Starting as a Manga Editor

Chapter 118: Sealed

As soon as Cai Quan and Wen Fei heard Tang Yao’s words, sheer joy broke across their faces.

The two of them practically spoke in unison:“Great! We’ll reach out right away!”

“Much appreciated.”

Tang Yao smiled, then suddenly remembered something. She asked, “By the way, after selling the site… would you two be interested in continuing to manage it?”

“……”

Huh?

Both Cai Quan and Wen Fei were stunned.

What did she mean?

She wanted them to keep working on the site even after selling it? Did this beautiful girl not hear what they just said?

They weren’t professionals! They had no idea what direction the site should go in! “You wouldn’t need to worry about decisions,” Tang Yao explained. “That’ll be handled by Avalon Studio. You’d just be in charge of execution and day-to-day management.”

She continued, “You’re more familiar with the site than anyone. And I don’t want the platform to lose value due to a management shake-up. Having the founding team stay on will be a condition of the acquisition.”

This was something she had carefully thought through.

Avalon Studio was already short on people. If they also had to recruit someone to manage ANF—someone experienced with site operations and deeply invested in anime culture—that would be very difficult. Right now, the studio was still in the ‘heads down, build fast’ phase, with most things yet to be put in place. Nearly everything still relied on Tang Yao herself.

Her plan was to wait until the Christmas update for FGO was released and the game fully stabilized. Then she’d consider hiring a manager with solid experience in corporate ops and HR to help Avalon grow from a scrappy startup into a proper company.

Then maybe she could finally kick back and just collect the money…

Maybe.

But that wasn’t where they were yet. So there was no way she could split her focus to manage ANF as well. Keeping the original team was the best option—she’d handle funding and decisions.

This would also prevent the site from drifting off course. After all, these people hadn’t even figured out a monetization model—they’d built the site purely out of love. They were old-school anime fans. They understood the culture and user experience, but not business.

Tang Yao’s main reason for buying ANF was its potential as a marketing hub for anime-style games. She didn’t care about turning it into some kind of unicorn company or listing it on the stock exchange.

Let the video platform side simply serve to attract anime fans.

The money-making part would come from the games.

As long as ANF could leverage its niche to effectively promote and co-launch anime games—and help FGO boost player retention—it could pay for itself.

Maybe, if things went well, it could even reach the point where no anime game could afford not to advertise on ANF. At that point, the games would essentially feed back into the platform and support it.

Of course, Tang Yao knew that just paying a salary and making a nice speech wouldn’t be enough to keep people loyal.

Once the site improved, these two might change their tune. Plenty of people only care about results. The moment it became profitable, the two of them might forget how desperate they were today and start thinking they’d made a mistake selling.

Aside from Xun and Li Xue, Tang Yao didn’t trust anyone—not really. Not even human nature.

So she added one more weight to the scale:

“We can sign a performance-based agreement. I don’t know if you’re familiar with it, but in many acquisitions, the original founders stay on and sign a vesting deal tied to future performance. It’s a pretty standard setup.”

“……”

Cai Quan looked totally lost.

But Wen Fei tentatively asked, “You mean we’d agree to hit certain business goals over a fixed period, and in exchange we’d get equity rewards? A performance clause?”

“Exactly.”

Tang Yao nodded.

Both of them looked hesitant—clearly not confident.

Because most of the time, these agreements required average annual profit growth.

And let’s be real—they weren’t capable of that. If they were, they wouldn’t have been selling the site in the first place.

Tang Yao understood their concern, so she added, “You don’t need to worry. Our version is a little different… You’d stay on for three years, but you won’t be asked to meet revenue or profit targets. I only care about user growth.”

She continued, “So you won’t be under extreme pressure to hit financial goals. You just need to grow the user base, and you’ll be granted equity rewards. If you exceed the target, there will be bonus incentives.

And if you don’t meet the target, there won’t be penalties—no clawbacks, no buying back shares. You’d simply resign.”

“What’s the specific target?”That caught Cai Quan’s attention. His eyes lit up.

If it were about profits or revenue, he wouldn’t dare sign.

But user growth? That was totally different.

He did have the guts for that—a lot of guts, actually.

And this angelic girl across from him didn’t seem like the type to make things hard. If failing to meet the goal only meant stepping down, that was completely acceptable.

If there was even the slimmest hope, he still wanted a piece of his own site. He did care about it, after all.

He’d only been in such a rush to sell because he couldn’t see a future.

But if he’d still be working there afterward anyway… then why not?

He’d no longer be the one shouldering the pressure. And if Avalon’s backing actually helped the site become profitable?

Even if it didn’t—so what? He’d still get paid. All he had to do was focus on growing users.

“The actual target will be set after we evaluate your site’s current metrics,” Tang Yao said. “But don’t worry—it’ll be reasonable. Just a little above standard growth ranges.”

She paused. “So… do you agree?”

Cai Quan and Wen Fei looked at each other, then gave a solemn nod.“As long as the conditions are fair—we’re in.”

“But…”

Wen Fei hesitated, then softly reminded, “We really can’t promise anything on the financial side…”

“That’s fine.”

Tang Yao nodded calmly. “Just focus on user growth. Make the site better. Get more people in. Once you’ve sorted out the equity with your investor, we’ll finalize the acquisition agreement.

In the meantime, go discuss this with your founding team.”

She added one more thing:“Oh, by the way… would you like to temporarily move your team over here to work?”

“Absolutely! We’d love to!”

Cai Quan had long been sick of that run-down place. Who wouldn’t want to work somewhere proper?

“Then move over as soon as possible.”

Tang Yao chuckled. “And tell your team not to worry about pay after the acquisition. Of course, if anyone doesn’t want to come, that’s fine too. Once the deal is done, we’ll offer appropriate compensation for anyone who opts out.”

“Got it!!!”

Cai Quan and Wen Fei looked at Tang Yao as if she were the best boss in the universe.

Then, grinning from ear to ear, the two of them left Avalon Studio, heading back to sort things out with their original investor and founding team.

Inside the conference room, Tang Yao stayed seated, watching them go. Then she turned to Yuan Yanbo.

“Get ready,” she said. “Assuming nothing unexpected happens, this deal is done… Start preparing to launch FGO’s next version on their platform. You’ll handle the promotion plan, but there are two things I need you to prioritize.”

“Go ahead.”

“First, I want to migrate our manga section from our current site to ANF.”

Tang Yao raised her fair hand and continued, “That’s the first thing we need to do once the deal is sealed. I’ll also draw some FGO-themed short comics to build hype. Second, when the new version goes live, I want every user who opens ANF to see it immediately. I’m planning to run a full-width homepage banner ad.”

She smiled.

“These are things we can start preparing now.”