“Now that figure… damn…”
“I feel like she’s definitely up to something, but her eyes are just incredible!
I love this kind of older sister!”
“All the characters in this game look so good and so detailed… I wonder if we can actually play them in-game?”
“Ahem… what exactly do you mean by ‘play’?”
“Hey, watch it—your joke just ran me over…”
“By the way, if the game’s quality reaches even half of what this PV shows, I’m buying it instantly!”
“Half?
Keep dreaming!”
“A PV is just animation.
If you throw enough money at it, plenty of studios can make something like this.
But making a game is dozens of times harder!”
“Even if they could make it, the price would be sky-high—starting at 999.
You gonna buy it?”
Seeing the chat, Dai Xiaomei couldn’t help but chime in:
“Honestly, if it really reaches this level of quality, 999 would absolutely be worth it!”
Even though she had been dismissive of Genshin earlier, after watching the PV, she suddenly found herself looking forward to it.
Even if the chances were slim…
What if?
If she could actually play something like this, even a 999 price tag would be a steal.
Even if the quality were only half of what the PV showed, she’d still be satisfied.
A domestic open-world game—
As long as it wasn’t another patriotic cash grab, she was willing to spend her own money to support it.
And that was exactly how most players in the Dragon Kingdom felt.
The PV continued.
But after Jean and Lisa appeared, the audience’s attention drifted—clearly no longer focused on the story.
Fortunately, the rest of the PV didn’t emphasize plot too much.
Instead, it showcased gameplay elements:
Amber climbing walls, mountains, and rooftops.
Lisa running through the city and swimming in water.
Kaeya gliding through valleys with wind wings…
“Uh…”
Dai Xiaomei, who had been getting excited, suddenly couldn’t hold it together anymore.
What the PV was showing now…
Weren’t these the exact features players had always dreamed of—but knew were impossible?
Her expectations for Genshin had only been that it might become a small, story-driven game.
That was a realistic assumption based on the current state of the domestic industry.
But what the PV showed was a true open world. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
And you could even play as different characters!
“How is this even possible?
The devs must have gotten carried away… Did they draw such a big fantasy that they started believing it themselves?”
“This is way too fake!
If this were actually possible, domestic games would’ve already gone global!
They wouldn’t still be getting crushed by foreign companies!”
“It’s getting more and more ridiculous—classic case of not knowing your own limits!”
“They can’t even make a convincing PV?
Do they think we’re idiots?”
The viewers, who had started to feel excited, now felt frustrated.
Everyone knew the reality of the Dragon Kingdom’s game industry.
And precisely because they knew it, they were certain that what the PV showed was unrealistic.
Maybe in ten or twenty years, it might be possible.
But right now?
Not a chance.
“Damn it!”
Dai Xiaomei cursed.
“This is like someone in the Qing Dynasty pulling out a blueprint for a Gatling gun and saying, ‘Yeah, I can build this.’ It’s that ridiculous!”
“Are they insulting our intelligence?”
But the “surprises” in the PV weren’t over yet.
“He’s… talking to a dragon?”
As the blond traveler entered a dense forest, a massive dragon appeared on screen.
Deep in the forest, a dragon dozens of meters long lay on the ground, glowing with flowing energy.
A girl in green gently stroked its forehead.
The scene was peaceful and harmonious.
But to the players, it only felt more fake.
What followed was a classic “hero vs.
dragon” sequence.
The traveler, drawn into a crisis, fought the dragon threatening the town.
Fighting a dragon as a hero—
That was something countless players had dreamed about as kids.
But…
It felt completely unrealistic.
At the end screen, a line of text appeared:
Genshin Impact: A brand-new open world.
All footage shown is in-game.
“Huh?
In-game footage?
Wow, they’ve got guts to say that!
If they can actually make that dragon, I’ll do a handstand and wash my hair on stream!” Dai Xiaomei scoffed.
“This ‘miHoYo’ really fooled themselves.”
“Forget a flying dragon—even if they can make a static model, I’ll admit they win!”
Glancing at the company name, she spoke with clear sarcasm.
“Normally she never wins bets, but this time I’m siding with her.”
“Yeah.
The dragon’s effects and lighting—even world-class studios would struggle with that, let alone domestic developers who are a whole generation behind.”
“Exactly.
Seeing this come from some unknown small Chinese studio just feels… off.”
“I want to complain, but honestly, the PV quality is so good I’ll hold back.”
“Right?
This company should just switch to making animations—they’d probably do better.”
The viewers in the stream all agreed.
Many new viewers, drawn in by the PV, now felt disappointed.
At miHoYo headquarters.
The head of marketing had projected Dai Xiaomei’s stream onto a large screen.
Seeing her reactions—and the flood of skeptical comments—many department heads were furious.
“Our PV is literally real gameplay footage!
Why doesn’t anyone believe us?”
“Exactly!
Just because other companies can’t do it, they assume we can’t either?
What kind of logic is that?”
“Hmph!
Let’s see what they say when the game is actually released!”
Complaints filled the meeting room.
Even President Peng’s expression darkened.
They knew better than anyone how much effort had gone into the past month.
And now that they had finally produced results…
Not only were they not recognized, they were met with doubt from countless players.
It was a terrible feeling.