Chapter 120: Promising?
Date: 2025-03-12
Author: Xian Ge
Tang Yao’s arrangements can wait for now.
On the other side, Cai Quan returned to ANF’s operational base and shared the acquisition news with the team. The response was ecstatic—they couldn’t wait to move to Avalon Studio.
No surprise there. As frontline staff, they knew the site’s dire straits all too well. They’d worked with Cai Quan long enough to see his limits. If not for the acquisition, many were ready to jump ship. The future had looked bleak, utterly hopeless.
Now, acquired by Avalon Studio, it wasn’t exactly “leaning on a big tree for shade,” but at least they wouldn’t be fretting over next month’s paycheck after cashing this one. Startups could be tough—that was fine. The real fear was no light at the end of the tunnel. With a glimpse of a future, they could endure anything.
Being diehard anime fans, the team had played and loved FGO. They were genuinely excited, hoping Avalon could work miracles with the site.
And so, it was settled. The entire team relocated to Avalon Studio’s Kema Center, temporarily sharing office space. Cai Quan breathed a sigh of relief, finally free to tackle the remaining equity issues with Wen Fei.
Yanjin Venture Capital Fund, Manager’s Office.
Lin Shuang signed a few documents, set down her pen, and eagerly prepared to check on her two anime game teams. Avalon Studio’s success, coupled with her cousin’s prodding, had lit a fire under her. Lately, she’d poured her energy into those projects.
Her goal? Simple. Launch the second anime game as fast as possible, riding Fate/Grand Order’s wave with a sharper, more professional team to claim the biggest slice of the anime game pie.
But before she could reach out, a knock interrupted.
Lin Shuang looked up, frowning. “Come in.”
An investment manager in a crisp suit entered, getting straight to the point. “Lin-jie, I need your input on something.”
Yanjin wasn’t a major fund—just a mid-sized player with a lean team. Senior partners like Lin Shuang were hands-on, diving into project screening, due diligence, and post-investment management. She was used to this, but eyed the manager curiously. “What’s up?”
He explained briefly.
Lin Shuang listened quietly, then furrowed her brow. “Repurchasing? Why are we managing an LP’s personal equity?”
“Here’s the thing,” the manager said, clearing his throat. “The site this LP invested in is one my team’s bullish on. I’ve finished due diligence and was about to submit the report and investment proposal to the committee. Since there’s a connection, we signed an agreement to assist with management.”
“So, the startup team wants to buy back the LP’s shares?”
“Correct.”
“What’s the LP’s stance?”
“He doesn’t care—seems fed up with the site. But…” The manager hesitated. “I think it’s got potential.”
“…” Lin Shuang didn’t comment, mulling it over. “Show me the due diligence and proposal.”
The manager nodded, handing her the documents.
Lin Shuang flipped through them silently. After about half an hour, she tossed the papers down, rubbing her temples. “No wonder the LP’s disillusioned. An anime-focused video site? That’s so niche it’s nearly impossible to scale. No clear monetization model. And you’re still chasing it? Investing in this? Got any comparable cases for reference?”
“No, but anime’s been…” the manager began.
Lin Shuang cut him off. “This isn’t about anime. I’ve told you—don’t invest on gut alone. Why even bother with due diligence on this? What’s the draw? User growth? Tech edge? Team strength? Anything standout?”
The manager was speechless.
“Forget it. Don’t submit this to the committee—it’s pointless. As for the LP’s equity, let him handle it. End the management agreement to avoid legal or compliance risks.” Lin Shuang shook her head, disappointed. “If he insists we assist, coordinate with the founders for the buyback. Keep it simple—finalize payment and transfer fast. This shouldn’t have happened. What were you thinking?
“Now’s not the time for these half-baked projects! Anime games! Mobile games! No projects in those spaces catch your eye? You’re wasting time on this broken site?
“A video site? Think! A cash-burning venture like that suits us? Has it got any future?”
“…” Lin Shuang unloaded.
The manager, sweating, fled.
Outside the office, he calmed down, glancing at his due diligence report. He looked back at the door, shaking his head, muttering, “Anime games, anime games… Who do you think’s paying for those? A platform like this, tailored to anime fans, isn’t it perfect?”
Honestly, he saw potential, especially after anime games proved core fans’ willingness to spend. But he didn’t call the shots. He could only grumble and follow orders.
Cai Quan’s equity buyback went smoothly. With only one prior investment round, the fund’s rep met him quickly, hammering out price, payment,
and terms. An agreement was signed.
Meanwhile, ANF’s team settled into Avalon Studio. With Yuan Yanbo’s legal team overseeing, ANF officially changed hands. Tang Yao became its new owner.
The moment the deal was signed, Cai Quan exhaled, tension melting away. Looking at Tang Yao’s harmless, radiant face, he said smoothly, “Looking forward to working with you… boss!”
“No ‘looking forward,’” Tang Yao said, smiling. “There’s work to do now.”
“Huh?” Cai Quan blinked. First day already?
“No choice—tight schedule, heavy tasks,” Tang Yao said, picking up a planning document. “First, I need you to add a manga section to the site. I’ll arrange tech support to sync with you. You know Fate/Zero, right? The manga serialized on our game site? It’ll be free on ANF, the first work in your manga section. I’ll also add FGO-universe short comics later.
“Second, ANF needs a games section. The first game is Fate/Grand Order. It’s just one for now, but we’ll bring in other anime games. Prep for that.
“I’m sure you see it—my goal is to make ANF a comprehensive anime platform, blending manga, animation, and games.
“Lastly,” she handed over the document, “for FGO’s new version launch, I need you to work with us on a full promotion campaign to boost exposure and hype.”
“…” Cai Quan was overwhelmed by the info dump.
After a moment, he snapped out of it, took the document, and flipped through it. His breathing quickened. He looked up at Tang Yao, stunned.
Tang Yao’s plan was a masterclass in IP synergy and ecosystem integration. Cai Quan knew he’d never have dreamed this up—not in a lifetime.
No way! The site could be used like this?
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 121: Meek and Mild
Date: 2025-03-12
Author: Xian Ge
Cai Quan had seen things. Or so he thought.
But his meager experience felt like nothing next to this girl, younger than him, who’d just turned his world upside down. He finally understood why Avalon Studio wanted ANF—she was maximizing its potential.
The promotion plan was exhaustive, covering content integration, IP synergy, user conversion, technical execution, and impact assessment. It had strategic vision, granular execution details, and phased rollout strategies—preheating and explosion phases.
First, revamp the site and launch a “Fate Universe Zone,” using manga, games, and official novels to drive game downloads. Then, the explosion phase: concentrate traffic with a “FGO New Version Countdown” event, social media sharing for limited FGO gift draws, FGO voice actors posting videos on ANF with long-term featured slots, and UGC incentives via an “FGO × ANF Fan Creation Contest.”
Tang Yao even proposed a site mascot—a virtual admin. The plan included a tie-in story: ANF’s admin, while maintaining servers, stumbles on anomalous data—Chaldea’s records.
Cai Quan hadn’t read the story yet, but the mascot’s concept art screamed reliability. His mind was blown.
What kind of wizardry was this? Content-driven traffic, game conversion, ecosystem feedback—three steps to maximize synergy between ANF and FGO.
“Go over it carefully,” Tang Yao said seriously. “Grasp the plan fast. Avalon’s been prepping this for a while. It’s cross-departmental—tech, content, and operations must sync. It’ll be grueling, but if it works, you see it: it’s huge for the game and the site. FGO’s traffic will massively boost ANF. This is a golden opportunity.”
“Got it,” Cai Quan said, taking a deep breath and clutching the document, nodding solemnly.
He’d made the right call selling. What could he have done with the site? Nothing. But Avalon Studio, already a name among core anime fans, could give it a real future. Some people were just different.
This was genius.
Thinking of the equity tied to his performance agreement, picturing the site’s boom post-plan, Cai Quan’s heart raced. He didn’t regret selling—he knew this needed a game’s backing and a visionary to tie it all together. He couldn’t do that.
Forget the plan—he wouldn’t have even thought of a mascot, let alone one debuting with an FGO tie-in to capture hearts. Why hadn’t he considered a mascot?
He could only marvel. He was just grateful he’d sold. If this worked, the equity he might earn could outvalue the entire site under his watch.
“Go get to it. Kang Ming’s waiting,” Tang Yao said, noting Cai Quan’s flushed, excited face but cutting him off. She pointed behind him.
Cai Quan turned, spotting a man with a high hairline waiting, grinning as their eyes met. He hurried over, and they dove into talk about the site’s new version.
Tang Yao shifted her gaze to her screen. She’d been refining the synergy plan since deciding to acquire ANF. Most parts had been vetted internally—no issues there.
The snag? Voice actors.
When FGO was in development, budget constraints meant cutting corners. Sound effects were outsourced, and Tang Yao herself voiced many female characters’ interjections. Voice actors were pricey—nearly 10,000 yuan per hour. Recording card lines was already a stretch. Full dialogue for all characters? Even more cash wouldn’t have sufficed. She’d hired lesser-known, cheaper actors. Top-tier ones? At least 30,000 per hour.
An hour’s recording? Maybe 100 normal-length lines, if everything went perfectly. In reality, 60 was a win.
These rookie actors, while affordable, lacked fame. Inviting them for ANF videos or commercial tie-ins wouldn’t likely make waves.
Luckily, Tang Yao had been strategic—she’d splurged on renowned, expensive actors for FGO’s hottest characters. Back then, she’d been meek, scrimping to save every penny.
But times had changed. Avalon had money now. She could hire boldly. Let them be the meek ones.
The less famous actors she’d hired were still solid, carefully chosen to fit their roles. Maybe she could pick an under-the-radar but talented one to promote? Established actors did tons of commercial gigs—core fans had seen it all. A lesser-known actor, rising with FGO’s fame, could be a win-win.
Who, though? Tang Yao mulled, recalling the actors she’d worked with. Excluding herself, they were all great, each vying to be the “big sister.”
But the role mattered most. The game revolved around characters—she couldn’t pick based solely on fame or skill. The videos might touch unreleased content, too.
So…
Tang Yao frowned in thought, opening FGO’s Servant roster. She scrolled, but no Servant felt right. Her gaze landed on a Master instead.
Wait.
In Fate/stay night, Masters mostly had interjections—no full voice acting. Pair that with skeletal animation… A virtual idol Rin Tohsaka playing FGO? Could that work?
It might! It wasn’t even that complex!
Her eyes lit up.
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Cai Quan (蔡全), Wen Fei (温绯), Yuan Yanbo (袁彦波), Kang Ming (康鸣), Lin Shuang (林霜). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Fate terms (Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night, Chaldea, Servant, Rin Tohsaka/远坂凛) use established English equivalents for fan clarity.
“Avalon Studio” (理想乡), “Mingyu Tech” (鸣宇科技), “ANF” (AnimationFan), and “Yanjin Venture Capital” (演进创投) are kept as proper nouns, reflecting their narrative roles.
Cultural Nuances:
Anime Culture: ANF’s acquisition and FGO’s promotion reflect China’s anime fanbase dynamics, translated with universal themes of community and commercial potential.
Startup Context: Lin Shuang’s dismissal and Cai Quan’s relief capture Chinese venture capital and startup struggles, rendered with relatable ambition and despair.
Voice Acting: The high cost of voice actors and Tang Yao’s budget hacks mirror China’s gaming industry, adapted for global understanding.
Technical Terms:
Business Terminology: Terms like “尽职调查” (due diligence), “有限合伙人” (limited partner/LP), “股权回购” (equity buyback), and “商业化” (commercialization) align with venture capital contexts.
Marketing Terms: “IP联动” (IP synergy), “用户转化” (user conversion), “生态整合” (ecosystem integration), “UGC内容激励” (user-generated content incentives), and “看板娘” (mascot) fit digital and anime marketing.
Game Terms: “版本上线” (version launch), “限定活动” (limited event), and “英灵图鉴” (Servant roster) align with FGO’s operational context.
Adjustments:
Emotional Tone: Cai Quan’s awe, Lin Shuang’s frustration, and Tang Yao’s ingenuity are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional stakes.
Strategic Clarity: Tang Yao’s ecosystem plan and Lin Shuang’s misstep are streamlined to highlight their contrasting visions.
Dialogue Flow: Cai Quan’s shock and Tang Yao’s pivot to Rin Tohsaka add humor and momentum, balancing technicality with excitement.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Vision: Her strategic brilliance and creative flair shine, rendered with warmth and cunning.
Cai Quan’s Awe: His shift from despair to admiration sets up ANF’s revival, translated with relatable humility.
Lin Shuang’s Blindness: Her focus on games over platforms foreshadows her miscalculation, translated with sharp arrogance.
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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