Chapter 145: Comic Con

Comic conventions.
The Jerusalem of the ACG world.
And at the same time, the ultimate harvesting ground for capitalists’ chives.

In this day and age, money from the two-dimensional world is simply too easy to make.

All you need is to rent a venue at the New Sea City Exhibition Center,
hang up a few posters from popular anime,
invite a couple of small-time internet celebrities with some followers,
and find a host with a loud enough voice.

After that, all that’s left is to prepare a money-counting machine.

Countless otaku—
people who normally pinch pennies and agonize for half a day over a few yuan of delivery fees—
will scramble to hand over their cash.

Tickets costing several hundred yuan?
Buy!

Venue-exclusive merch marked up tenfold?
Grab!

Even having to pay extra red bills just to shake hands with some female guests?
No problem!

How long has it been since these otaku last touched a woman?
What’s a bit of money, anyway?!

It’s said that a certain executive from a well-known listed company once blurted out drunkenly:

“The so-called ACG demographic is, in essence, the largest reservoir of sexual repression in modern society.
And comic conventions are the floodgates.
Give them just a little sweetness, and they’ll cry as they empty their wallets.”

The words were ugly.
But there was no denying the cold-blooded insight of a capitalist behind them.

Of course, Wan Xiaohu scoffed at such statements.

“What sexual repression?
That’s longing for beauty!
Anyone who says crap like that—may their whole family die horribly!”

Today happened to be his day off.

This young policeman, who normally followed Captain Zhang into life-and-death situations,
had shed his crisp uniform and changed into a T-shirt printed with the words ‘Working means losing.’

Hanging from his neck was his new “wife”—
a Nikon Z50 tenth-generation mirrorless camera.

Caressing the fine matte coating of the camera body,
Wan Xiaohu couldn’t help letting out a satisfied sigh.

He had to admit—
as a seasoned photography nut,
sometimes he was actually a little grateful for that “Great Subsidence Event” that had reshaped the world.

Back in the day, the so-called holy trinity of camera brands
had every one of them engraved with “toothpaste squeezing” and “monkey teasing” deep into their DNA.

Every day it was either “production shortages” for hunger marketing
or “exchange rate fluctuations” to justify insane markups.

They didn’t treat consumers like people at all!

But after that geological upheaval,
those once-lofty Japanese optical giants had long since turned into dust of history.

In their place rose the aggressive power of Huaxia capital.

After the century-old Nikon brand was fully acquired by a certain “coarse-grain” domestic company,
everything changed.

What premium pricing?
What production cuts?
What crippled performance?

In the face of Huaxia’s industrial system,
it was all paper tigers!

What performance downgrades?
What high price, low specs?
What eternal toothpaste squeezing?

In the eyes of Huaxia capitalists,
photography enthusiasts were nothing but fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered.

The current model he was using came equipped with the latest sensor,
with autofocus so fast it could even capture a fly’s wings mid-flap.

Sure, sometimes it couldn’t lock onto a model’s face properly—
but that didn’t matter.

Because it was cheap.
About the same price as an ordinary smartphone.

“Heh heh… thanks to the motherland…”

Wan Xiaohu happily adjusted his settings while silently offering thanks.

“If this were twenty-something years ago,
with my salary, forget buying this body—
I’d probably need to save for two months just to afford a decent lens cap.”

He raised the camera and peered through the bright electronic viewfinder,
taking in the sea of people flooding the convention.

The lens rotated.
The focal length extended.

Clear.
Sharp.
Rich in color.

Heh heh…

The corner of Wan Xiaohu’s mouth curled into the lecherous grin unique to veteran photographers.

“Tsk tsk tsk… b—this is way too big, isn’t it?!”

Of course, he was talking about the sheer scale of the crowd.

Countless cosplayers in bizarre outfits weaved through the masses.

There were heavily armored warriors dragging chainsaw swords over two meters long, struggling just to walk.
There were bikini-clad succubi with scandalously little fabric, shivering in the cold wind.
And there was also a group of “old masters” just like him, setting up light arrays and surrounding a girl in uniform, shutters clicking like machine guns.

“Hm… so this is the ‘value’ of BW, huh?”

Wan Xiaohu swallowed.

At this scale, if a stampede were to happen…
the consequences would be—

“Pah pah pah!
Damn crow mouth!”

He quickly slapped his lips, banishing the ominous thoughts brought on by professional habit.

“Today I’m here to shoot girls!
Not to work!
No overtime!”

“Ahem… white stockings… twin tails… absolute territory…”
“I’m coming!”

Chuckling obscenely, Wan Xiaohu was just about to charge into the crowd and go on a shooting spree—

When suddenly, a deafening wave of screams erupted from the direction of the main stage.

“AAAAAAAH—!!!”

“Holy shit! Who is that?!
She’s way too accurate!”

“That expression!
That aura!
She’s basically the real thing!”

“And that Kyubey!
Is it alive?!
It’s actually moving!”

“Is this something I’m allowed to see without paying?!”

The roar was so loud it completely drowned out the theme song blasting from the venue’s speakers.

The crowd surged like iron filings drawn to a magnet, rushing madly toward that direction.
Countless flashes turned the main stage as bright as day.

“Huh?
What’s going on?”

Wan Xiaohu froze.

As a police officer, he had an instinctive sensitivity to abnormal crowd movements.

“That way… isn’t that the stage for the Phantasmic Star COSPLAY Competition?”

Standing on tiptoe and relying on his build,
he forced his way through the packed crowd, carving out a narrow gap.

His gaze pierced through layers of heads and finally landed on the center of the stage, where the spotlights converged.

In that instant, Wan Xiaohu’s pupils shrank violently.
Even his breathing stalled for half a beat.

At the very center of the stage—

A petite figure stood quietly.

It was a girl wearing a pink-and-white dress.

Her features were exquisitely delicate—
so beautiful that she looked as if she had stepped straight out of an anime.

It wasn’t just her face.
Her outfit was a one-to-one replica.

Layer upon layer of lace skirt bloomed like flower petals, wrapping her slender figure.
Two pink twin-tails draped softly over her shoulders, swaying gently in the stage breeze.

In her hands, she held a long rose bow.
Its body was crystal-clear, as if carved from pink crystal.

Under the spotlights, the weapon refracted a dazzling, mesmerizing sheen.

Even from dozens of meters away, Wan Xiaohu could feel the something flowing across it—

“This prop…”
“…is insane.”

Wan Xiaohu clicked the shutter like mad, tongue clicking in awe.

It was beautiful, no doubt.
But the outfit carried a subtle sense of unfamiliarity for him.

The layered lace skirt.
The slightly retro art style.
And that creature perched on her shoulder, looking like some kind of alien rabbit…

It felt familiar—
yet he couldn’t recall which new anime it was from.

“Uh… bro?”

Unable to contain his curiosity, Wan Xiaohu elbowed a nearby spectator who was watching with tears streaming down his face.

“Mind if I ask—who’s that girl cosplaying as?
She looks familiar, but I just can’t remember the name…”

The man he addressed looked to be in his fifties.
He wore a colorful T-shirt, had a paunchy build,
and his Mediterranean bald spot gleamed under the lights.

At that moment, he had taken off his greasy glasses and was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes with his shirt hem.

Hearing Wan Xiaohu’s question, the man turned around and stared at him in shock—
as if looking at an illiterate barbarian.

“Hah?!”

Even his voice trembled, from sheer indignation.

“Kid, you’re wearing such a professional camera around your neck,
and you don’t even know this?!”

“Uh… I’ve been working overtime a lot lately.
Haven’t been keeping up with new shows…”

Wan Xiaohu scratched his head guiltily.

“This isn’t a new show!”
“This is a classic!
A bible!
The Jerusalem of ACG!”

The uncle slapped his thigh in frustration, spit flying everywhere.

“This is Puella Magi Madoka Magica!
That’s Madoka—Kaname Madoka herself!
A god-tier classic from 2011!
The peak of the depression genre back then!
Do you even understand its value?!”

“2011?!”

Wan Xiaohu was stunned.

“That’s almost forty years ago!
Ancient history!”

“My god…”
“This is a real renaissance.”

While marveling, Wan Xiaohu hurriedly searched the keywords on his phone.

[Puella Magi Madoka Magica]
[First Air Date: January 2011]
[Genres: Magical Girl, Dark, Psychological]
[Synopsis: Tells the story of an ordinary middle school girl, Kaname Madoka, who encounters a mysterious creature named Kyubey…]

“Holy shit… it really is.”

Comparing the dated art style on his screen to the girl on stage—
so exquisitely detailed down to every strand of hair—
Wan Xiaohu couldn’t help sucking in a sharp breath.

“This is way too accurate, isn’t it?!
Even Kyubey’s expression is identical!
Did this girl time-travel here or something?”

The otaku uncle had already put his glasses back on, staring at the stage with rapt devotion, muttering:

“I never thought I’d live to see such a faithful Madoka at a convention…”
“This generation still has hope…”
“Wuwuwu… my youth has returned…”

Watching the man’s intoxicated expression, Wan Xiaohu couldn’t help but be infected by this nostalgia spanning forty years.

He raised his camera again, aiming the lens at that “Wei Lu.”

Although she looked nervous,
her bare-faced, jaw-dropping beauty instantly captured every otaku’s gaze.

“This trip wasn’t wasted at all.”
“To see such a beautiful girl…”
“Even if it’s a forty-year-old anime…”

“That sense of holiness…”
“…yeah, this really hits different.”

“Heh heh—might as well send these to Brother Luo.”
“He’s always saying I just waste money at conventions!”

Wan Xiaohu narrowed his eyes, finger resting lightly on the shutter.

Click—