Temperatures at the end of September remained scorching. Even with a breeze blowing, the sweltering heat showed not a shred of abatement.
Shang Shiru had long since returned to the country, and his large SUV and Jiang Muzhou’s motorcycle, one big and one small, sat parked side by side at the entrance of the studio.
He had told Jiang Muzhou to just keep the car with him and use it whenever he wanted, without needing to check in first.
Jiang Muzhou hadn’t stood on ceremony; when heading out on rainy days, he skipped calling a cab and simply drove.
After taking it out a couple of times, having shelter from the wind and rain proved genuinely convenient.
The exhibition was being held in Suzhou, though not in the district where his parents lived. Driving from the venue back to his family home still required a good hour or so.
He planned to head home for a quick visit right after the exhibition wrapped up, considering he hadn’t been back in well over half a year.
The convention was hosted inside a massive, enclosed sports center. The venue was vast, and with few people arriving today, it was mostly occupied by exhibitors busy setting up in advance.
The booth layout was laid out quite logically. The giant main screen in the center displayed promotional videos for the expo’s featured projects.
Zhu Zhu stared at the floor plan near the entrance. Esports zone, anime zone, tech zone, merchandise zone, ah, the gaming zone, D15 is on the eastern side.
Jiang Muzhou glanced over. This expo was by no means small; it featured projects of all types, along with plenty of gaming, anime, and film IPs with derivative merchandise. The moment he walked in, he had already spotted young people dressed in cosplay.
Finding their designated booth, Ale, Zhu Zhu, and two other employees set about assembling the equipment, while Jiang Muzhou went to tour the exhibition floor to scope out the competition.
After making a full circle, he saw that every major domestic and international gaming giant was present, alongside plenty of newer studios like their own.
Developing a game was inherently an endless cycle of conceptualization, production, testing, scrapping, and re-conceptualization. Now, stepping out of the studio and facing the sheer volume and quality of competing developers firsthand, Jiang Muzhou felt his internal pressure skyrocketing despite having full confidence in his own game.
They ate boxed lunches at noon and spent the entire afternoon troubleshooting equipment until everything was finally dialed in.
Ale tested the game’s running fluency and finally let out a relaxed sigh. All set. Tomorrow, we just need to wheel the equipment out, plug it in, and it is ready to use without any extra tuning.
The crew finally called it a day and gathered to discuss logistics for the official launch tomorrow night.
That evening, Jiang Muzhou called his parents to let them know he would be heading home in a couple of days, then opened his laptop to check reference materials and revise his speech for the next day.
Shang Shiru’s call came through.
Still not asleep? The familiar voice drifted through the receiver.
Jiang Muzhou murmured an assent, switched his phone to speakerphone, and went back to hammering away at his keyboard.
How is everything looking today?
Under a lot of pressure. Too many competitors, Jiang Muzhou answered honestly. The rivals included famous major corporations and already well-established hits; their yet-unborn game looked utterly insignificant by comparison.
Hearing Jiang Muzhou’s upbeat, complain-y yet not-quite-complaining tone, there was an inexplicable sense of intimacy to it.
Shang Shiru said, Once our game comes out, they will all know a new star has entered the industry.
Jiang Muzhou let out a couple of dry chuckles. President Shang’s expectations are running rather high, aren’t they?
Hearing his laughter, the voice on the phone held a smile as well. Don’t stress too much. We are only just getting started.
I know, I know.
How are preparations coming along for tomorrow’s presentation?
A few days prior, Jiang Muzhou had already sent the single-player demo video over to Shang Shiru.
After watching it, Shang Shiru had offered repeated praise, noting that even someone like him who rarely played games found a quality title like this genuinely compelling, not just because of the special effects and visual quality, but more importantly because the underlying story was deeply engaging.
Staring at the document on his screen, Jiang Muzhou replied helplessly, I am in the middle of rewriting the speech.
Just tell me if you need any help.
Don’t need any for now.
Jiang Muzhou thought to himself that the only real help Shang Shiru could offer was introducing a few more investors and throwing in some cash.
Because he had realized that his expectations for this game had maxed out, and this upgraded, large-scale project clearly couldn’t be finished by just their handful of studio members anymore, he was going to need to hire more people.
Hiring meant increased costs, which in turn demanded greater investment.
The two chatted for a bit longer. It was unclear who let the conversation trail off first, but neither of them hung up.
Jiang Muzhou became entirely absorbed in editing his text and completely forgot he was still on a phone call.
Meanwhile, the person on the other end seemed lost in thought, simply listening to the rhythmic clacking of Jiang Muzhou’s keyboard while waiting for him to speak up whenever he had a spare moment.
When Jiang Muzhou finally snapped back to reality, he realized three minutes of dead air had passed.
He hurriedly apologized. Sorry, I lost track of time for a moment.
Shang Shiru replied, It is fine. I just wanted to tell you that I will be arriving at the venue tomorrow morning.
You are coming too?
Of course. This is our project, after all.
Jiang Muzhou’s fingers froze on the keyboard. Ours. Our project.
Then he said, Alright.
Jiang Muzhou was woken up the next morning by a knock on the door. Resigned, he got out of bed and peered through the peephole to see the man standing in the corridor.
He opened the door, and the man greeted him with a smile.
Here so early? Checking his phone out of habit, he saw it wasn’t even seven yet.
Shang Shiru stepped inside and looked around.
I was on a business trip in Nanjing yesterday. It wasn’t far.
Oh.
Come to think of it, they hadn’t seen each other in over a month.
Meeting again, there was a fleeting awkwardness, but after exchanging just a few words, that sense of distance vanished completely.
Shang Shiru walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains fully, instantly flooding the room with bright daylight.
The hotel booked by the organizers was quite decent; Jiang Muzhou’s room was a king suite with a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a lake. Standing by the glass, one could see the ripples kicked up by the breeze, gently swaying willow branches, and a quaint, traditional pavilion sitting out on the water, distinctly showcasing the charm of a Jiangnan water town.
There were no obstructing buildings across the way, offering a superb view and a cozy sense of escape from the urban hustle and bustle.
Jiang Muzhou retrieved a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and handed it to Shang Shiru, noticing that Shang Shiru was watching him closely. Only then did he remember that, for the sake of sleeping comfortably, he had thrown on a cotton t-shirt and a pair of loose, oversized shorts.
If he weren’t away from home right now, he would probably be sleeping in just his underwear back at his own place.
Shang Shiru accepted the bottled water without drinking it, holding it in his hand to soak up the chill.
Jiang Muzhou didn’t shy away either. He bypassed Shang Shiru to pick up his clothes from the back of a chair, stripped off his t-shirt and shorts right there, and uninhibitedly exposed his narrow waist and the black briefs tightly hugging his lower body.
Shang Shiru looked away. It was strange; previously, sharing a public bathhouse with other men hadn’t felt like a big deal, yet right now, a sudden wave of awkwardness washed over him.
He chalked the feeling up to being in a private room with just the two of them.
Jiang Muzhou slipped into his trousers, picked up the button-down shirt hanging from the hanger, and put it on.
While he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a message popped up on his phone from Ale, asking if he was heading down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.
Spitting out a mouthful of foam, Jiang Muzhou poked his head out to ask Shang Shiru, who was standing by the window admiring the view, Going down to grab some breakfast?
Shang Shiru seemed preoccupied and didn’t hear him.
Jiang Muzhou replied to the text: You guys go ahead, I will be down in a moment.
He finished washing up quickly, checked his reflection in the mirror to run a hand through his hair, grabbed his bag, and walked out.
Noticing that Shang Shiru was still lost in thought, Jiang Muzhou tapped him on the shoulder. Hey, did you wake up too early? If you want, you can lie down for a bit longer in my room, the checkout time here should be noon.
Shang Shiru squeezed the plastic water bottle. It is fine. I was just thinking about something; there has been way too much going on lately.
You really have been too busy, running yourself ragged. Jiang Muzhou understood. We have been swamped this past stretch too. Everyone at the company has been itching to go out and unwind once we get through this rush.
He pulled out his room key, unlocked the door, and walked out of the room alongside Shang Shiru.
Shang Shiru asked, Team building?
Jiang Muzhou rubbed his face. Yeah.