Finally, Chunan couldn’t stand watching anymore and gave Xiaohan a little guidance. That finally got her… stuck on level three.

Her tower defense skills were terrible beyond belief. Even his ancient grandma, who’d lost track of time and years, would’ve played better.

But bad players often loved the game the most. If he hadn’t dragged her off the machine, she’d have camped there until closing.

Lao Zhao kindly handed them a mobile demo version before they left. It matched the PC game Xiaohan was playing, calming her down slightly.

Chunan couldn’t be bothered with her.

Lao Zhao, though, beamed. “It’s an honor that your sister-in-law loves our game! Chunan, please share any feedback later.”

“I’ll try.” Closing time neared. Chunan had just wrapped his live stream. Stretching as he watched the city’s dusk beyond the convention hall, he grinned. “Grab some BBQ?”

The young guys behind Lao Zhao perked up instantly. “Yes! There’s an amazing spot nearby—we were heading there tonight!”

Lao Zhao paused, then smiled. “Alright. This round’s on me.”

This BBQ would seal their deal. Young folks hated formalities. If vibes were right, even a street stall worked for business.

Leaving a few unlucky souls to pack up the booth, they headed to the alley-side stall. It wasn’t as clean or comfy as fancy restaurants, but the smoky, bustling atmosphere was perfect for BBQ. Chunan felt a wave of nostalgia—he hadn’t eaten street BBQ in ages.

Xiaohan was stiff at first. But after a few bites, she loosened up. Everyone was young, chatting games. Though not in the industry, she listened intently. She even pointed out several flaws they’d overlooked.

Chunan saw her in a new light. Sure, she sucked at playing—but as a pure newbie, she spotted things they’d missed. Lao Zhao nearly cheered: “No wonder she’s your sister-in-law! Just as sharp as you, Chunan!”

Xiaohan froze mid-bite. “…I’ve wondered this since the start. Why keep calling me ‘sister-in-law’?”

Lao Zhao choked. “Ah? It’s—”

“Just a casual term,” Chunan cut in smoothly.

Lao Zhao seized the lifeline. “Right! Makes us feel like family!”

Xiaohan stayed silent.

Why “sister-in-law” for closeness? She wasn’t married.

Chunan shifted gears. “Alright, we’ve eaten. Time to talk business?”

The table’s mood shifted instantly. The young guys still laughed, but a serious edge crept in. Natural—they were businessmen too.

Lao Zhao sipped his beer, forcing casualness. “Chunan, how exactly do you want to cooperate?”

Chunan pulled a document from his bag and slid it over.

Lao Zhao and his friends huddled to read. Xiaohan watched their faces morph like Peking opera masks—from confusion to shock, then excitement, finally stiffening.

“A forty-sixty split?” Lao Zhao’s smile vanished. “These ideas could blow up… but forty percent for you is too steep.”

The draft had Chunan as a consultant—providing core concepts and designs, barely involved in development—yet claiming forty percent of profits. High, especially since his ideas were untested novelties.

“I’ll be your studio’s official consultant. No salary. I’ll promote all your games for free—if they pass my quality check.” Chunan stayed calm. “I’ll supply every future game concept for this series. You just flesh them out. Easy money. Trust me.”

The pre-release hype for their zombie game had cemented his confidence. If a PvZ clone did this well, imagine full AAA titles.

Lao Zhao fell quiet. Then he leaned forward. “Chunan, I respect you. But why trust us? I’ve memorized your ideas. What if we reject this… and build the games ourselves?”

“Then I misjudged you.” Chunan shrugged. “Honestly, what I showed you is a drop in the ocean. If you pass this up, I’ll find others. Or start my own studio—I’m a streamer now, so I’m busy, but I can.”

Lao Zhao wrestled internally. Those ideas were pure temptation—a glimpse of his dream. But…

“Which revenues exactly for the forty percent?” he pressed carefully.

“All revenue streams from games I touch. Nothing else. You can use my ideas for your own projects—I won’t charge a dime.” Chunan met his eyes. “I treat you as friends. Don’t make me regret it.”

Lao Zhao thought for three seconds. Slammed the table. “For friendship! I sign!”

His friends started to protest, but he silenced them with a look. “Trust me, brothers.”

Years of camaraderie held them quiet.

Lao Zhao turned back to Chunan. “No delays. I’ll print the contract tomorrow. Chunan—pleasure doing business.”

He felt it. They’d start a new era.

This night was its first note.