue spotted Tang Yao. Setting down her cup, she straightened slightly and gave a gentle wave.
“Miss Li…” Tang Yao ignored the curious glances around her and slid into the seat beside Li Xue, not across. Slumping dramatically, she groaned, “Save me.”
“Huh?” Li Xue blinked, startled, and immediately clasped Tang Yao’s hand, concern etching her face. “What happened?”
“Uh…” Tang Yao glanced at their hands, Li Xue’s grip firm under the table, and caught the worry on her friend’s soft features. She quickly clarified, “Just venting. Not actually life-or-death…”
“…” Li Xue shot her a playful glare but didn’t let go. After ordering Tang Yao a coffee, she asked, “So, what’s going on?”
“I want to acquire Mingyu Tech,” Tang Yao said, gathering her thoughts. “Fate/Grand Order is a hit, and we’ve got a huge user base now. Version management, monetization, event planning, internal coordination, marketing, channel operations—it’s all screaming for professionals. The studio needs to scale. There’s too much to handle.”
“Then go for it,” Li Xue replied, a bit puzzled. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about games…”
“But I want your take.” Tang Yao’s eyes sparkled. “Is it necessary? Let me break down what acquiring Mingyu Tech gets us.”
She briefly outlined Mingyu’s game, Dou Pai. Truthfully, the game was Mingyu’s best asset. The office space and staff weren’t must-haves—Tang Yao was confident Si Jinliang would happily hand them over if she asked.
Li Xue listened intently, then said softly, “I see… It’s worth a shot. I’ve been to your place a few times and got a sense of Mingyu’s situation. It’s bad—really bad. Forget acquisition; just buy the game’s rights outright. Acquisition could get messy. Mingyu’s investors hold equity, unlike Avalon. Your studio’s not a household name yet, but FGO’s buzz is real. If those game-savvy investors hear Avalon wants to buy a failing company for its game, they might demand a fortune. Mingyu’s worthless now, but these are sharp players. The risk’s small, but it’s there.
“The best move? Contact Si Jinliang, secure an exclusive license or contract first, and buy the game’s rights. It’s shutting down soon, right? Once that’s done, take over their office lease and invite the remaining staff. No rush.”
“…” Tang Yao’s face turned thoughtful. Consulting Li Xue was the right call—she hadn’t considered this angle. “So, the game’s rights are with Mingyu Tech?”
“Should be,” Li Xue said. “Just ask.”
“Makes sense.” Tang Yao didn’t need Dou Pai. Avalon could start from scratch if push came to shove. But having Mingyu’s game would save serious effort.
With that, she stood, pulling Li Xue up with her. “Can you come with me?”
Half an hour later, at Mingyu Tech, Si Jinliang was packing up in his office.
Dou Pai was days from shutting down. The remaining players weren’t just leaving—they were cursing his family tree, and for good reason. The game’s final cash-grab tactics were shameless.
He’d resolved to get a job, so lingering here was pointless. More importantly, he had a hunch that she—that radiant girl—would show up soon.
Avalon’s game was a runaway success. Si Jinliang didn’t know the full scope, but as an old-school anime fan with no bias against mobile games, he could see FGO’s heat and money-making potential. With cash flowing, Avalon would likely expand, and the sprawling office he’d ambitiously leased would be perfect for them. His own office? It could be Tang Yao’s private space.
He had to admit, he was sharp. Once he learned FGO was Avalon’s, he knew his company was done for.
“They’re really taking over…” Si Jinliang finished packing, glancing back at his office with a bitter smile.
When Tang Yao poached Chu Yuxin and others, he’d wondered if she’d eclipse him. Avalon had been siphoning Mingyu’s lifeblood—first the office, then servers, equipment, and staff. The next step? The whole company.
He’d half-joked about it back then, never expecting it to come true. Resentment? Not really. It was just fate’s cruel irony. When Tang Yao first rented space, she’d been too skittish to take a bigger spot, looking like a broke startup. He’d warned her against diving into the gaming pit. Half a year later, Mingyu was dead, and she was the industry’s rising star.
Soon, Mingyu Tech would be a footnote, a prop in some article hyping Avalon’s ascent.
Knock knock.
A soft rap at the door jolted him. Guessing who it was, he gave a wry smile and opened it.
Sure enough, Tang Yao and Li Xue stood there.
Si Jinliang paused, taking in the two striking women. Tang Yao’s presence made sense, but Li Xue—whom he’d met once, rumored to be Avalon’s investor—threw him. Still, what a sight: one mature, poised, and warm; the other youthful, vibrant, and sharp. Together, they were like a perfectly composed painting.
But his musings were cut short.
Li Xue got straight to the point. “Mr. Si, is Dou Pai’s ownership with Mingyu Tech? Or, more precisely, with you? Or the investors?”
“?” Si Jinliang’s mind blanked. Game ownership? Not the office? Why ask that?
After a pause, he replied, “It’s with me… but why?”
Li Xue and Tang Yao exchanged a glance. After a beat, Li Xue said, “We want to buy the game’s rights.”
“…” Si Jinliang froze, then blurted, “Huh?”
He’d braced for them wanting the office lease or the company’s gear. But the game?
No way. Was this really necessary? Taking over didn’t mean this.
“We’re serious about buying Dou Pai’s rights,” Tang Yao said, her earnest expression clear. She didn’t rush to explain.
“You know Dou Pai’s state, right?” Si Jinliang studied her, his tone odd. “It’s about to shut down.”
“I know.”
“Then why buy it? If you think Avalon’s tricks can revive it, I’d advise against it. Its reputation’s trashed—beyond saving. And fundamentally, the game’s flawed.”
“Why do you say that?” Tang Yao asked, curious. “Isn’t it your baby?”
“It is…” Si Jinliang’s lips tightened, and he sighed. “But it’s also a painful memory. I don’t know how to make games. After playing yours, I realized even without the investors pulling out, Dou Pai would’ve faded into obscurity. I’m done with games.”
Tang Yao blinked. “But I found it fun.”
Si Jinliang froze, stunned. “You…”
Li Xue stayed quiet, watching Tang Yao’s profile.
After a moment, Si Jinliang recovered. “You think it’s fun?”
“Yeah, just a bit too complex. It could be refined. Online games aren’t tabletop cards. Your game borrows heavily from TCG rules, right?” Before meeting Li Xue, Tang Yao had researched this world’s card games, finding TCGs like Magic: The Gathering with similar rules. “Even the core mechanics mimic TCG’s golden trio: collectible cards, mana systems, and color factions, yeah?”
Si Jinliang’s eyes lit up, a spark of excitement. “Exactly… you play card games?”
Tang Yao smiled. In this world, she didn’t—but in her past life, Yu-Gi-Oh! and Magic were iconic. She’d dabbled.
No way she’d say that, though. She nodded. “Yup. That’s why I want Dou Pai’s rights. I’d rework it into a dual-platform game—PC and mobile—for Avalon’s second title.”
“…” Si Jinliang’s enthusiasm dimmed. “Rework it? How do you rework a TCG? I tried everything with Dou Pai. Complexity is baked in. Take cost mechanics—the best TCGs have varied systems: fixed totals per turn, or scaling growth. How do you handle that? Some TCGs go wild, allowing infinite loops if you chain conditions. That’s what makes them charming.”
“What if you did this?” Tang Yao countered. “Swap TCG’s golden trio—collectible cards, mana systems, color factions—for collectible cards, a mana crystal system, and class-based roles? Ditch out-of-turn interactions to make it faster, simpler, and better for online play?”
“Collectible cards? Mana crystals? Classes? No out-of-turn play?” Si Jinliang stared, intrigued but confused.
Tang Yao just smiled, holding back. She barely knew him—no need to spill her full vision. Plus, explaining it verbally was a hassle.
“If you’re curious…” She paused, then offered, “Why not sell me the rights?”
“You’re serious.” Si Jinliang studied her, surprised. “You really want to make my game Avalon’s second title?”
“Yup.”
“You…” He almost argued.
Come on. Dou Pai’s a wreck, and you’re remaking it as your second mobile game? Sure, your first game succeeded—with Mingyu’s people, no less. But that doesn’t mean I’m useless!
He knew card games. He’d poured his heart into simplifying Dou Pai. Redo it? Simpler? Faster? Did she think he hadn’t tried? It’d lose its fun! And hadn’t Avalon been busy with FGO? A few days of play, and she thought she could fix it? What, is she a genius?
His mind raced, but he bit back the snark. Last time’s lesson stung, and he was done with games. No point arguing.
“If you want the rights, I’ll sell,” he said, pausing before adding through gritted teeth, “But one thing—I thought turning a TCG into an online game was a goldmine. Simplify it, make it less complex, and it’d rake in cash. You see how that turned out. Ideas sound great until you hit roadblocks. TCGs are complex because they lack progression systems, only collection. Cards don’t grow, so fun comes from rules and mechanics. Simplify too much, and it’s boring—not like Fight the Landlord, where one trick wins. Plus, revenue’s a factor. I thought I could crack it, but I overestimated myself.”
“You’re leaving the industry?” Tang Yao’s focus veered.
“Yeah, I’m getting a job. I’m not cut out for games.”
Tang Yao glanced at his packed-up office, noticing his belongings boxed. After a beat, she said, “Why not join Avalon?”
“Huh?” Si Jinliang blinked.
“If you’re job-hunting, want to see how Dou Pai transforms?” Tang Yao’s smile was dazzling. “See how I rework it?”
“…” Si Jinliang gaped.
What? Avalon’s swallowing Mingyu’s boss too? And she’s that confident? Redoing my game, just like that?
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 111: Agreed
Date: 2025-02-28
Author: Xian Ge
Si Jinliang stared at Tang Yao, realizing she wasn’t joking. He fell silent, wrestling with himself.
Truthfully, he didn’t fully buy her pitch—not because he doubted her skills. He respected her too much. Fate/Grand Order’s success proved, under controlled variables, the weak link was him.
But card games? That was his domain. He was confident Tang Yao didn’t know them like he did. Her casual “redo it” struck him as naive, like his younger self, oversimplifying rules and mechanics, assuming “fun” and “simple” were easy to balance.
Depth, simplicity, and fun? Incredibly tough.
“If you say no, that’s fine,” Tang Yao said, sensing his hesitation. She spoke candidly, “I’m not inviting you to rub it in or to show off to the Mingyu folks who joined us. It’s about the game. You’ve got great ideas for card games. Honestly, with more time from the investors, I think you could’ve saved Dou Pai. It’s your talent I want. But it’s mutual. You were Mingyu’s boss—joining a small studio with your former staff might feel off. If you don’t trust my vision, you can walk away. No need to save face and end up miserable.”
“…” Si Jinliang met her earnest gaze, her words devoid of mockery. He thought of FGO’s stunning designs, its success.
See how she reworks it?
Despite lingering doubts, he found himself saying, “If you don’t mind a failure like me, I’d like to try…”
Tang Yao’s lips curved into a soft smile.
“But,” Si Jinliang added, hesitating, “we’ll set aside how to rework the game for now. I’m confident in card games, but I’m still a failure. One thing, though—Dou Pai left a bad taste, not just for me but for Mingyu’s team. Starting a project with it might face pushback internally. It flopped once, and with Avalon riding high, if it goes wrong…”
He trailed off, but Tang Yao got it. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle that. Dou Pai is Dou Pai—Avalon’s new game is separate.”
Si Jinliang relaxed, tension easing. “Then I’m good. When do I start?”
He felt a surprising lightness. These big decisions weren’t his burden anymore. He just had to focus on making games—profit or loss wasn’t his problem. FGO seemed to be printing money.
Maybe I’m not cut out for management? The realization hit, and he gave a self-deprecating chuckle.
“No rush, but… will it be awkward?” Tang Yao blinked, thinking for a moment. “You’ll be working with Mingyu’s old crew—your former staff.”
“Awkward?” Si Jinliang gave a bitter laugh. “More awkward was not paying their salaries. They know Mingyu’s deal. Even if I left, they’d guess my next move. I wasn’t a good boss—look at this mess. If someone gives me the side-eye, I get it.”
“As long as you’re okay with it.” Tang Yao nodded, relieved he wasn’t hung up on pride. He’d been a big shot once; the fall could’ve stung, but he seemed grounded. “Let’s talk game rights.”
Before Si Jinliang could respond, Li Xue cut in. “Mr. Si, you’re sure the rights are yours? No hidden investor clauses?”
Tang Yao stayed quiet—Li Xue was the expert here.
Si Jinliang glanced curiously at their clear division of roles but didn’t comment, diving into explanations with Li Xue. They reviewed Mingyu’s old contracts, hashed out details, and sealed the deal.
“The whole office lease—transfer it to me,” Tang Yao said, moving to the next item. “Your team stays in the outer office. Most of Avalon’s crew will move out there too. The old space can go back to being the finance room.”
“Deal.” Si Jinliang nodded, half-expecting this. He couldn’t help a wry smile.
Full circle. That space started as a finance room. Tang Yao had rented it for its small size and low cost. Now it was reverting.
Nothing had changed—same staff, just a new boss and company name. Fate was a trickster.
“Sell the equipment to Avalon too,” Tang Yao added. “And the operations team…”
She glanced at Mingyu’s dwindling operations crew. Her top priority wasn’t the second game—it was finding skilled operators for FGO to professionalize Avalon’s ragtag setup.
“Their contracts aren’t with Mingyu,” Si Jinliang said, sighing. “The investors paid them. With Dou Pai shutting down, they’re leaving soon.”
“How’s their skill?” Tang Yao asked, curious.
“Top-notch,” Si Jinliang said firmly. “Really capable people.”
“Can you mention Avalon to them? See if they’re interested?”
Tang Yao’s eyes lit up. Someone else might’ve doubted Si Jinliang, given Mingyu’s failure. But she trusted him—her Mingyu hires were stellar, despite quirks like staring at her. They were driven and skilled. Si Jinliang’s eye for talent was rock-solid.
“Sure, I’ll try,” he agreed.
“Thanks.” Tang Yao nodded, then paused, thinking. “After this, you’ll lead the second game’s project team. FGO’s fresh off open beta, so I can’t spare many people. I’ll give you a small crew—pick who you want, and we’ll discuss internally. Also, while we’re set on a second game, resources will be tight at first. I’ll hand you a plan for reworking the game’s core rules. Your team will start by revising the framework.”
“No problem,” Si Jinliang said, understanding. FGO was a golden goose—priority one was keeping it safe. He’d do the same.
“But… how are you reworking it? Can you share now?” His curiosity slipped out, tinged with skepticism.
He’d joined partly because of FGO’s success and a gut feeling he couldn’t pin down. This girl, he sensed, might surprise him—though it sounded absurd on reflection.
Tang Yao didn’t answer directly, just smiled. “I’ll get you the plan soon. You’ll see.”
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Li Xue (黎雪), Si Jinliang (司金亮), Chu Yuxin (褚雨欣). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Fate terms (Fate/Grand Order) and game names (Dou Pai/斗牌, Magic: The Gathering, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Fight the Landlord) use established English equivalents or transliterations for clarity.
“Mingyu Tech” (鸣宇科技), “Avalon Studio” (理想乡), and “Wenxin House” (文心馆) are kept as proper nouns, reflecting their narrative roles.
Cultural Nuances:
Business Strategy: Tang Yao’s acquisition plan and Li Xue’s caution reflect Chinese startup pragmatism, translated with universal themes of risk and opportunity.
Workplace Dynamics: Si Jinliang’s humility and Tang Yao’s trust in his talent capture Chinese professional respect, rendered with warmth and nuance.
Gaming Culture: References to TCGs and FGO’s operations highlight China’s gaming boom, adapted for global relatability.
Technical Terms:
Game Terminology: Terms like “TCG” (集换式卡牌游戏), “法术力系统” (mana system), “费用机制” (cost mechanics), “回合外互动” (out-of-turn interactions), and “运营人员” (operations team) align with card game and FGO contexts.
Business Terms: “所有权” (ownership), “独占授权” (exclusive license), “转租” (sublease), and “资方” (investors) are translated to fit entrepreneurial contexts.
Adjustments:
Emotional Tone: Si Jinliang’s doubt, Tang Yao’s confidence, and Li Xue’s pragmatism are tuned for natural English flow, preserving their emotional depth.
Strategic Clarity: Tang Yao’s acquisition logic and Li Xue’s risk analysis are streamlined to highlight their savvy, balancing ambition with caution.
Dialogue Flow: Si Jinliang’s inner conflict and Tang Yao’s persuasive charm are amplified for impact, blending skepticism and hope.
Character Dynamics:
Si Jinliang’s Arc: His shift from defeat to cautious hope is translated with quiet vulnerability, setting up his redemption.
Tang Yao’s Leadership: Her blend of vision and empathy shines, rendered with subtle authority.
Li Xue’s Role: Her practical input grounds Tang Yao, translated with sharp intelligence.
This translation balances fidelity to the original Mandarin with a polished, engaging English narrative, ensuring the plot’s progression, 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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