Chapter 61: Whoa
The Tech Trade Center was just a short distance from the Literature Hall.
After a ten-minute walk, Tang Yao and Kang Ming arrived.
She guided him to the entrance of Mingyu Technology and stepped inside confidently.
On the way, she’d filled him in on the situation, so Kang Ming was now curiously observing his surroundings.
Mingyu Technology hadn’t changed much—only the Operations Team was around, but today, they seemed unusually lively. No longer slouched and lifeless, they’d cleaned up, swapped out their rumpled clothes, shaved, and sat upright.
What’s going on? Has the company come back to life?
Tang Yao cast a curious glance at them as she passed but refrained from asking.
Meanwhile, the Operations Team was staring right back at her.
Since she’d resigned that day, Tang Yao had ditched her usual plain white shirt and black straight-leg pants. Instead, she wore a crisp white T-shirt—simple, snug, and flattering—paired with light blue skinny jeans that revealed her delicate ankles.
The jeans clung perfectly to her thighs, highlighting her long, shapely legs in a striking way.
With a loose backpack borrowed from her sister slung over her shoulders, she exuded a youthful, vibrant charm.
Whoa! Where’d this high school girl come from?
She’s adorable—too pretty!
Catching their gazes, Tang Yao quickly averted her eyes and hurried into her rented office, shutting the door behind her.
“They’re acting weird,” she muttered, setting her bag down with a slight frown.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Kang Ming replied, shaking his head. He got why they were staring—who wouldn’t?
“This is where we’ll be working. I know it’s pretty empty for now,” Tang Yao said, unzipping her backpack. “Today, you can get a feel for the place and jot down any basic office supplies you’ll need. I’ll grab them along with my stuff. We’ll build it up as we go.
“Oh, and we’re piggybacking on Mingyu’s fiber—it’s part of the rental agreement.”
“No need to ‘get a feel’ for it. A chair’s enough for me,” Kang Ming said, snapping out of his thoughts. “As for supplies, a computer will do. Anything else depends on the project…”
“Fair enough.” Tang Yao pulled out a hefty stack of documents, leaving Kang Ming wide-eyed.
He stared at the pile, nearly as thick as his palm. “Did you… print all that at the office?”
Tang Yao scratched her cheek, a little sheepish. “Well, I had some spare time, so I printed some prep materials. But don’t worry—I paid for most of it myself, not on the Literature Hall’s tab!”
“What’s all this?”
“We’ll get to it.” She sifted through the stack and handed him a proposal. “First, get a sense of what we’re doing. This is the proposal I mentioned. It’s a bit rough since it’s for investors—covers product direction, monetization, that sort of thing. It’s half a planning doc.
“Skim it to get the gist.”
Kang Ming nodded solemnly, took the proposal, and sat down to read with focus.
But just two pages in, he jerked his head up, stunned. “The original concept is Fate/Zero!? This…”
“Keep reading,” Tang Yao urged, motioning for him to continue.
Kang Ming swallowed his shock and pressed on.
As he read, his breathing quickened, excitement bubbling up.
Twenty minutes later, he finished and looked at her, buzzing. “A 2D mobile game! Awesome! I’ve always thought manga characters had huge potential. I never pictured using them like this!
“And Fate/Zero’s Servant summoning ties into the gameplay perfectly!”
Unlike Lin Shuang, he wasn’t hung up on profits.
Kang Ming was a fan of games, manga, and anime—and even tinkered with oddball game proposals himself.
So Tang Yao’s vision of a 2D mobile game with anime-style art and deep character-driven stories? He was sold.
Better yet, her proposal was thorough.
She’d mapped out the whole game framework, letting Kang Ming picture it: players summoning Servants, collecting their favorite characters on their phones. It sounded like a blast!
“Hold your horses,” Tang Yao said, pulling up a chair. “Since you’ve read it, let me break it down. There’s no competition for a game like this—we can’t predict user or market reactions by studying rivals. No references, all from scratch.”
Kang Ming calmed down a bit, frowning. “True, I’ve never seen a mobile game like this. Personally, a solid story and cool characters to collect sound amazing, but… it’s risky.”
He only knew games from this world, and Tang Yao’s idea was uncharted territory here.
So he figured she was worried about player uptake and revenue.
Tang Yao shook her head. “Not quite. Forget the game itself for a sec—I’m talking production. Like, we don’t know how it’ll run on phones. Honest truth? This is my first mobile game.”
In this world, anyway.
Kang Ming blinked. “Uh… so?”
“What I’m saying is,” Tang Yao said, choosing her words, “we’ve got no benchmarks, no clue how it’ll perform on devices, and we barely know each other. But we can tackle all that with one thing: a demo. So, I’m thinking we shelve the full plan for now and whip up a start page and a story chunk to test on phones.
“It’ll help us gel, sort out the workflow—since it’s our first mobile game together—and see how it runs.”
Kang Ming’s eyes sparked. “Yes—a demo! Let’s hash it out.”
“Mm.” Tang Yao nodded, satisfied, and handed him another document. “This is the project overview—pulled from the proposal. It nails down the genre, mechanics, monetization, and art style.
“I’ve also listed the systems, levels, and content needed for long-term development.
“Basically, it’s the planner’s cheat sheet. I’ve flagged what we need for the demo. Check it out.”
Kang Ming stared, dazed.
“And this,” Tang Yao went on, passing him another file, “is the art style guide. My original artwork, setting the game’s visual vibe. But for tech specs—size, dimensions, file formats—I’ll need your input to lock those down.”
She didn’t pause, pulling out more. “Here’s some game engine research I skimmed. I’m no expert—just a quick look. It’s for you to reference. You’ll pick the tech.
“Like client and server engines, framework versions, code structure, project directories, testing and CI plans, and fixes for tech hurdles.”
“But,” she added, “that’s not urgent. First up: setting up internal dev and test servers, plus the SVN server. That’s on you.”
“…” Kang Ming was floored.
He gaped at the stack, then at Tang Yao, scalp tingling.
Whoa!!!
She’s doing the producer, project manager, lead planner, AND lead artist gigs all at once!
Insane!
Way too insane!
But why? Isn’t Tang Yao an editor?
Wait, what?
How’s she so good at this?
Truth was, Kang Ming had it twisted.
Tang Yao was an editor here, sure—but in her past life? Not so much.
Editing was her detour; games were her thing. Before dying young, she’d been the lead artist on a lousy mobile game.
She knew development cold, and with her crossover-enhanced memory, recalling it was cake.
Kang Ming didn’t know that, though. He was just gobsmacked.
Hold on.
He snapped out of it, grabbed the art style guide, and flipped through it.
The bold, sexy, fierce illustrations stopped him dead.
Tang Yao had said she’d handle art, and he’d assumed she’d lean on her “contacts” for illustrators.
But now, it clicked—she’d said she’d draw them.
He looked up warily. “Tang Yao… you said you drew these?”
She nodded. “Yup. I’m the game’s lead artist.”
“…” Kang Ming froze, then asked, “You can draw?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“…?”
“I wanted to be a manga artist, but it didn’t pan out, so I ended up an editor.”
“?????”
Kang Ming gawked at the pro-level, stylish art. “With this talent, you’re an editor??? And the style’s dead-on Fate/Zero…”
“Oh, I didn’t mention,” Tang Yao said, tucking her hair with a shy grin. “I drew Fate/Zero. That’s why it’s the game’s backbone…”
“…WHAT!?”
Kang Ming bolted up, voice cracking in disbelief.
She drew it? What’s that mean?
Wait, what?
No way!
Is this what I think?
Do editors need to draw and make games now?
If so, I’m heading back to the editorial desk! Next to her, I’m trash!
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 62: Borrowing the Hen to Lay Eggs
“Chill,” Tang Yao said, watching Kang Ming jump up and borderline screech. She tucked her hair behind her ear, exasperated.
She’d seen this coming.
Why couldn’t he just talk? No need to yell—she hadn’t robbed a bank, just drawn a manga.
“How can I chill? Tang Yao, you really drew it? Like, with a pen, by hand?”
Kang Ming was still spinning.
Tang Yao sighed. “What, you think I chewed the pen to draw it?”
“HA!?”
His voice spiked again, incredulous.
It was wild!
Like when Tang Yao showed Balloon Heads to Li Xue—an editor claiming to outdraw most pros? The gap was unreal.
But Kang Ming had seen her editing chops and now her game dev skills.
So, hearing she was Fate/Zero’s artist hit him harder than it hit Li Xue with Balloon Heads.
“Wait! You drew it!? You’re ‘Teacher Sanliu’!? Not advising, but drawing it yourself? Does that mean Balloon Heads is also… you, I… what?”
He flailed, tripping over words in shock.
He was convinced—he was the useless one.
“…” Tang Yao stayed quiet.
His voice was so loud Mingyu’s staff probably heard it.
She didn’t want day-one rumors of a fallout, so she took a deep breath, fixed him with a cool stare, and pointed down with a slim finger.
Sit.
“…” Kang Ming’s rant cut off.
He shivered, simmered down, and sat, sheepish.
Tang Yao’s usual soft vibe made her cold glare hit harder—like a quiet kid losing it.
Even Tang Xun feared her sister’s stern mode.
“Better?” Tang Yao exhaled, easing up.
“Not even close,” Kang Ming said, face red. “If you can draw Fate/Zero, why stick with editing?”
Still hyped, he remembered Mingyu’s staff and toned it down, though his voice shook.
“I told you—it’s not your business. I know you’re into manga, but this isn’t the time,” Tang Yao said. “We’re talking games. All you need to know: Fate/Zero is the game’s core. Its setting, story, and some characters will shape it.
“Plus, the manga’s our hook—our first players might be Fate/Zero fans.
“Who drew it doesn’t matter. I’m just saying I can handle lead art.”
“…” Kang Ming’s flush deepened.
Easy for her to say—who wouldn’t freak out?
More than that, she was using this hyped manga… just for the game?
To pull in players?
Damn!
If the Literature Hall or her manga artists knew, they’d lose it!
Kang Ming’s face twisted.
But he didn’t want that icy stare again.
And his fussing was pointless. He pivoted. “So, Fate/Zero’s serialization…”
“I told you—free release. Chapter two drops later,” Tang Yao said.
“I see…” Kang Ming glanced at the documents, getting her strategy, and smirked wryly.
So, the manga was just game bait.
“Putting Fate/Zero aside, back to business,” Tang Yao redirected. “Setting up the dev and test servers, and the SVN server.”
This mattered.
Tang Yao wasn’t chasing fancy processes; she liked it simple. But from her past-life game dev days, she knew IT groundwork was key.
Take SVN—it’s a version control tool for team projects, centralizing resources.
It might seem skippable with two people, but version control’s a lifeline. No rollbacks? Any developer would snap.
“Not tough to set up, but the internal server takes time,” Kang Ming said, shoving down his shock to focus. “I’ve got an idea, though.”
“What?” Tang Yao asked.
He hesitated, pointing at the door. “Mingyu Technology did games, right? Their servers are probably here. Since they’re tanking and we’re sharing space, maybe we buy or rent them. Saves a ton of work.”
“…” Tang Yao’s eyes lit up.
Right.
They were a game outfit!
And a decent-sized one at their peak. She could nab their servers—no hardware tweaks needed!
Borrowing the hen to lay eggs!
“I’ll talk to them later,” she decided on the spot.
Who knew this spot would pay off like this?
Kang Ming nodded, then asked, “For live game servers, you’re thinking…”
“Those cloud servers you mentioned?” Tang Yao prompted.
“Got it. Smart call—cuts maintenance costs,” he said, catching on.
“I’ll sort that with my… relative.”
“We’ll circle back…”
They dug in, mostly Tang Yao driving while Kang Ming scrambled to keep pace.
With just two, decisions were messy but fast.
Kang Ming realized Tang Yao wasn’t your average girl.
She knew game dev inside out.
Tech picks.
Engines for client and server.
Testing and CI.
Art and planning standards.
Dev setups.
She had a handle on it all.
And she decided quick. For engines, after Kang Ming laid out pros, cons, their skills, and costs, she picked one then and there—no hemming, no passing it back.
Direct.
Meanwhile, Kang Ming felt like the waffler, paranoid about steering her wrong.
As time ticked on, his awe—and nerves—grew.
It was… humbling.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 63: Trouble
Tang Yao and Kang Ming nailed down more details.
Eventually, she grabbed her laptop to log their calls.
These were just prep-phase plans.
“With the game’s scope, two people might struggle. We can pull it off, but it’ll drag,” Kang Ming said, watching her type. After a beat, he added softly, “If you trust me, I’ve got two college roommates who could pitch in. They helped with that battle platform I mentioned.”
Maybe her skills lit a fire under him—he felt he wasn’t doing enough.
He wanted backup.
Tang Yao paused, surprised. “Roommates? How good are they?”
“We’ve teamed up before. Not elite, but solid.”
“Invite them,” she said, mulling it over. “But wages…”
She knew leaning on just Kang Ming was a stretch.
Too many hires, though, and cash would run thin.
“No stress—they’re jobless. Basic pay’s fine.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll tell them I’ve got a gut feeling—working with you’s a win. Plus, it’s a resume goldmine,” Kang Ming said, firm. “Me? If money’s tight, skip my pay till the game profits.”
He meant it.
After learning she drew Fate/Zero and their long chat, he was a fanboy.
“No need to mess up your lives,” Tang Yao said, shaking her head. “We’ll pay… small game company rates. I can’t hit industry average.”
Games here paid crazy high—she couldn’t match it.
Kang Ming started to protest.
She cut in gently. “Don’t overestimate yourselves. And heads-up: if they’re not up to snuff, they’re out.”
He thought it over and nodded.
“Done. Invite them, but be straight,” Tang Yao said, turning her laptop to him. “Check my urgent task list—your part. Anything missing?”
He scanned it—company registration topped it, marked “in progress.”
Below was a mix, including non-game stuff like dropping Fate/Zero chapter two today.
His tasks were flagged, starting with buying computers.
“Nothing missing,” he said after a close look.
“But Mingyu’s got idle PCs…”
“Keep squeezing them?” Tang Yao mused. True enough.
Still, she wavered.
Feels like I’m gaming on their corpse.
“If they’re really done, they’d probably love to offload gear,” Kang Ming said. “Those computers are just dusting up.”
Tang Yao considered. “I’ll lump it in with the server chat.”
Fine, corpse it is.
If they agreed, it’d save her a headache.
“Mm… Where are you posting Fate/Zero chapter two today?” Kang Ming asked, eyeing her list. “Social media?”
“Yup, no better spot,” she confirmed. “If you wanna follow, it’s ‘Teacher Sanliu’…”
“I’ll follow, but a personal site might be smarter. The manga’s hot—could pull a crowd,” he suggested. “Then, when the game drops, it flows into the game site…”
“…” Tang Yao’s eyes gleamed. She hadn’t thought of that. “Good call… but won’t that split your focus? We’ve got a lot going.”
“Ahem,” Kang Ming coughed, looking away. “Well… my three buddies and I didn’t just build a battle platform. We also made a… picture collection site. For uploading and browsing… beautiful girl pics…
“If you want, we can tweak the UI and code into a manga reader. It’s just one manga—social media’s weak for fanbases.”
Those “beautiful girl pics” were spicy art.
The site was Kang Ming’s…
“…” Tang Yao gaped, shocked for once.
Kang Ming flushed, stumbling. “We were bored, and phone storage sucks…”
His voice faded, mortified.
“You’re geniuses,” Tang Yao said, genuinely impressed. “No sarcasm—you’ve got guts. If it’s legit, I’ll buy it. Turn your pic site into a manga reader. Tell me what art you need.”
Brilliant!
She’d been stressing over social media posts, and Kang Ming fixed it in seconds.
“But I’ll still drop Fate/Zero on social today for hype. Too long without updates, and it fades,” she added, thinking. “Later, maybe a simple animated ad? Bit early, though. Know skeletal animation?”
Kang Ming, past his embarrassment, asked, “Skeletal animation…?”
“It makes pictures move,” Tang Yao explained. It’s a slick animation trick—traditional stuff needs frame-by-frame drawing, but skeletal animation uses one static image and shifts its “bones” to animate.
It’s still a pain—manual keyframes and tweaks—but beats full animation. Tang Yao could draw animations but lacked time.
Most visual novel CGs use similar tech.
The basic version’s E-mote from Nekopara—not true skeletal animation, just 2D parts moved with shifts, spins, and warps. Simple but works.
After Effects can do breathing effects with its puppet tool. Rumor has it Kaleidoscope’s CGs used AE, but who knows.
For games, it’s Live2D and Spine.
Tons of game ads, like Azur Lane’s early CMs, use them.
Tang Yao knew both well—rigging bones, weighting, animating? She could nail a promo with the right setup.
“…You know that too!?” Kang Ming stared.
He’d heard of it but wasn’t deep in.
“…” Tang Yao shot him a duh look. “I’m lead artist. I planned animated CGs for the game’s main screen to dazzle players. How could I not know?”
“…” Kang Ming had no words.
“So, you familiar with it?”
“Heard of it… that’s it.”
“Okay, I’ll dig into it later,” Tang Yao said, standing. “That’s future stuff. First, I’ll talk to Si Jinliang about servers, then post Fate/Zero. What a pain…”
Muttering, she rushed out.
Kang Ming watched her go, then eyed the documents, feeling the pressure of her lead.
Meanwhile, across town, Su Deqiang checked the Literature Hall’s social media for Fate/Zero updates as usual.
Days after the manga award, his initial fury had faded, but he still itched for the next chapter—like a cat scratch.
Where’s the rest?
Serialize it already!
Today, he opened the account, hoping for a sign.
The Literature Hall had posted, “Please wait; we won’t let you down,” and pinned it.
But…
When Su Deqiang refreshed, the pinned post was gone.
“???? What’s that mean?”
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names: Kept Tang Yao, Kang Ming, Si Jinliang, Li Xue, and Su Deqiang for authenticity, reflecting Mandarin origins.
Cultural Terms: “Skeletal animation” and “SVN” stay technical; “borrowing the hen to lay eggs” adapts a Mandarin idiom for English flow.
Tone: Tang Yao’s skill, Kang Ming’s awe, and Su Deqiang’s irritation are sharpened to match the original’s depth.
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