Two weeks into development, Division B had transformed from a storage room into a chaotic workshop. The air was thick with the smell of soldering iron—Wang Hao was modifying development kits—and the relentless, upbeat chiptune melodies Old Zhang was composing.
"Ready," Wang Hao announced, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Initiating the 'Evolution' sequence."
Zhong Ming stood behind him, along with Lin Yue and Old Zhang. This was the moment of truth. The concept of "Evolution" was the emotional core of the project. If the code didn't convey the weight of the transformation, the game would fail.
On the screen, the pixelated sprite of the fire lizard, Charmander, stood in the center. Its experience bar was full.
"Trigger it," Zhong Ming commanded.
Wang Hao hit the enter key.
The screen went black for a split second. Then, the speakers emitted a distinct, ascending synthesizer glissando—a sound Old Zhang had spent three days perfecting. It sounded like a digital choir singing a hymn of rebirth.
The silhouette of the small lizard began to grow. The pixels shifted, reorganizing themselves with a flash of white light. The tail lengthened, the snout became sharper, and a single horn sprouted from its head.
The light faded.
*Charmeleon.*
The sprite on the screen now looked fiercer, stronger. It scratched the ground and let out a digital roar.
Lin Yue gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide.
"It... it actually feels like it grew," she whispered. "I drew the frames, but seeing it happen in real-time... it's like watching a child become an adult."
"That is the hook," Zhong Ming said, his voice low but firm. "Players don't just want to win fights. They want to raise something. In a world that was almost destroyed by cold steel, the idea of nurturing life is our greatest weapon."
Wang Hao slumped back in his chair, wiping sweat from his forehead. "The memory compression held. The sprite swap didn't crash the buffer. It works. It actually works."
Zhong Ming nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, onto the next problem. The Link Cable."
This was the technical hurdle that had been keeping Wang Hao up at night. Zhong Ming's design document explicitly required players to connect two handheld devices via a physical cable to trade monsters and battle.
"The hardware team downstairs says the port latency is too high for real-time data transfer," Wang Hao reported, pulling up a schematic. "If two players try to trade, the packet loss is nearly 40%. They say it's a hardware limitation of the device. They suggest we scrap the multiplayer feature and just make it a single-player RPG."
"Absolutely not," Zhong Ming rejected instantly. "Without trading, the game is incomplete. The version exclusivity—the idea that you *need* a friend to complete your collection—is what will make this a social phenomenon."
"But the hardware—"
"Is lazy," Zhong Ming cut him off. He walked over to the whiteboard and grabbed a marker. "The standard protocol uses a 'handshake' verification for every single byte. That creates lag. We need to write our own protocol."
He drew a diagram on the board.
"We use a 'streaming' method. We don't wait for verification on every packet. We synchronize the clocks of the two devices and send data in a continuous stream. If a packet is lost, we ignore it and send the next one. The game state will correct itself."
Wang Hao looked at the diagram, his brow furrowed. "That's... risky. It could lead to glitches."
"Small glitches are acceptable if the gameplay is fun," Zhong Ming said. "Lag is not fun. Disconnection is not fun. I'll take a sprite flickering over a frozen screen any day. Program it."
Wang Hao sighed, but he didn't argue. He had learned that when Zhong Ming gave a technical directive, it was usually right.
***
Later that afternoon, a knock came at the door.
It wasn't the hesitant knock of a delivery person. It was a sharp, rhythmic tapping.
Before anyone could answer, the door swung open. A man in a sharp, tailored suit walked in. He looked out of place in the dusty, cluttered Division B. His shoes were polished to a mirror shine, and he held a sleek, expensive tablet.
It was Chen Xu, the producer of the Mobile Division—the company's current "Golden Boy." He was responsible for *Warfront: Siege*, a generic but profitable mobile strategy game that monetized aggressively.
"Zhong Ming?" Chen Xu asked, looking around the room with a barely concealed sneer. "I heard Li Cheng gave you a team. I didn't believe it until I saw the roster. Old Zhang? Wang Hao? I see you scraped the bottom of the barrel."
Wang Hao stiffened at his desk. Old Zhang didn't even look up from his synthesizer.
"Can I help you, Producer Chen?" Zhong Ming asked, not rising from his seat.
"Just a courtesy visit," Chen Xu said, walking around the room, picking up a stray piece of paper from Lin Yue's desk. "The board meeting is next week. I wanted to see what the 'miracle project' was that's eating into our shared budget."
He glanced at the monitor Wang Hao was working on. The pixelated graphics of the *Pocket Monsters* demo were on display.
Chen Xu laughed. It was a harsh, mocking sound.
"Is this... it? Pixel art? In Year 15 of the New Era?" He shook his head. "Zhong Ming, I know you're new, but surely even you know that the market demands realism. High-fidelity 3D. Immersive physics. This looks like something from a museum archive."
"Nostalgia is a powerful tool," Zhong Ming replied calmly. "And high-fidelity 3D requires high-end hardware. Not everyone can afford a holographic rig, Producer Chen. Handhelds are accessible."
"Accessible to children," Chen Xu corrected, dropping the paper back onto the desk. "Look, I'm just trying to save you the embarrassment. My game is projected to make 5 million credits in its first month. Your game? It looks like a toy. The board is going to laugh you out of the building."
He leaned in closer to Zhong Ming. "Do yourself a favor. Go back to being an artist. Leave the producing to the professionals. The industry has moved on. We monetize engagement now. We don't sell 'adventure' anymore. We sell convenience."
Zhong Ming stood up. He was thinner than Chen Xu, and less imposing, but his presence seemed to fill the room.
"You monetize addiction," Zhong Ming corrected. "You sell pay-to-win mechanics to people who are frustrated. I sell a dream to people who are bored."
He pointed to the door. "Get out."
Chen Xu's smile faltered. He hadn't expected pushback. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you. When your demo crashes and burns, I'll be happy to take over this division's budget."
Chen Xu turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
The room fell silent.
"He's right, you know," Wang Hao said softly, staring at his screen. "His game makes money. The board loves money. If our demo doesn't impress them..."
"The board is made of people," Zhong Ming said. "And people want to have fun. Chen Xu has forgotten that. He thinks of players as 'users' to be milked. I think of them as guests in a world I built."
He looked at his team. They were demoralized. The contrast between Chen Xu's sleek, expensive suit and their dusty reality was stark.
"Let me show you something," Zhong Ming said.
He walked over to the development kit. He loaded a specific part of the game he had been working on in secret—a segment he hadn't shown the team yet.
"This is the ending sequence I wrote last night."
He hit play.
The screen showed the player character, now the Champion, walking into a hall of fame. The music shifted—a piano melody, simple and poignant. The monsters that had accompanied the player on the journey were displayed one by one.
Text appeared on the screen: *"You and your partners have come a long way..."*
It was a thank you. A direct acknowledgment of the time the player had spent in this world.
Lin Yue watched, her eyes glistening.
"It's not about the graphics," Zhong Ming said. "It's about this feeling. Chen Xu can keep his 5 million credits. I want a game that people remember twenty years from now."
He turned to Wang Hao.
"Fix the Link Cable protocol. I want to show the board something Chen Xu's games can never have: a living, breathing community."
Wang Hao looked at the screen, then at Zhong Ming. The fear in his eyes was replaced by determination.
"I'll rewrite the driver," Wang Hao said, turning back to his keyboard. "Even if I have to solder the cables myself."
Zhong Ming looked at his bracelet.
**[Team Morale: High]**
**[Hidden Task Triggered: The Rival's Challenge.]**
**[Objective: Surpass Mobile Division's Quarterly Reviews.]**
**[Reward: System Upgrade - Marketing Insight Module.]**
"A Marketing Insight Module," Zhong Ming thought. "That will come in handy. But first, we have to survive the board."
The countdown to the internal review had begun.