"The Managing Director said you're under my supervision this week," Shimizu said, pulling his legs down from the desk. He gestured toward the mountain of files in the corner and several debug machines running gibberish code. "First, you'll be working with us to run the texture error logs for Gundam Battle Operation as we port it from the Model 2 board to the Jupiter architecture. Get familiar with the environnt."
Fu Zhan stared at the screen, where lines of 3D polygon data scrolled wildly, interspersed with lighting rendering code he'd never seen before. He felt completely lost.
The "modding" they'd done in Fuzhou had been nothing more than patching existing code for the Famicom or ga Drive—like piecing together a flat, pixelated puzzle.
But this was sothing entirely new.
This wasn't "exchange and cooperation"; it was like being thrown from middle school straight into a calculus class.
For the next two weeks, these programrs, once hailed as "tech gurus" in mainland China, were reduced to re errand boys under Shimizu's command.
Though they didn't have to serve tea, they were kept constantly busy with various tasks.
This high-intensity industrial developnt process struck Fu Zhan like a hamr blow, shattering his nascent pride.
He had witnessed firsthand how this group of people had magically squeezed the massive arcade ga Gundam Battle Operation into that black Jupiter box, and the graphics had barely suffered.
This technological gap couldn't be bridged by re late nights and sheer grit.
When the Gundam Battle Operation port was nearing completion, Shimizu called a brainstorming session for the new project and specifically invited Fu Zhan's team to observe.
The conference room was thick with cigarette smoke, but these usually laid-back guys' eyes lit up when they started discussing the new ga.
Fu Zhan sat in a corner, notebook in hand, his pen hovering over the page for a long ti, unable to write a single word.
He suddenly understood Takuya Nakayama's intention in bringing them here.
This wasn't just training; it was a silent demonstration.
By showcasing Sega's core strengths, Nakayama was telling them: Don't think you've made it just because you've earned a little money. In the face of next-generation ga developnt, you haven't even touched the doorknob.
This experience allowed Fu Zhan and his team to understand the operational model of the developnt departnts in top-tier global ga developnt companies. It also gave them a clearer grasp of the gap between next-generation ga developnt and their own previous work.
On the last day of their training period, the air in the Third Developnt Departnt finally shed its lingering tar-like odor, replaced by the restless energy of packing.
When Takuya Nakayama pushed the door open, Fu Zhan was directing his subordinates to cram stacks of notebooks filled with notes into their travel bags.
These Fujian n had endured half a month in Tokyo, almost losing the will to care for their clothes or hair. Yet their spirits burned like steel tempered in fire, exuding the fierce determination of hungry wolves.
At the sight of Takuya Nakayama, the technicians who had been packing froze mid-action. Then, as if jolted by electricity, they sward around him in a flurry.
"Mr. Nakayama!"
The greeting was so warm, it even carried a tremor of emotion.
In their eyes, this man was not just a Sega executive. He was a living bodhisattva who had rescued them from the brink of collapse at the Fuzhou Software Center, a god of wealth who had pointed them toward the golden path of the "Learning Machine."
One young man, flustered, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a copy of [ Gundam Battle Operation ], specially burned by Developnt Team 3 and already tested and approved. This was a commorative gift from their onboarding training, a disc that held the fruits of their labor in fixing bugs. As he held out the pen, his hand trembled, looking less like soone eting their boss and more like soone about to et Michael Jackson.
"Don't be nervous, I don't bite."
Takuya Nakayama, without putting on airs, uncapped the marker and signed with a flourish.
He signed his na beneath the logo on the disc case and drew a simple Pikachu head beside it.
"Don't try to sell it. My signature isn't worth much now, but in ten or twenty years, this disc might be enough for a good al."
The group burst into laughter, instantly easing the tension.
Fu Zhan stood at the edge of the crowd, rubbing his hands, feeling a mix of embarrassnt and awe at eting his idol.
He was also in tech. The past half-month working under Shimizu had been both exhausting and rewarding, truly making him understand what kind of colossal vessel the Sega that this young man held truly was.
The industrial pipelines and code logic, which squeezed every last drop of hardware performance, showed him what a "dinsional reduction attack" truly ant.
"So? Worth the trip, wasn't it?" Takuya Nakayama finished signing the last box of discs, capped his pen, and tossed it back to the young man. He turned to Fu Zhan.
"I'm truly impressed," Fu Zhan replied honestly, his voice full of admiration. "I used to think I was a master for being able to modify code and do all sorts of tricks with the Famicom. Now I see we have a long way to go."
Nakayama walked to the desk and casually flipped through Fu Zhan's notebook, which was cramd with sketches of polygon calculations and lighting rendering.
"You have your own talents. Don't underestimate yourself."
He closed the notebook filled with its scribbled notes and handed it back to Fu Zhan.
"Take this ho and keep it safe. It's a good starting point." Nakayama leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed. "Tickets booked? When you get back, are you planning to dive straight in and turn all those ideas in your head into reality?"
Fu Zhan took the notebook, holding it as if it were a martial arts manual.
Hearing this, he nodded vigorously, the dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights unable to conceal his excitent. "Everyone's fired up. They can't wait to fly back to Fuzhou and run Mr. Shimizu's thods on the computer. This trip to Tokyo has opened their eyes—they now realize their previous, half-baked skills just won't cut it."
"It's good to have drive, but don't rush."
Takuya Nakayama held up two fingers and waved them in front of Fu Zhan, abruptly shifting from casual chat to business mode. "As an investor and a fellow professional, I have two suggestions and one requirent regarding rcury's next steps."
The technical leads, who had been packing and joking around, froze mid-motion. They reflexively straightened their backs.
Fu Zhan's expression sharpened. He pulled out a pen, ready to take notes. "Managing Director, please proceed."
"First, don't rush into coding.
Nakayama gestured at the stack of CDs and docunts. "Sharpening your blade doesn't delay the woodcutting. For the first week back, turn off all your computers. Lock everyone in the conference room for a post-mortem."
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