The group interview, also known as the “leaderless discussion,” is a common assessment method in both university club recruitments and corporate hiring. Its core lies in unifying diverse perspectives to form a cohesive team proposal.

An individual’s contribution—whether they facilitate teamwork, add value, or leverage their competitive edge—becomes a key determinant of success.

In his past life, Mei Fang had loathed this format. As an introverted otaku, the pressure of articulating ideas amidst assertive peers often left him tongue-tied.

Moreover, such settings inevitably rewarded dominance over substance. Those who spoke loudest and fastest, regardless of merit, easily seized leadership.

Like his past self, ordinary candidates frequently succumbed to groupthink, suppressing their insights to avoid conflict—resulting in wasted potential and derailed careers.

His spontaneous decision to re-experience interviews today served dual purposes: revisiting past frustrations and pinpointing where he’d faltered.

After brief preparations, Mei Fang’s group was formed—seven applicants vying for game planner roles (4 men, 3 women). The session began with two-minute self-introductions: names, schools, favorite games.

When his turn came, Mei Fang rose:

“Hello everyone, I’m Zhang Ming, a freshman in Pengcheng University’s Game Design program. I’ve played extensively and have been crafting game demos since childhood.”

He paused, then—with deliberate mischief—added:

“I’m also Yuanyuan and Young Miss’s superfan! Been following them since their debut!”

Though Xia Yuan and Lin Youxi were now public figures, their status as company founders made most applicants tiptoe around overt fandom, opting for respectful admiration instead. Mei Fang’s bold declaration turned heads.

This kid… really leaning into the ‘Station Master’ cosplay!

The interviewers remained neutral. HR Chengzi projected the discussion topic:

[If Yuanxi Interactive’s debut title Early Bird were to receive a sequel, what gameplay innovations could replicate its original success?]

Early Bird, conceptualized during Mei Fang’s elementary years but launched in middle school, had capitalized on the smartphone boom, netting nearly 2 million yuan.

As CStation’s early financial lifeline (covering bandwidth and operational costs), its legacy was enshrined in company lore.

Though its heyday had passed, Chengzi briefly demoed its simple tap-to-fly mechanics for context. Candidates were given five minutes to brainstorm.

Most immediately scribbled tree diagrams—clearly prepped. Only two girls watched the demo intently. Chengzi circled the room, observing.

When she reached Mei Fang—idly spinning his pen while people-watching—she frowned.

No notes? Overconfident… or just nervous?

Her confusion deepened as two senior staff entered:

• Xiye, lead designer of Coconut Studio
• Baige, HR veteran since Jiangcheng days

Baige immediately noted the discrepancy: “Why only six resumes?”

“Ah… one applicant forgot theirs,” Chengzi admitted.

Baige pulled her aside, whispering sharply:

“Printer’s right there! Did you even verify his screening status? Could be a professional interviewee.”

“I—he seemed earnest, so I let him proceed…”

Xiye, meanwhile, had been squinting at Mei Fang’s back. Recognition dawned. Meeting Mei Fang’s gaze—and his shh gesture—he hurried over.

“No need for verification.”

“You know him?” Baige asked.

Xiye massaged his temples. “Just… look.”

Baige’s face drained of color upon identification.

“…Didn’t onboarding train you to memorize the big trio’s faces?”

Chengzi returned to the group visibly shaken, voice quavering:

“T-time’s up! Ten-minute free discussion begins now.”

A confident male applicant seized initiative:

“I’ll be timekeeper to ensure equal speaking opportunities. Any objections?”

With none raised, the debate erupted. Proposals piled up—visual upgrades, power-ups, level variety—all adding complexity to Early Bird’s core.

Mei Fang observed silently until his turn:

“Everyone’s points have merit, but I’d like to reframe Early Bird’s success context.”

“It emerged during smartphones’ infancy—when Facebook-like platforms craved shareable content. Its genius wasn’t depth, but social virality.”

“Helicopter games existed since Symbian days. Early Bird simply exploited sharing mechanics.”

“But three years later, the digital landscape has matured. While new social games will emerge, betting on Early Bird+ feels… questionable.”

His dissent provoked immediate pushback:

“We’re tasked with sequel strategies, not debating its viability!”

“Brainstorms thrive on dissent,” Mei Fang countered. “If your boss assigns an impossible task, do you blindly comply?”

The timekeeper intervened: “Free discussion phase now. No turns.”

Another applicant conceded: “He’s right… the prompt might be a trap.”

A bespectacled girl nodded. “So do we present a rejection?”

“Not without alternatives,” Mei Fang clarified. “Professionals must pair critiques with solutions.”

The initial critic backtracked: “Exactly! We could reinvent the sequel entirely—”