For the first New Year event after the game’s launch, Xie Yunfan was incredibly generous, giving players a free five-star card of their choice. Not only did these New Year limited-edition cards feature stunning artwork, but the accompanying storylines were also beautifully written, earning unanimous praise from players.

“What kind of game just hands out outfits and rare cards for free during a New Year event?!”

This move caused Millennium Love to go viral outside its usual player base once again. Many people registered for the game just to claim the free limited-edition card, drawing in a massive wave of new players.

In fact, players even began criticizing the official accounts in the comment sections of other games.

“The game next door, Millennium Love, is literally giving away a 10-pull for free, and you guys are handing out a 3-pull like we’re beggars?”

“Female gamers are eating so well. Are we male gamers just meant to be treated like cash cows? A 0.6% drop rate for the New Year limited banner—are you freaking kidding me?! The card drop rate next door is 2%, and you can even get stuff for free?”

“Damn, the more I talk about it, the madder I get! Can you game developers please start competing and look at other people’s player welfare?”

The first to be dragged into the trending topics and blasted by players was Cool Play’s Age of Sail. Rumor had it that the drop rate for their limited-edition New Year pirate ship was far too low, and the free pulls they handed out were pitifully few.

Compared to the free outfits being given away next door, it was truly a miserable state of affairs.

Seeing the public backlash spiral out of control, the official Cool Play team immediately knelt to the pressure, sending a 10-pull compensation package to every player’s in-game mailbox across all servers.

Other game developers quickly followed suit, scrambling to upgrade their player rewards and benefits.

Players cheered: “Keep competing! Fight it out!”

Only with competition comes pressure, and only pressure brings better welfare to the players!

For this wave of benefits, we have to thank the chief producer of Millennium Love!

Xie Yunfan had merely handed out a round of rewards, never expecting it to trigger a massive welfare arms race across the entire gaming industry.

While this was undeniably a great thing for players, he had been sneezing quite frequently over the past few days—he figured quite a few competing studios were cursing his name in private.

Because the official team gave out so many free rewards, players could claim all the prizes from the New Year event without spending a single dime. Consequently, the game’s revenue on New Year’s Day didn’t see an explosive surge compared to the male leads’ birthdays or the main storyline rate-up banners.

Xie Yunfan wasn’t greedy for this short-term profit.

He knew that February would bring a continuous streak of three major holidays: the Spring Festival, Valentine’s Day, and the Lantern Festival.

His reasoning was that February would feature massive events and limited Valentine’s Day banners. If he also pushed a limited banner for the New Year in January, the back-to-back limited banners would place too much financial pressure on the players.

Giving out free rewards on January 1st allowed players to get cards for free and gave them an entire month to save up resources. This way, when February’s Valentine’s Day arrived, they could happily pull for the characters they loved.

Xie Yunfan called Shen Xingye into his office and said, “The New Year event turned out great. Let’s aim to take the upcoming Valentine’s Day event a step further to solidify the retention of the new players who just joined us during the New Year.”

Shen Xingye asked, “Boss, this year Lunar New Year’s Eve is on February 1st, Valentine’s Day is on February 14th, and the Lantern Festival is on February 16th. Should we separate them into three events, or combine them into one massive event?”

Xie Yunfan replied, “Let’s combine them into a single, long-term event spanning over ten days. Minigames, story missions, instances… I’ll leave the specific formats to your team’s design. Whatever girls want to do during the holidays, let the male leads accompany them to do it in the game. Don’t worry about the budget; we can create dedicated custom scenes for the event.”

Shen Xingye said excitedly, “Great! I’ll draft a proposal as soon as possible!”

---

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, it was late January.

One day, Xie Yunfan opened Weibo and suddenly spotted a trending topic.

#Game_Interstellar_Love_Journey_Officially_Dated#

He clicked on the tag and saw the pinned official post: “Produced by Wings of Dream, the sci-fi otome romance game Interstellar Love Journey will officially launch on February 1st, the day of the Spring Festival.”

Xie Yunfan had long anticipated that the explosive success of Millennium Love would make his competitors envious. In the gaming industry, once a game hits it big, other companies will inevitably jump on the bandwagon to develop similar titles. As long as they don’t directly copy your script, art assets, or specific text descriptions to create an exact clone, you won’t win even if you take them to court.

Following trends and borrowing elements from a competitor’s blockbuster hit was the easiest way to make a quick buck.

Wings of Dream was highly skilled at taking other people’s creative ideas and “making them their own.” They had previously acquired numerous works from younger planners, only to alter them beyond recognition. This time, seeing Millennium Love dominate both revenue charts and merchandise sales, they grew envious and rushed out an imitation.

However, given how quickly Wings of Dream had rushed production, what would the quality of the game actually be like?

Curious, Xie Yunfan clicked on the promotional trailer to take a look.

This game, Interstellar Love Journey, boasted a lavish art style with decent visual execution. Set in a sci-fi universe, it featured—to his surprise—seven male leads.

When the male leads stood side by side, their hair colors spanned red, yellow, blue, and green… Was this a rainbow squad?

The trailer had clearly cost a fortune to make, giving it a very high-end appearance.

In this game, the player’s character was the “Princess of Planet Beta in the Phierda Galaxy.” After her home planet was destroyed, she encountered the seven male leads during her escape.

The identities of the male leads included a space pirate captain, an imperial grand marshal, a leader of a cosmic dark faction, a federal prince, an ability-wielding corps commander, an interstellar celebrity musician, and a highly popular young movie star.

Xie Yunfan: “…”

He suddenly cringed with a sense of secondhand embarrassment, reminiscent of a web novel titled After Becoming a Displaced Princess, I Am Pampered by the Whole Universe. With seven male leads and so many popular tropes stacked together, it was clear that Wings of Dream was desperate for a hit.

Beneath the promotional Weibo post, a massive fleet of paid bots liked the comments, all regurgitating the same exact phrase: “The male leads are so handsome, looking forward to the launch!”

However, on gaming forums and video platform ACFun, where regular internet users gathered, the anticipation for this new title looked entirely different.

“This is an obvious copy of Millennium Love.”

“Seven male leads? Good lord, I can’t even tell them apart.”

“You can’t play a Wings of Dream game without spending money. I suggest everyone lower their expectations.”

“Space pirates, grand marshals, movie stars, generals… is this a Mary Sue novel titled Seven Men Fall in Love with Me?”

“Does the planner want us to rotate through them one day at a time, every week? [Doge emoji]”

Even before the public beta started, players had already given the new game’s male leads a nickname: the “Rainbow Squad.” The seven male leads possessed seven distinct hair and eye colors. While it looked flashy, it gave off a distinct impression of trying way too hard.

By the end of January, major companies began their scheduled Chinese New Year holidays.

On February 1st, New Year’s Day, Millennium Love‘s holiday event officially went live. Simultaneously, Interstellar Love Journey launched its public beta.

Wings of Dream hadn’t been able to break through the technical bottleneck of cross-platform connectivity between mobile devices and holographic systems in such a short timeframe, so they hurriedly pushed out a mobile-only version to rake in quick cash.

The development cycle for mobile games was highly optimized; three months was more than enough to rush a game to completion.

Xie Yunfan logged into the new game to check it out. The UI design and art style were well-executed, packed with a sleek sci-fi aesthetic, and the character illustrations were beautiful.

However, after playing through just the first chapter, he couldn’t help but frown.

There were far too many paywalls, and the rewards were abysmal. Without spending real money, a player would likely hit a progression wall very quickly.

Otome games differed fundamentally from combat-focused games.

Combat games targeted a fleeting sense of gratification, where players spent money to boost their combat stats. In contrast, otome games relied heavily on a “long-term sense of companionship.” If a game forced monetization too aggressively, players would flee immediately, making it incredibly difficult to revive the project later on.

It could only be said that the competitor’s planners were too impatient, chasing short-term revenue KPIs without grasping the core essence of the genre.

Furthermore, the interactions between the male leads and the player felt incredibly rushed to Xie Yunfan. Right off the bat, a male lead and the player tripped and accidentally kissed—a cliché plot point that even television dramas had overused to death.

Though Xie Yunfan had never been in a relationship himself, he believed that things should progress step by step. Interacting with someone, gradually building familiarity, and truly getting to know them made the emotional bond far harder to sever once feelings finally developed.

Flipping straight to an accidental kiss when they were complete strangers… wasn’t that just sleazy?

Frowning, Xie Yunfan set his phone down.

This Spring Festival, Luo Hang hadn’t come over to join them for New Year’s Eve dinner, having been called back to the Imperial Capital by Chairman Luo to spend the holidays with family.

Fortunately, Xie Yunfan had brought the miniature AI doll Luo Hang gave him back home. He tapped the mini-Luo Hang and asked, “Do you think Wings of Dream’s new game can surpass our Millennium Love?”

The AI doll pondered for a moment before replying, “Based on big data analysis, that is absolutely impossible. Wings of Dream’s games consistently receive terrible reviews, whereas our Yangfan Studio games enjoy an excellent reputation.”

Xie Yunfan patted little Luo Hang’s head and smiled. “Not bad. Logical and well-founded.”

Xie Xinghe walked out of the kitchen just in time to see his younger brother chatting with the AI doll.

Hearing Luo Hang’s voice out of nowhere just now had given him a brief startle; he hadn’t expected his brother to bring this doll home. He couldn’t help but remind him, “Yunfan, players only buy AI dolls to keep them company because they love the male leads. You keep carrying Luo Hang’s AI doll around with you—aren’t you worried people in the office will start gossiping?”

In fact, Xie Xinghe had caught wind of some internal office rumors lately. Many staff members were whispering about whether something was going on between Xie Yunfan and Luo Hang. Why did they eat together so often, and why did they keep each other’s custom dolls close at hand?

Xie Xinghe didn’t believe the rumors himself. To him, his brother and Luo Hang were just close friends.

Xie Yunfan blinked, countering with a question of his own: “What is there to gossip about? We’re just testing the AI dolls beforehand to see how well they function, essentially using ourselves as a test case.”

Xie Xinghe: “…”

Noticing his brother’s complicated expression, Xie Yunfan asked in confusion, “What’s wrong?”

Xie Xinghe asked probingly, “You don’t have… other thoughts regarding Luo Hang?”

Xie Yunfan replied earnestly, “We’re very good friends. What kind of thoughts could I possibly have about him?”

“That’s good, then.” Xie Xinghe felt relieved and dropped the subject.

Xie Yunfan, however, kept this conversation in mind. It appeared that keeping Luo Hang’s AI doll in his office had caused quite a misunderstanding among his colleagues.

It would probably be better to keep it private.

From now on, he would leave it at his private residence to talk to when he felt bored.

Meanwhile, back in the Imperial Capital, Luo Hang had also brought his Xie Yunfan AI doll along.

Perhaps he had grown accustomed to the little Yunfan telling him to go to sleep? Whenever he traveled for business now, he brought the doll with him. Hearing Xie Yunfan’s voice every evening brought him a deep sense of peace.

Companionship dolls truly possessed a strange magic; it was no wonder their merchandise sales were so sky-high.

---

On the first day of the public beta for Wings of Dream’s otome game, setting aside the mindless praise from paid bots, many regular players flooded social media platforms with criticisms and complaints.

“The plot gives me a headache. The seven male leads are introduced one after another like cattle being driven to market. We know you’re in a hurry to make money, but could you please not make it so obvious?”

“The text writing team really served up a total disaster. Isn’t the player character supposed to be a princess of a fallen kingdom? Yet she constantly bursts into tears, waiting around for a male lead to rescue her. I wanted to reach into the screen and slap her; there’s absolutely zero immersion.”

“The attempt at a high-end presentation completely failed. Even if the illustrations look nice, I can’t stomach this. I’m out.”

“Female players aren’t that easy to fool. I can’t see an ounce of charm in any of these male leads; they just feel like empty anime characters with pretty faces but no souls.”

“After carefully comparing the reward systems of both games, all I can say is—classic Wings of Dream. Monthly card spenders can’t even survive here; this game is literally unplayable unless you whale.”

“The holographic version next door is still way better. I’m going back to go on a date with my actual virtual husband!”

“The monetization pressure is insane. If you want to unlock the main story, you’re forced to level up three cards for each of the seven male leads, totaling at least twenty-one cards?! Give me a break, this is ridiculous!”

“You can’t even pass the main story missions without spending thousands of yuan. Are they just viewing female gamers as cash cows to pluck clean?”

“They saw how successful the game next door was, so they rushed out a female-oriented game to cash in. Yet, they don’t show an ounce of respect to the players, nor can you feel any love for the male leads from the development team. They even wrote a male lead’s birthday incorrectly—the profile text contradicts the story dialogue. I am truly speechless.”

The internet was filled with a wave of negative reviews.

Just as Xie Yunfan predicted, players completely rejected the game after its launch.

The critical core of an otome game would always lie in whether the male leads’ personalities possessed enough charm to make players genuinely feel like they wanted to fall in love with them. Wings of Dream had been far too impatient, assuming that a bit of cheap intimacy and a flashy art style would be enough to harvest the players’ wallets. Female gamers weren’t going to accept just any male lead thrown their way.

In comparison to their blundering competitor, Millennium Love appeared incredibly generous and thoughtful in terms of both its narrative execution and player welfare. More importantly, it offered seamless cross-play compatibility between mobile and holographic devices.

Going on a romantic date with your virtual husband in a holographic environment—how could anyone pass that up?

Players who had originally downloaded Interstellar Love Journey with a “let’s see what it’s like” mindset were quickly driven away by the overwhelming presence of the seven male leads. On the very first day of public beta, more than half of the player base abandoned the game.

In fact, a significant number of these players ended up being redirected straight into Millennium Love via word-of-mouth recommendations.

---

On Spring Festival day, every player who logged into Millennium Love received holiday blessings from the male leads, featuring fully voiced greetings alongside a massive haul of gifts.

Beyond the usual card-leveling materials and copper coins used for pulls, the four male leads each crafted a distinct, handmade item tailored uniquely for the player.

Ye Qinghe personally crafted an exquisite hairpin for the player, filled with special medicinal herbs that he explained possessed calming properties to aid with sleep. He hoped it would accompany the player so they could enjoy sweet dreams every night.

Qin Zhou gifted a beautifully woven sword tassel made by his own hands, attaching a protective talisman he had personally sought out. Hanging it from the player’s sword, he promised it would keep them safe and sound while wandering the martial world.

Ling Yue fashioned a unique bracelet. Highly skilled in hidden mechanisms and projectiles, he had built miniature concealed darts inside the bracelet, allowing the player to fire them for self-defense during critical moments. The stoic, quiet man’s gift was incredibly practical.

Situ Yu sent a fluffy white cloak. Having grown up in the Western Regions, he adored raising all kinds of animals; he mentioned he had crafted this cloak himself to keep the player warm during the bitter winter days.

Upon receiving these gifts, players grew ecstatic, leaving them almost incoherent with joy. While these items weren’t priceless historical relics, each one carried a profound level of thoughtfulness that perfectly aligned with the respective male lead’s character design!

Furthermore, players using the holographic platform could physically touch and interact with these items.

The hairpin from Ye Qinghe emitted a subtle, comforting fragrance and looked stunning when worn. The bracelet from Ling Yue actually fired a barrage of hidden darts to deal area-of-effect damage when its mechanism was triggered.

The soft, plush cloak provided a deep sense of physical warmth the moment it was draped over the player’s shoulders.

As for the sword tassel from Qin Zhou, sharp-eyed fans noticed it formed a matching couple’s set with the tassel on his own sword, sending another wave of delightful surprises through the community of Qin Zhou fans!

Alongside these heartfelt letters from the male leads, Millennium Love‘s largest event since its official launch went live. This holiday campaign was scheduled to run for a total of sixteen days, beginning on Lunar New Year’s Eve and concluding right after the Lantern Festival.

By simply tapping a button to log in on the mobile version, players could claim generous rewards, including four exclusive four-star [Spring Festival Limited] male lead cards entirely for free.

The first phase of the event ran from Lunar New Year’s Eve through the fifth day of the holidays, allowing players to join the male leads in setting off firecrackers, cutting traditional paper window decorations, and putting up New Year couplets.

These minigames were designed with an adorable aesthetic, offering simple controls for mobile users while allowing holographic players to experience a traditional New Year alongside their favorite characters. On Lunar New Year’s Eve, the game hosted a spectacular, grand fireworks display.

The second phase of the event commenced on the sixth day of the New Year and ran through the sixteenth.

This period marked the grand opening of the [Heartbeat Rendezvous] Valentine’s Day limited banner, introducing brand-new five-star rare cards for each male lead, complete with exclusive Valentine’s Day date storylines. The limited banner guaranteed a five-star pull at 70 summons, allowed players to exchange points directly for a chosen male lead at 120 pulls, offered a free selector card of choice at 140 pulls, and provided yet another selector card at 200 pulls.

Even under the worst possible luck, a player could safely acquire the limited-edition cards for all four male leads within 200 pulls.

It was an incredibly fair and friendly system.

The date content was written to be profoundly romantic. A new Spring Festival flower market opened up within the game world, allowing players to stroll through the stalls alongside their preferred male lead. Each male lead would present the player with a different type of flower, featuring completely distinct narrative details, dialogues, and reactions.

The third phase of the event took place across the final two days, corresponding to the fifteenth and sixteenth days of the first lunar month.

The Lantern Festival night market officially opened its doors. Players could select a specific male lead to accompany them as they solved lantern riddles and explored the night market. To bring this specific event to life, the development team had dedicated significant resources to modeling an entirely new, sprawling lantern festival environment.

Amidst the bustling virtual crowds packing the streets, the player held hands with their chosen male lead, navigating the glowing stalls together—an experience so magical and romantic that it was rarely matched even in real life.

It turned out to be an unforgettable Spring Festival and Valentine’s Day for countless players.

Throughout the entire duration of the campaign, Millennium Love consistently secured a spot in the top ten of the top-grossing app charts for over half a month. On the day the Valentine’s Day banner went live, it successfully reclaimed the number one spot, drawing intense envy from competing developers.

Countless players flooded social media platforms to express their love for the event.

“During the Lantern Festival, the exact moment I spotted him looking back at me through the crowd… I felt my heart completely melt. He held up a lantern and smiled gently at me. Who else understands this feeling?!”

“As a single person who has never actually celebrated Valentine’s Day in real life, I got to experience it fully in the game. On the holographic side, he bought me so many fresh flowers at the market—the entire holiday felt incredibly warm and comforting~”

“Due to various personal reasons, I couldn’t travel back home for the holidays this year. Spending New Year’s with the male leads in-game turned out to be so much fun. Putting up couplets, setting off fireworks, exploring the lantern markets… the experience was absolute perfection!”

“I’ve never even seen fireworks this beautiful in real life; I cannot praise the game’s Spring Festival fireworks show enough.”

“Girls, you absolutely must play the holographic version; the Lantern Festival date is insanely romantic. I even managed to guess a bunch of lantern riddles correctly, winning a ton of prizes that I can now use to decorate my personal player space!”

On the popular gaming site Mobile Home, Millennium Love‘s player rating climbed once again. Rising steadily from its initial launch score of 8.5, the continuous stream of successful updates pushed its average rating up to an impressive 9.2 over the past few months.

While it was common for games to suffer a steady decline in ratings after launch, seeing a score continuously climb like this was an exceptionally rare feat.

This served as clear proof of how outstanding the game’s reputation had become.

It had firmly established itself as the absolute gold standard of the otome market, rendering it entirely irreplaceable by any competing titles.

Competing studios remained baffled: Wings of Dream’s title belonged to the exact same genre, possessed a highly refined and beautiful art style, shared a similar card-collecting progression loop, and offered a cast of attractive male leads. Why did the player community reject it so completely?

In truth, the answer was remarkably simple—players can always feel whether a developer poured their heart into a game or not.

The four male leads of Millennium Love were created with deep sincerity by the planning team, who spent months micro-managing their illustrations and character backgrounds.

They were born out of genuine care, cherished and respected by their creators.

Within their virtual universe, they felt truly “alive.”

Naturally, the players reciprocated with deep, authentic emotional attachment.

---

After the Spring Festival concluded, Xie Yunfan called Shen Xingye into his office for a private chat.

This entire Spring Festival campaign had been orchestrated under Shen Xingye’s direct planning, earning widespread acclaim from the player community.

The capabilities demonstrated by this female planner had thoroughly impressed Xie Yunfan. He spoke with reassurance, saying, “Xingye, I’m officially handing the Millennium Love project over to you from now on.”

Shen Xingye startled, asking nervously, “Boss, are you stepping away from this project completely?”

Xie Yunfan smiled warmly and replied, “The core gameplay loop and monetization systems have fully matured, and the game’s operations are running smoothly. As long as you ensure the main storyline and card artwork maintain their high standards, and keep the future holiday events fair and rewarding, the project will thrive long-term. I have other projects that require my attention, and I am confident you will do an amazing job.”

Shen Xingye: “…”

The exact same pattern had played out previously with Detective Di Renjie and the Holographic Script Killing project.

Xie Yunfan would personally oversee the core development phase of a game and keep a close eye on it for a period following its launch. Once the player base stabilized and the project entered a phase of steady, sustainable growth, he would hand over full operational authority to his chosen team leaders.

He viewed his role as planting a young sapling, watering it until it took firm root and sprouted. Once the tree grew strong enough to withstand the elements on its own, he would officially transition ownership and move on to plant the next seed.

Because Xie Yunfan had consistently mentored his team on his game-design philosophies, the project leaders he trained would naturally carry forward his core principles, remaining true to their original creative vision.

Shen Xingye had actually anticipated that Xie Yunfan would eventually step back, but now that the day had arrived, she felt a wave of reluctance. Working alongside Xie Yunfan had always been an incredibly fulfilling and pleasant experience.

Meeting his encouraging gaze, Shen Xingye took a deep breath and vowed, “Don’t worry, Boss. I will work my hardest to ensure these four male leads can continue to accompany our players for a long time to come.”

Xie Yunfan nodded approvingly. “Good. Even as the company moves on to develop new projects, your team’s investment budget will never be reduced. For major holidays each year, just draft the event proposals ahead of time for me to review, then clear them with finance. As long as everything looks solid, I won’t hold up your approvals.”

Shen Xingye said excitedly, “Thank you, Boss!”

Her greatest fear had been that once the boss stepped away from active management, the project’s funding might face cuts, leaving them hesitant to build large-scale, ambitious environments for future events.

Now, with the boss’s explicit guarantee that he “wouldn’t hold up their budget,” she could confidently execute even more creative ideas. She couldn’t help but reflect on how fortunate they were as employees to have a leader like him.

---

The transition for Yangfan Studio’s third major project, Millennium Love, was completed smoothly.

Shen Xingye took over as the chief producer, leading a development team comprised of over 90% women to carry forward the story of this romance game.

How long could this game maintain its massive success? No one could predict the exact future.

However, observing how Detective Di Renjie and Holographic Script Killing continued to thrive long after their handovers, it was clear that the games created by Xie Yunfan possessed an incredibly resilient life cycle.

This was because he personally designed and guarded the core gameplay mechanics.

His philosophy of “respecting the player” was deeply woven into every single detail.

What kind of game would he build next?

The male employees within the company were filled with eager anticipation. After all, they hadn’t been able to contribute much to this romance title, having been loaned out to assist other project teams.

The next project surely wouldn’t be another romance title back-to-back.

Which staff members would the boss select for the new project group?

This topic quickly became the central focus of conversation across Yangfan Studio over the following days.