Starting as a Manga Editor-Chapter 86: Aren’t You Cold?

“...You’ll understand once the beta’s open.”
Tang Yao stared at Rumi’s messages, not quite knowing how to explain, so she just left that line as a vague answer.
But Rumi still didn’t seem convinced—in fact, she even suggested they meet right away, clearly wanting to talk her out of it in person.
Tang Yao responded vaguely while continuing to draft the compensation plan for paying beta players.
Now she didn’t even need to design the commemorative card herself.
And since Rumi was a mangaka, and Tang Yao hadn’t given her any art direction, the card she designed would likely stand apart from the current pool.
If it turned out well… they could officially launch collabs with Rumi and other artists later—limited-time cards, maybe even have them write story content.
If it didn’t do well… then so be it. It was a free commemorative card, the stats wouldn’t be high anyway, and if players didn’t like it, no harm done.
Tang Yao smiled contentedly and continued to multitask—chatting with Rumi while refining the process.
Of course, there was still the matter of the beta questionnaire.
But that wasn’t too important. Its main job was just to lightly filter the applicants—after all, these weren’t cold users from ad channels. They were Fate/Zero fans who visited the site. This was the target audience.
So it didn’t take long.
Tang Yao quickly wrapped up, grabbed her phone, and headed to the printing room.
In theory…
the second round of beta testing was now officially underway.
October 16th.
Clear skies.
Today, for once, Tang Yao wasn’t at the studio.
Instead, she was at a café two blocks away—the same one where she had once met Li Xue’s cousin.
As she pushed open the door, a few scattered customers turned their heads at the sound—
—and couldn’t look away.
Their eyes locked onto her—this included the café owner.
It was already October.
Though southern cities hadn’t entered true winter yet, the chill had started creeping in, especially since cold fronts had arrived earlier this year than usual.
Tang Yao wasn’t about to go walking around in a T-shirt.
Today, she wore a light white knit sweater, paired with pale blue cropped skinny jeans, exposing her delicate ankles while perfectly showing off her shapely curves.
Her fully matured figure, combined with a stunningly beautiful face, drew every gaze.
She radiated quiet allure from head to toe.
It was… hard to look away.
The café owner looked on with regret:
If only she’d lingered in the doorway a little longer…
Since Avalon Studio expanded, Tang Yao and Li Xue had been meeting here often, so the owner had come to recognize them.
Well—kind of.
What really made him remember them was that whenever one arrived early, she’d wait at the door for the other.
And the moment either of them stood at the door?
Business improved. A lot.
But lately, for some reason—maybe they made a pact or something—they’d both stopped waiting at the door.
The café owner mourned this dearly.
Tang Yao, aware of the attention, pressed her lips together, half-hid her hand in the oversized sleeve of her sweater, leaving only her pale, slender fingers peeking out.
She glanced around, quickly spotting a familiar silhouette—and strode over.
“Miss Li.”
Their usual booth.
Li Xue, as always, was dressed in a tailored women’s suit, her long, shapely legs encased in black stockings, her silhouette elegant and refined.
As soon as she saw Tang Yao, a soft smile bloomed on her delicate face—mature, graceful, and captivating.
“Aren’t you cold?”
Tang Yao sat down beside her and asked instinctively,
“Wearing so little…”
“Cold? Have you never heard those JK girls' logic?”
Li Xue replied in a mock-serious tone.
“‘Just wear more on top and you won’t feel cold.’ Besides—what’s a little cold if it means being cute?”
Tang Yao turned away.
“Oh, well then… take your time being cute.”
“I was hinting at something. You didn’t get it?”
“Nope.”
“…”
Li Xue rolled her eyes, brimming with charm.
Then she finally answered seriously:
“It’s really not that dramatic. It’s not even winter yet. I feel fine.”
“It’s not winter?
You think stockings are warm?
Or are you just built different…”
Tang Yao gave her a slow, skeptical glance.
“Why don’t you try wearing them yourself?
Also, that sweater looks really good on you.”
Li Xue gave her a once-over, eyes gleaming.
The elasticity of the knit made Tang Yao’s petite, curvy frame look even more breathtaking—just the right amount of temptation.
“Really?”
Tang Yao straightened her back slightly, looked down at her sweater, and instinctively tucked some hair behind her ear…
Her every move—captivating.
Clatter.
Someone nearby spilled their coffee.
Realizing something was off, Tang Yao glanced around.
A faint blush colored her face.
She quickly dropped her hand, looking away, trying to act like she didn’t care—though clearly flustered.
Over time, she had definitely picked up some of Li Xue and Tang Xun’s habits.
Li Xue, sitting beside her, watched the whole scene unfold and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What are you so embarrassed for? Being beautiful isn’t a crime…”
Still, watching her—
Li Xue felt herself getting hit with the charm, too.
So lovely…
So feminine, in the best way.
“…”
Tang Yao shot her a mild glare but didn’t respond.
Instead, she cleared her throat and got down to business.
“About the investor…”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not.”
Li Xue frowned instantly and interrupted,
“I’m just a rich friend who wanted to help another friend.”
“Doesn’t matter. You still paid up.
The game’s going into testing soon, you know?
You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”
Tang Yao raised her hand to cut her off.
Lately, Li Xue had been reaching out to Tang Yao far less often.
Not because she was pulling away, and not because feelings had cooled.
It was just that she didn’t want to add to her pressure.
Especially with monthly fixed expenses hitting nearly 200,000 yuan…
Even though Tang Yao hid it well, Li Xue could still tell.
“Testing?”
Li Xue finally dropped the argument and looked curious.
“You mean players can finally play it?”
“Mhm. That’s one way to put it.
The number of testers won’t be huge—too many and people might get mad about data wipes.”
Tang Yao nodded, then glanced at her.
“Wanna come visit the studio?
After all that money you spent, it’s finally showing results.”
“No thanks.”
Li Xue turned her head away dramatically.
“I told you—I’m not your investor. No matter how it turns out, I don’t care.
If it fails, I gain a cute mangaka friend.
If it succeeds, I gain a rich mangaka friend.
Either way—I win.”
“…”
Tang Yao looked at Li Xue’s serious face, both touched and exasperated.
“Fine, but if it does make money, I’m not giving you a cut.”
“Works for me. Just don’t pay me back if it fails.”
“Well, guess it all depends on how the beta test goes.
If it flops, I wouldn’t be able to pay you back anyway…”
Tang Yao’s pale fingers lightly clutched the edge of her sweater sleeve.
She stared ahead, voice soft.
If the results are good, I can finally relax.
If not… well, time to debut officially as a mangaka.
Li Xue saw the faint worry on her face.
She leaned in slightly and took Tang Yao’s hidden hand in hers—soft, but cold.
“Let’s not talk about that.
Do you even know how closely all the manga publishers are watching Fate/Zero right now?
Some are even starting to imitate it.”
“Oh?”
Tang Yao’s attention shifted immediately.
“Why?”
“You haven’t been checking the feedback?”
Li Xue gave her a look.
“Do you have any idea how insanely popular it is right now?”
“I mean, I know…
But Fate/Zero is almost finished. Why are publishers still so interested?”
“What, you think ‘Third-Rate Artist’ isn’t drawing any more manga after this?”
Li Xue sighed.
“You know how much your readers love you.
If you agreed to serialize in a magazine, that whole fanbase would instantly become sales.”
“Especially after this chapter—
Lancer reenacting the tragedy of his past life, getting killed by his own Master via Command Seal… that scene shook people.”
“Even I didn’t expect you to write it that way.
Readers are still talking about it. The entire manga scene is stunned.
Your manga is insanely hot right now.
Even if I didn’t lift a finger, if you so much as hinted you’d release a volume, publishers would be fighting to sign you.”
“I see…”
Tang Yao blinked, then smiled shyly.
“Well, readers won’t have time for that soon…”
“Huh?”
“Because the questionnaire goes live today.”
Tang Yao glanced at her phone.
“For the game’s closed beta.”