Chapter 132: A Glimpse into the Mysterious Tengda Network Technology Co., Ltd
Chapter 132: A Glimpse into the Mysterious Tengda Network Technology Co., Ltd
Hu Yue felt that at this point in the interview, it was time to elevate the tone and explore deeper meaning.
For a genius designer like President Pei, surely his journey couldn’t have been all smooth sailing.
After all, how else could he depict the struggles of content creators so vividly in Game Producer and resonate with so many people?
However, Ma Yiqun scratched his temple and said, “Actually… not really.”
“Huh?” Hu Yue was stunned.
Ma Yiqun continued, “As far as I know, President Pei has never really experienced any setbacks when making games. It’s been smooth sailing from the start…”
“Lonely Desert Road, Ghost General, Ocean Fortress, Game Producer—these are the only four games he’s made. All of them have been huge successes.”
“So if you’re asking whether Game Producer was born out of his personal struggles—I can’t say for sure. But I can tell you this: all those hardships that other game developers go through…”
“President Pei hasn’t experienced a single one.”
Hu Yue: “…”
So this… is what the world of geniuses looks like?
Like the great reformers in history—despite living privileged, smooth lives, they were still able to empathize deeply with the struggles of those at the bottom.
What an incredible quality that is!
“Just one last question.”
“The viral short video series President Pei’s Daily Life—it seems to have used some material from Tengda’s games. Is there a partnership between that series and your company?”
Ma Yiqun nodded. “Yeah, that’s publicly available information. President Pei’s Daily Life was produced by Feihuang Studio, and Feihuang Studio is a subsidiary of Tengda.”
Hu Yue’s eyes lit up again.
“I knew it! So the popularity of the video series was at least partially due to it being based on President Pei’s real-life experiences, right?”
Ma Yiqun hesitated. “Sorry, I can’t speak to that. It might reveal some private details about President Pei.”
“President Pei is a very low-key person. He wants players to focus on his games—not on him like some kind of celebrity. That way, the games are evaluated more objectively.”
Although she didn’t get a concrete answer, Hu Yue wasn’t disappointed. Instead, she smiled.
Even without hard data, this was still an extraordinary interview!
Of course—it takes extraordinary employees and an extraordinary boss to create such extraordinary games, right?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Playtime Weekly – Jingzhou Branch Office
Although Playtime Weekly was a nationally recognized gaming media outlet, its Jingzhou branch was just a humble local office with a small and simple structure: three reporters, two editors, and one editor-in-chief.
Even their workspace was shared with other companies.
The editor looked at the draft Hu Yue had submitted, utterly confused.
“Xiao Hu, you’ve been with this station for a while now. Why did you turn in something like this…”
“No source attribution, no video materials, no corroborating evidence—and you didn’t even give any identifying info about the interviewee?”
“We’re not some shady tabloid. Even if I pass this through, the editor-in-chief definitely won’t approve it…”
The editor was starting to get a headache.
Just as Hu Yue was about to explain, the chief editor, Brother Zhao, came striding over quickly.
“Xiao Hu, the article’s done?”
The editor hurried to hand over the draft. “Brother Zhao, this article…”
Before she could even finish her sentence, the chief editor slapped his thigh. “Excellent! Xiao Hu, you did a fantastic job this time!”
Editor: “…”
The chief editor skimmed through the article quickly. “Xiao Hu, your quick thinking and adaptability are commendable!”
“Right now, domestic players are incredibly curious about Tengda. This article may not have much hard data, but I trust Xiao Hu’s professional integrity—its credibility is still solid!”
“We’ll publish it right away to ride the wave of hype. Who knows, maybe this will help us earn some recognition from HQ!”
“Go ahead and publish it!”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Two days later, an article was posted on Playtime Weekly’s official website. It quickly sparked a frenzy of re-posts across major gaming media platforms!
“A Glimpse into the Mysterious Tengda Network Technology Co., Ltd: A Utopia in China’s Gaming Industry!”
Hu Yue’s article didn’t mention Ma Yiqun’s name, nor did it even disclose that the content was based on an interview with a Tengda employee.
Instead, it started from the currently trending Game Producer and President Pei’s Daily Life, then launched directly into the insights Ma Yiqun had shared earlier!
“With the release of a game titled Lonely Desert Road, the name Tengda gradually entered the domestic gaming scene.”
“In less than a year, Tengda Network Technology Co., Ltd has launched four titles—an indie game, a card-based mobile game, an FPS PC game, and a single-player meta game. With wildly imaginative creativity and bold, sweeping innovation, the company has received praise from official platforms and is now regarded as the new benchmark for China’s gaming industry.”
“Today, Playtime Weekly unveils the mystery behind Tengda Network Technology Co., Ltd, giving you a peek at this emerging company’s brilliance!”
. . . . .
“In short, Tengda is a company with high standards for newcomers—but it also boldly puts them in important positions.”
“It’s a company that thrives on innovation but also values legacy.”
“As the founder and lead designer of Tengda—and the rumored inspiration behind President Pei’s Daily Life—President Pei possesses not only a masterful touch in game design, but also a promotional genius.”
“He has a unique personal charisma that attracts countless talented individuals, who gather around him by their own volition.”
“Yet he is also a lonely genius—his ideas are ahead of their time and thus often misunderstood.”
“He is generous to his employees but extremely frugal with himself.”
“This is where dreams take flight. This… is Tengda Network Technology Co., Ltd: the utopia of China’s gaming industry!”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Shortly after this article was published, gaming media outlets began reposting it en masse.
It came off as a bit unprofessional—after all, the article contained no verifiable sources, no images, and no concrete evidence.
In short, it was a textbook example of a “three-no” product:
No data. No visuals. No verification.
Yet despite everything, major gaming media outlets kept re-sharing the article—and below these reposts, the comments from netizens exploded!
Because articles about Tengda were just that rare!
Ever since the releases of Ghost General and Ocean Fortress, Tengda had already gained a reputation as a promising game development studio. But it was still shrouded in mystery, never fully stepping into the spotlight of public attention.
Even many insiders in the industry found Tengda to be an enigma. Even local game companies in Jingzhou had almost no knowledge about it.
So despite being a "starts with no pictures, content seems entirely made up" kind of piece, the fact that it came from Playtime Weekly, a fairly reputable domestic gaming media outlet, gave it some degree of credibility. As a result, the article instantly sparked heated online debate!
“This is just pure flattery from top to bottom! Feels like this mysterious Tengda boss has become the last hope of China's game industry. Don’t tell me Playtime Weekly is selling out now too?”
“No way—if this was a paid piece, wouldn’t they have included pictures and data? The vagueness of it all makes it feel too weird for a sponsored post.”
“Why are you all talking about whether it’s paid or not? We should be discussing how credible the article actually is. Any industry insiders care to share what parts are true?”
“That whole part about a ‘genius ahead of his time’ sounds exaggerated to me. And the bit about him being generous to employees but super frugal to himself? Yeah, not buying it.”
“But can we really say it’s exaggerated? I mean, Game Producer does feel pretty ahead of its time…”
“I am an insider at Tengda. I guarantee you, everything in that article is true!”
“I’m the owner of the dumpling shop right across from Tengda’s building. Tengda employees eat at my place all the time. I can confirm—it’s all true!”
“I’m the security guard in the building next to Tengda. I confirm it too!”
“Let me spill some tea. Ever seen President Pei’s Daily Life? Yep—that guy playing President Pei? That’s actually the real boss of Tengda!”
“Why is the acting in President Pei’s Daily Life so good? Because the real boss is playing himself—believe it or not!”
“Okay, now it’s getting ridiculous. Everyone’s just throwing nonsense now. There’s no way Tengda’s boss is that young.”
“Exactly. This feels like an insult to my intelligence.”
“Still, the ‘based on real events’ part is probably true. I’m gonna go rewatch President Pei’s Daily Life a few more times!”
“I’m heading to the comment section of President Pei’s Daily Life to promote Game Producer! Everyone, like my comment so I can get top post!”
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