Chapter 165: Faux Thick Coating
Date: 2025-03-28
Author: Xian Ge
To Rumi’s disappointment, nothing happened.
In the end, Li Xue, holding Tang Yao’s face, just said something.
Tang Yao kept laughing, seemingly teasing Li Xue.
Their closeness was obvious, but anything more? Not quite.
Yet, when Tang Yao handed the coffee back and Li Xue casually took a sip without hesitation, Rumi reconsidered.
Maybe there was something.
Either way, it was sweet.
Watching the two chat with genuine joy, Rumi fell silent, then smiled softly.
Whether or not there was more, having such a close friend was a blessing.
She could tell they truly trusted each other. Their earlier synergy—working together, playing together, founding and running a company, one funding, the other leading—was proof.
How nice.
Rumi sighed again, reflecting on her own childhood, mostly spent alone, and fell quiet.
But she quickly shook it off.
She had to—crouching by the doorframe, hips half-raised, was hardly dignified.
A waiter approached. “Excuse me, ma’am…”
Ahem.
Rumi snapped back, straightening up and glancing at Tang Yao and Li Xue one last time.
Forget it. Time to go.
She’d observe more next time.
Lingering here wasn’t the move.
Besides, she had material for her side account’s art. She couldn’t wait to share her new yuri ship with her online fans.
Yup.
Gorgeous Lady Boss x Gentle Employee!
It’d be a hit!
Musing, she forgot to ask about the tankobon and hurried off.
Indeed, beyond being a mangaka, Rumi had another identity: a social media yuri artist with 100,000 followers.
Compared to her main account, it was modest, especially since she ran this side account secretly, hidden from her mother. But she enjoyed it more than her main account’s occasional promo posts.
Why run a side account for yuri art? Maybe passion, or… a void in her emotions.
She loved chatting, as her lively talk with Tang Yao showed, but growing up, she’d had few chances. As she aged, she got used to loneliness, yet feared intimacy, channeling certain feelings into what others might find odd.
The next day, Rumi’s mother visited Avalon to negotiate the collab licensing.
Tang Yao didn’t need to handle it. Li Xue took over.
Tang Yao, meanwhile, worked on Chainsaw Man drafts and oversaw Card Clash’s production.
Its fragmented narrative meant the story didn’t fully unfold. Free from World of Warcraft’s constraints, an anime style was fine.
But without constraints, there was no reference—everything started from scratch.
In her past life, Hearthstone’s art was mostly commissioned, carefully curated. Despite varied artist quality, the art team’s oversight and World of Warcraft’s foundation kept styles cohesive.
Here, no such luck.
Having seen Hearthstone’s art for years, Tang Yao struggled to pivot to a new style. So, the task fell to Chu Yuxin.
Tang Yao didn’t want to copy Hearthstone’s style outright—it’d be easier, but its hyper-Western aesthetic, while not outdated, was tough for this world’s players to embrace without the original’s backing.
Plus, jumping from anime-style beauties to Western vibes was too big a leap for Avalon.
Most crucially, in Asia-focused China, even for global ambitions, nailing the local market meant leaning into Eastern aesthetics—safest bet.
Poor Chu Yuxin bore the brunt.
But Tang Yao trusted she’d crack it.
“Boss…” Speak of the devil—Chu Yuxin appeared, brows furrowed, holding a stack of drafts, waddling over with a pained expression. “I drew more reference art. Take a look?”
She’d already come to Tang Yao several times for art direction, but each time, Tang Yao felt it wasn’t quite right.
“Sure.” Tang Yao took the drafts and scanned them.
Overall, Chu Yuxin stuck to Japanese-Korean styles: slim figures, ornate yet elegant designs compared to Western robustness. Heavy line work defined structure and volume, avoiding stark gradients for a flat, planar feel. Given East-West aesthetic divides, this style resonated more locally.
Still, Tang Yao felt the overly flat style didn’t suit card games—it lacked standout flair.
Noticing Tang Yao’s pause, Chu Yuxin guessed it missed the mark. Hesitating, she asked, “Not good enough?”
“It’s well-drawn,” Tang Yao said, snapping back. “But… it doesn’t quite fit the game’s vibe.”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” Chu Yuxin nodded. “The game’s setting leans Western. Even with your fragmented narrative, the setting and art style clash. But keeping some consistency with our other game’s anime style limits options, and I’m stumped.”
She paused, then added, “I did try thick coating…”
“Thick coating?” Tang Yao perked up, curious.
Thick coating, unlike flat coating, used fuller compositions, light-shadow play, and coloring. Color blocks conveyed light and texture, mimicking reality. Even for anime characters, it preserved facial traits while detailing structure, often called “realistic style.”
In her past life, Tang Yao knew WLOP, creator of Ghostblade, whose thick-coated art was iconic online.
“Yup, but it’s a hassle,” Chu Yuxin sighed. “Thick coating’s tough. Many struggle with basic color blocks for volume, let alone layering colors strategically for focus and texture. I can manage, but not alone.”
“Can I see what you did?” Tang Yao asked.
Chu Yuxin handed over the remaining drafts.
Tang Yao studied them, thoughtful, then said, “Really good, but too complex. It might not fully suit the game either… How about faux thick coating?”
“Faux thick coating?”
“Yup.” Tang Yao nodded.
Faux thick coating, or semi-thick coating, built on flat coating with thick coating’s coloring techniques for more depth. Unlike true thick coating, it didn’t demand hyper-realistic structures or heavy structural effort. Colors were vibrant, emphasizing anime’s dreamy vibe, blending flat coating’s freshness with thick coating’s dimensionality.
Best of all, it was less labor-intensive.
In her past life, many illustrators and game artists adopted faux thick coating, especially for game art.
“To what extent?” Chu Yuxin asked, curious.
“…Hard to explain. I’ll draw it.” Tang Yao hesitated, grabbing a pressure-sensitive pen.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 166: This Manga…
Date: 2025-03-28
Author: Xian Ge
Seeing Tang Yao dive into drawing, Chu Yuxin stayed quiet.
Tang Yao was fast. The line art was done quickly.
Her past life as an artist made her adept with techniques.
Chu Yuxin watched silently, soon realizing Tang Yao was drawing… a dragon girl?
On-screen, the artwork took shape fast. Chu Yuxin blinked.
Once the figure was complete, Tang Yao added a card frame, loosely based on Hearthstone’s: cost in the top-left, attack in the bottom-left, health in the bottom-right, and a gem-shaped rarity indicator in the center.
She placed the figure in the frame, adjusted it, and exhaled, turning to Chu Yuxin. “What do you think?”
Chu Yuxin looked at the screen. At the card’s center stood a striking girl with exotic flair, clad in fierce red armor, exuding mystery and powerful beauty. She seemed locked in a standoff, her expression stern.
The light-shadow structure was more detailed than flat coating, with richer depth and realistic contrasts, yet distinctly anime-styled, especially the face.
Most impressively, the artwork meshed perfectly with the card frame, shedding the cheap feel of flat-coated art. It felt unexpectedly fitting.
Chu Yuxin’s eyes lit up. “It’s gorgeous! This works! Way better than my art. This style’s perfect. Which card is it?”
“Uh… Alexstrasza, the Red Dragon Queen, maybe,” Tang Yao said after a pause.
While inspired by past-life techniques, the character was her original creation.
No reference existed—the original was just a dragon.
“So that’s the style?” Chu Yuxin said, excited, her thick brows rising. “I get it… Can you send it to me? I’ll discuss with the art team, try a few in your style, and check the effect and difficulty.”
“Sure,” Tang Yao agreed.
“But…” Chu Yuxin hesitated. “Even as faux thick coating, it’s trickier than flat coating. We won’t match your speed…”
Tang Yao’s pace was terrifying, no matter how often Chu Yuxin saw it.
Knowing Tang Yao’s character, she still cautioned her, fearing Tang Yao might expect the art team to keep up.
That’d make Chu Yuxin beg for mercy.
“I know. This is just a sample. Discuss and see if you can streamline it,” Tang Yao said, then added, “Also, some cards can cut corners—not slacking, but not every card needs this style. Like FGO’s Craft Essences, some are just items. Keep the style consistent for those.”
“Got it,” Chu Yuxin nodded seriously. After Tang Yao sent the artwork, she returned to the team, sharing it with other artists.
Soon, the first card’s artwork drew Si Jinliang and others. Much of the Card Clash team gathered to admire it, clearly impressed.
Seeing this, Tang Yao relaxed, glancing at the screen’s artwork. She considered drawing more for Chu Yuxin’s reference.
Hearthstone had more than dragons—demons, orcs, Old Gods…
If the art style was shifting, those needed tweaks too.
But as she pondered, Li Xue appeared.
Tang Yao paused her sketching urge, turning. “Good work. How’d it go?”
“Not bad,” Li Xue said, shaking her head. “But Rumi-sensei’s mother… was unexpected.”
“She give you a hard time?” Tang Yao asked, curious.
“Not really,” Li Xue said, sitting. “She was polite, professional, and not narrow-minded. No unreasonable demands on revenue splits. The only hassle was her insistence on a detailed contract listing exactly what Rumi-sensei would do, with estimated completion times for each task. She was adamant, like she was terrified we’d waste Rumi-sensei’s time. I explained that collabs with original authors are hard to pin down—like the story, we can’t know how long Rumi-sensei needs to write it, only set general obligations. But she wouldn’t budge.”
“…” Tang Yao recalled Rumi’s demeanor during the coffee shop call, guessing the truth. As expected, Rumi had a domineering mom…
She shook her head. “Talk to Rumi-sensei. Since her mother’s so hung up on it, set an acceptable timeline. Privately, we’ll mostly coordinate online.”
“That’s my plan,” Li Xue nodded, grabbing her phone. “I’ll reach out.”
She started typing.
Tang Yao didn’t dwell on Rumi’s situation. It wasn’t her place—someone else’s mom, and she had no energy for it.
Her second game was in full swing. FGO’s first collab card pool was on the horizon. Plus, she had manga to draw.
Where was the time?
But thankfully, despite the workload, things were going smoothly!
The collab reached an agreement. The second game’s framework, gameplay, art, and story were set. The manga was on track.
Barring major hiccups, by spring after the Lunar New Year, they’d hit players with something big!
Tang Yao was optimistic.
But the first to feel something big wasn’t the gamers—it was ANF’s manga readers.
ANF’s manga section was gaining traction with its events. Many mangaka were still watching, but bold ones bet on its potential, signing with ANF to start serials.
Their works, being new, hadn’t yet shone.
But Chainsaw Man, the first to serialize, was hitting its stride.
Readers noticed that after a brief setup, Chainsaw Man’s story began revealing its absurd, neurotic charm, pushing this unique vibe to a climax!
This manga… something’s off.
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Li Xue (黎雪), Chu Yuxin (褚雨欣), Si Jinliang (司金亮). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Rumi (如迷) uses a simplified transliteration, reflecting her established mangaka persona, avoiding overly literal translations (e.g., “Like Mystery”).
Manga titles (Chainsaw Man for 电锯人, Fate/Zero, Nightfall for 入夜), game titles (Card Clash for 斗牌), studio names (Avalon Studio for 理想乡, StarChase for 逐星社), and characters (Alexstrasza for 阿莱克斯塔萨) use context-appropriate English equivalents.
Terms like “百合” (yuri) are kept as is, reflecting fandom slang.
Cultural Nuances:
Manga/Game Industry: The shift to web serialization and art style debates reflect China’s evolving creative markets, translated with universal industry dynamics (e.g., “standout flair” for 出彩).
Anime Culture: FGO’s collabs and ANF’s rise mirror China’s anime boom, rendered with relatable fan hype (e.g., “hitting its stride”).
Interpersonal Dynamics: Rumi’s secret yuri art and Tang Yao-Li Xue’s bond add warmth, translated with nuanced humor and emotional depth.
Technical Terms:
Art Terms: “平涂” (flat coating), “厚涂” (thick coating), “伪厚涂” (faux thick coating), “线稿” (line art), “光影” (light-shadow), “体积感” (volume), and “原画” (artwork) align with illustration contexts.
Game Terms: “卡牌框” (card frame), “费用” (cost), “攻击” (attack), “血量” (health), “稀有度” (rarity), “礼装” (Craft Essence), and “联动卡池” (collab card pool) fit gaming mechanics.
Industry Terms: “存稿” (draft banking), “签约” (signing), and “连载” (serialization) reflect creative workflows.
Adjustments:
Narrative Clarity: The art style shift and Chainsaw Man’s rise are explained vividly, balancing accessibility for non-industry readers and depth for enthusiasts.
Emotional Tone: Rumi’s loneliness, Tang Yao’s multitasking, and Li Xue’s diligence are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional stakes.
Dialogue Flow: Rumi’s fan-art musings, Chu Yuxin’s art struggles, and Li Xue’s contract woes add humor and relatability, grounding industry plot points.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Versatility: Her art demo and leadership shine, rendered with confident creativity.
Li Xue’s Competence: Her negotiation and playful bond with Tang Yao are translated with warm efficiency.
Rumi’s Depth: Her secret passion and isolation add layers, translated with subtle longing.
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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