Starting as a Manga Editor-Chapter 92: You’re All Fired~

At Avalon Studio,
Tang Yao was bouncing with joy.
And all the staff members just stared, dumbfounded, at the same girl who had been the calmest person in the studio—now the most excited. She jumped up and down under the lights overhead, the glow casting a soft brilliance over her pretty face. For a moment, it felt like the whole studio had vanished—leaving only her, that dancing figure full of pure happiness.
Then—
For some reason—
Everyone suddenly felt it. Many couldn’t help but smile. If the composed, unshakable Tang Yao from earlier had been their pillar of reassurance, calming their nerves...
Then the Tang Yao now, brimming with excitement and joy, made them realize for the first time:
Their boss might seem all-powerful—
She could plan, write, balance game stats, draw, animate…
But beneath all that calm brilliance…
She was still just a normal girl.
Not only beautiful—
But also incredibly adorable.
“…”
On the other side—
Tang Yao bounced for a while before she finally noticed all the eyes on her.
She slowly came to a stop, looked around, and felt her pretty face flush red with embarrassment.
A little shy…
She paused for a second, then tried to play it cool—clearing her throat with forced composure, trying to ease the awkwardness.
Truthfully—
Saying she felt no pressure during the past few days would’ve been a lie. She was stressed—very much so. But she knew she had to be the one who kept it together, no matter what. So she hid it well. Not even in front of Xun did she ever let it slip.
But only she knew just how agonizing it had been inside.
So when she saw that data earlier—she snapped.
That’s why she lost control for a bit.
Still, the coughs didn’t shift anyone’s gaze. The entire studio continued to stare at her, some with wide grins… especially the kind you’d see from aunties watching their nieces succeed.
Tang Yao couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her flushed face turned even redder.
She threw a light glare at the noisiest part of the room and reminded everyone:
“...We’re only halfway to success.”
This batch of employees is useless!
Give me something, will ya!?
If I celebrate alone, don’t I just look like a total idiot!?
Careful or I’ll fire the lot of you!
The poor group that got caught in her glare froze, their faces turning red as well.
But at last—
Someone reacted.
“OH——!!”
With that first cry, the whole studio erupted into loud, thunderous cheers.
Seeing this—
Tang Yao finally felt better…
She smiled lightly, then steadied her emotions. While everyone else continued celebrating, she turned to look at Kang Ming.
Kang Ming and his two colleagues were still laughing like idiots… until they noticed Tang Yao looking their way. Only then did they awkwardly rein in their grins and try to appear somewhat professional.
“Celebrating is fine…”
Tang Yao had already cooled down by now. After a moment of thought, she gave a serious instruction:
“But don’t forget to monitor the beta players’ feedback. Especially any critical bugs—those must be fixed immediately.”
“Got it.”
Kang Ming replied right away. Then he asked curiously, “So… the open beta—?”
Tang Yao, remembering her earlier outburst, shot him a shy glare. “You really think we’re ready for open beta!? We haven’t even finished closed testing! Make sure this test goes smoothly first, will you!”
There was no way they were doing an open beta now.
Launching now would ruin everything.
Not to mention, the Fate/Zero manga wasn’t even finished yet. The buzz hadn’t reached its peak.
And this game?
It was the direct sequel to Fate/Zero.
“…Understood.”
Kang Ming couldn’t help but laugh as he nodded.
Clearly—he knew full well they weren’t going open beta. He was just teasing her.
After all, he’d known Tang Yao longer than anyone here. To him, she was practically a superhuman. Back when he was her editor, he already thought that.
So seeing her jump around like that earlier—it really shocked him.
It was like watching her for the first time all over again…
“Keep monitoring it.”
Tang Yao saw through him, but said nothing more. After a few more instructions, she turned and went to the other desks.
By then, the rest of the staff had begun calming down.
Tang Yao made a few schedule adjustments, checked on the progress of key components, and finally returned to her own desk.
The whole studio still radiated with joy…
Seeing it, Tang Yao smiled softly. She pulled her long hair into a neat high ponytail and began planning what to do next.
This test’s data had far exceeded expectations.
Forget the retention rate.
The payment rate alone had stunned her.
Sure, they only had 2,000 testers. And yes, they had all been selected from readers who had answered “Occasional Payer” or “Frequent Payer” on their survey…
And yes, all closed beta spending would be refunded double in the official launch.
But still—100%!?
These were players with a habit of spending, but they weren’t idiots. No one dumps money into every game. And as for the double refund at launch? Every game’s closed beta offers that—it’s not some irresistible incentive. Besides, lots of closed and open beta tests are spaced months apart.
Most players wouldn’t pay just for that.
So if the payment rate was that high, there was only one explanation—
They genuinely liked the game.
Tang Yao was a player herself. She knew what motivated people to spend.
If you didn’t like the game or the gameplay, even an eight times refund wouldn’t tempt you.
But if you do like it? You think: “Hey, I got into the closed beta. Might as well throw in a bit, right? I’ll get it back later anyway.”
“Looks like once they actually played it, they really did like the game… It was just fear of the unknown holding them back. Even in a different world, anime-style games still have a market. That means there’s no need to rush things.”
Thinking that—
Tang Yao grinned brightly. She whispered to herself, then grabbed the mouse and opened her schedule document, ready to reverse the contingency plans she had made to calm the team down earlier.
This test had given her a huge boost in confidence. She felt they could proceed step by step—no rush needed.
But first—
Tang Yao picked up her phone from the desk. Her slender fingers tapped rapidly on the virtual keyboard—she was writing to Li Xue.
She couldn’t wait to share the good news.
Very soon, the message was composed and sent.
But before Li Xue could reply, another person beat her to it.
Yep—the one and only Teacher Rumi.
【!!!】
【Third-Rate! This game is WAY too fun!!! I played until 3 a.m.! I only just got up!!】
【I didn’t do ANY work yesterday—I was just playing! I’m screwed!】
【How the heck did you come up with these mechanics?! It’s so unfair!!! It’s too addictive!!! I want every card I pull! I want to collect them all!】
【Also—Black Saber is TOO COOL!!】
【AND! You’re so devious! The artwork changes as they level up! I couldn’t stop myself from feeding extras into them!】
【Also, about the spoiler thing!!】
【Hey—what do the next Singularities cover? Can you tell me??】
【Also why isn’t there more of the Fate/stay night prologue?!】
【Can I get a sneak peek of the continuation!?】
“……”
A wall of messages poured in.
It was obvious—
Teacher Rumi was seriously hyped. So much so that her messages were all over the place—no structure, just pure emotional chaos.
Tang Yao looked at the same Rumi who once advised her to focus on drawing manga… now absolutely losing it over the game.
It made her even more confident.
As for those requests?
Well, considering Rumi had spent over 100,000 yuan…
Yeah.
Tang Yao typed back without hesitation:
“Nope.”
【!!!】