Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen: A Background Check of Only a Few Pages of Paper

At around ten at night, after parting ways with Cai Qiu and Chen Wei, Qin Xiaoyu wandered back to his rented apartment.

He considered that tomorrow’s voice matching session was coming up.

He was worried the voice actor students might have had too much fun during the holiday and forgotten about it.

So.

He picked up his phone and sent a group message to those students, reminding them not to forget tomorrow’s task.

After receiving clear replies from them, Qin Xiaoyu smiled faintly and put down his phone.

He went to bed after showering.

…

Although Qin Xiaoyu had already gone to play chess with Zhou Gong.

But the topic of his new game, Honkai, did not fade that night.

If the video by gaming influencer Tonghao Mama introduced this game to countless gamers,

then the cosplay by top female streamer Dai Zong Xiao Bawang brought Honkai into the public eye.

These days,

a top female streamer with millions of followers wielded influence not much less than that of second- or third-tier celebrities.

Not long after,

her cosplay of the Honkai character Eula successfully trended on hot search news.

Naturally,

Qin Xiaoyu’s game also rode the wave, gaining increased attention.

Although he had never intended to use hunger marketing tactics.

Yet he accidentally achieved exactly that effect.

Suddenly,

many gamers, upon seeing this news, couldn’t help but wonder what kind of game this was.

Of course,

besides ordinary game enthusiasts, many game companies—even major studios—also took notice of this news.

However,

these companies’ executives paid no real attention to Honkai, treating it merely as a passing fad.

A 2D anime-style game?

They simply didn’t care, okay?

As everyone knew, 2D anime culture had a very weak foundation in Xia Country, with no independent, large-scale IP to work with.

Although there were many famous IPs overseas, forget about turning them into games!

On one hand, those foreigners demanded exorbitant licensing fees.

On the other hand, even if you paid a huge price to acquire the rights, how would you make money from the resulting game?

Long ago, when the three major shonen manga entered Xia Country, many game developers had paid high prices for the rights.

They invested substantial funds to develop them into games.

Yet,

the results were dismal—they lost so badly they fled overnight.

The main issue was that 2D anime players were generally young and had limited spending power.

If you were too greedy,

those 2D anime players wouldn’t buy a thing—they’d just free-ride instantly.

If you took things slowly, the payback period was simply too long.

Without quick returns in the short term, who would pour money endlessly into development and operation?

Better to make those “one-hit 999, if you’re a brother, come chop me” clone games—low investment, fast profits, far more favored by game companies.

Or else, go for big PC games.

Although they required more upfront investment, you could still make a fortune selling items, skins, gems, equipment, mounts, and more.

Capital’s goal in making games is to make money.

Whatever genre makes money fast and big—that’s where you pour your resources; it’s always safe.

Of course,

among those who noticed Honkai, there were a few exceptionally sharp and ruthless individuals.

For example, Gaohe, the head of Hongshan Investment in Yuncheng.

No one knew how Gaohe started out; he was a mythic figure across Xia Country.

Many in the industry even called him the Warren Buffett of Xia Country.

Since emerging onto the scene,

he had invested in or taken controlling stakes in over twenty companies.

At first, none were favored by the industry—but the results shocked everyone: these companies either soared in stock price or posted annual profits.

After reading the hot search news, Gaohe felt a strong, intuitive sense.

This game called Honkai, though a free 2D anime game, might very well become a hit.

Thinking of this,

Gaohe picked up the phone and dialed his secretary’s number.

About five minutes later,

a tall, elegant woman with refined features, dressed in a professional suit, entered Gaohe’s office and spoke respectfully:

“Director Gao, what are your orders?”

Gaohe nodded. “Qinya, investigate who developed Honkai. I want to speak with the core team—arrange it immediately!”

The secretary paused in surprise, then quickly recovered.

Usually, when Director Gao took personal interest, it meant he wasn’t just interested—he was planning to acquire.

Another group of lucky people was about to be born.

Yet she was puzzled: over the years, Director Gao had never invested in the gaming industry.

“I’ll arrange it right away!”

Though puzzled, she knew better than to ask—Qinya understood this well: “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go handle it, Director Gao.”

Though she harbored doubts, she knew this was none of her business—Qin Xiaoyu understood this perfectly: “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go handle it, Director Gao.”

Gaohe nodded, watching his secretary leave the office.

More than an hour later,

Qinya returned to Gaohe’s office, placing a stack of documents gently on his desk.

“Director Gao, I’ve had our team verify everything. All the information you requested is in these documents.”

As usual, Qinya would leave after submitting the documents.

But today, she unusually stayed.

She quietly stepped aside, as if certain Director Gao would ask her something.

Instead, she quietly stepped aside, as if certain Director Gao would surely have something to ask her.

Qinya’s intuition was correct.

Gaohe put down the book he was reading, his gaze falling on the documents on the desk—and his expression turned strange.

Gao He put down the book he was reading, his gaze falling on the documents laid out on the desk; the next moment, his expression turned peculiar.

The reason for this question was simple.

In the past, when Gaohe ordered background checks on companies, the reports he received weren’t exaggeratedly huge, but they always ran to hundreds of pages.

Yet the “documents” before him now consisted of only a few pages…

“Director Gao, I’ve double-checked—these are truly all the documents. If you feel they’re insufficient, I’ll have them dig deeper?”

Qinya took a deep breath and ventured cautiously.

“No need. Leave them here. Go home early and rest.”

Gaohe showed no irritation—Qinya had served him for years; her competence was reliable, and he trusted her completely.

It was unlikely she’d hand him a shoddy report.

So it was highly unlikely he’d be fooled by just any random document.

…

……