October 15th. The Palace Storm Governance DLC officially launched.

Like before, the DLC was free to download, with charges based on playtime.

Now that players had ascended the throne, managing the entire “Great Qi Dynasty” was no simple matter.

Players who had completed the main game could enter using whichever character they’d crowned emperor; those who hadn’t finished could select an emperor directly from the character roster. Available options included the eight princes, two princesses, Consort De, Consort Xian, and others.

Choosing a prince or princess meant ruling as emperor directly. Choosing Consort De or Consort Xian meant adopting a “ruling from behind the curtain” governance style.

One important consideration: if a player skipped the main game and chose a prince or princess to enthrone directly, the other princes and princesses could very well threaten their hold on power.

The stability of the court had an enormous impact on the Governance DLC.

Streamer Xia Kucao had already completed every character’s route. He loaded straight into the Seventh Prince’s emperor ending.

Getting the Seventh Prince onto the throne was brutally difficult. Starting with an abysmal -300 favor rating with the emperor, the only path to the throne was eliminating every older brother along the way.

When he’d achieved the “Sovereign of All Under Heaven” ending with the Seventh Prince, all six older brothers had already wiped each other out in internal conflict. Only one younger brother remained, not yet ten years old, born of the inconsequential Consort Li — nothing to fear.

In the inner court, his mother was now Empress Dowager. In the outer court, civil and military officials alike had submitted wholeheartedly to their new emperor.

Xia Kucao opened his stream and said, “Using an ending you earned yourself to play the Governance mode is actually easier — we’ve already played through the process of seizing the throne once, so the hostile factions are basically all cleaned out already.”

“Like right now with the Seventh Prince on the throne: all the older brothers are gone, and General Xiao — the most powerful force in the realm — was executed long ago. The court is relatively stable.”

As the game began, the new emperor was roused from sleep, dressed and groomed, and helped into a golden dragon robe in preparation for morning court.

Chief Eunuch Gao’s voice rang out to the heavens: “His Majesty approaches for morning court!”

As Xia Kucao made his way to the great hall, he complained to his stream: “Morning court starts before five in the morning. The sun isn’t even up yet — is being emperor really this brutal of an early shift?”

He thought for a moment, then reconsidered. “Though this era is pretty special. No electricity, no internet, no phones or tablets, let alone holographic games. Nothing to do after dark, so you sleep early and wake early.”

He soon arrived at the grand hall for morning court.

Countless officials had already been waiting at the gates. The moment the emperor settled onto the throne, they surged forward in obeisance. “Long live His Majesty! Long live, long live, ten thousand years!”

Below the dais, the NPCs dropped to their knees in unison, their voices shaking the rafters.

Viewers flooded the stream with comments —

【Holy crap, being emperor in a game actually feels kind of amazing】

【Everyone has to bow the moment they see me, hahaha, yeah this is doing it for me】

【The dragon throne is so comfortable, no wonder everyone fights over it~】

“Rise, my ministers,” Xia Kucao said — something he’d picked up from watching the “imperial father” NPC during his main game runs.

Chief Eunuch Gao called out: “Speak if you have matters to report. If there is nothing, court is dismissed.”

An official immediately stepped forward. “Your Majesty, Qingzhou has suffered three years of severe drought. The harvest has completely failed, and this year’s famine has already claimed over twenty thousand lives. The Qingzhou prefect and the people have jointly petitioned the court, imploring immediate disaster relief—”

Before Xia Kucao could respond, a soldier burst through the doors in a cloud of dust. “Report!” The man rushed to the center of the hall and dropped to his knees with a thud. “Your Majesty — urgent dispatches from the border!”

Chief Eunuch Gao took the report and read aloud: “The State of Great Yan has launched an assault on our western frontier. A combined twelve cities across Binzhou and Yuezhou have fallen entirely into enemy hands. Your servant writes this in tears, beseeching Your Majesty to dispatch troops at once!”

Xia Kucao: “……”

【Holy shit, it’s this intense right from the start?】

【Famine AND a neighboring invasion, what a mess】

【Oh god, the Governance DLC is clearly not for me, too much to think about!】

Xia Kucao was caught off guard too. He hadn’t expected that even with one of the more stable starting courts, he’d immediately be dealt a hand like this.

Drawing on his knowledge of the reliable officials, he spoke with calm authority: “Minister Xu — take charge of the disaster relief grain and depart for Qingzhou at once. Stabilize the people.”

“General Zhou — We hereby appoint you General of the Western Campaign. Lead one hundred thousand troops to reinforce the border immediately and reclaim every city that has fallen!”

Both officials stepped forward. “By Your Majesty’s command!”

Xia Kucao cut his in-game voice and explained to viewers, “Don’t just assign anyone — Minister Xu is originally from Qingzhou, knows the situation there intimately, and isn’t corrupt. Sending him for disaster relief is the reliable choice.”

“General Zhou is young, but he comes from a military family — brave and shrewd. I think sending him is the right call. Though it might not be.”

Time in the game moved quickly.

In the blink of an eye, a month had passed. In Qingzhou, Minister Xu had indeed steadied the situation — the disaster victims were receiving aid and comfort.

Then, from the border, devastating news arrived.

General Zhou had been too aggressive. The enemy had laid a trap, and he’d walked right into it. The one hundred thousand troops he commanded had been ambushed and annihilated. To the last man.

Xia Kucao: “…………”

Thank you so very much, my dear minister. Couldn’t leave me even a single soldier, could you?

【That General Zhou was completely useless】

【It’s over — the enemy just captured two more provinces!】

【Keep this up and the whole country’s going to fall, isn’t it?】

Left with no other option, Xia Kucao had to lead the army himself.

The ministers in court dropped to their knees en masse. “Your Majesty, you must not!” “A personal campaign is far too dangerous — please reconsider!”

“What about sending a princess to negotiate a marriage alliance? Seeking peace is the wiser path!”

“Our great Qi, relying on a princess to beg for peace? What a joke. Your servant believes we must fight — let Great Yan know what we’re made of!”

The court erupted. The war faction and the peace faction were on the verge of coming to blows.

Xia Kucao couldn’t help but marvel — Little Sailboat, you made a game where the AI NPCs have reached this level? You could literally film a TV series right here.

He rubbed his temples and raised a hand. “Enough. We have decided. Tomorrow, We march.”

The next day, the emperor rode out in battle armor at the head of his troops. With His Majesty leading the campaign in person, morale across the entire army soared.

Watching Xia Kucao coolly direct the battles, the stream audience was stunned. The sight of him galloping out to war on horseback was breathtaking.

They’d grown up on sci-fi and post-apocalyptic animation and dramas, and had never really encountered this kind of cold-weapon warfare era before.

The fighting was brutal and unflinching.

There were supply shortages, soldiers suffering from frostbite, men dying of sheer exhaustion on the march.

Time flowed swiftly. Xia Kucao led the troops forward, reclaiming city after city, and after three months of campaign, finally drove Great Yan’s forces back beyond the border.

The new emperor had led his army to a glorious victory and returned in triumph. The people sang praises of their emperor’s brilliance.

System: Congratulations — you have achieved the S+ ending for the Governance DLC: [Peace and Prosperity Across the Realm].

The stream erupted in thumbs-up reactions.

【Our streamer is incredible!】

【Kucao is genuinely elite at these strategy games】

【If it were me, the whole army would’ve starved the second supply lines broke. I can’t believe he actually disguised his unit as the enemy and captured their supplies 666】

【As expected of our high-IQ streamer!】

【Our Kucao is the first one to clear the Governance DLC again~】

Xia Kucao exhaled in relief. “The Governance DLC has a lot of random events — they’ll shift depending on which emperor you pick. What I ran into was famine and foreign invasion. A different character might get something completely different.”

Even these two relatively “simple” scenarios had eaten up his entire afternoon.

Especially the personal campaign arc — which unit to send to which battle, what to do when supplies ran out, how to handle frostbitten soldiers, where to set up camp. His brain cells had been pushed to the absolute limit.

Good thing they won in the end, or the dynasty really would have collapsed.

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Streamer Cute Rabbit on Spirit Cat TV had chosen the princess-becomes-empress ending. Her event: the southern territory of Luozhou refusing to recognize a female emperor and raising the flag of rebellion.

Cute Rabbit dispatched two generals she trusted to put down the revolt.

Those two generals promptly defected to the rebel side.

Cute Rabbit: “Huh??”

“They stood right in front of me swearing they’d suppress the rebellion, then turned around and joined it. Are you kidding me?!” she said, incredulous.

She took a deep breath. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go crush them myself. Did they really think the Female Emperor would just sit back and take it?”

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The Crown Prince’s succession produced the most stable starting court — after all, the Crown Prince was the legitimate heir, and his enthronement was the most natural of outcomes.

Liu-ge had chosen exactly this route.

This path saw no “internal rebellion” or “neighboring invasion” combat events. Only domestic floods and snowstorms that needed handling — all of which he resolved by dispatching capable officials.

Even with the relatively calm circumstances, Liu-ge got a thorough taste of just how grueling it was to be emperor.

Waking at four in the morning to prepare for court. Sitting through ministers droning on endlessly. Getting through that only to return to the imperial study, where more ministers would seek private audiences and drone on some more.

And once the court’s political business was finally dealt with — a brief rest after lunch — the afternoon still brought a mountain of memorials to read.

The towering pile of documents was enough to make anyone’s head spin just looking at it.

“Our teacher never graded this many assignments,” Liu-ge said, genuinely shocked. “There are this many every day? How do you even get through them all?”

He flipped open a memorial at random. A minister writing to wish His Majesty good health.

Liu-ge frowned. “A wellness check? So just… saying hello? And they write a whole separate memorial for that and expect me to review it? These ministers really have too much free time.”

【Hahaha, this looks like so much fun!】

【The Governance DLC: aka “Grading Papers for the Emperor”?】

【The ministers’ submissions are all over the place, I’m dying】

Liu-ge picked up the imperial brush and wrote: Noted.

He moved on to the second memorial. The Ministry of Rites asking how His Majesty wished to observe his upcoming birthday. Liu-ge responded: Keep it simple.

Third memorial: a minister urging him to take care in the cold weather, to guard against catching a chill, for His Majesty’s health was the very cornerstone of Great Qi’s prosperity and stability—

“This minister is a talker,” Liu-ge complained. “He wants me to put on an extra layer — and he’s written an entire page about it!”

He drafted his reply: We appreciate your minister’s concern. In future, memorials may be kept more concise. This many words gives Us a headache.

【Hahahahaha】

【The minister: Did His Majesty just scold me? Terrified!】

【He’ll write you an 800-word composition next time explaining his profound sense of inadequacy】

【Ministers, please, reduce your emperor’s workload a little…】

Liu-ge worked his way through the stack of memorials, eventually seeing out the emperor’s exhausting day.

The next morning, the Empress Dowager summoned him — to say that since the emperor had only just taken the throne and the inner palace had no mistress, arrangements should be made without delay to receive imperial consorts and secure the continuation of the imperial line—

“Oh my god,” Liu-ge said, head in his hands. “I’m getting nagged into marriage by an NPC mom in a video game? I — no, We — We are run completely ragged already!”

【Every other streamer playing Governance is dealing with crises and combat. Why is yours just… hilarious?】

【Liu-ge’s stream is always like this】

【Other streamers are commanding armies. Liu-ge is being pestered into marriage by the Empress Dowager】

【He’s writing “Noted” on every single memorial】

【Experiencing a day in the life of an emperor — pretty fun in its own way!】

After a full afternoon of play, Liu-ge offered his assessment: “It’s actually pretty entertaining. I’ve realized — reading through the ministers’ memorials is genuinely fun!”

“Someone actually used a memorial to gossip with me.”

“This dynasty has no phones, no messages, no quick calls — everything has to be written in a letter, which is incredibly slow. But there’s something nice about slow. It feels like you can actually settle down and see things clearly.”

“That said — being emperor is hard.”

“Reading memorials until your brain melts, managing your officials’ relationships, dealing with whatever disaster decides to show up next — and if you have a full inner court on top of that, good luck, because the harem drama alone will drown you.”

“In the previous mode, we were all fighting over the throne. But actually sitting in this seat — you realize… it’s too much. It’s exhausting.”

“I’m abdicating.”

And so, Liu-ge produced the ending that left every viewer staring in disbelief —

Congratulations — you have passed the throne to the young Crown Prince and achieved the S ending: “Carefree Retired Emperor.”

“Retired Emperor means I can grow flowers and go fishing every day,” Liu-ge said cheerfully. “A happy early retirement. It’s settled.”

The audience: “……”

You retired that fast? You absolute legend.

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Xie Yunfan and Luo Hang — who had previously achieved the Female Emperor and Imperial Husband ending with Princess Ning’an and the top scholar — had already completed the DLC during the internal testing phase before it officially launched.

Ruling together was considerably smoother than ruling alone.

Take the memorial review, for instance: with Luo Hang handling a portion of the documents, Xie Yunfan could free up significant time to spend with the ministers directly — learning each official’s temperament, strengths, and weaknesses. With that knowledge in hand, when crises struck, the right person could be dispatched for the right situation.

An emperor didn’t need to handle everything personally.

Knowing people, and knowing how to use them — that was the true essence of statecraft.

Xie Yunfan had always excelled at placing talented individuals in the roles that suited them best when running his company. Luo Hang, too, had his own entrepreneurial experience. Their instincts aligned perfectly on this front.

Whenever a crisis arose, the two of them would confer briefly in private and easily decide which official to send. More often than not, those officials returned with results that satisfied them both.

Because they had achieved the Female Emperor and Imperial Husband ending, Princess Ning’an’s gentle-natured mother now held the position of Empress Dowager — and deferred entirely to her daughter. Naturally, there was no one pushing the female emperor to take on consorts.

With only the Emperor-Consort in the inner palace, the headache of harem politics was entirely eliminated.

Emperor and Consort in harmony. Court stable. The people living well.

Within just a few hours, the two of them achieved the co-op mode’s S+ ending: “Emperor and Consort Govern Together: Peace Throughout the Realm.”

Coming out of the gaming pods, Xie Yunfan said, “The Governance DLC — two-player is definitely more enjoyable than solo. Though I think some players will find the administrative grind less interesting.”

“Agreed,” Luo Hang said. “Dealing with official documents every day, resolving one crisis after another — players who enjoy that will love it. Players who don’t will just find it exhausting.”

Xie Yunfan smiled. “Fortunately, this DLC is just an expansion. Players who don’t want to govern can keep playing the court intrigue and inner palace storylines. No one’s being forced into statecraft — let them choose freely.”

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……

As Xie Yunfan had expected, reception to the Governance DLC was sharply divided.

Players who loved it were deeply passionate. They found enormous satisfaction in mastering each official’s quirks and abilities, then deploying those NPCs to handle every kind of crisis — that feeling of supreme authority, all variables within your control.

Players who didn’t connect with it found it dry. Sitting on the throne, listening to ministers talk endlessly, sorting through one miscellaneous issue after another — it was simply too demanding.

After the DLC launched, discussion flooded online.

As an expansion pack, the replayability was genuinely high. The random events shifted based on which emperor was chosen.

The Crown Prince on the throne leaned toward routine governance and day-to-day political management. The Female Emperor route was prone to rebellion, since Great Qi had always had male emperors — some officials simply refused to accept a woman on the throne. The Empress Dowager ruling-from-behind-the-curtain path was notoriously unstable. Every other prince’s route had its own distinct flavor.

Forum posts poured in from players sharing their experiences:

“I never finished the main game, so I picked the Fourth Prince to enthrone directly. The north was being invaded, so I marched out to fight — and came back to find the Sixth Prince had staged a coup and locked down the entire capital. Wouldn’t let me back in. I am FUMING.”

“I played the Empress Dowager ruling from behind the curtain. Started out fine — everyone listened to me. But a few years in, the emperor grew up and got ideas. He actually tried to poison me. I raised that ungrateful little snake.”

“Played co-op with my buddy — he took the Fourth Prince throne, I played the Seventh Prince as a prince regent. When foreign forces invaded, he held the capital and managed domestic affairs while I led the army as a royal general. Really effective combination!”

“Me and my friend went top scholar plus Sixth Prince. Sixth Prince on the throne, the scholar as Prime Minister. Emperor and minister ruling together works great — one plays the tough authority, one plays the gracious mediator. Had the entire court perfectly managed.”

“My girlfriend and I went Crown Prince plus senior palace maid, turned it into an Emperor-and-Empress team run. My girlfriend is insanely competent — she reviews hundreds of memorials every day. The ministers kept whining ‘the inner court must not interfere with governance’ and I told them all to be quiet.”

The player community was lively with discussion.

After the Governance DLC launched, Palace Storm‘s daily active users stabilized at an average of five million. For a game two-plus months past release to hold retention figures that strong — competitors were already going green with envy.

Wasn’t an RPG supposed to lose its appeal once you’d cleared it? Why were players still coming back after this long?

According to data from a major industry analytics platform, Palace Storm‘s monthly revenue for August, September, and October had stayed consistently above two billion…

The numbers were terrifying.

Media reporters started interviewing players: “What exactly makes this game so good?”

“Holographic gameplay — the full-immersion experience makes it feel like you’ve actually stepped into this world!”

“The AI NPCs are so intelligent. The story isn’t fixed — my choices genuinely affect how things develop. Interacting with the NPCs is endlessly interesting!”

“There’s so much to do. Fourteen playable characters to choose from — completing all of them alone would take the better part of a year.”

……

Time moved quickly. November arrived.

Original domestic holographic games had always been rare, and Palace Storm — jointly developed by Yangfan and Qihang, with its intelligent NPC role-play engine — had effectively swept the entire holographic market in the second half of the year.

KoolPlay and DreamWing saw their active player counts take a measurable hit.

Then, at the end of November, Yangfan Studio dropped another major announcement —

“Players of Palace Storm — the Faction PK Mode is set to officially debut on December 5th. This update adds controllable characters and features both single-player versus and two-player co-op versus modes.

The era of going head-to-head against other players is nearly here. Stay tuned.

On December 2nd at 8 PM, our lead designer @LittleSailboat will be hosting a live Q&A session in the Weibo super-topic to answer your questions!”

The response was immediate. Players everywhere erupted.

By this point, most players had the NPCs’ preferences, personalities, and relationship networks thoroughly mapped. Three months after launch, clearing the game was no longer a challenge. Some players could recite the entire character relationship web from memory.

The game’s replay value had been quietly shrinking. Quite a few players were starting to feel restless — some of the more dedicated ones had cleared all fourteen character routes and were running out of new ground to explore.

But Faction PK was different.

Player versus player — you could never predict what card your opponent would play next. That was infinitely more exhilarating than outwitting NPCs.

On December 2nd, Xie Yunfan appeared in the Weibo super-topic and launched a “Q&A preview” stream.

Players who’d been camped out on Weibo started firing questions.

【Does Faction PK still require ascending the throne? Or does eliminating the opposing players mean an automatic win for our side?】

Xie Yunfan: “Correct — PK mode has no revive cards. If the opposing players are eliminated for any reason, your side wins immediately.”

【It took me several days to finish the main game. A single PK match isn’t going to take several days too, is it? That’s way too long.】

Xie Yunfan: “The Faction PK mode runs at an accelerated time scale, and the narrative pacing is faster as well. Under normal circumstances, a match won’t exceed one hour.”

【Can we form a team in advance for 2v2 mode?】

Xie Yunfan: “Of course — players can pre-arrange teams before entering, or opt for random matchmaking.”

……

A lead designer personally hosting a Q&A on Weibo was a rare sight. Players flocked in with questions, and others compiled his answers into organized forum posts.

A designer willing to engage this directly with the player base was something special.

And LittleSailboat had such an even temper, too — answering dozens of questions over the course of one evening without the faintest hint of impatience.

Players were now eagerly anticipating the final Faction PK release. Some had already arranged teams in advance; others were planning to try their luck with random matchmaking.

Forum activity stayed at a constant boil. New threads surfaced every day — dissecting governance strategies, theorycrafting PK builds—

Three months into a single game, and players still weren’t tired of it.

Who could have imagined that a role-playing game could take you from solo play to two-player co-op, then into governance, and finally into a full-on faction war?

The games Yangfan Studio made were not the kind of quick cash-grabs that disappeared overnight. Even a single-player RPG had received this much post-launch support. When it came to “after-sales service,” they were genuinely setting an industry standard.