Green plums cannot become lovers.

The game on the screen was still running, and the sound was coming from the phone's speaker. Although the sound was very soft, it was clearly audible in the quiet room.

The game's theme song was so sad that it always unconsciously stirred up memories in his heart.

Ken Ueno took a deep breath, and after a while, he turned around and walked back to the sofa, picked up the handheld console, and continued watching.

It's just a game; he has no reason to be afraid of it.

The female lead's health is deteriorating.

Her pace slowed, the intervals between her words lengthened, and she would cough lightly when she laughed, but she would still gently tell the male protagonist "It's okay" and gently comfort him not to worry.

When Ueno Ken saw this, he paused for a moment.

Then a baby's cry came from the screen.

The female protagonist gave birth to a daughter. The male protagonist held her in his arms, tears streaming down his face. His hands trembled, but he held her firmly. The female protagonist lay on the bed, her hair soaked with sweat and plastered to her forehead. Her face was as white as a sheet.

She smiled as she looked at the child in the male protagonist's arms. It was the gentlest smile Ueno Ken had ever seen, so gentle that he felt as if something had struck his chest hard.

Then, the female protagonist's hand dropped down from the edge of the bed.

Ken Ueno's eyes welled up with tears.

But he didn't wipe it away, letting the heat spread from the corners of his eyes, forming two warm streams of liquid on either side of his nose, which flowed down his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried; it was probably the day of his wife's funeral.

He never cried again after that, not because he was strong, but because he had frozen all his tears, freezing them under a thick layer of ice. As long as the ice didn't melt, the tears wouldn't flow out.

Now, a crack has appeared in the ice.

Ken Ueno placed his phone on the coffee table, leaned back on the sofa, and looked at the ceiling.

Music started playing on the screen.

It was the opening piano piece, the same melody, the same notes, but much slower, as if it were being played underwater, each note as if it had been soaked in water, heavy and sluggish.

Like the tide.

Volume 1: Chapter 290

This is not just a dating game.

Those pixels and codes don't weave fantasy, but something more real than reality itself—how a weak person learns courage through love, how a lost soul finds a reason to stand up again from the ruins.

People were amazed by the encounter between the male and female protagonists on the cherry blossom slope, they were comforted by the path they had walked together, and they were moved by their clumsy romance.

They wept for the heroine's passing, and they were even more pained by the hero's loss of his wife and then his daughter.

That kind of pain isn't like a knife that cuts right into your flesh and leaves you bloodied and mangled. It's more like salt, sprinkled on a scabbed wound. It won't draw more blood, but every grain of salt reminds you that the wound is still there.

The tragedy that follows comedy is like a silent punch to the chest. You won't scream, but you'll suddenly recall a scene in the dead of night and find your pillow wet.

As a result, after the first playthrough, the game received a flood of positive reviews across various platforms.

Almost unanimously positive reviews.

"The author has no heart, my Xiaozhu... my Xiaoxi..."

"I had a lot of fun at the beginning, I thought it was a lighthearted game, but I didn't expect it to be so painful later on. I was laughing and then I started crying. Author, do you have some kind of psychological trauma?"

"Fortunately, the ending is good. If Xiaoxi hadn't come back either, I really would have killed the author offline. Asuka, right? I've remembered you."

"This is undoubtedly a groundbreaking masterpiece. I'm not exaggerating, I'm serious. I feel like domestic manufacturers in the same field must be losing sleep. This is something they simply can't copy."

"The music is also super beautiful. When I saw the scene of Xiaoxi lying in the snow, accompanied by that piano music, my heart was really ripped out. It felt like someone reached in through the screen and squeezed my hand. Even now, when I hear that piece of music, my nose still gets sore."

"My parents both cried when they heard it."

Doesn't anyone think that my mother-in-law still retains her charm?

The comments section veered off-topic by more than thirty posts, with some debating whether "mother-in-law" or "Aunt Sanae" was a more appropriate title, others posting screenshots of Sanae behind the bakery counter, and still others marveling at how "even the supporting characters in this game are so well-developed."

But many more people simply say, without saying a word, "I understand."

The comments section is like a pot of boiling soup, where all sorts of voices are churning, colliding, and merging.

Some wrote lengthy reviews of thousands of words, analyzing the script's structure and foreshadowing resolution frame by frame; others simply posted a crying emoji, which was followed by hundreds of similar crying emojis. Some turned the game's illustrations into profile pictures, while others forwarded the character's emojis everywhere. Every day, screenshots of that round face accompanied by various strange texts could be seen in different chat groups.

This spontaneous spread was like a march without organizers or any publicity budget, starting from the social media accounts of a few core players and spreading to their friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends.

A casual viewer who never plays visual novels clicked on the store page out of curiosity after seeing a fan art posted by an artist they follow; a music fan who came purely to listen to music placed an order for the game after listening to "Nagisa" on repeat all day due to the recommendation algorithm.

Purchases have increased rather than decreased.

The curve was steep on the first day of release, thanks to the support of the core fanbase. The curve should have dropped on the second day, but it started to rise again on the third day, with an even steeper slope than the first day.

Akane Akane stared at the data dashboard on the screen, her heart beating a few beats faster than usual.

She's seen her share of hit products. Among the projects she's handled, there are those with higher sales and greater popularity.

But she had never seen this trend before. It wasn't created by massive marketing campaigns or advertising; it was created by players spreading the word one by one, like a snowball rolling downhill.

She leaned back in her chair, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

Then she turned her head and glanced at the boy sitting on the sofa.

An and Asuka were also looking at the computer, but not at sales data; instead, they were looking at a long review written by a player.

Akane Akane suppressed the surging excitement in her heart, like pressing the cap back onto a shaken bottle of soda.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"I can only say it was expected."

Anhe Feiniao scrolled to the bottom of the long review and turned to the next page, speaking in a flat tone.

Akane Akane shook her head, both amused and annoyed by his expression.

"Look how smug you are."

“I’m not smug.” An and Asuka finally raised their heads, their expressions so innocent they didn’t seem like acting. “I’m telling the truth.”

"Truth my foot." Akane Akasaka chuckled, pulled a tissue from the table, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it over. The tissue ball traced a crooked parabola through the air, landed on Anwa Asuka's keyboard, bounced once, and rolled to the floor.

Akane Akane couldn't hide the joy in her eyes.

She decided to stop pretending. What was the point of putting on an act in her office in front of a young man? She turned her chair around halfway, facing the sky outside the window, and let the smile on her lips widen for a moment.

This boy was like a mine she thought had been completely exhausted. Every time she thought, "That's about enough, we have everything we need," he would dig out a new vein deeper inside, with ore of better quality and higher purity than before.

She had already started planning for the future.

It's not just a game, not just an IP—it's the entire team of this young man. They will leap from a "fan community" to an "industry upstart," publishers will proactively approach them to discuss cooperation, and investors will line up at their door with checkbooks in hand.

She will shield them from the unsuitable things and keep only those things that can truly help them; she will help them go further than they can imagine.

The future looks bright!

"Sister Zhu Yin looks very happy."

An and Asuka's voices came from the sofa, tinged with a teasing smile.

"Of course I'm happy."

Akane Akasaka turned her chair around to face him, placed her hands on the armrests, and readily admitted, "It's because you gave me such a big surprise."

She wasn't afraid to show weakness in front of him. This boy had seen her even more unguarded, the way she rubbed her temples in front of the screen, the way she curled up on the sofa when her stomach hurt. In front of him, she didn't need to put on airs as "President Akasaka".

"There will be even more surprises to come."

"Oh?" Akane Akasaka's eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her clasped hands. "You mean we're going to make a new game?"

An and Asuka pondered for a moment, then unconsciously tapped the keyboard twice.

"It's highly likely that we'll have to wait a long time. In any case, it's impossible for it to happen again in the short term."

"Huh?"

Akane Akasaka sprang up from the back of her chair and sat up straight.

She blinked, thinking she had misheard. What time was it? Clannad was at the peak of its popularity, with critical acclaim, sales, and buzz all soaring. Any company would be striking while the iron was hot—sequels, spin-offs, ports, merchandise—opening up every possible avenue for monetization.

This is common sense.

"Why?" she asked earnestly, without any questioning tone; she genuinely wanted to know the reason.

"Because, in essence, our club is a music club."

An and Asuka closed the laptop screen and turned to look at her. The light from the window fell on his face, illuminating his expression clearly. This wasn't just a casual remark; it was a decision made after much deliberation.

"Music is the essence. Games are just a product for leisure time."

Akane Akasaka opened her mouth, then closed it again.

A word to awaken the dreamer.

She almost forgot about this: two years of collaboration, three games, and phenomenal sales figures made her reclassify him in her mind from "musician" to "game producer."

"So, are you planning to focus solely on music from now on?"

"No."

An and Asuka shook their heads, a slow curve forming at the corners of their mouths, as if they were smiling, or perhaps keeping each other in suspense, or maybe both.

"I plan to enter the light novel industry."

"what?"

Akane Akane was stunned for a while. After confirming that she hadn't misheard, she reached out and placed the back of her hand on An and Asuka's forehead.

The temperature felt on the skin is normal, not hot.

"you are sick?"

No, I'm serious.

An and Asuka took her hand off her forehead and placed it on their knees, rubbing her hands, which were stiff from typing for a long time.

Akane Akasaka stiffened for a moment, but ultimately did not withdraw her hand. She simply tried to ignore the boy's actions and focused her attention on his face.

Those deep brown eyes held no joking light, no probing glint, only a calm that only appeared at certain crucial moments.

"You..." She paused, her tone becoming very serious, "Why did you suddenly do this?"

Every industry is like a different world; having worked in this field for so many years, she's seen far too many failed attempts to cross over.

Musicians make games, game developers write novels, novelists make movies—everyone thinks they're an exception before they start, and every one of them finds they're not after they finish.

"Because I can't always let everyone indulge my whims."

An and Asuka spoke in a very soft tone, but Akane Akane could tell that the softness was not a sign of disrespect, but rather another way of expressing seriousness.

"The reason this game was completed is due to everyone's joint efforts, not just my efforts alone."

Whether it's the senior student, Eriri, or Ai, Shizuka, and Marina, they all put in a lot of effort for this game, especially during the summer when he was away, they were particularly busy.

They silently shouldered all those trivial matters one by one, but no one complained to him, no one boasted to him, and no one even mentioned it to him.

But he knew it was exhausting.

"So... it's time to give them a break. And I'll switch to a different track, a slower pace, less pressure, so we can all do something fun together."

Akane Akasaka listened in silence for a while before continuing.

"But changing careers is very difficult."

She wasn't being pessimistic, because that's simply a fact.

Is it difficult?

Anhe Feiniao smiled slightly.

"Sister Zhu Yin, don't forget that I started out as a musician."

Akane Akane was stunned.

She looked at his smiling face, at the calm confidence in his eyes—not arrogance, not ignorance, but a composure that had already proven itself elsewhere.

Yes, this person has been a crossover from the very first day he entered this industry.

Starting in the music industry with no prior experience in game development, he managed to create a game despite having an inexplicable confidence.

Moreover, the products they produced weren't half-baked; they were treasures that sent shivers down the spines of the entire industry.

Is it true that different professions are like different worlds?

He had crossed this mountain once before.

"Don't jump to conclusions."