Chapter 58: Alright (Happy New Year)
Games?
Tang Yao was mildly surprised by the answer, though not overly so.
She understood the state of this world.
Right now, it was the golden age of online gaming—a wildly lucrative industry. Last year’s richest person had reportedly made their fortune in games.
It was only natural that people would want to jump in and grab a slice of the pie.
However, when an industry becomes universally recognized as profitable, its structure tends to solidify. The era of big fish in a vast pond was over; the market had shifted to a battle over existing shares. Competition was heating up—things were getting cutthroat.
In this environment, users and revenue were increasingly concentrating in the top products of each category. Newcomers were all too likely to end up as cannon fodder.
And yet… as always, online gaming remained a "cash cow" business—too profitable to resist.
Even knowing the risks, people kept diving in, one after another.
More importantly, this parallel world wasn’t like Tang Yao’s previous life. Though the industry’s framework was set, it hadn’t reached an extreme deadlock. In her old world, games of the same genre and mechanics were dominated by top-tier companies in the most competitive categories, leaving mid-tier firms crushed and newcomers with no room to breathe.
Here, there was still some space—however limited.
That sliver of opportunity drew in countless hopefuls.
So, running into a "peer" in this situation? Perfectly normal.
“…”
On the other side, Li Xue was genuinely taken aback by the answer and couldn’t help glancing at Tang Yao.
The staff member followed her gaze, looking puzzled.
What? Are you renting an office for games too?
Of course, he had enough tact not to ask aloud.
Soon, the leasing agent returned and led Tang Yao and Li Xue to the Tech Trade Center, two streets away.
“Is that okay?” Li Xue asked quietly, falling half a step behind to walk beside Tang Yao. “They’re in games too—and it looks like they’ve failed…”
“It’s fine. Their failure doesn’t affect me,” Tang Yao replied, turning her head with a light smile. “What, you think it’s bad luck or something?”
“Not exactly…” Li Xue shook her head. “I just worry it might bother you, having a failed example in front of you every day…”
“It could be a wake-up call,” Tang Yao said nonchalantly. “No big deal. Besides, the game I want to make is probably different from theirs. As long as the price is right, co-leasing works for me.”
Li Xue considered this for a moment and said nothing more.
Before long, the trio arrived at the Tech Trade Center.
Despite its grand name, it was clearly an aging office building—a Class C with basic communication and office services. Its footprint was small, tucked away in the bustling city, looking dated and out of place.
In such a prime location, it was a wonder how a relic like this had survived.
But Tang Yao was pleased—it looked affordable.
They took the elevator to the seventh floor.
“Mingyu Technology,” Tang Yao murmured, stepping out and reading the company name aloud.
The agent, clearly familiar with the place, led her and Li Xue straight inside.
Tang Yao observed as she walked.
Mingyu Technology’s seventh floor wasn’t large—unsurprising, given the building’s modest size. The reception desk was unmanned. Beyond it stretched the office area: two rows of workstations split into sections. Most desks held only computers, no people.
In the sprawling office, Tang Yao counted just one active section—seven employees, all looking half-dead, blatantly coasting through their days.
As she drew closer, she glanced at the sign: Operations Team.
The agent had mentioned the company was on its last legs… but to Tang Yao, it already seemed kaput.
With that thought, she pressed forward.
As she and Li Xue approached, the remaining Operations Team members looked up, their eyes lighting up with admiration—and more than a little confusion.
Knock knock—
The agent didn’t bother greeting them or explaining. He led Tang Yao to an office at the far end and tapped lightly on the door.
It opened quickly.
A man in his twenties—younger-looking than Kang Ming—stood there. He was unremarkable, with long, messy hair like a bird’s nest, clad in a yellowed white T-shirt and torn jeans. Eye gunk crusted his corners, his complexion sallow. He radiated a half-dead vibe.
“Brother Zhang, about that co-leasing you mentioned…” he began casually, clearly familiar with the agent.
But mid-sentence, he noticed the two figures behind him.
Tang Yao and Li Xue were, by any conventional standard, stunning—top-tier beauties with distinct charms. Realizing they were staring at him, the man froze.
Snapping out of it, he grew flustered, instinctively smoothing his hair and brushing at his stained shirt.
No amount of effort improved his appearance.
The agent, unfazed—he’d done the same earlier—cut to the chase. “These two are here about co-leasing.”
“Uh… hi, hello,” the man stammered, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans. “I’m Si Jinliang.”
“Tang Yao,” she replied. “Where can I rent here?”
Li Xue stayed silent, sizing him up, gauging any potential threat.
“Let’s sit over there and talk,” Si Jinliang said, glancing at his office with an awkward smile before shutting the door.
As it closed, Tang Yao caught a glimpse of a bedroll on his desk—he was truly living here.
She didn’t comment, just nodded.
They found some empty workstations and sat down.
Si Jinliang seemed unused to dealing with someone like Tang Yao. After sitting, he fidgeted, opening his mouth then closing it, unsure where to start.
Finally, he skipped the small talk. “Miss Tang Yao, right? How much space do you need? This place is over 200 square meters. If you want, you could—”
“I don’t need that much,” Tang Yao interrupted. “I just need an office area—there aren’t many of us. Can I rent that spot over there?”
She pointed to a row of partitioned offices near the entrance. The door was open, marked Finance Room, with cubicles for about six people.
“Sure, that’s fine,” Si Jinliang said, following her gaze. He hesitated. “It’s rentable. I’ve got the landlord’s permission to negotiate… but it’s not big, and it’s tricky to price. I don’t need much space myself. Are you sure it’s enough?”
“It’s enough,” Tang Yao said, lowering her hand. “Just calculate the rent and fees based on the area. A little higher is fine—you’ve started a business too, so you know startups don’t need much space early on. I can’t afford more anyway.”
“Well…” Si Jinliang wavered.
“If it’s too much hassle, just say so,” Tang Yao said, meeting his eyes earnestly. “If not, I’ll look elsewhere. I’m just here to test my luck. Is that okay?”
Si Jinliang glanced at her striking face, caught her gaze, blushed, and looked away.
Surveying the empty floor and his own predicament, he gritted his teeth. “Alright…”
No, this had nothing to do with her looks—just pure pressure relief.
Tang Yao’s eyes brightened at his agreement.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 59: Revolutionary Change
With Si Jinliang’s approval, the rest was straightforward.
With the agent’s help, they measured the former finance room’s area and sorted out how to split miscellaneous fees—property management, agency costs, and the like—beyond the rent.
The process was quick, thanks to Li Xue’s apparent expertise.
“That’s about it,” Si Jinliang said, reviewing the contract. Finding no issues, he nodded and signed under Party A. “The pantry’s free to use, but bring your own kettle and stuff. And for the print room, you’ll need your own supplies…”
“No problem,” Tang Yao agreed readily, signing her name. She was delighted.
She’d considered a residential rental, but an office building was better—better facilities, a professional vibe. Plus, since she and Kang Ming weren’t that close, sharing a house might’ve been awkward.
An office was different.
“So, we’re neighbors now,” Tang Yao said, tucking away her contract copy and paying the agency fee. She smiled at Si Jinliang. “Looking forward to working with you.”
“Working together’s a stretch,” he replied, dazed by her radiant smile before averting his eyes. He scanned the empty office with a bitter laugh. “You’ve seen my situation. And we’re in different fields… By the way, what do you plan to do?”
Realizing he hadn’t asked, he added, “It’s rare to see such young women starting a business—especially ones as beautiful as you two…”
“Games,” Tang Yao answered openly.
“Oh, games? Games are great… Wait, games!?” Si Jinliang’s casual response halted as his eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re making games too?”
“Yeah,” Tang Yao confirmed.
“…”
Si Jinliang fell silent, then asked, “Miss Tang, you know what my company does, right?”
“Games, yeah?”
“…If you know that, why rent here? With a cautionary tale right in front of you, you’re still doing games?”
“Because it’s cheap.”
“…”
Si Jinliang went quiet again. He studied her exquisite face, saw she wasn’t joking, and sighed deeply. “Miss Tang, give up.”
Li Xue shot him a look, as if she’d expected this.
“Hm?” Tang Yao tilted her head. “Why?”
“Why? Can’t you tell from my empty office? It’s not the time to make games anymore,” Si Jinliang said, staring at the ceiling in defeat. “Give up. I’ll refund your deposit. Quitting now just costs you the agency fee—pressing on will be worse.”
Tang Yao shook her head. “The game I’m making is probably different from yours.”
“Different? How?” Si Jinliang gave a wry smile. “What are you planning? An MMORPG? Turn-based? FPS? Web game?
“I know this industry better than you! There’s no ‘different’—it’s all the same types, the same mechanics.
“Think you can win with style and quality? I’ll tell you now—it won’t work. I’m living proof. I thought the same and ended up like this. Without big company resources, it’s too hard.
“Ever heard of the 80/20 rule? The game industry’s structure is locked in—big players take the lion’s share. Small fry like us can barely break through.
“Give up. That’s my advice from experience.”
“…”
Tang Yao shook her head silently.
She understood his point.
But mobile games were different. From her past-life perspective, the shift from PC to mobile was a revolutionary change!
In her old world, this shift didn’t fully upend the domestic game industry—two giants still reigned—but countless new companies had risen fast on mobile’s wave.
Mobile gaming wasn’t just a new category; it carved a blue ocean out of an industry everyone thought was tapped out.
A blue ocean.
“I hope you don’t regret it,” Si Jinliang said, his enthusiasm fading as Tang Yao showed no sign of backing down—perhaps stirred by painful memories.
He stood, shaking his head. “If I’d known you were doing games, I wouldn’t have rented to you…”
With that, he turned toward his office.
“Wait,” Tang Yao called after a moment’s thought. “What’s your game called? What type?”
“Dou Pai… a strategy card game,” Si Jinliang replied, pausing but not turning back. “Check it out. You’ll see why I’m telling you to quit.”
He hurried into his office, unwilling to say more.
Tang Yao reminded him of his own naive, passionate self—such a fool.
He felt he could already predict her fate. Good advice falls on deaf ears; there was nothing left to say.
What a shame—so pretty, yet so naive.
Meanwhile, Tang Yao gazed at his office door, lost in thought.
Tang Yao and Li Xue left.
The moment they did, Mingyu Technology’s remaining Operations Team began whispering. They’d overheard everything and knew Tang Yao was co-leasing.
The listless group suddenly perked up with the news.
Tang Yao, oblivious, was already planning her next steps as she left with the contract.
Si Jinliang’s words? She brushed them off.
Li Xue, meanwhile, watched Tang Yao muttering about free releases and schedules, unfazed by Si Jinliang. She’d always thought “pretty” and “cute” fit Tang Yao best, but now “cool” seemed apt too.
Just as Li Xue was about to compliment her, her phone rang.
Frowning, she checked it and hesitated.
Tang Yao noticed. “Go ahead, Miss Li. You’re the deputy chief editor—you must be swamped. You’ve spent enough time with me, and I’ve got the place. I’m heading home to prep Fate/Zero’s free release. We’ll start work here tomorrow.”
“…” Li Xue pursed her lips, still unsure.
“Come on, all your savings are with me,” Tang Yao teased, slipping an arm around Li Xue’s slim waist. “If you don’t work, you’ll be broke next month. I’m fine—visit when you’re free. I’m not going anywhere.”
“…” Li Xue rolled her eyes lightly, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll go. Be safe—don’t take food or drinks from strangers. Si Jinliang seems harmless, but you’re a girl; stay cautious…”
Tang Yao sighed. “I’m not a kid—relax.”
“Just be careful. I’m off.”
Li Xue did have a packed plate—the female editorial team’s chief editor wasn’t much better off. Half a day away, and the calls were piling up.
Before leaving, she confirmed, “For Fate/Zero’s free release, how will you promote it?”
“I’ll pose as a reader and spread the word. Not much else I can do—the manga award’s out. But with the current buzz, once it’s free, it should spread fast.”
“Still risky. Let me know when you’re releasing it—I can help.”
“Huh? How?”
“I’m the deputy chief editor. I know plenty of manga artists… You’ll see.”
“Alright, probably tomorrow. If it changes, I’ll tell you.”
“Okay. I’m off. Text me when you’re home.”
“Sure.”
They chatted as they descended.
Downstairs, they parted ways. Li Xue, on the phone giving orders, headed toward the Literature Hall.
Tang Yao texted Kang Ming the office location, telling him to come tomorrow.
Soon after, he called.
Their talk was brief—details needed a face-to-face.
“…We’ll hash it out tomorrow. I’ll bring the proposal,” Tang Yao said, hanging up. She pocketed her phone and glanced back at the weathered Tech Trade Center, anticipation flickering across her face.
Everything was ready.
Now, just wait for tomorrow’s Fate/Zero release—and then… make the game!
Happy New Year!
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 60: Resignation
“So… she’s still leaving?”
The next day, at the Literature Hall, Zhao Fangsheng stared at Shang Tao, still in disbelief.
Shang Tao gave a wry smile. “Yeah. I contacted Editor Tang yesterday—she’s set on resigning. She said she’d submit her notice today.”
“…” Zhao Fangsheng frowned, muttering, “Why? Ding Yilong’s gone, and I’ve promised her the deputy chief editor spot.”
“Probably disappointment,” Shang Tao said after a pause. “Think about it—the Ou Congquan mess alone was a nightmare. Feeling isolated must’ve sucked, even if it got resolved. But the real hit was likely Fate/Zero.
“It’s an amazing work that didn’t even get a shot at magazine serialization. Ding Yilong, even on his way out, refused to admit Tang Yao had pitched it—he knew how outrageous he’d been.
“I bet she doubted herself when it didn’t make the magazine. That’s why she pushed it to our new media team through the manga award—to prove herself.
“And the readers proved her right—it wasn’t her fault.
“After that, thinking back to her time in the editorial department—a hit like that, blocked by the chief editor? I’d lose it too. She did nothing wrong.
“She’s young, impulsive. Quitting makes sense.”
“…” Zhao Fangsheng listened silently.
“Plus, you heard what she and Ding Yilong fought about, Vice President,” Shang Tao continued. “She said she’s done with editing. Maybe she’s lost faith in the industry…”
“…” Zhao Fangsheng stayed quiet.
After a while, he shook his head regretfully. “Such a talent not editing—it’s a shame. Ding Yilong really screwed her over.”
Shang Tao, picturing Tang Yao’s face, nodded. “Yeah.”
“That Ding Yilong! Unrepentant to the end!” Zhao Fangsheng’s regret turned to fury. “How’s the letter to the other magazines’ editorial teams going?”
“Sent,” Shang Tao replied. “Most responded. They didn’t mention Ding Yilong, but they’re asking about ‘Teacher Sanliu’s’ contact info. They’ve read the emails, know Fate/Zero might not serialize with us, and want to poach.
“Since they’ve seen the emails, they won’t touch Ding Yilong. He’s finished—no more editing gigs.”
“Good,” Zhao Fangsheng said, his anger easing slightly.
He despised Ding Yilong now.
He’d meant to handle him quietly, but the man spouted nonsense at the last second.
Worse, he drove off the future chief editor Zhao had pegged.
Not retaliating? Unthinkable!
Think quitting settles it? Fat chance.
“As for Editor Tang Yao… she’s too upset to stay now. We’ll reach out later—maybe she’ll cool off and reconsider editing,” Zhao Fangsheng sighed. “For now, we need a new chief editor for the male team and to deal with ‘Teacher Sanliu.’”
Shang Tao perked up. “I can’t weigh in on the first, but the latter—didn’t you contact ‘Teacher Sanliu’? What happened?”
“They didn’t pick up. Just texted back saying they don’t want magazine serialization.”
“Oh… sounds like ‘Teacher Sanliu’ has principles. From the pen name, probably a nobody before. Tang Yao discovered them, guided them to a great manga, and now, seeing her quit editing, they’re pissed…”
“…” Zhao Fangsheng stared at Shang Tao.
Shang Tao trailed off with an awkward laugh.
He didn’t handle content—the manga award boosted the site’s traffic; serialization was the content team’s headache.
Not his circus, so he could jest.
“Don’t gloat,” Zhao Fangsheng said, frowning. “You’re part of this magazine too. Losing Fate/Zero hurts us all. And don’t forget—it debuted at our award, and I had you post hints about serialization to calm readers…”
“…” Shang Tao’s eyes widened. He fumbled for his phone.
Right.
Damn!
His team had posted those hints. If it didn’t serialize…
Wait, this hits new media too?
He nearly texted his team to delete them.
Zhao Fangsheng was about to speak when his phone rang.
He glanced at it, paused, and answered. “Hello, Teacher Ou. Yes, it’s Zhao Fangsheng. About Editor Tang’s resignation…”
That morning, Tang Yao wrapped up her final task at the Literature Hall: emailing her manga artists about her resignation. Then she submitted her notice and left.
Kang Ming resigned alongside her.
With the male editorial team leaderless, their exit barely rippled.
Most editors assumed they were just out.
Downstairs, Kang Ming clutched his belongings, glancing back at the Literature Hall with a surreal air. “Can’t believe I joined a week ago and now I’m gone…”
“Uneasy?” Tang Yao asked casually, walking ahead.
“A bit,” Kang Ming admitted, eyeing her backpacked figure. After a beat, he fibbed, “Feels like I did nothing worthwhile there—just sorting reader surveys…”
Not entirely true. He’d met Tang Yao, at least.
Without joining, he’d never have crossed paths with her.
But he was too shy to admit it.
And it might not even be a plus…
Yesterday, he’d been fine, but after submitting his resignation, fear crept in—fear of failure.
He’d always wanted a game company job but kept getting rejected.
Now, Tang Yao had pulled him into her startup. If it flopped…
Past rejections fueled his anxiety.
“It’s not really about doing nothing, is it?” Tang Yao said. “You’re uneasy about the change—afraid of messing up?”
Kang Ming blinked, then flushed. “How’d you know…”
Tang Yao gazed ahead, her voice soft. “Because I’m uneasy too. The thought of staying and becoming deputy chief editor hit me twice in the elevator.”
Kang Ming gaped. “No way…”
He hadn’t pictured Tang Yao feeling this way—hence his earlier white lie.
To him, she wasn’t the worrying type. Maybe his admiration painted her as infallible.
Tang Yao smiled. “Why not? Change brings uncertainty. I’m human too. And for this game, I owe a huge favor to Li… a friend. I’m super anxious!
“But anxiety’s normal. I won’t deny or bury it—I’ll accept it.
“I’m not saying this to cheer you up. I don’t think words alone can fix it.
“I’m just saying… I feel it too. So don’t let anxiety turn into fear or self-doubt. Forget those game company rejections—they’re history. You’re hired now, right?”
“…” Kang Ming was speechless.
“As your boss, I won’t let you down… at least, I won’t stiff you on pay,” Tang Yao said, turning with a dazzling smile. “Relax. If I picked you, your skills are solid. Maybe those rejections were your hair? Going bald might not look great.”
“…” Kang Ming touched his receding hairline, chuckling wryly.
But his anxiety did lighten.
Pay on time? TBD. But his new boss was genuinely kind.
…Just not the best with words.
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names: Retained as Tang Yao, Li Xue, Si Jinliang, Kang Ming, Zhao Fangsheng, and Shang Tao to preserve authenticity while ensuring readability.
Cultural References: Terms like “cash cow” and “blue ocean” kept for clarity in a business context; gaming jargon (MMORPG, FPS) left universal.
Tone: Tang Yao’s optimism, Si Jinliang’s cynicism, and Kang Ming’s nerves are emphasized for character depth and plot fidelity.
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