Friday morning.
Ling Cheng had already released the game, but everyone still habitually gathered in the club activity room.
Watching the stagnant sales, Ling Cheng felt especially anxious. Thanks to the earlier incidents, he had no spare budget left for advertising.
Now the game was left to live or die on its own through word of mouth, and he didn’t even have room to struggle.
An Xin noticed the worry lingering between Ling Cheng’s brows. She tugged at his sleeve. “It’s okay, A Chen. You put so much effort into it, and soon everyone will recognize it through word of mouth.”
“Yeah, because it was made by senior, so it’s bound to be a huge success.” Hua Manyue, who was playing games next to An Xin, chimed in.
“Haha, what kind of causal relationship is that?” Yet having friends who helped make the game with him did ease Ling Cheng’s tense nerves. He opened a video site, planning to browse some videos.
“There is one, you know. Senior is my idol, and no matter what he does, it’ll definitely succeed.” Hua Manyue’s words sounded like a die-hard fan; even if the game failed to sell a single copy, she’d probably still stick by Ling Cheng’s side.
“Mm…” Ling Cheng was about to respond to Hua Manyue when he suddenly froze. His eyes locked on his phone screen. The video posted just this morning left him completely stunned.
A popular game review YouTuber with hundreds of thousands of followers was openly attacking his game?
Logically, his newly released game had so little attention—how could it attract a creator of that scale?
The YouTuber, named Sanfen Xianyu, posted weekly hot game reviews in about 20-minute videos. His commentary was always sharp and uniquely critical, earning him some fame in the circle.
And here he was, singling out Ling Cheng’s game—released just last night—and spending fully half the video on it.
Using especially bitter and sarcastic words, mixed with passive-aggressive metaphors, the YouTuber attacked the art style of Ling Cheng’s game.
He even bluntly claimed the artist must be a clueless rookie or an amateur, which made Ling Cheng furious.
Because that YouTuber knew nothing about drawing techniques. He had no idea how much time and effort An Xin had poured into the character standing illustrations and CGs.
His criticism was outright nonsense, yet many of his fans followed along blindly.
Though angry, Ling Cheng could do nothing. He just unfollowed the creator and gave a strong thumbs-down.
Then, when he scrolled down, another game review YouTuber he’d watched had also posted a harsh review of his game.
The angle of attack was strangely consistent: they all claimed the game’s art style was extremely tacky and didn’t match the voice acting and writing.
Just as Ling Cheng was about to back out and downvote, An Xin had silently appeared behind him without him noticing.
“A Chen, what’s wrong? I saw you frowning.” Since they were so close, An Xin naturally glimpsed the video.
“Huh? Is my art style really that bad?” An Xin pulled out her own phone and searched the video site for the game’s reception.
In just one night, there were dozens of videos about Ling Cheng’s game, and all the criticism targeted An Xin’s art style. One blogger even said outright that if they replaced the artist, the game would be a huge success.
“An Xin, don’t pay attention to this. Someone is clearly trying to smear you.” Ling Cheng looked at An Xin’s pale face with concern.
Summoning her strength, An Xin forced a smile. “I don’t mind. When I first started drawing, a lot of people criticized me too.”
With a wave of bloggers leading the charge, the game’s reviews dropped to a mixed status, trending downward.
Facing a real crisis, Ling Cheng actually calmed down. After all, it couldn’t be worse than some Three Kingdoms card game.
His only worry now was An Xin, who pretended everything was fine. All the naked malice was directed at her.
When lunch break came, as soon as Hua Manyue left the activity room, An Xin weakly leaned against Ling Cheng.
“A Chen, I want to be like in a manga—can we skip class and go on a date?” The girl’s voice was full of exhaustion, filling Ling Cheng with guilt.
After all, An Xin was only caught up in this trouble because she was helping him. If she hadn’t drawn the game’s illustrations, she would never have been dragged into the storm.
“Sure, my princess.” Ling Cheng didn’t hesitate for a second.
“Then… can you carry me on your back? I have no strength left.” Seeing Ling Cheng’s serious expression, An Xin smiled and acted a little spoiled.
Without another word, Ling Cheng slowly crouched down. An Xin’s soft arms wrapped around his neck, carrying the unique fragrance of a young girl as she gently pressed against him.
The soft touch of her chest, separated only by light fabric, pressed lightly against his back. And holding her soft thighs in his palms was a unique sensation.
“Am I heavy, A Chen?” Feeling her thighs gently supported by Ling Cheng, a blush appeared on An Xin’s face.
“Not at all. Let’s go.” It was the first time Ling Cheng had carried a girl on his back. He carefully adjusted his breathing and straightened up.
“A Chen, I want to go to the cinema!”
“Okay, then you’d better hold on tight.”
Even on a youthful college campus, most couples only dared to hold hands while walking. Such an intimate and carefree gesture drew attention and envy.
Feeling the curious gazes around them, An Xin buried her face deep into Ling Cheng’s broad back, her heart full of secret joy.
Ling Cheng only set her down when they reached the school gate.
But even after being set down, An Xin held Ling Cheng’s hand tightly.
Hand in hand, they walked all the way to the cinema. At the entrance, they quickly encountered an unavoidable problem: which movie to watch.
Usually, picking a romance movie would never go wrong. But with An Xin, she’d probably prefer an anime-style film…
“A Chen, I want to watch this comedy…” Following An Xin’s pointing finger, Ling Cheng saw a strange movie title: The Strongest Sorcerer of Tokyo Does Not Dream of the End-Causing Witch.
But since An Xin wanted to see it, Ling Cheng naturally wouldn’t refuse. After buying popcorn, they arrived at their reserved seats in the back row.
To Ling Cheng, the plot was incredibly boring. It was about a righteous sorcerer who gets isekai’d and punches his way through the other world with nothing but elbow strikes—a nonsensical comedy.
But An Xin was clearly enjoying herself. She giggled occasionally and even fed Ling Cheng popcorn, seeming especially delighted.