"Your suggestion is invaluable; we shall prioritize it in our internal discussions," Fu Zan replied, seizing the moment.
The car doors slammed shut, and two black Santanas eased into the flow of the main thoroughfare.
Fu Zan stood on the curb, watching the taillights dissolve into the evening traffic, and raised a hand to rub his cheeks vigorously.
The early summer breeze drifted past, heavy with the scent of exhaust.
With millions in foreign capital secured and the personal endorsement of city leadership, Mercury Technology had finally taken firm root this day.
Secretary Chen's counsel continued to echo in his mind: establishing a Party branch and cultivating key personnel as members was the prudent course—it would spare them a great deal of hardship in the future.
A technological moat, reinforced by a political one; securing both is the only path to enduring success.
Suddenly, the second-floor window swung open.
Old Zhang leaned precariously halfway out, still clutching the oversized, borrowed leather shoes, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Old Fu! Is he gone yet? My toes are being rubbed raw!"
Immediately, several heads crowded into the window frame; one man, his face flushed with excitement, gripped an unlit cigarette between his lips.
"Stop hollering and come down here to help with the move!" Fu Zan looked up and retorted. "Go fetch the bedding from the storage room."
"We're heading to the seafood restaurant across the street for a feast tonight—the company is picking up the tab!"
An uproar that nearly lifted the roof erupted from the floor above.
The "Fortune" private dining room, tucked away on the second floor of a seafood restaurant in Fuzhou's Cangshan District, was a cacophony of deafening noise.
The glass turntable at the center of the expansive round table groaned under the weight of steamed grouper, boiled tiger prawns, and cockles drizzled in scallion oil.
A scattering of empty Snow beer bottles littered the floor.
Old Zhang, glass in hand, was locked in a drinking game with several programmers; each time a loser was forced to tilt their head back and drain their beer, the room erupted in a chorus of jeers.
The atmosphere was heavy, saturated with the pungent mingling of cigarette smoke and alcohol.
Fu Zan unbuttoned his collar, snatched a freshly opened pack of Zhonghua cigarettes from the table, and pushed his way out. At the end of the corridor, a window stood half-open, inviting in an early summer breeze that helped to dissipate the haze of his tipsiness.
Fu Zan leaned against the windowsill, drew a cigarette, and held it between his lips. Just as he reached for his lighter, he heard the sharp click of a flint nearby.
A flame was offered toward him.
Fu Zan turned his head to find Lin Yaonan, the legal supervisor the company had recruited from Taiwan.
"Supervisor Lin, are you out here hiding from the drinks, too?" Fu Zan leaned in to light his cigarette and took a long drag.
Lin Yaonan pocketed his lighter after lighting a cigarette for himself. "It's far too boisterous inside. My tolerance simply cannot keep pace with you coders." He spoke Mandarin with a faint Minnan lilt, his tone measured and unhurried.
The two stood side by side, gazing out into the night.
The cityscape of 1990s Fuzhou could hardly be called bustling; only a few motorcycles and Xiali taxis drifted by beneath the streetlights.
"You've put in a tremendous amount of work over the past year or so," Fu Zan remarked, exhaling a plume of smoke. "When we first began collaborating, Old Zhang and the others spent no small amount of time complaining behind your back that you were making a mountain out of a molehill."
Lin Yaonan chuckled. "I can certainly understand that. When I first arrived in Fuzhou and reviewed your development materials, my scalp went numb.
That soundtrack had been lifted straight from Hong Kong and Taiwanese martial arts dramas, and that monster model—you lot had simply changed the color and tried to pass it off as original. Had I not put a stop to it, even if you had managed to finish the game, Sega's legal department would have sued you into bankruptcy."
"That's true enough," Fu Zan admitted, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Back then, no one was happy; they felt you were too pedantic and were merely hindering our progress. Looking back, however, you steered us clear of the most dangerous minefields. The fact that 'The Legend of Erlang' was able to launch in Japan and North America without a single copyright challenge—you deserve every bit as much credit for that as Old Zhang and the rest of the team."
"I am simply being paid to do a job," Lin Yaonan said, waving a hand dismissively. "Zhongshan Special Affairs provides my salary, so I must earn my keep. You lot are diligent and possess a remarkable capacity for execution. Had this been the team over in Taiwan, they would have resigned long ago after being forced to redo their work as many times as I have required of you."
The atmosphere remained harmonious.
Fu Zan recalled the remark Deputy Director Liu had made before departing that afternoon and seized the opportunity to broach the subject: "Supervisor Lin, I have an idea and would value your professional opinion. The city officials who inspected our progress today suggested that for our next game, we might consider a Mazu theme. Mazu culture has a robust foundation, both here in Fujian and among the overseas Chinese community. From a legal standpoint, do you foresee any copyright risks with such a theme?"
Lin Yaonan's fingers, which were clutching a cigarette, paused mid-air.
He turned to face Fu Zan.
"Strictly speaking, under copyright law, Mazu is a historical and mythological figure—a part of the public domain's cultural heritage. Anyone is free to create derivative works based on her; there is no question of infringing upon the rights of any specific individual or institution," Lin Yaonan explained with clinical precision. "Provided that the materials are entirely our own original work and the music and art are not plagiarized, we have a green light from a legal standpoint."
Fu Zan nodded.
This was more or less what he had anticipated.
"However," Lin Yaonan continued, his voice dropping an octave, "if you intend to sell this game—particularly the Traditional Chinese version—you must recognize that Taiwan is your primary market. Using Mazu as a central theme carries significant risks if you hope to find success there."
"What sort of risks?" Fu Zan asked.
Lin Yaonan sighed, gesturing vaguely toward the other side of the strait.
Fu Zan fell silent.
During the 1995 Taiwan Strait crisis, Fuzhou, as a frontline city, had borne the brunt of the mounting tension.
"The situation across the water is fraught with complications," Lin Yaonan continued. "Mazu commands millions of devotees in Taiwan, where thousands of temples, both grand and humble, are dedicated to her. If this were merely an ordinary game, people might play it and soon forget. But this is a product of a mainland company.
Once it gains popularity, the island's media will undoubtedly descend upon it like sharks scenting blood."
Fu Zan's brow furrowed in deep concern.
"They won't care about the quality of your game, nor will they concern themselves with the legitimacy of your copyright," Lin Yaonan said, stubbing his cigarette into the ashtray on the windowsill. "They will whip up a frenzy in the press and on television, branding it a 'cultural united front' initiative from the mainland and claiming it uses religious fervor to indoctrinate the youth of Taiwan. Once that happens, the game will be inextricably linked to politics. Distributors will preemptively pull it from the shelves to avoid any suspicion, and even the Sega Taiwan branch will find itself under immense public pressure."
Lin Yaonan fell silent.
The cigarette in Fu Zan's hand had burned down to the filter, scorching his fingers.
He tossed the butt into the ashtray.
The words struck him like a bucket of ice water, dousing the excitement that, only moments ago, had surged through him at the prospect of millions in foreign exchange.
He had initially regarded the Mazu theme as little more than a commercial venture—a project designed to appease the authorities while simultaneously capturing the market.
He had focused exclusively on development costs, copyright ownership, and distribution channels, remaining entirely oblivious to the treacherous political reefs lurking on the other side of the strait.
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon