Feng Qian took the sketches Liu Changqing handed him.
He had a decent impression of Liu Changqing but had never thought of him as particularly remarkable.
Yet, as soon as he saw the drawings, he was surprised—not by the content itself, but by the fact that Liu Changqing could draw.
If he had this skill, why had he worked as a bookstore clerk?
Setting those thoughts aside, Feng Qian spread out the sketches and began examining them carefully.
The first page depicted a cartoon character wearing a baseball cap, holding the brim with one hand while the other extended outward, clutching a round object with a visible button. Behind the character, a forest was roughly sketched, and at their feet stood a lizard-like creature, its mouth spewing flames and its tail ablaze.
Turning to the next page, he saw a progression. The same lizard appeared but had evolved—its body larger, its features sharper, and it now resembled a dragon with wings. Flames erupted from its tail and mouth.
Feng Qian was stunned.
He lifted his gaze from the drawings and looked at Liu Changqing with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
“What is this supposed to be?”
“I’m calling it Evolution.”
“Evolution?”
“Yes. You see, the basic form is a round, cartoonish lizard. As it levels up, it evolves into the middle form with a larger body, and finally into the dragon-like form with wings.”
“Evolution...”
Feng Qian repeated the word thoughtfully before turning to the next page, which featured a turtle-like creature, and another with a frog-like being carrying a flower on its back.
Each design was intriguing and distinctive.
“This is interesting. Did you come up with this?”
“Sort of. My daughter gave me some inspiration the other day, and I suddenly thought of it.”
Liu Changqing took back the sketches Feng Qian handed over and pointed to the ball held by the cartoon character in the first drawing.
“All these creatures can be captured and stored inside this ball.”
“Huh? Captured in a ball?”
“Exactly. Let me explain. In this game’s world, there are countless fascinating creatures. When a person reaches a certain age, they receive this ball and a starter companion, then embark on an adventure.”
“Is this one of those monster-fighting games?”
“Sort of, but that’s not the main point,” Liu Changqing explained.
“The core of the game is PVP, player versus player combat.”
“Player versus player?”
“During the adventure, players can encounter wild creatures. Using their captured creatures, they battle the wild ones. They can either defeat them for experience points to level up their own companions or weaken them and use the ball to capture them.”
“So, the ball is for capturing creatures? It must have a success rate then.”
As expected of someone experienced in game development, Feng Qian caught on immediately.
Liu Changqing nodded.
“Exactly. The balls come in different tiers. The basic red-and-white ball has the lowest success rate, but higher-tier balls greatly increase the odds of a successful capture.”
“And how does combat work?”
“It’s turn-based. As creatures level up, they unlock new skills—some boost stats, others debuff enemies, and there are various attack options. Each creature can only carry four skills at a time.”
“That’s fair. It ensures balance.”
“Exactly. There are also exclusive skills that can only be acquired through specific story events or player exploration.”
“That adds replayability.”
Feng Qian nodded, clearly intrigued.
Most games on the market were straightforward dungeon crawlers focused on grinding for money and gear upgrades. A PVP-oriented concept like this was fresh.
Liu Changqing continued, “The story would have a main narrative. Players take on the role of a character aiming to become the world’s top trainer while contending with an antagonist organization. It’s classic—a series of grunts leading up to the big boss, providing experience and rewards along the way.”
“A tried-and-true formula.”
“So, what do you think? Can you develop something like this?”
“It’s a hefty workload, but with today’s technology, pixel games aren’t as difficult as they were five or six years ago. However, the data for a project like this would be massive. And... surely these three creatures aren’t the only ones you have planned?”
“Of course not. These three are just the starter options for players.”
“That makes sense.”
Feng Qian pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Liu Changqing.
Accepting it, Liu Changqing lit up, noticing a shift in Feng Qian’s mood.
After lighting his own cigarette and taking a drag, Feng Qian exhaled and said, “But I don’t think I can take on this project right now.”
“Is your company in trouble?”
Feng Qian nodded.
“Yeah. When Shuyan had her accident, I was practically living at the office because the company was struggling. I worked overtime every day to keep it afloat. The last time I withdrew money, it was all I had left. After paying salaries and project expenses, I can’t even afford the rent for our office.”
This didn’t surprise Liu Changqing. When he had asked about the company’s situation during their last meeting, Feng Qian’s demeanor had been off, though Liu hadn’t pressed the issue.
“When are you moving out?”
“End of July.”
“So, just this month left...”
“Yeah...”
The two fell silent.
Taking a drag on his cigarette, Liu Changqing tried to dispel his frustration.
Just as he was about to ask if Feng Qian knew any reliable game development companies, an idea struck him.
“Are all your company’s current assets—equipment, tools—yours?”
“Yes. Initially, we rented them, but after our first game made some money, I bought a batch of equipment.”
“Then we already have what we need.”
“What do you mean?”
Feng Qian looked puzzled.
Meeting his gaze, Liu Changqing continued, “I own two commercial spaces. I can register a company, and with your equipment and team, we can partner up. What do you say?”
“Partner up?”
“That’s right. I’ll combine the two spaces, renovate them into an office, and you can move your team there. We’ll either register a new company or I’ll invest in your existing one.”