Chapter 116: Investment
Date: 2025-03-02
Author: Xian Ge
This world has anime culture communities and video platforms akin to Bilibili, but without a figure like “Uncle” steering the ship and with copyright awareness awakening earlier, they’re struggling.
Despite a thriving anime industry—where even manga magazines flourish—most animations air on mainstream video platforms, much like the “big copyright era” of Tang Yao’s past life. Niche, anime-focused sites like AnimationFan (ANF) can’t compete with mainstream giants for licensing rights.
This leaves local anime communities and video platforms far weaker than in Tang Yao’s world. Even Bilibili wasn’t exactly thriving back then, but ANF’s niche is even narrower. It’s not just that anime fans “rolled out”—ANF lacks new anime releases altogether. Stuck in an early, passion-driven phase, it offers no licensed shows, not even pirated ones.
Its name isn’t widely known, but its purity attracts a solid core of anime fans. Tang Yao, in idle moments, had looked into it. ANF has long wanted to evolve, but fundraising has been a dead end.
“Co-publishing? With ANF? That’s… tricky,” Yuan Yanbo said, hesitating. “I know their team—I even know the founder. They’re ten people, scraping by, with no clue where their next funding’s coming from. Most importantly, they have zero game operations experience. Using them for promotion? Fine. They’re desperate to monetize, pushing cheap, high-volume ads lately. Our game fits their user base—ads there could work. But co-publishing…”
“Here’s my thinking,” Tang Yao said, nodding. “You said our game’s exposure channels are limited, right? We don’t have enough outward-facing platforms. Mainstream video sites might bring players, but it’s a mixed bag—good and bad.
“I’m not against ads on those channels, but imagine a dedicated anime site offering players a hub to connect. Wouldn’t that amplify our game’s focus on story and characters? Take the new version launch—tons of content, but players discuss it scattered across forums and such. Our official site, by design, isn’t great for community discussion.
“ANF’s different. It’s already got a core anime fanbase. With a nudge—like a video-sharing contest for Fate/Grand Order’s new version, with cash prizes and heavy site ads—wouldn’t the impact be bigger? Their users are our players, or at least open to anime games. If it scales, players might organically share FGO and other anime games. Eventually, we might not need to spam ads for every update.”
Yes, Tang Yao was inspired by how FGO boosted Bilibili’s IPO in her past life. She couldn’t pursue this earlier—planning co-publishing was premature when the game’s fate was unclear. But now, with profits rolling in, she could think ecosystem.
It might not work—the environment differed—but it was worth a shot. Failure meant losing one channel. No big deal.
“…” Yuan Yanbo’s eyes lit up. It made sense for an anime game. But… “They’ve got no operations experience…”
“Neither did we at the start,” Tang Yao said, glancing around with a shrug. “Still don’t, really. If they won’t play ball, we can invest. You said ANF’s team is cash-strapped, right? We can fund them, even build our own operations team. All we need is their cooperation and access to their core anime user data.”
Skipping channel revenue splits was easy. Tang Yao could pull out a hefty sum—fresh from players’ wallets.
“Investment… that could work,” Yuan Yanbo said, eyes brightening again.
Co-publishing was iffy with ANF’s inexperience. Even if they agreed, it’d likely lead to headaches—like botched execution. Investment, though, gave Avalon leverage.
“Here’s the plan,” Yuan Yanbo said, quick on the uptake. “We set up an official FGO account on ANF, add a referral link on our site, and include the ANF account in promo materials. Then, we drop the new version’s trailer there to gauge user response.”
“Sounds good,” Tang Yao agreed after a moment’s thought.
“For your idea of a video-sharing contest tied to the new version…” Yuan Yanbo paused, thoughtful. “No rush. Let’s first ask ANF about investment. Actually, ask about investment first—if the trailer response is too strong, they might realize our goal and jack up the price.”
“Can you reach out?” Tang Yao recalled he knew the team.
“Sure!” Yuan Yanbo, growing more convinced, turned to leave. “I’ll ask now!”
He was visibly thrilled, a stark contrast to his Mingyu Tech days.
Tang Yao watched him go, exhaling softly. If ANF accepted investment, this could be big. Failure? Just some lost cash. Success? Not quite a unique anime culture hub yet, but a core fanbase stronghold would ease FGO’s promotion.
Plus, the mobile game wave was coming. Tang Yao’s FGO used a self-built channel, painstakingly grown via manga. Other games—unless tied to existing IPs—might not have that. They’d face the same issue: a finished game with nowhere to promote. They wouldn’t all draw manga, right? It’s a new genre.
If ANF proved effective for anime game promotion, rivals might end up paying Tang Yao to advertise there—once FGO validated the path.
Also, her ANF investment tied to Li Xue. Li Xue didn’t know game development or seem to enjoy games, leaving Tang Yao unsure how to invite her to join. But Li Xue understood animation and manga. With ANF, Tang Yao could legitimately dive into ACG’s Animation and Comics, giving her a reason to bring Li Xue on board. They might see each other daily.
Daily…
Her thoughts drifted to yesterday—Li Xue lifting her skirt, teasingly asking if she wanted to see. Tang Yao’s lips curved, a soft smile breaking through as she pressed them together.
Yuan Yanbo moved fast. Within an hour of their plan, ANF’s team received the message.
At ANF’s base, founder Cai Quan stared at the email, breath catching, disbelief etched on his face. His hands hit the keyboard, typing furiously: “Bro, forget investment—can you buy us out?”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 117: Huh?
Date: 2025-03-03
Author: Xian Ge
Cai Quan’s excitement wasn’t surprising. He was at his breaking point.
AnimationFan boasted over 200,000 users—not a small number. But its management was a mess, even shoddier than Avalon Studio’s. The founding team of ten operated out of a residential house. Monthly costs ran into the hundreds of thousands, covered only by ads that couldn’t break even.
Every month bled money. Heavily.
Recent user growth only worsened things—he couldn’t afford new servers. “Bright future” sounded nice, but he was starving now. Future? What future?
Cai Quan had started ANF out of passion, a diehard anime fan with dreams of entrepreneurial glory. But reality crushed his ambitions fast. The site had a loyal anime fanbase, sure, but monetization was a nightmare.
Daily losses piled up. Despite some family wealth, Cai Quan couldn’t sustain this. He’d tried self-rescuing, pitching investors. They’d check ANF’s state and bail. One gullible backer ponied up, only to ghost after a few months, cursing Cai Quan on the way out.
What kind of trash site was this? Decent user numbers, but abysmal ad conversion rates. Sales conversions were laughable. Big advertisers ignored it; small ones got burned and fled. Now, ANF was stuck with 18+ ads—low-paying and embarrassing.
Worse, the site relied on individual creators’ passion. If they bailed en masse, ANF had no original content to fall back on. This wasn’t a company—it was a sinking ship.
The angel investor had written off the loss and vanished, leaving Cai Quan to prop it up alone. He’d pitched others, but “niche video site” was a death sentence. No one bit.
It wasn’t just ANF. In Tang Yao’s world, even giants like iQiyi and Tencent Video bled cash. Reports pegged the top three platforms burning 100 billion yuan with no profit in sight, juggling conflicting models like subscriptions and ad patches. Smaller sites? Hopeless.
ANF, still in its infancy, attracted no investors. Cai Quan had used one sucker’s cash to turn it from a personal project into a company, but that was the peak. Operations were unsustainable.
Unlike Bilibili, which had “Uncle” and others to professionalize management via share dilution, Cai Quan was alone. Expecting an otaku to transform a niche community into a commercial hit, navigate capital games, and go public was absurd. He couldn’t even give equity away—no one wanted it. He was stuck, and things were crumbling.
He’d been ready to quit. That’s why Yuan Yanbo’s email hit like lightning.
He couldn’t hold on. Forget investment—take the whole site!
“What’s with you?” At ANF’s base, Cai Quan, face flushed, typed furiously, replying to Yuan Yanbo.
Wen Fei, pushing open the door, caught the scene and raised a brow. Despite their cramped residential setup, Cai Quan, as the biggest spender, had a “private office.”
He looked up at his co-founder and cousin, bursting, “Someone wants to buy us out!”
It was premature, but he blurted his dream.
“Huh?” Wen Fei blinked, eyes lighting up. She dropped her files, striding over on long legs. “Who? Who’d want this? Are they nuts? How much?”
“…” Cai Quan knew she was right but bristled. No arguing, though—it was a mess.
Wen Fei reached his computer, spotting the email’s sender domain. She read it softly, frowning. “Avalon? Why’s that familiar?”
“The team behind Fate/Grand Order!” Cai Quan, the veteran anime fan, knew exactly. “That game we loved! Nearly a billion in day-one revenue!”
“What!?” Wen Fei’s voice spiked, recalling the hot anime game. “They make games! Why’d they want our trash site?”
“…” Cai Quan winced. Stop calling it trash. Even if it’s true…
Her shout reached the outer office, and ANF’s team erupted, clamoring to know when the sale was happening.
Meanwhile, at Avalon Studio, Yuan Yanbo stared at the email, expression odd. Instead of replying, he found Tang Yao. “Miss Tang…”
“Hm?” Tang Yao, drafting her card game plan, looked up, curious. “What’s up?”
“ANF replied.”
“That fast? Do they agree to investment?”
“No, they don’t.”
“What? They think we’re too small?”
“Nope.” Yuan Yanbo gave a wry laugh. “They’ll only accept a buyout, not investment.”
“…Huh?” Tang Yao’s mind blanked.
What? Was this a fake site? ANF wasn’t obscure—she’d heard of it. Why skip investment for a full sale?
Seeing her puzzled, adorable expression, Yuan Yanbo explained, “I dug around after sending the email. They got one angel investment early on, then nothing. They’re losing money daily, and the market’s written them off. The founder’s probably lost hope, hence the sale.”
“That bad?” Tang Yao was stunned.
“Yeah, look…” Yuan Yanbo hesitated. He’d bought into Tang Yao’s vision of a core anime fan platform, but ANF’s dire state and the team’s eagerness to sell might spook her.
“Have them come here to talk,” Tang Yao said, catching his drift. “Don’t seem too eager, but I’ll be straight: if they’re selling, we’re buying.”
A community with core anime fans? If run well, it’d be the hub for anime game promotion. ANF’s team might not realize it, judging by their response. They hadn’t grasped that ACG’s “G” (games) could leverage an anime video site’s strengths, carving a unique path rooted in anime culture.
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Li Xue (黎雪), Yuan Yanbo (袁彦波), Cai Quan (蔡全), Wen Fei (温绯). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Fate terms (Fate/Grand Order) and platform names (AnimationFan/ANF) use established or fictional English equivalents for clarity.
“Avalon Studio” (理想乡) and “Bilibili” (B站) are kept as proper nouns, with “Uncle” (叔叔) contextualized as a nickname for Bilibili’s leadership.
“iQiyi” (爱奇艺) and “Tencent Video” (腾讯视频) use standard English names for familiarity.
Cultural Nuances:
Anime Culture: ANF’s struggle and Tang Yao’s vision reflect China’s niche anime communities, translated with universal themes of passion vs. pragmatism.
Startup Dynamics: Cai Quan’s desperation and Tang Yao’s strategic pivot capture Chinese entrepreneurial grit, rendered with relatable ambition.
ACG Context: The ACG (Animation, Comics, Games) framework is preserved, emphasizing anime culture’s commercial potential.
Technical Terms:
Industry Terminology: Terms like “联运” (co-publishing), “注资” (investment), “渠道服” (channel server), “核心用户” (core users), “广告转化效率” (ad conversion rate), and “销售转化率” (sales conversion rate) align with gaming and startup contexts.
Platform Terms: “视频网站” (video platform), “为爱发电” (passion-driven), and “会员付费” (subscription) are translated to reflect digital media challenges.
Game Terms: “宣传片” (trailer), “版本上线” (version launch), and “引流通道” (referral link) fit FGO’s operational context.
Adjustments:
Emotional Tone: Cai Quan’s desperation, Tang Yao’s optimism, and Wen Fei’s bluntness are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional stakes.
Strategic Clarity: Tang Yao’s ecosystem vision and ANF’s collapse are streamlined to highlight her foresight against Cai Quan’s defeatism.
Dialogue Flow: Wen Fei’s shock and Tang Yao’s pivot to acquisition are amplified for humor and momentum, balancing urgency and wit.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Ambition: Her strategic leap and personal tie to Li Xue shine, rendered with warmth and cunning.
Cai Quan’s Defeat: His shift from passion to surrender sets up ANF’s potential, translated with relatable exhaustion.
Team Reactions: ANF’s chaotic excitement and Avalon’s cautious optimism are translated with lively tension.
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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