Chapter 137: Here, Hug Away
Date: 2025-03-13
Author: Xian Ge
As Tang Yao shifted her legs, Chu Yuxin snapped back to reality. Her gaze drifted upward, meeting Tang Yao’s mildly exasperated stare.
“What are you looking at?” Tang Yao’s lively eyes reflected Chu Yuxin’s figure as she straightened, mustering some authority.
Chu Yuxin, caught off-guard, blurted, “Uh… I just thought your legs are really long.”
That wasn’t the real reason.
She’d just watched the tie-in video and read the comments, suddenly feeling—despite being a woman herself—an urge to “hug those thighs,” metaphorically and maybe literally.
Hugging this boss’s coattails, spiritually or materially, seemed like a win.
Her boss was just… aspirational.
When Tang Yao spat “gross” in the video, Chu Yuxin got why anime fans were obsessed.
And she had an extra filter: she knew Tang Yao’s real-life looks and figure—top-tier in every way.
Rich, multitalented.
Even childbirth… well, she could have kids.
Not a pretty picture, though.
Few seemed worthy of her, and…
Chu Yuxin pictured Tang Yao with Li Xue. Yeah, they felt right together. Anyone else gave off a faint sense of… tainting her.
“Long legs? What’s that got to do with you?” Tang Yao shot her a playful glare. “You been slacking on ANF during work hours?”
“Huh?”
“Huh what?” Tang Yao extended a hand. “Lower your head.”
“…”
Chu Yuxin, grimacing, leaned forward, bowing her head.
Tang Yao, sitting tall, pressed a slender finger onto Chu Yuxin’s thick eyebrow, feigning menace. “Slacking on the job, huh? Wage cut!!”
“No way!” Chu Yuxin flailed, her pinned eyebrow twitching as she pleaded, “I’ll let you stare at my legs to make up for it…”
“This about legs? And I don’t care for stubby ones.”
After months together, Tang Yao had bonded with most staff, including Chu Yuxin.
A genius, sure, but a money-grubber.
Always yapping about moving computers…
“No wage cut? Fine. Forget that video,” Tang Yao raised her voice, addressing both Chu Yuxin and the eavesdropping staff. “No thinking about it, no mentioning it. It’s a pure business move. I was playing Rin Tohsaka—her actions have nothing to do with me.”
Chu Yuxin squinted. “Oh…”
Calling her legs stubby was too much!
Fine, they weren’t as long, sleek, or perfectly shaped as Tang Yao’s…
Okay, stubby it was.
“If you’re free, check on Card Clash. See if they need help. Stop slacking and watching videos,” Tang Yao said, releasing her eyebrow. “After the Christmas event, the studio’s focus will shift there a bit.”
“Mm.” Chu Yuxin’s face stiffened.
Her lighthearted mood vanished.
“Don’t worry. I’m here, aren’t I?” Tang Yao caught her expression, guessing her thoughts. “I said Card Clash won’t flop again. Work confidently. If you still see issues after the revamp, tell me.”
“…” Chu Yuxin stared at Tang Yao’s radiant face, silent for a moment, then nodded softly.
Since joining Avalon Studio, she’d felt that working under Tang Yao was worlds apart from Si Jinliang.
At first, she chalked it up to their skill gap.
One knew card games but was clueless elsewhere.
The other? Coded, drew art, pitched plans, ran marketing, and now voiced characters…
But over time, she realized it wasn’t just skills.
Even ignoring that, Si Jinliang got crushed.
The real difference? Confidence.
Tang Yao had unshakable self-assurance.
She was certain her games would succeed.
Even when ex-Mingyu Tech staff doubted Card Clash, she’d boldly say, “Trust me.”
Si Jinliang wouldn’t dare.
Saying that meant shouldering all responsibility.
Most people, facing that, would try to “convince” others, diluting blame.
In groups, personal accountability often fades.
Success is great.
Failure? Ouch.
Making such claims took more than courage.
Si Jinliang was no boss—lacking Tang Yao’s confidence, decisiveness, or boldness.
Yet Tang Yao wasn’t a tyrant. She couldn’t be…
She didn’t squash staff ideas.
It was like she had a magic touch, inspiring everyone around her to believe that following her led to victory.
Call it… charisma?
“What’s on your mind? What did you need?” Tang Yao cut through her thoughts, eyeing the art drafts in her hand.
Chu Yuxin snapped back, glanced at the drafts, and switched to work mode, reporting.
Soon, Tang Yao sent the meddlesome Chu Yuxin off.
She sighed in relief.
That was handled, right?
Glancing around… maybe not.
Noticing lingering stares, Tang Yao, a bit miffed, wrapped up her work, packed, and headed home.
Forget it.
Time to bolt!
The video was up, FGO’s pre-launch events were done. Now it was about the new version’s performance.
They’d move on soon.
Card Clash’s pitch? Could wait.
New Year’s break was close anyway.
Tang Yao fled home.
But the video’s viewers weren’t just her staff. The cool beauty at home had seen it too.
As Tang Yao stepped in, Xun’s gaze landed on her legs.
Home was different from the office.
She was her sister, after all.
Tang Yao rolled her eyes at Xun, changed shoes, plopped onto the sofa, and propped up her stunningly long, straight legs. “You too, huh? Here, hug away.”
Tang Xun: “…”
She watched her sister, teasing her yet somehow making herself even more charming.
The audience underrated the allure of Rin Tohsaka’s voice actor.
Did she even realize how magnetic she was?
Good thing no one saw her like this…
But underestimating was fine.
That game video’s impact was already lethal.
As Tang Yao settled in, the Rin Tohsaka video was exploding.
When Su Deqiang watched, views barely hit 100,000.
Now? 300,000 and rocketing to ANF’s top rank.
In this anime hub, that meant every online user would see it!
FGO’s name, with each view, burrowed deeper into hearts, pulling in new players.
And off-site… it was gaining traction too.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 138: Bolt from the Blue
Date: 2025-03-13
Author: Xian Ge
“Heh heh… so cute.”
Late at night, Liu Shiwei giggled at a video shared on social media, mesmerized by the lively anime girl.
Too fun!
Rin Tohsaka’s vivid, natural movements—frowning at gacha pulls, grimacing at disliked items, or flashing a fail-face “grimace”—begged for screenshots.
Her voice was gorgeous!
And her personality? Spot-on.
For Liu Shiwei, this was next-level.
So different from live streamers!
Even though he didn’t know the game, he was hooked.
Watching an anime girl play, reacting in unexpected ways, was a blast!
And the game’s card art? Those anime girls were stunning!
Liu Shiwei wasn’t a core anime fan—just read some manga, followed a few hit shows.
He’d never touched FGO or heard of Fate/Zero.
But he loved this format.
The video ended.
“ANF? Rin Tohsaka?” Liu Shiwei, still buzzing, checked the video’s details and jumped to ANF’s site.
The homepage, unlike mainstream video platforms, intrigued him.
He registered an account and dove into other videos.
Dance covers, anime MADs, meme edits…
“Haha!” Finishing a meme video, Liu Shiwei liked it, grinning. “What is this nonsense? But it’s awesome!”
He kept watching.
This site was a goldmine! Nothing like mainstream platforms—no ads, just wild, creative videos!
And the barrage comments during playback? Felt like watching with a crowd.
Wait.
An idea hit. He searched “Rin Tohsaka” and found the video again.
Unlike external reposts, ANF’s version had barrage.
Watching with comments felt fresh.
The barrage’s memes and roasts had him cackling.
He followed Rin Tohsaka, browsed comments, and saw many newcomers like him, drawn by the video, asking if she’d play other games.
Their favorite games varied.
But all thought her playing their game would be a riot!
Below, veteran users explained who Rin was.
Game character? FGO? New version?
Curious, Liu Shiwei noticed the game promo link, clicked to FGO’s site, and hit download.
Nothing else to do… might as well try.
This scene played out nationwide.
Most drawn in were young, open to new things, eager to engage.
Only they’d vibe with virtual streamers.
Middle-aged folks? They’d probably scoff, preferring real-life streamers…
But Tang Yao’s target was youth.
As predicted, ANF’s unique community vibe, barrage culture, and UGC content hooked them.
These semi-anime fans, arriving amid FGO’s site-wide hype, fueled new players.
They’d come for Rin’s video, after all.
Drawn by its fresh format, they hit ANF, stayed for the vibe, registered, and downloaded FGO.
The path was seamless.
And soon, with the new version’s launch, fan works would emerge…
No need to wait.
New users were already buzzing.
Even on non-anime platforms, discussions sparked.
“ANF’s videos are wild!”
“So creative… an anime character playing a game, and it’s fun. Why don’t other sites do this? Stop with the damn pre-roll ads and learn!”
“The game she played looks cool! Great art!”
“Mobile games are this big now?”
“Anime characters gaming is hilarious! This could be mainstream someday.”
“…”
Meanwhile, ANF’s core anime fans adored Rin’s video, spreading it relentlessly, boosting exposure for the site and game, pulling in more semi-anime users.
The next day, their efforts landed “ANF x Rin Tohsaka” on social media’s trending list.
Low, at 20-something.
You’d miss it without scrolling, unlike its ANF chart-topping dominance.
The platforms’ scales didn’t compare.
ANF’s young userbase and mainstream media’s youth discussions couldn’t rival broader audiences.
But this was huge.
Low buzz wouldn’t even rank.
For a rising company, this was stellar!
A video site, no less.
Investors took notice, digging into ANF’s story.
Learning its rise tied to FGO, Avalon Studio’s recent moves, they were floored.
When FGO’s launch revenue exploded, they’d offered Avalon cash, but Tang Yao shut them down.
Since she refused, they didn’t push—Avalon was just a game studio with one title. Great cash cow, but weak for IPO storytelling.
Most investors moved on.
The anime mobile game market seemed wide open—plenty of projects.
And Avalon’s single-product structure lacked a moat.
But now?
Avalon quietly built a site, anime-focused, trending upward, synergizing with its game?
Hiss—
Shocked, they scrambled for info on Avalon’s boss.
Those who knew ANF early were dumbfounded, typing question marks.
This actually worked? How?
Digging into ANF’s state, they were stunned.
This worked? With a game!?
Industry-wise, Avalon and ANF were overnight stars.
On the partnership side, things stirred too. Penguin Studio, Avalon’s voice acting partner, was reeling.
In the manager’s office, Li Li removed his headset, staring at a subordinate, baffled. “Wasn’t FGO our gig?”
The subordinate nodded. “Yup.”
“Then who’s this?” Li Li pointed at Rin Tohsaka on-screen.
The subordinate, though not having seen it, seemed to know. “Uh… that wasn’t voiced. I asked the team—said it was an Avalon staffer.”
Li Li perked up. “They got a company?”
“Dunno.”
“Ask Avalon. This Rin voice actor could blow up! See if we can poach!”
“…”
Tang Yao had no clue a crowd—including a voice acting studio—was eyeing her.
She was prepping for FGO’s new version launch tomorrow.
Even if she knew, she’d shrug it off.
It didn’t faze her.
But for “renowned producer” Sheng Zhi, it was a different story.
Avalon’s moves had core and semi-anime fans locked on ANF and FGO.
Sheng Zhi’s game, testing now, was left with… regular players.
Not that they wouldn’t play.
But his game’s quality? So bad, even milking cash was tough.
The data was predictably grim.
“What did you say…?” Sheng Zhi’s face darkened, glaring at the staffer.
The staffer paused, then braced himself. “Our game’s closed beta—day-one user churn hit 80%, paid conversion’s one-sixth the industry average…”
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Chu Yuxin (褚雨欣), Tang Xun (唐薰), Liu Shiwei (柳时伟), Li Li (李利), Si Jinliang (司金亮), Li Xue (黎雪), Sheng Zhi (盛至). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Fate terms (Fate/Grand Order, Rin Tohsaka, Fate/Zero) use established English equivalents for fan clarity.
“Avalon Studio” (理想乡), “ANF” (AnimationFan), “Card Clash” (斗牌), “Penguin Studio” (企鹅工作室), and “Mingyu Tech” (鸣宇科技) are kept as proper nouns, reflecting their narrative roles.
Cultural Nuances:
Anime Culture: ANF’s viral video and FGO’s fanbase reflect China’s anime fandom, translated with universal themes of community and engagement.
Workplace Dynamics: Tang Yao’s playful authority and staff camaraderie mirror Chinese office banter, rendered with relatable warmth.
Gaming Industry: Sheng Zhi’s failure vs. Avalon’s success highlights mobile gaming stakes, translated with sharp contrast.
Technical Terms:
Gaming Terms: “新版本” (new version), “二创” (fan works), “卡面” (card art), and “颜艺” (exaggerated expressions) fit gaming contexts.
Marketing Terms: “虚拟主播” (virtual streamer), “弹幕文化” (barrage culture), and “UGC内容” (UGC content) align with digital marketing.
Business Terms: “护城河” (moat), “流水” (revenue), “用户流失率” (user churn), and “付费转化率” (paid conversion) reflect industry jargon.
Adjustments:
Emotional Tone: Tang Yao’s embarrassment, Chu Yuxin’s awe, and Sheng Zhi’s shock are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional depth.
Strategic Clarity: Avalon’s marketing genius vs. Sheng Zhi’s flop is highlighted to drive the plot’s stakes.
Dialogue Flow: Staff banter, fan comments, and Liu Shiwei’s enthusiasm add humor and energy, balancing technicality with fandom.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Charisma: Her leadership and vulnerability shine, rendered with magnetic warmth.
Chu Yuxin’s Loyalty: Her shift from doubt to trust underscores Tang Yao’s impact, translated with nuanced respect.
Sheng Zhi’s Fall: His arrogance leads to ruin, contrasted with Avalon’s rise, translated with biting irony.
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.
Hi. I’m Designer of Blog Magic. I’m CEO/Founder of ThemeXpose. I’m Creative Art Director, Web Designer, UI/UX Designer, Interaction Designer, Industrial Designer, Web Developer, Business Enthusiast, StartUp Enthusiast, Speaker, Writer and Photographer. Inspired to make things looks better.
0 comments:
Posting Komentar