Chapter 189: Taking Off
Date: 2025-04-15
Author: Xian Ge
Rumi thought she knew her mother well.
Strong-willed, stubborn, self-centered.
Tears? Showing vulnerability in front of others? That was like a death sentence.
Yes, “others” included Rumi, her own daughter.
She’d never allow herself to appear even slightly weak.
But now, she leaned against Rumi, softly sobbing.
Rumi realized her mother was frail, almost fragile, as if a gust could knock her over.
Holding her, gently patting her thin back, Rumi felt a pang of unease.
It was strange.
It hurt.
But mostly, she was curious—what happened?
Time passed slowly.
Eventually, Guan Fang calmed, gently pushing Rumi away, sitting upright, reverting to her usual stern demeanor.
Though her eyes were still red.
“I’m fine,” she said, voice hoarse.
She coughed, masking the rasp.
Rumi glanced at her, cautiously asking, “So, Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Guan Fang said, her expression odd. “Just remembered some things. Go on.”
“But…” Rumi started.
“Go. I’ve got work to do,” Guan Fang said, aiming for her usual tone but softening, perhaps recalling something.
Still, her words carried finality.
She didn’t want Rumi seeing her like this.
She hadn’t meant to earlier, caught off guard.
Now, she did.
Rumi sensed it, standing slowly. “I’ll call you for dinner later.”
Guan Fang didn’t reply, staring blankly at the computer screen.
Rumi glanced at it, noting the manga’s title, then turned to leave.
But as she reached the door, Guan Fang spoke. “Tell Avalon they can handle the promotion as they see fit. I’m done meddling.”
“Huh?” Rumi froze, stunned her mother caved so fast.
She’d expected her stubborn mother to drag it out with excuses.
Not this quick surrender.
“What’s gotten into you?” Rumi blurted, too shocked to filter.
Guan Fang, back to her daughter, was silent before saying softly, “Nothing. Just… Third-Rate Sensei isn’t as good as you, and her plots are a mess, but she’s got a knack for readers’ emotions. She’s decent with different genres, has okay ideas. Maybe she won’t tank Chainsaw Man anytime soon.”
“…” Rumi’s eyes widened.
What did she just hear?
Her mother praising another mangaka?
Sure, it was awkward, littered with “at leasts.”
But it was a first.
What did she read to have this epiphany?
Rumi was dying to know.
She didn’t ask, just nodded, quietly leaving, heading to her studio where she worked on updates. She searched for the manga she’d noted—The Long Farewell—on ANF’s manga section.
Soon, the results popped up.
Seeing the author and release time, Rumi paused, puzzled.
Huh?
Tang Yao?
Posted this morning?
Wasn’t she updating Chainsaw Man?
Rumi’s expression turned odd, but after a moment, she clicked “Read Now.”
Meanwhile, after the door shut, Guan Fang’s stiff posture relaxed. She sniffled, grabbed the mouse, and scrolled back through the manga, rereading.
As expected, The Long Farewell had no real bombshells.
Compared to Chainsaw Man’s brilliance, it was almost bland.
Described in words, it’d be a dry chronicle—no gripping twists, no clever reversals.
Even the reveal that the heroine was dead was heavily foreshadowed.
Yet, it hit hard.
Guan Fang felt the weight of death and forgetting—the deep emotions carried by fragile lives, ultimately losing to time despite longing and resistance.
The manga told a touching family story with that emotional undertone. Characters, in their limited time, made varied choices—some found peace, others grieved, each cherishing their final moments in their own way.
The story glowed with familial love, its perfectly timed ending leaving a warm aftertaste.
Riko felt like every reader.
Life is built from stages.
One stage to the next, people leave parents, embrace new paths, join new families, grow close to strangers who become vital.
Slowly, they face more departures, more losses.
In a world without “echoes,” how many chances to cherish loved ones have we missed? How many unspoken feelings, delayed loves?
Guan Fang didn’t dare dwell on it.
She couldn’t fathom why this plain story packed such a punch.
Maybe… Third-Rate Sensei was decent.
At the same time, since it was a short story, Rumi finished The Long Farewell quickly.
On the last page, she released the mouse, dazed, chest tight.
Honestly, at the start, seeing the plot and adjusted art style, she thought of Tang Yao’s debut, Human Head Balloon, bracing for something bizarre.
But she was dead wrong.
Despite its supernatural shell, it was a warm, moving tale.
And drawn so well.
She finally understood why her mother cried.
Tang Yao…
This woman…
She could handle any genre.
Rumi stared at Tang Yao’s avatar, silent.
Unlike the Guan mother-daughter duo, most readers hadn’t noticed Third-Rate Sensei’s short story.
They were still reeling from Chainsaw Man’s latest chapters.
Makima’s post-revival dominance, the plot’s wild turn—it was explosive.
ANF’s manga section was flooded with discussions.
“Holy crap! Before the holidays, I thought she was dead for real. This twist is insane! Remote explosions!? What devil did Makima contract with!?”
“This is too good! Makima’s so cool! Next chapter, next chapter!”
“Makima’s starting to feel off… but man, the art’s amazing!”
“I’m with you—Makima’s shady, but the plot’s getting wilder! Update already!”
“Third-Rate Sensei! Sorry!!! I thought you were screwing around over the holidays. You had a plan! So what’s up with Makima? Update!”
“…Anyone read Third-Rate Sensei’s short story, The Long Farewell?”
“…”
Amid the Chainsaw Man hype, a stray comment stood out.
Many saw it but were confused.
Short story? What short story?
Among them was Su Deqiang.
Puzzled, he searched ANF’s manga section…
At the same time, at Season Tech, Ji Fuliang eyed his staff. “No moves from ANF?”
“None,” the staffer said, shaking his head. “They’re focused on manga, not promoting FGO’s crossover pool.”
“…” Ji Fuliang’s face stayed neutral, but inside, he was ecstatic.
Was he right?
Was their crossover just a reskinned pool?
Then his traffic-leeching plan worked!
His game was about to take off!
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 190: I Meant the Chair!
Date: 2025-04-13
Author: Xian Ge
As Ji Fuliang basked in his “taking off” moment, whether he’d actually soar was unclear.
But Tang Yao felt Avalon could finally fly free.
Li Xue brought news: Rumi’s stubborn mother had finally relented.
“Not easy,” Tang Yao said, shaking her head.
She hadn’t expected this collaboration to stir such drama.
But her comment was cut short when she noticed Li Xue’s odd expression—red-rimmed eyes.
Huh?
Tang Yao forgot the collaboration, focusing on Li Xue’s downcast look. Gently grabbing her soft hand, she said carefully, “Xue?”
“…” Li Xue snapped back, looking at Tang Yao’s concerned face, hearing the nickname, and blinked. Realizing something, she touched her cheek, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Just read a manga, got emotional…”
Since The Long Farewell was a spur-of-the-moment project, Li Xue didn’t see it much sooner than readers.
She read it just before Tang Yao uploaded it.
While she wasn’t as moved as Guan Fang, it clearly hit her.
“Oh—” Tang Yao stretched the word, understanding. Her fingers brushed Li Xue’s hand, voice softening, but she couldn’t resist teasing. “Miss Li, you’re a battle-hardened editor. Crying over a manga?”
“Battle-hardened, my foot,” Li Xue said, a bit shy, turning aside. “No matter how much I see, great work still hits me… How’d you come up with that story? I thought it’d be like Human Head Balloon at the start, with the tweaked art style. But that ending…”
She trailed off, recalling the plot, sniffing softly, gripping Tang Yao’s hand, looking adorably overwhelmed.
Tang Yao stifled a laugh.
Speaking of unhinged, Junji Ito wasn’t far off.
Uzumaki, Human Head Balloon, Fish, Tomie…
Those were the famous ones.
His lesser-known shorts were heavier—Amigara Fault, Moaning Drainpipe, Long Dream, Flesh-Colored Monster, City Without Streets…
The iconic moments were hard to believe.
Human brains cooked that up?
Get a therapist.
Tang Yao had thought that more than once reading Ito.
Yet, this horror maestro rarely crafted tender, moving stories.
Like The Long Farewell.
Who’d guess a horror master had such a gentle side?
It was the only Ito work that made Tang Yao cry.
Even without the contrast of a horror artist going soft, the story stood out.
The twist of the protagonist being dead wasn’t novel.
But the story’s core pierced deep.
As the manga’s male lead said, echoes were clan-powered creations—walking, talking, seeming alive, but their responses never exceeded your imagination, their advice just your own thoughts reflected… like talking to a photo.
Yet, the clan summoned them, easing grief’s sting, convincing themselves loved ones lingered, finding footing in emotional voids.
From another angle, Riko’s echo existed due to the husband’s family’s reluctant agreement.
So why, when Riko was clearly unwelcome and her husband had moved on, did her echo persist?
Could it be… her father’s deep longing kept her there?
Readers who paid attention would catch it.
That’s why Riko’s return to her aging father hit so hard.
Tang Yao loved this short.
And this world’s readers didn’t hate it.
Li Xue’s red eyes proved it.
“…You didn’t answer,” Li Xue said, noting Tang Yao’s amused grip on her hand, pouting slightly. “Why this genre now? And with two threads, why’s the love story so cold? Love fades with time, and Riko’s still abandoned. But the family thread shines—Riko’s bond with her father, the clan’s longing for their dead, that final scene…”
“Sit first,” Tang Yao said, snapping back, smiling and tugging her to sit.
Li Xue stepped forward, plopping onto Tang Yao’s lap, arms looping around her neck, blinking red eyes, staring.
“…” Tang Yao froze, stunned by the woman in her lap.
Uh.
I meant the chair!
Her EQ wasn’t low enough to say it… but she was caught off guard. A whole person on her lap?
Still… Li Xue’s figure was something.
Indoors, her coat was off, her sweater hugging her curves, outlining her graceful lines.
Stunning.
Her full, slender thighs pressed together, perched sideways on Tang Yao’s lap… It felt, illusorily, like a girlfriend needing comfort.
Kinda cute.
Weirdly cute.
“Talk,” Li Xue said, either oblivious or unfazed, arms around Tang Yao’s neck, nudging her.
Good thing they were tucked away, and it was lunch break, with few staff around.
Hard to explain otherwise…
Tang Yao refocused. “I just wanted a mood shift…”
Li Xue paused. “Did you… put your own thoughts into it?”
“Hm?”
(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), Ji Fuliang (季福良), Su Deqiang (苏德强). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Character names (Riko for 璃子) and titles (Chainsaw Man for 电锯人, FGO for Fate/Grand Order, Nightfall for 入夜, The Long Farewell for 漫长的告别, Human Head Balloon for 人头气球) use established or contextually fitting English equivalents.
“Third-Rate Sensei” (三流老师) reflects fandom’s playful nickname.
Junji Ito references (Uzumaki for 旋涡, Tomie for 富江, etc.) use standard English titles.
Cultural Nuances:
Family Dynamics: Guan Fang’s vulnerability and Rumi’s empathy reflect Chinese filial piety, translated with universal emotional weight (e.g., “fragile” for 弱不禁风).
Fandom Culture: Chainsaw Man’s fan frenzy mirrors Chinese online fan behavior, rendered with lively hype (e.g., “explosive” for 爆炸).
Workplace Intimacy: Tang Yao and Li Xue’s playful closeness reflects Chinese office friendships, translated with warm, teasing charm.
Grief and Memory: The Long Farewell’s themes of loss resonate with Chinese family values, translated with poignant universality.
Technical Terms:
Manga Terms: “短篇” (short story), “长篇” (long-form), “剧情展开” (plot development), “画风” (art style), and “反转” (twist) fit manga workflows.
Gaming Terms: “联动卡池” (crossover pool), “换皮” (reskin), and “流量” (traffic) align with gaming ecosystems.
Storytelling Terms: “残像” (echo), “情感基调” (emotional undertone), and “读者情绪把控” (reader emotion control) reflect narrative craft.
Adjustments:
Narrative Clarity: Chainsaw Man’s explosive reception, The Long Farewell’s emotional impact, and Tang Yao-Li Xue’s banter are detailed vividly, balancing fandom buzz, personal drama, and workplace humor.
Emotional Tone: Guan Fang’s reluctant praise, Rumi’s awe, Li Xue’s vulnerability, and Tang Yao’s teasing are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional stakes.
Dialogue Flow: Fan comments, mother-daughter reconciliation, and playful flirtation add energy, grounding manga and industry plot points in character moments.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Charm: Her teasing confidence with Li Xue shines, translated with playful warmth.
Li Xue’s Sensitivity: Her emotional reaction and bold affection are rendered with endearing vulnerability.
Guan Fang’s Shift: Her grudging acceptance is translated with nuanced humanity.
Rumi’s Insight: Her growing respect for Tang Yao is rendered with quiet admiration.
Ji Fuliang’s Delusion: His premature triumph is translated with smug anticipation.
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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