Invincible Warrior launched successfully.
With Zhao Guowei’s endorsement, the download figures and user registrations on launch day exceeded projections by a significant margin. While it was nothing close to the chart-storming numbers a Ji Li game would put up, for a company just getting off the ground, it was a very respectable result.
And there was another reason to celebrate: Invincible Warrior had received excellent reviews, particularly in history-focused forums and community boards, where word-of-mouth was outstanding. The only consistent criticism was that there wasn’t enough content — many players finished the game in a single day.
Zhu Yun skimmed the feedback, and her nerves finally settled somewhat. She pulled Zhao Teng with her and dove into producing follow-up content. And Zhang Fang — nominally the “Operations Director” — at last had something to do, spending his days glued to his laptop refreshing data and playing customer service with evident delight.
When the first in-app purchase notification came through, Zhang Fang burst into tears.
“This is so moving, it’s absolutely moving!” He flung his arms around Zhao Teng and sobbed. “This is the company’s very first revenue!”
Zhao Teng tried to pry him off.
“Have some dignity! Ten yuan won’t even cover a bowl of spicy noodles!”
“I don’t care! It’s our first payment! The first!” Zhang Fang wailed into Zhao Teng’s shoulder until even Zhao Teng couldn’t help laughing.
True, ten yuan in today’s economy couldn’t accomplish anything practical. But this money didn’t need to accomplish anything practical. It just needed to be a sign — proof that everything was moving in the right direction.
Dong Siyang sat comfortably in his leather executive chair, surveying the noisy, lively scene in the office with a smile, and said to Zhu Yun: “Alright, you’ve earned your keep. Time to step aside and let a man run the project team.”
Zhu Yun silently told him where he could go. Dong Siyang immediately pointed at her. “You dare curse at your boss? You still want a job here?”
Zhu Yun ignored him. Dong Siyang turned to Li Xun. “She was just cursing me in her head — did you catch that?”
Li Xun, without looking up from his book, said: “She also curses you with her eyes. Pay attention next time.”
Dong Siyang scoffed. “Say it out loud if you’ve got the nerve.”
Zhu Yun tossed her folder aside, rescued Zhao Teng from Zhang Fang’s clutches, and declared: “Let’s go — lunch on me!”
She dragged Zhao Teng out the door. Dong Siyang grumbled behind them, “Getting all moody now — absolutely unreasonable.”
---
That same lunchtime, in stark contrast to the buzzing energy at Fei Yang, the office tower of Ji Li Company stood hushed and still at a commercial hub ten li from the startup park.
Management had held a meeting that morning and piled on even more work. By unspoken agreement, everyone had pushed their lunch break back by half an hour so they could leave a little earlier in the evening.
In the project manager’s office, the project lead Wang Ke was briefing Fang Zhijing.
After the internet conference some time before, Fang Zhijing had assigned Wang Ke the task of quietly keeping tabs on a certain company. Wang Ke had assumed it was a competitor of some standing, but when he discovered it was a little-known outfit with nothing to show for itself since its founding, he hadn’t given it much further thought. Recently, a subordinate had recommended a game to Wang Ke — a history strategy title that was supposedly quite well-designed, small but polished. Wang Ke downloaded it, and only then realized it was the very company Fang Zhijing had mentioned.
Wang Ke looked up. Fang Zhijing was still absorbed in playing the game, his concentration unusual.
More than half an hour later — by which time Wang Ke’s stomach had started growling audibly — Fang Zhijing finally spoke.
“What do you make of this game?”
“For a company that small,” Wang Ke said, “it’s quite impressive, honestly.”
“And compared to other companies?”
Wang Ke thought for a moment. “The content is decent enough, but it skews a bit niche. The classic case of earning critical praise without earning money.”
That phrase clearly pleased Fang Zhijing, who smiled.
“Come on then — break down the strengths and weaknesses from a purely game standpoint.”
“The strengths are that the content is genuinely crafted with care,” Wang Ke said. “Especially the story design — it draws players in very effectively. The narrative clearly went through serious research, and apparently they even brought Zhao Guowei on board as a consultant. But that’s also a double-edged sword — it sets an invisible barrier. The kind of casual players who don’t want to think won’t bite. And the players who do want to think tend to spend very carefully. So the game is fighting an uphill battle.”
Fang Zhijing let out a satisfied chuckle. “Your read is sharp.”
At that moment, Gao Jianhong entered from outside. Wang Ke greeted him immediately.
“Director Gao.”
Gao Jianhong gave a brief nod. Fang Zhijing handed his phone to him, then turned back to Wang Ke. “So you know what needs to be done to improve on it?”
Wang Ke was caught off guard. “Is Director Fang planning to…”
“This project is yours to run,” Fang Zhijing said. “Name it whatever you want. Same genre, same historical setting, but dial back the difficulty and load it up with events.”
Wang Ke was blindsided by the sudden assignment. Fang Zhijing saw his dazed expression and added reassuringly: “Don’t worry — I’m not asking for a huge investment of resources. Just copy the template. I’m not looking for this project to win any awards. I just want you to squeeze out Invincible Warrior’s user base.”
“That’s no problem at all,” Wang Ke said. “Their platform advantages are no match for ours.”
Internally, however, Wang Ke was in agony. He already had two projects on his plate. Adding a third meant he’d likely be working overtime for the next six months straight.
“Oh, one more thing,” Fang Zhijing added, catching himself. “Have someone go flood the review boards and forums. I want their average rating down to below 6 within a week.”
“That’s easy enough,” Wang Ke agreed. “Their player base is tiny — it’s a niche circle, and the only reason anyone showed up is because of Zhao Guowei’s promotion.”
“Zhao Guowei… right, right, you’ve reminded me.” Fang Zhijing turned back to Wang Ke. “Have someone go spam her profile too, and buy a few planted news pieces. Say something like…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. “…something along the lines of ‘Veteran Professor Abandons Academic Integrity for Cash.’ That’s the angle — the specific content is up to you. Hit her personal blog, the university’s internal forum, and all the major gaming news portals.”
Wang Ke nodded, noting everything down.
Gao Jianhong, still testing the game on the phone, said flatly: “Zhao Guowei is nearly sixty.”
“So?” Fang Zhijing sneered. “A woman that age who can’t sit still and do her scholarship, who insists on wading into the youth space — she brought this on herself. Honestly, it’s surprising — who knew academics had such a low threshold? She caved for money just like that. If I’d known, we would’ve approached her for a promotion ourselves.”
“That small company can’t afford to pay her,” Gao Jianhong said. “It must be a matter of personal loyalty. Zhao Guowei’s husband is a computer science professor at our university.”
“With that connection, why didn’t you use it sooner?”
Gao Jianhong’s response was cool and disinterested.
“Invincible Warrior didn’t exist yet. Neither did your plans to do a Warring States game.”