In the private room of an elegant restaurant, five people sat around a round table.
Mo Xiangwen had Yan Nuoya on one side and Bai Shishi on the other. But because the table was quite large, aside from Bai Shishi—who was pressed right up against him—the others sat a little farther away.
After helping each other pour their drinks, Mo Xiangwen stood up first, raising his glass. The others got the hint and rose with smiles on their faces.
“Come on,” Mo Xiangwen said, glancing around at the other four. He felt a touch of daze wash over him.
When he thought about it, this was the first time their little group had gathered for a proper meal.
Sure, they’d scarfed down plenty of snacks together at the studio before, but it had always felt like something was missing.
A faint note of sentiment crept into his voice. “To the successful launch of our first game made together! Cheers!”
“Cheers!” The crisp clink of glasses mingled with cheerful echoes.
They downed their drinks and settled back into their seats, the atmosphere easing into a relaxed vibe.
The server began bringing out the dishes one after another. As expected from the restaurant Su Mengli and the others had picked, the food was a feast for the eyes, nose, and taste buds.
That said, mindful of Bai Shishi and Yan Nuoya’s conditions, they’d steered clear of anything spicy or overly warming.
Bai Shishi stared longingly at the picture of the grilled fish on the menu, but the doctor’s orders—and her mom’s nagging—were still ringing in her ears.
She couldn’t touch that stuff just yet.
No sooner had they sat down than Su Mengyao’s curiosity got the better of her. She leaned forward slightly. “So, how’d it go? You went house-hunting this afternoon, right? Find anything good?”
Her eyes darted back and forth between Mo Xiangwen and Yan Nuoya, a hint of anxiety in her gaze.
Yan Nuoya shook her head gently, her tone tinged with helplessness. “Not really ideal.”
Mo Xiangwen picked up the thread. “The places we saw were just okay, and whole rentals were scarce. Sharing with strangers…” He paused, shooting Yan Nuoya a glance. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that either.”
Su Mengyao nodded thoughtfully. “Got it…”
At the same time, a wave of relief washed over her. Her plan with her sister still had a shot.
“Let’s eat first,” Su Mengli said with a smile, deftly changing the subject as her eyes swept over the dishes now covering the table. “Everything’s here.”
Su Mengyao speared a bite of greens with her chopsticks, but she couldn’t hold back. “Oh, right—now that this project’s wrapped up so smoothly, what’s next?”
She propped her cheek on one hand, her tone carrying a touch of playful griping. “It all went way too easy this time—no real challenges. And…”
She let out a small sigh, half-joking. “Feels like the success didn’t really have much to do with me?”
Mo Xiangwen straightened up at once, his expression serious. “You can’t say that. Every role is crucial. Art, music, testing—if any piece is missing, the whole thing falls apart.”
“I was just kidding,” Su Mengyao said, caught off guard and a little embarrassed. “But honestly, it feels like I didn’t do much.”
“No big deal.” Mo Xiangwen winked. “Next time, we can crank up the difficulty a notch and try something fresh.”
Just then, Bai Shishi’s eyes locked onto a plate of bamboo shoots stir-fried with beef, a bit out of her reach. She struggled to her feet to grab it.
Mo Xiangwen responded to Su Mengyao without missing a beat, casually nudging the lazy Susan. The dish spun smoothly to a stop right in front of him. He grabbed a pair of serving chopsticks and scooped several pieces into her bowl.
“Something fresh?” Su Mengyao’s attention snapped right to him. “Like what?”
“A Galgame,” Mo Xiangwen replied bluntly.
“Huh? Why a Galgame?” Su Mengyao’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Lower production costs,” he explained. “If it hits, the profits are solid—enough to fund and build experience for our next projects.”
In the years ahead, domestic Galgames would enjoy a solid run of popularity and sales, thanks to the market trends.
Of course, mobile games were where the real money was. But jumping into that arena now was too late—the big players had years of head start, and catching up would be brutal.
They also lacked the experience, funds, and manpower for something requiring long-term operations. It just wasn’t practical.
Sure, those hurdles could be overcome eventually.
But the real reason? He actually preferred single-player titles.
Not out of some pretentious whim this time, but because developing them felt like playing as you went—low pressure, pure fun, and satisfying paydays.
It would give him and the team plenty of time and headspace to enjoy life.
Besides, someone was bound to cash in on the “national G” wave eventually. Why not him?
He wasn’t out to rip off players. Earning that money felt fair and square.
Cash on delivery—that was trust between people.
“But,” Su Mengyao said with a slight frown, “we’ve got zero experience with Galgames.”
Mo Xiangwen chuckled, teasing her. “As if we had any before the parkour game?”
He paused, then added, “We’d be green on anything else too. Galgames have one of the lower barriers to entry.”
Su Mengli set down her chopsticks and asked warmly, “What about a sequel to the parkour game?”
“On that note, I’ll be straight with you,” Mo Xiangwen admitted candidly. “A lot of this success came from the fresh promo approach. Replicating it with the same genre? No guarantees.”
“Switching genres feels like the safer bet.”
“I’ve hardly played any Galgames,” Su Mengyao sighed softly. “And I bet there’s not much for me to do.”
He turned to her, easing her worries. “This one’s going to have rich scenes and plot—tons of original art and backgrounds needed. You’ll be busy.”
Su Mengyao’s brow smoothed out, a spark of excitement lighting her eyes. “In that case, I’ll buckle down. Gotta binge some Galgames, study their scenes and setups.”
Mo Xiangwen waved a hand grandly. “Take it easy—the project’s just wrapped. Rest up. Playing Galgames at the studio counts as work prep.”
“If that’s not hands-on enough…” He winked, half-joking. “We can hit up spots for reference, like that game hall trip.”
Su Mengyao’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “For real? It’s a deal! No take-backs!”
Her voice pitched up a notch. “I haven’t gotten out much for fun.”
“Wait, why not?” Mo Xiangwen asked, genuinely curious.
With the Su Family’s means, that shouldn’t be an issue.
“It’s just me and my sister,” Su Mengyao said with a pout. “Feels kinda boring—and not super safe.”
Su Mengli chimed in softly. “Dad’s always swamped with work. He rarely has time for long trips with us.”
That made sense.
Mo Xiangwen nodded, though he couldn’t help a mental eye-roll.
Loves fishing but no time for his daughters? Bet he fishes even less. Was gifting that rod really practical?
Then again, he got it. He’d been hooked on fishing himself once—busy as hell, but still bought gear like crazy.
Even if a new rod gathered dust, he’d watch videos, chat with buddies, and impulse-buy more.
The thought stirred something in him. Almost on autopilot, he pulled out his phone, opened a bookmarked pro fishing shop, and quickly ordered several rods in different materials and lengths.
Might as well go big—three sets. One for Su Mengli and Su Mengyao’s dad, one for himself, and the last… well, maybe Elder Li would take it.
“No worries,” Mo Xiangwen said, pocketing his phone like he was sealing a promise. “We’ll head out together more often from now on. After all…”
“For research!” Su Mengyao jumped in with a grin, their mutual understanding clear as day.
Mo Xiangwen nodded with a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a plate of Bai Shishi’s favorite dish spinning into view.
He snagged the serving chopsticks and gently placed a portion into the small dish in front of her.
Bai Shishi looked up, flashing him a dopey smile before diving back into her food. She nibbled away, cheeks puffed out like a little hamster, content and quiet as could be.
Watching Bai Shishi focus on her meal, Su Mengyao couldn’t resist. “Little Baibai, got any thoughts on making a Galgame?”
“Hm?” Bai Shishi swallowed her bite and looked up, her clear eyes steady and resolute. In her soft, mushy voice, she said without hesitation, “Whatever Xiao Yi says, I’ll do.”
“You’re beyond hope,” Su Mengyao sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused.
Su Mengli took a sip of tea with a smile, a trace of concern on her face. “Xiangwen, if we make a galgame, the market… will it really be okay? There doesn’t seem to be much talk about that sort of thing right now.”
“There will be.” Mo Xiangwen’s reply was exceptionally firm. “There will definitely be a market for it.”
“Why are you so certain?” Su Mengli pressed.
“The environment is changing.” Mo Xiangwen shook his head and chuckled lightly. “Sometimes, reality isn’t necessarily more appealing than a carefully constructed virtual world—or better at fulfilling certain emotional needs.”
Su Mengli didn’t fully grasp the deeper meaning behind his words, but his confident expression convinced her to trust him. She nodded.
In half a joke, she added, “Actually, I’d love to try the feeling of an open-world game like Breath of the Wild…”
Breath of the Wild, huh? As expected of Su Mengli—the games she enjoyed all had real depth to them.
“An open world…” Mo Xiangwen pondered seriously for a moment. “Reaching Nintendo’s level would be tough, given how limited our resources are right now.”
Su Mengli nodded in agreement. She knew they couldn’t produce a game of that caliber with their current capabilities.
“But we’ll do it anyway,” he continued. “On PC, we don’t have to worry about optimization like Nintendo does.” Noticing the flicker of disappointment in Su Mengli’s eyes, he shifted gears with a mysterious smile. “And we might throw in some elements that everyone will love.”
Mo Xiangwen sighed inwardly at the thought. If they wanted that copyright for a major DLC to sidestep any controversy, Tencent was unavoidable.
For one thing, they lacked the channels to negotiate with Nintendo directly.
For another, in a couple of years, Tencent would launch exclusive distribution in the country—which suggested they were already in talks by now.
Worst case, they could pivot and make something original in that vein. Once they had the funds, creating all-new assets wouldn’t be an issue.
It was just a shame, since they all loved it.
“Oh? Like what?” Su Mengli and Su Mengyao both perked up with interest.
“Well…” Mo Xiangwen played coy, flashing a sly grin. “I’ll keep it under wraps for now and reveal it later.”
Su Mengli shook her head with a helpless smile. “Teasing our appetite again.”
“Hey, this isn’t teasing,” Mo Xiangwen said earnestly. “It’s just holding off on unconfirmed deals so we don’t dampen the mood if they fall through.”
Unable to get a word in edgewise, Su Mengyao turned to Yan Nuoya. “Nuoya, are you really not signing up for any School Sports Meet events?”
Yan Nuoya shook her head, her voice soft and tinged with helplessness. “I’m not much for sports.”
Mo Xiangwen let out a theatrical sigh. “Mengyao, give us two lazybones a break.”
Su Mengyao rolled her eyes at him and pouted. “Fine. I was hoping we could all hit the track together, sweating it out and soaking up that youthful energy.”
Su Mengli shot her sister an exasperated glance, lifting her cup to hide the smile tugging at her lips. For her sibling’s sake, she decided not to call out her little scheme.
To her surprise, Bai Shishi—who had been eating quietly—looked up with wide-eyed curiosity and asked softly, “So Big Sis Mengyao, you really love sports that much?”
Bai Shishi’s innocent question brought a faint blush to Su Mengyao’s cheeks. Unable to bring herself to lie, she explained with some embarrassment, “Actually… I only started jogging every morning because Big Sis signed me up for the School Sports Meet.”
Su Mengli hadn’t expected the conversation to loop back to her, but it was hardly a difficult topic.
She set down her cup and explained calmly, “I gave her a clear goal and motivation. That way, she’d stick with her daily workouts.”
“Ohhh—” Mo Xiangwen drew out the sound, feigning sudden realization as he turned to Su Mengyao with a teasing grin. “So you got nabbed by Mengli, and now you’re trying to drag me and Nuoya down with you?”
Su Mengyao huffed lightly. “We’re friends. Aren’t we supposed to share the joys and hardships together?”
As the group bantered and laughed, Mo Xiangwen leaned slightly toward Bai Shishi at his side and whispered, “Want more of that?” His gaze flicked toward the poached chicken dish.
Bai Shishi followed his eyes and shook her head gently. Then she extended a slender finger and quietly pointed to another dish a little farther from her: the pigeon soup.
Mo Xiangwen nodded in understanding. He spooned some into her bowl. “Just tell me if you want anything else—or order it yourself.”
Bai Shishi blinked, then joked, “Grilled fish, barbecue, roast meat… I haven’t tried those yet.”
Mo Xiangwen paused for a beat. True, some people avoided heavy flavors, but everyone was curious about tastes they’d never sampled.
In Bai Shishi’s case, she might never have had the chance before.
From the counselor’s attitude, her health issues didn’t seem too severe. He hoped she’d recover soon.
Feigning casualness, Mo Xiangwen chuckled. “There’ll be plenty of chances later—I guarantee it. So Shishi, you have to work hard and get better.”
Bai Shishi froze. She’d only been kidding.
“Mhm.” She nodded vigorously, clenching her little fist. “Of course. I’ll do my best.”
Pleasant times always flew by, and before long, the celebration banquet was winding down.
Once Mo Xiangwen returned after paying the bill, Su Mengyao jumped in with a casual suggestion. “Hey, it’s still early. Why don’t you all come over to our place? It’s not far from here.”
