Chapter 126: New Website Launch
Date: 2025-03-12
Author: Xian Ge
Soon, everyone at Avalon Studio caught wind that their boss and the investor were cooking up something for the new FGO version’s promotion.
What exactly? Most had no clue.
Tang Yao and Li Xue would slip into the meeting room daily, secretive, with faint voices occasionally escaping. But Mingyu Tech’s rented office wasn’t top-tier—except for the meeting room’s stellar soundproofing.
Most couldn’t hear a thing, leaving them in the dark about Tang Yao’s project.
Even key staff like Chu Yuxin, handling keyframes, and Kang Ming, overseeing tech, only vaguely knew Tang Yao was working on a virtual Rin Tohsaka. Beyond that? Nothing. Tang Yao was too mortified to voice-act in front of others.
Performing for Li Xue and Xun was her limit.
Her secrecy was airtight, fooling even the studio.
Time ticked on.
Mid-December, ANF’s website overhaul wrapped up.
Tang Yao, hearing the news, dropped her voice-acting prep and headed to the ANF operations team’s base. She combed through the new site, ensuring no hiccups.
“Launch it,” she told Cai Quan.
She’d contributed plenty of ideas to the revamp. No matter how busy, she couldn’t neglect the site—it was the backbone of the promotion.
The overhaul kept some original style but added new sections and a cleaner layout for a fresher homepage.
“Alright…” Cai Quan nodded, then hesitated. “The new homepage is quite different from the old one. Users might struggle to adjust…”
He hadn’t expected Tang Yao’s “revamp” to be so drastic. It barely resembled the site he’d built, though traces remained.
“I know,” Tang Yao said, serious. “People cling to the familiar. A site they’ve used for years changing overnight? Some won’t like it. I’d feel off if a site I used flipped like that.
“But we can’t stall progress just because users might complain. That’d trap the site in a fantasy of unchanging perfection, making every tweak cautious. That’s just stagnation. You don’t think the site’s in great shape now, do you? If Kang Ming’s team hadn’t audited it, we wouldn’t have caught all those issues. It’s a miracle it only crashed a few times!
“Sloppy front-end code, login glitches, broken comments, videos not loading—these bugs pile up. If we don’t fix them, forget attracting users; it’s a win if the site doesn’t shut down.
“Tech needs upgrades. Problems don’t vanish if you ignore them. If user experience tanks, we patch it. Otherwise, when scale hits, it’ll be a nightmare.
“Didn’t I ask you to add a toggle for the old version? Let users ease in. Once they’re used to the new site, most won’t bother switching back. Then we ditch the button.”
It wasn’t about being harsh—it was necessary.
Take AcFun’s fall: beyond management woes, indecision was a killer. A simple PC homepage revamp dragged on, with hesitancy to commit. Issues arose, and they’d revert instantly.
Crashes had endless excuses—line failures, disk damage, DDoS attacks, data center upgrades, shutdowns, botched video fixes. Unreliable service became the final straw, pushing the site into oblivion.
Sure, multiple ownership changes played a part, but tech teams dodging blame, pinning it on past developers, and delaying fixes? That was indefensible.
Tang Yao refused to let ANF repeat that. She wasn’t banking on video revenue, but user growth was non-negotiable. And that meant a solid experience.
Otherwise, users might jump ship, and some “uncle” or “aunt” could swoop in, crushing ANF.
“…Understood,” Cai Quan said, chastened by Tang Yao’s resolve.
He’d fretted over the revamp’s risks.
“Go. Keep watch these next few days,” Tang Yao said, softening. Her boldness stemmed from past-life insights—she understood Cai Quan’s caution. “If user numbers spike, prioritize content moderation. Use the new hires. I don’t want the site launching only to have unreviewed submissions or rampant violations.”
“Got it,” Cai Quan nodded, leaving hesitantly.
Tang Yao turned back to the homepage, eyeing the prominent recommendation slot. Picturing her voice-acted video there, her expression shifted subtly.
But she wasn’t one to back down.
Once committed, no regrets.
“Here’s to smooth sailing,” she murmured, standing to finish the virtual idol video.
Then, a pop-up flashed in the screen’s corner.
[Renowned Producer Sheng Zhi: A Unique Anime Game! Closed Beta Begins! A Grand Adventure Awaits!]
“…?” Tang Yao froze, sat back down, and clicked the ad.
She skimmed it, brow furrowing.
Really?
Just as she was gearing up for FGO’s big push, another anime game pops up?
She’d anticipated this—the market was ripe, and her game’s day-one revenue leak guaranteed fast followers.
But…
Tang Yao eyed the beta date. “You sure about that timing?”
Who picks Christmas for a beta? Straight into FGO’s crosshairs?
Though shocked at the clash, Tang Yao wasn’t about to shift ANF’s launch for them.
December 18th.
AnimationFan’s new site went live.
The site had been hyping the revamp for weeks, with Cai Quan engaging users daily. But what it’d look like? No one knew.
Today, users would find out.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 127: Huh?
Date: 2025-03-12
Author: Xian Ge
AnimationFan’s struggles were no secret to its veteran users.
Things weren’t great.
Before the acquisition, Cai Quan, the site’s admin, vented daily—servers were pricey, maintenance was brutal, investors were nowhere, and submissions overwhelmed moderation.
Short of swearing “I’ll never charge users a dime,” he’d aired every grievance.
Users could tell from the site’s state that things were grim. A month before Tang Yao’s acquisition, Cai Quan, desperate, had taken ads for adult products.
Not illegal, but no respectable site would touch those—let alone slap them on the homepage.
Yet, just as users braced for the site’s collapse, Cai Quan’s gloom lifted. No more complaints. Instead, he played the nostalgia card, reminiscing about the site’s journey and promising a brighter future.
Gone was the “we’re doomed” vibe.
It felt… like he’d been bailed out.
A big payout? Sold the site? Veteran users speculated.
When Cai Quan announced the revamp, it confirmed the cash influx.
Investment meant commercialization—inevitable. Why else pour money in? Capital wasn’t charity.
Users knew video sites needed revenue to survive. ANF’s experience had tanked—bugs galore—so most supported the revamp. But some old-timers worried. Commercialization often warped niche platforms, stripping their soul.
Their biggest fear? ANF losing its anime focus, no longer catering to fans. Cai Quan had said serving just anime fans scared off investors. Now, with funding, would new owners meddle, pivoting ANF away from its roots?
Few thought this deeply—most users just watched videos, ignoring Cai Quan’s posts.
But, by chance, one user waiting for the launch shared these fears.
Zhu Mao wasn’t like those protective old-timers. He was torn—attached to ANF as one of its earliest users, yet fed up with its recent failures. Half a month of downtime? Unacceptable. So, he’d built his own rival site.
Not for profit, but out of frustration. Cai Quan was that incompetent.
A dog could’ve run it better, he’d ranted. When a user snapped, “Think it’s easy? Do it yourself!” Zhu Mao did.
His site was nearly ready when Cai Quan announced the revamp.
His mood was… complicated.
“Dude, you kidding me?”
He didn’t know whether to launch his site. He’d planned to swoop in when ANF hit rock bottom, proudly debuting his alternative.
“You’d better change it beyond recognition,” Zhu Mao muttered, refreshing the page, conflicted. “A company willing to fund you? Gotta be a mismatch. They’ll have demands. Anime focus…”
Before he finished, the page lagged.
The new site loaded.
Zhu Mao glanced at the homepage and froze.
At the top, a bold banner ad featured characters he knew all too well—Saber, Mash, Gilgamesh…
Aside from two black-stockinged girls, weren’t these Fate/Grand Order characters?
Huh?
The game’s studio funded this?
He scrolled, dazed, taking in the sleek, refreshed homepage—so different, yet so smooth.
Weren’t they game devs? Why invest in a failing site? For what?
Curious, he closed the site’s onboarding guide and clicked the banner.
The page jumped to an ANF x FGO tie-in.
A massive key visual dominated—distinct from the game’s site, showcasing new Servants Zhu Mao hadn’t seen. The quality and polish were unmistakable.
Not one image—three, rotating, each with a blurb:
“New Main Story Chapter! Age of Sail! Third Singularity! Sealed Ends of the Four Seas!”
“Christmas Event! Limited Servant! Artoria [Santa Alter]!”
“Fate/stay night Observation Line Update! A Peerless Swordmaster! Titled… Assassin!?”
As a veteran anime fan, Zhu Mao loved FGO.
This page hit him like a tidal wave of info.
Third Singularity? Christmas Saber? Fate/stay night continuation?
Huh?
The punchy slogans and stunning visuals were magnetic. Even non-players, if anime fans, would click.
He did, hitting the ad.
A video page loaded, uploaded by “Avalon” with a verified blue check.
Barrage comments flooded the screen:
[Holy crap! A game trailer on ANF? Is this official!?]
[No way! You guys bought the site? Nice move!!]
[So cool!! Mash is epic!]
[Hype!!!]
[New version, hurry up!! I need Fate/stay night’s next part!]
[…]
Zhu Mao blinked at the chaotic comments.
…This many players?
It’d barely launched! Were others like him, instantly clicking the banner?
No wonder.
It clicked—why FGO’s studio acquired ANF.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 128: First Glimpse
Date: 2025-03-12
Author: Xian Ge
An anime website.
A perfect match for anime games—a promotional platform.
It made sense.
Zhu Mao stared at the screen, thoughts racing. Snapping out of it, he went to watch the video, only to be distracted by a subtle yet noticeable guide:
[New Sections Here~]
An arrow and caption pointed to the site’s UI.
Manga and games!?
He moved his mouse, clicking each section in shock.
He was hooked.
Sure, it was Fate-centric, but as a veteran, even if he hadn’t played FGO, he’d read Fate/Zero’s manga. The new sections slyly included FGO and manga tie-in extras—irresistible.
The games section was a goldmine: new version details, account-linked gift packs, and free high-res artwork for wallpapers or viewing.
He spent half an hour on manga and art alone.
He knew these were ads to drive game engagement, but the effort was undeniable.
And it fit ANF’s vibe perfectly.
Anime mobile games, beautiful illustrations, manga—what wasn’t anime about that?
For the first time, ANF felt intensely anime. Were art assets free or something?
Plus, the site’s chronic bugs—crashes, glitches—were gone. The revamp felt odd to him as an old-timer, but the smooth experience made it a non-issue.
ANF wasn’t just shilling ads. Fate content was a fraction of the changes.
The site was transformed. After manga, Zhu Mao went to rewatch the trailer and noticed a new “Dynamic Space” feature—supporting posts, short videos, event sharing, and discussions, with one-click sharing for videos or articles.
That was the obvious stuff. Smaller tweaks abounded.
Old ANF was a niche, user-driven community, like a basic anime forum. Now? Zhu Mao saw a polished, commercial platform.
Insanely, for a first revamp, it felt battle-tested, balancing ANF’s “niche community DNA” with mainstream appeal. It didn’t alienate old-timers like him into thinking, “What is this? This isn’t ANF!” Nor did it feel like nothing changed.
Subtle, yet perfect.
The community vibe was diluted, sure, but the site was a joy to use.
“…” Zhu Mao browsed for an hour, poking around, growing accustomed to the new site.
He was sold.
Especially after seeing the Dynamic Space explode within an hour—UPs and users he followed sharing Fate content and praising the revamp.
His knockoff site? Trash-bound.
How could he compete?
It was like a caveman with a stick facing armored soldiers. Experience could be bought, but Fate?
No contest.
This tie-in’s scale would pull FGO players—even non-ANF users—onto the site.
If ANF were still its old, broken self, FGO’s hype might’ve just spiked traffic briefly.
But now? Transformed, even a disgruntled old-timer like Zhu Mao, who’d cursed Cai Quan’s incompetence, found it great.
Regular users? They’d love it.
He’d seen the tie-in wasn’t done—more was “coming soon.”
And FGO’s player base wasn’t just core anime fans anymore. Casual players were joining.
Would they get pulled to ANF too?
That’d be massive.
If it scaled, the game and site could feed each other, making ANF the hub for core and casual anime fans—and anime games.
Hiss…
Zhu Mao gasped, staring at the site, fully grasping why Avalon invested.
They were the perfect—only—fit to revive ANF.
Forget mimicking ANF with a clone site. He needed to join Avalon Studio.
This company had a future!
He ditched ANF, hit Avalon’s site, and hunted for job listings.
Screw imitation—he was jumping ship!
Facts bore out Zhu Mao’s instincts.
The game and site were indeed lifting each other.
FGO’s new version promotion wasn’t just on ANF. Yuan Yanbo, Avalon’s operations lead, went all-in, hitting every channel—ads everywhere.
China’s biggest anime forum was a key target.
Its admin happily took Avalon’s ads. As a gamer, he saw FGO fit the forum’s vibe—way better than adult product ads.
Anime games on an anime forum? Obvious move.
Who’d argue?
He greenlit Yuan Yanbo’s plan, plastering FGO ads across the forum.
FGO’s earliest players came from this forum. They couldn’t ignore the ads.
Soon, threads about the new version exploded:
[Finally, an update! I cleared the main story and observation line ages ago! Gimme new content!]
[Main story’s at sea? Oceanus? The Greek river god?]
[So hyped!!]
[Main story and observation line are hitting their stride!]
[Seen this FGO short? Hilarious! [link]]
[Guys, ANF account binding gives gift packs!]
[Huh?]
[…]
At first, discussions were standard game hype.
But ANF’s name crept into threads.
Users shared ANF-exclusive tie-ins and shorts. Avalon’s promo materials all carried ANF’s logo and links.
Players who’d never heard of ANF or only vaguely knew it couldn’t resist checking.
One peek, and they were on the site.
Habits take time, but when non-ANF players started registering accounts, the first step was taken.
Plenty more awaited—this was just the warm-up.
Three hours post-launch, at Avalon Studio.
Cai Quan burst in, stumbling, face alight with excitement, charging at Tang Yao.
Tang Yao, startled by the stomping, looked up, shrinking back as Cai Quan barreled toward her.
Luckily, he stopped short of a collision.
Waving his arms, he shouted, “Boss!! The site’s DAU hit nearly 500,000 today! Five hundred thousand!!”
Tang Yao, shoulders hunched, blinked. “…?”
It’s just the start. 500,000 warrants this frenzy?
What happens at 10 million—or a billion? Fainting?
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Cai Quan (蔡全), Chu Yuxin (褚雨欣), Kang Ming (康鸣), Yuan Yanbo (袁彦波), Zhu Mao (朱茂), Li Xue (黎雪), Rin Tohsaka (远坂凛). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Fate terms (Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night, Saber, Mash, Gilgamesh, Artoria [Santa Alter], Oceanus) use established English equivalents for fan clarity.
“Avalon Studio” (理想乡), “Mingyu Tech” (鸣宇科技), and “ANF” (AnimationFan) are kept as proper nouns, reflecting their narrative roles.
“Sheng Zhi” (盛至) is transliterated as a name for the rival producer.
Cultural Nuances:
Anime Culture: ANF’s revamp and FGO tie-ins reflect China’s anime fandom, translated with universal themes of community engagement and commercial synergy.
Startup Context: Cai Quan’s past struggles and Tang Yao’s bold vision capture Chinese tech startup dynamics, rendered with relatable ambition and risk.
User Sentiment: Zhu Mao’s frustration and pivot to admiration mirror niche community protectiveness, translated with authentic fan passion.
Technical Terms:
Business Terminology: “日活跃用户” (DAU/daily active users), “商业化” (commercialization), and “用户体验” (user experience) align with tech and venture contexts.
Marketing Terms: “联动” (tie-in), “宣传” (promotion), “动态空间” (Dynamic Space), and “弹幕” (barrage comments) fit digital and anime marketing.
Tech Terms: “前端开发” (front-end development), “BUG” (bugs), and “切换旧版本” (toggle old version) align with website development.
Adjustments:
Emotional Tone: Tang Yao’s resolve, Cai Quan’s excitement, and Zhu Mao’s awe are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional stakes.
Strategic Clarity: Tang Yao’s revamp strategy and the FGO-ANF synergy are streamlined to highlight her foresight and execution.
Dialogue Flow: User comments and Zhu Mao’s inner monologue add humor and momentum, balancing technicality with fan energy.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Leadership: Her strategic brilliance and pragmatism shine, rendered with confidence and warmth.
Cai Quan’s Growth: His shift from doubt to enthusiasm sets up ANF’s revival, translated with relatable humility.
Zhu Mao’s Arc: His frustration-to-admiration journey reflects fan loyalty, translated with vivid passion.
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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