Chapter 187: Disdain
Date: 2025-04-11
Author: Xian Ge
“…”
Li Xue nodded at Tang Yao’s words, finding them logical.
But she was still puzzled. “They… should know their game’s quality, right? Why are they so confident?”
“Because mobile games are still a blue ocean, and players haven’t been burned yet. Plus, they understand the flip side of gacha games,” Tang Yao explained. “PC gaming taught them: if you can lure players in, someone’s bound to spend, even if the game’s subpar.”
Exactly.
In her past life, when mobile games first exploded, countless studios sprang up, chasing quick cash.
And online games—especially mobile ones—had a gambling streak baked into their monetization.
Wasn’t the vague pricing of gacha pulls just that?
“…” Li Xue frowned slightly. “Is that really making games?”
“Maybe they think so,” Tang Yao said, shaking her head, dropping the topic. “Want a sip?”
Li Xue blinked. “Huh?”
“Water,” Tang Yao tilted her head. “Why’re you rubbing the rim? Did my lipstick smudge? Wait, I didn’t wear any.”
“…” Li Xue glanced down, a touch embarrassed, and handed the cup back. “I’m good.”
Tang Yao took it, raising it to drink.
“Wait,” Li Xue said, half-standing, grabbing a tissue from the desk and carefully wiping the rim.
“?” Tang Yao raised an eyebrow, looking at the flustered Li Xue. “What’re you doing?”
“You said I was rubbing the rim,” Li Xue mumbled.
“…” Tang Yao slowly lowered the cup. “You didn’t just come back from the bathroom, did you?”
“No! And don’t I wash my hands!?” Li Xue froze, then laughed helplessly. “What’re you thinking?”
“Then why wipe it?” Tang Yao countered.
Li Xue looked at the stunning girl before her, paused, and said softly, “I just… didn’t want you to think it’s gross.”
“…” Tang Yao blinked, then grinned. “Where’re your cookies?”
“Cookies?” Li Xue, confused, turned and grabbed the pack.
“Not for me. Eat one,” Tang Yao said, gesturing.
Li Xue, puzzled, took a cookie and nibbled.
“Stop,” Tang Yao raised a hand, halting her. “Give it to me.”
“…?” Li Xue, even more confused, handed over the half-eaten cookie.
Tang Yao popped it in her mouth, cheeks puffing slightly, and mumbled, “So why didn’t you wipe the cookie?”
“…” Li Xue froze, then, seeing Tang Yao’s squirrel-like cheeks, got her point and smiled, lips glistening. Radiant.
“I was just asking. How could I think it’s gross? I’m too lazy to care—we’ve shared this cup forever,” Tang Yao said, sipping the tea. “To be crude, we’ve been indirectly kissing for, what, two months? That’s bestie vibes, right?”
“Mhm,” Li Xue said, watching Tang Yao’s carefree smile, feeling a quiet joy.
“But,” Tang Yao’s tone shifted, setting down the cup and eyeing the rim mischievously. “Miss Li, you should switch lipsticks. Every time I see your faint lip marks, I feel like some sleazy playboy…”
“…” Li Xue stiffened, as if caught, flushing. “Is there? No way.”
“Oh, there is,” Tang Yao teased, scooting her chair closer, reaching out to gently press Li Xue’s soft, glossy lips.
Li Xue froze, body tensing, staring at Tang Yao.
Tang Yao, curious, was just testing if the lipstick smudged easily, not thinking much.
Noticing Li Xue’s reaction, she paused.
Li Xue blinked, relaxing, then playfully licked Tang Yao’s fingertip with her pink tongue.
A cool sensation hit.
Tang Yao jolted, yanking her hand back like she’d been shocked, staring at Li Xue. “What’re you doing?”
“Didn’t you want to check if it smudges?” Li Xue said, eyes twinkling.
Tang Yao’s face flushed, gaze darting away. Smudging? Not on her mind now.
Wait, was that allowed?
Seeing Tang Yao’s reaction, Li Xue realized her move was too bold. Her eyes wandered, ears pinkening.
Awkward silence.
“…That’s not Chainsaw Man,” Li Xue said after a while, desperate to change the topic. Spotting Tang Yao’s screen, she noted it wasn’t Chainsaw Man. “What’s that?”
“Oh, a short story,” Tang Yao said, feigning calm, turning to her screen.
Under the desk, her long, shapely legs stayed tense.
“Short story?” Li Xue leaned closer. “You’re dropping a short after next week’s Chainsaw Man?”
Tang Yao nodded. “Yeah…”
“You’re not worried fans’ll call you a slacker? Wait, you drew this fast,” Li Xue said, unsure if she was hooked on the manga or dodging the awkwardness. “Why a short story now?”
“Mostly to switch things up. Fans won’t care—Chainsaw Man’s updating this week,” Tang Yao said, easing up, glancing at Li Xue’s striking profile.
“What’s this one about?” Li Xue asked, curious.
Tang Yao thought. “Remember Human Head Balloon?”
Li Xue whipped around. “…”
“Same vibe, but… different direction,” Tang Yao said, chuckling at Li Xue’s wary look. “Relax, not horror. You’ll see when you read it.”
“What’s it called?” Li Xue asked, patting her chest in relief, exhaling.
She’d thought Tang Yao was revisiting Human Head Balloon’s terror.
As Tang Yao’s debut, that manga left a deep mark on Li Xue… not a great one.
“…” Tang Yao caught Li Xue’s gesture, eyes lingering on her soft curves, suddenly wanting to hug her.
Snapping out of it, she brushed off the weird thought. “It’s called… The Long Farewell.”
February 13, the last day before the Lunar New Year wrapped up.
Chainsaw Man Chapters 27 and 28 dropped.
Despite the buzz around FGO’s leaked manga crossover, Chainsaw Man hadn’t lost its grip.
In fact, since last week’s chapters, its discussion had stayed red-hot.
Denji’s bisection, Himeno’s death, Aki’s critical injury, Makima’s revival.
All bombshells.
Fans were dissecting what was happening, hyped for this week’s update.
So, when the chapters hit, readers pounced.
The fact that Third-Rate Sensei dropped a short story alongside the regular update? Nobody noticed yet…
Among the eager readers was Rumi’s mother, Guan Fang.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 188: What’s Wrong?
Date: 2025-04-11
Author: Xian Ge
After last week’s update and her daughter’s advice, deep down, Guan Fang knew she was just being petty.
Even if Chainsaw Man’s plot tanked this week, its buzz wouldn’t fade.
Its heat was already ablaze.
A collapse pre-holiday might’ve hurt, but now? It’d still outshine the finished Nightfall.
To stagger them, the crossover promo would have to wait until next month.
Next month, forget Avalon’s reaction—she’d lose money herself.
She got the logic.
But… she wasn’t ready to let go.
Why the grudge? Maybe because her daughter mentioned Third-Rate Sensei was a woman. Maybe her own refusal to lose. Maybe because StarChase was building an online reading site, and she didn’t want ANF’s manga section to ride Chainsaw Man to glory.
Whatever it was, she was bitter.
Really, was that Third-Rate Sensei that good?
Fate/Zero birthed FGO, a cash cow.
Now Chainsaw Man was poised to amass huge buzz, lifting ANF’s entire manga section?
She was young, too—how was that possible?
The top female mangaka should be her daughter!
Was her art that great?
Could this offbeat plot really stay flawless?
She didn’t buy it.
With that mindset, Guan Fang opened Chainsaw Man Chapter 27.
And saw Makima unleash a near-divine, oppressive power.
Right after reviving, she had two waiting devil hunters prepare thirty death-row inmates, took them to a high-altitude shrine, made them kneel, and blindfolded them.
Meanwhile, the assassins, victorious, were hauling Denji’s bisected upper half to a car.
But as they did, one assassin started sweating, saying something felt off.
Before his仲間 could react, an invisible force crushed him into a puddle of blood.
No warning.
Just blood.
The once-invincible assassins, visibly panicked, had no clue what hit them.
The scene cut to the shrine.
Makima made a gesture, crouching calmly, instructing a blindfolded inmate to recite a name.
With her hands shifting, as if wielding some divine authority, another assassin twisted like a wrung towel, bursting into blood.
Makima’s face remained blank.
And on it went.
One by one, blindfolded inmates fell. One by one, assassins exploded into gore.
The visuals were visceral.
Makima’s character flipped in a single chapter, from enigmatic to godlike.
By the end, she acted like it was trivial.
“…” Guan Fang sat stunned, then clicked Chapter 28.
Kobeni appeared.
The timid girl from the last arc, broken by her teammates’ deaths, shone in this chapter.
The narrative tension was unreal.
The stark contrast left Guan Fang dizzy.
Finally, she finished.
The plot didn’t collapse.
It was… even better.
Guan Fang knew if she felt this way, the fans chasing updates would be floored.
The comment section proved it.
Before clicking, she’d checked the comment count. Now, in under thirty minutes, it jumped by three thousand.
Three thousand.
Clearly, those were for the new chapters.
You could feel the readers’ frenzy.
“…” Guan Fang stared at the climbing comment count, utterly silent.
After a while, she exhaled shakily and opened Third-Rate Sensei’s profile.
Tang Yao’s avatar was a casual dog sketch.
Guan Fang stared at “Third-Rate Sensei’s” avatar, lost in thought.
She was baffled. Where did this female mangaka come from?
Her daughter’s talent was undeniable, dominating a male-driven field. So why did this woman’s work feel better?
How did she dream up that plot?
Fluke?
Had to be a fluke!
Unconvinced, she clicked Third-Rate Sensei’s works tab.
And froze.
“…The Long Farewell?” Guan Fang gaped at the new title, incredulous. “Just posted? Updating a long series and dropping another work? Insane!?”
She was floored, clicking in.
It was a short story, just 30 pages.
Seeing the length, Guan Fang started reading…
The protagonist was Riko, a girl who lost her mother young, raised painstakingly by her father. Her greatest fear was losing him.
As a child, she’d sob over nightmares of his death, but her father teased he was a superhero, immortal.
Even so, the shadow of his death haunted her.
As Riko grew, she reached marriage age and wed her husband.
Their marriage defied his family’s objections, so Riko struggled to fit in. Her in-laws, outwardly cheerful, were cold to her.
Something felt off.
Only her husband’s sister warmed to her.
One day, wandering the sprawling family estate, Riko glimpsed a white figure.
Curious, she called out.
The translucent figure turned, revealing a wrinkled, boot-leather face… a ghost!
“Ghost story? Haunted family drama? So clichéd? I knew it was a fluke…” Guan Fang muttered, a smirk forming, but she kept reading.
Terrified, Riko screamed, collapsing. Nearby was her great-grandparents’ room. She wanted to warn them about the ghost, but looking closer, she saw the elderly couple weren’t solid—their faces faintly transparent, less ghostly than the figure.
Riko freaked out again.
That night, she told her husband.
Answering her questions, he revealed the truth: the ghostly figures were “echoes” of their deceased family, summoned by the clan’s longing. Not physically real, they could be touched and spoken to, but only within the family’s perception.
Still, they summoned them to ease the pain of loss.
But echoes faded after… twenty years.
Soon, Riko witnessed the clan’s echo-summoning ritual and, at a funeral, saw her aging father.
Terrified of losing him, she begged her husband to summon her father’s echo if he died.
He hesitated—summoning required the whole clan’s power, beyond his ability alone.
That night, he relayed her plea to the family.
They refused, saying summoning her father was pointless.
Devastated, Riko hid in a corner, crying. Her sister-in-law comforted her, lifting her spirits.
But then Riko realized—her sister-in-law was an echo too.
Her husband revealed his sister died of illness ten years ago.
“…” Guan Fang, expecting horror, found this instead and fell silent.
…Longing?
She kept reading.
In the manga, time passed. Riko, married eight years, kept serving her in-laws, but they remained distant.
Then, one day, her world shattered—her husband was cheating.
That night, she confronted him.
He was brutally honest: he’d marry his mistress but wouldn’t divorce Riko.
Riko, furious, wouldn’t let it slide.
He endured, then snapped, slapping her and revealing a cruel truth.
…She was dead.
Riko died in a car crash the day before their engagement. Her grief-stricken husband begged his father to summon her echo, was refused, then pleaded with the entire clan, finally getting approval to create Riko’s echo.
He married and lived with her echo until now.
Riko’s memorial tablet sat in her family’s cemetery.
“…” Guan Fang’s mouth fell open, everything clicking.
Why her in-laws were cold. Why her husband cheated.
Riko was just… an echo.
Ten years in, her husband had moved on.
Ready for new love.
His grief had healed.
This family no longer needed her.
Riko stood frozen.
Accepting reality, she decided to quietly leave.
Before going, she said goodbye to her sister-in-law, now so faint she’d soon vanish.
After the farewell, Riko headed home. With ten years left before she faded, who’d go first—her or her father?
She figured it’d be her.
So she chose to spend her time with him.
At her family’s doorstep, her elderly father was moving things, stunned to see his daughter.
Riko grinned. “Dad, I’m back.”
“…” Guan Fang stared at the scene, at Riko’s smiling return, frozen.
Then… tears fell.
She couldn’t say why, but that final moment broke her.
Death, memory, family, facing loss…
Tears streamed down.
Guan Fang sniffled, trying to hold back, but Riko’s smile and “I’m back” stirred memories—her post-divorce struggles, the man she once loved, her childhood, her late father…
Then, “Mom! You saw this week’s Chainsaw Man, right?” Rumi burst in, griping. “About the crossover…”
She stopped mid-sentence, seeing her mother crying.
She froze.
“…” Guan Fang, embarrassed, turned away.
Rumi snapped to, rushing to hug her. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What happened?”
Guan Fang said nothing, feeling her daughter’s warmth, unable to hold back, sobbing.
“…” Rumi glanced at her usually stoic mother, now weeping, then at the manga on the screen, baffled.
What… happened?
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Li Xue (黎雪), Rumi (如迷), Guan Fang (关芳). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Character names (Denji for 电次, Himeno for 姬野, Aki for 早川秋, Makima for 玛奇玛, Kobeni for 小红) and titles (Chainsaw Man for 电锯人, FGO for Fate/Grand Order, Nightfall for 入夜, Human Head Balloon for 人头气球) use established or contextually fitting English equivalents.
“Riko” (璃子) is a natural Japanese name, fitting the manga’s aesthetic.
“Third-Rate Sensei” (三流老师) reflects fandom’s playful nickname.
The Long Farewell (漫长的告别) evokes the story’s emotional weight.
Cultural Nuances:
Gaming Culture: “Blue ocean” (蓝海) and gacha’s gambling vibe (赌的意味) reflect Chinese mobile game discourse, translated with universal gamer context.
Fandom Dynamics: Fans’ frenzy over Chainsaw Man mirrors Chinese online fan culture, rendered with vivid excitement (e.g., “frenzy” for 读者们的心情).
Family and Loss: Riko’s story and Guan Fang’s reaction tap into Chinese values of filial piety and grief, translated with universal emotional resonance (e.g., “haunted” for 挥之不去).
Workplace Camaraderie: Tang Yao and Li Xue’s playful intimacy reflects Chinese office friendships, rendered with lighthearted warmth.
Technical Terms:
Manga Terms: “长篇” (long-form), “短篇” (short story), “剧情张力” (narrative tension), “反差感” (contrast), and “评论数” (comment count) fit manga workflows.
Gaming Terms: “抽卡” (gacha pulls), “端游” (PC games), and “充值” (spending) align with gaming ecosystems.
Storytelling Terms: “神罚” (divine punishment), “权柄” (authority), and “残像” (echo) reflect Chainsaw Man and The Long Farewell’s narrative devices.
Adjustments:
Narrative Clarity: Chainsaw Man’s intense escalation, The Long Farewell’s emotional gut-punch, and the Tang Yao-Li Xue banter are detailed vividly, balancing action, drama, and humor.
Emotional Tone: Guan Fang’s vulnerability, Rumi’s concern, and Tang Yao’s teasing are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional depth.
Dialogue Flow: Fan hype, mother-daughter tension, and workplace flirtation add energy, grounding manga and personal plot points in character moments.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Wit: Her playful confidence with Li Xue shines, translated with cheeky charm.
Li Xue’s Warmth: Her flustered affection is rendered with endearing vulnerability.
Guan Fang’s Struggle: Her grudging admiration and emotional collapse are translated with raw humanity.
Rumi’s Care: Her empathy for her mother is rendered with tender frustration.
Riko’s Journey: Her poignant arc in The Long Farewell is translated with delicate sorrow.
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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