“Luo Ming, how are the recruitment preparations coming along?” Lin Shuwen asked, shifting the topic.
“All set. The plan you put together before was pretty much perfect—I just tweaked a few things on the programming side based on your work.”
Lin Shuwen felt a little swell of pride at that. This was her first time handling this kind of task, and getting recognition from Luo Ming meant a lot to her.
“What about you? Did you go record today? Sister Shan mentioned yesterday that the arrangement for Light Years Away was already done.”
“Yeah, I did. And I’ll be going back tomorrow. I’m planning to record all five songs that Teacher Huang gave me, and then I’ll ask him to help with the arrangement for The Original Dream too.”
“That soon?”
“We have to make the most of our time. Who knows if—or when—we’ll swap back again,” Lin Shuwen said.
Luo Ming mulled it over and figured she had a point. He nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll get on Mu’s case too and push him to get the interviews scheduled as soon as possible.”
Once business was out of the way, Luo Ming and Lin Shuwen dove into their daily study session.
Just as she’d said, there was no telling when they might swap again, so keeping up with their studies was non-negotiable.
The next morning, Luo Ming dialed Rong Mu’s number.
“Hello~” Rong Mu’s raspy voice crackled through the speaker.
“You’re still in bed? It’s already 10!”
“Not like I’ve got much going on.”
“How’s the studio registration coming along?”
“We’re both fresh grads, so it’s been processed pretty quickly. We should have the business license by tomorrow.”
“Great! And what about the recruitment?”
“As of now, I’ve received a total of 63 resumes.”
Luo Ming furrowed his brow. “Only 63?”
“It’s November, pretty much year-end. Hiring’s not exactly easy this time of year. Most people, if they’re thinking of switching jobs, would wait until they’ve collected their year-end bonus and make the move after the New Year.”
“How many of those are tech-related?”
“Nine in art-related roles, sixteen in programming.”
“Then let’s have the art candidates come in this afternoon.”
“That soon?”
“We need to get the game wrapped up before the New Year—gotta stay on top of it.” Luo Ming made up an excuse on the spot.
“Alright. I’ll leave the technical decisions to you.”
At exactly 3 PM, the nine candidates for the art team showed up at the Blaze Studio, which was still under renovation.
Among them were five women and four men—pretty typical, since more women tend to study art.
Luo Ming gathered them all in the meeting room, fired up the projector, and put up an image of the most basic zombie from Plants vs. Zombies.
“Everyone, I’m giving you half an hour to sketch this game character,” Luo Ming said without any preamble.
“Is this the actual test?” asked a short-haired woman.
“Yes.”
The room grew noticeably more serious.
Luo Ming handed out paper and pens. “It’s 3:10 now. I’ll be back to collect your work at 3:40. Don’t forget to sign your name in the bottom-left corner.”
With that, he turned and left.
The nine people in the meeting room didn’t waste a single second—they got straight to drawing.
Half an hour later, Luo Ming returned. All nine had finished.
He gathered their sketches, asked them to wait in the meeting room for a bit, and headed to the adjacent office.
“Mu, come take a look with me.”
Rong Mu nodded and sat down beside him.
“I think this one’s pretty good.” Rong Mu pulled out the second-to-last drawing.
Luo Ming glanced at it and agreed—it was solid.
Setting everything else aside, the composition was spot on, hitting all the right notes with the upper-tight-lower-loose balance. The zombie wasn’t too big, too small, or off-center—it just felt right at first glance.
“This one stays,” Luo Ming said.
They continued flipping through the rest.
The remaining eight pieces were, honestly, not bad at all. None quite matched the one Rong Mu had picked out, but they were still decent. Luo Ming didn’t have a deep understanding of art, so it took him a while to narrow it down to two more.
One of them was an almost flawless reproduction of the projected zombie.
The other had a remarkably harmonious feel—the head shape, the relationship between the head, neck, and shoulders—everything was so well-proportioned you couldn’t find a single flaw.
After that, Luo Ming called each of the nine candidates into the office one by one.
His plan was simple: when they came in, those who didn’t make the cut would be told to wait for updates, while those selected would be asked about their salary expectations and such. If everything checked out, they were in.
He put the one they’d picked first—Su Yuqing—at the front of the line.
According to her resume, she was a graduate of the China Academy of Art and had worked at an animation studio for two years.
When Su Yuqing walked in, Luo Ming noticed she was the short-haired woman who’d asked if drawing the zombie was part of the test.
“Miss Su Yuqing, hello.”
“Hello, Mr. Luo.”
“Miss Su, I see on your resume that you worked at an animation company. Is that right?”
“Yes, Mr. Luo.”
“Why did you leave?”
“The company couldn’t stay afloat and went under. You might not know much about the animation industry, Mr. Luo, but every year, a lot of animation studios shut down. Ours held on for four years, but last month, due to funding issues, we finally went bankrupt.”
“I see. Would you mind telling me what you did at your previous company?”
“Not at all. I was in charge of a key animation team. Our company had six teams total, four of which handled key animation for shows, and mine was one of them. Our last project was subcontract work for an anime from Japan—this five-minute clip is what my team produced.” She pulled out her phone and played a short anime segment.
The scene was set at the beach, with a few female characters in bikinis playing beach volleyball.
Judging by the fluidity and precision of the movements, the quality of the clip was excellent.
“Impressive. So what are your salary expectations, Miss Su?”
“At least 6k.”
“Miss Su, I can offer you a bit more than that.”
“What would you require in return, Mr. Luo?”
“I’d like you to take charge of the art department.”
“May I ask how many people you’re planning to hire this time?”
“Including you, a total of three.”
Su Yuqing paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. She’d led a key animation team before with four people under her—now it was down to two, which actually made things a bit simpler for her.
“Great, then welcome aboard, Miss Su.” Luo Ming extended his hand.
Su Yuqing shook it in return.
“Miss Su, these two are the ones I’ve picked for your team. What do you think?”
She took the two sketches, studied them carefully for a while, and said, “They look solid. You’ve got a good eye, Mr. Luo.”
