"Teacher..."
The phone on the desk stopped vibrating, then started ringing again.
It was still Ding Yilong.
But Ou Congquan still hadn't noticed.
When the phone stopped ringing for the second time,
Li Jiang saw that Ou Congquan was still sitting motionless and finally couldn't help calling out cautiously.
Ou Congquan came back to himself, then looked up at his chief assistant. He opened his mouth, seeming about to say something. "Was I just..."
But when the words reached his lips, he seemed to remember something and closed his mouth again.
Li Jiang, who had overheard the whole exchange, took several deep breaths before finally working up the courage to ask, "Teacher, what were you just...?"
"Nothing."
Ou Congquan didn't want to say anything more. He merely shook his head and looked at the revised draft in his hands. "It's just that I think Editor Tang was right. When all's said and done, I only feel like I've been saved... This talk of coming to my senses was ridiculous. I was just saved by an editor I'd looked down on from the start—or rather, an editor I'd never given the time of day. I'm only grateful to have survived the ordeal.
"I haven't changed at all. Even if time turned back and we went to last week, I probably wouldn't change my attitude. I'd still arrogantly tell her to get lost."
Li Jiang: "..."
He wasn't wrong.
Teacher Ou had always thought editors were more or less useless. Otherwise, he wouldn't have specifically demanded the freedom to create independently when he was poached.
In fact, the amateur editor Ding Yilong had assigned to him before had only reinforced Ou Congquan's prejudice and made him even more impatient with editors.
From the beginning, he'd believed editors were useless.
Still.
Knowing that was one thing.
At that moment, Li Jiang had no idea how to respond. Was he supposed to say... Teacher, you're right?
If he did, Li Jiang would probably have to tell people about the job he used to have...
Besides.
That should all be in the past now, right...?
Li Jiang glanced at the revised draft in Ou Congquan's hands.
Ever since a moment ago... he'd been clutching the editor's revised draft tightly.
Fortunately, Ou Congquan hadn't been trying to chat with Li Jiang. He seemed more like he was talking to himself and didn't care how Li Jiang responded.
After he finished speaking, he lowered his head again and slowly opened the revised draft in his hands. His face, made especially sharp by the downturn of his mouth, showed a hint of remorse. "My arrogant, conceited self was saved by someone—and taught a lesson, too..."
"Hm?"
Beside him,
Li Jiang, still wondering how to respond, came back to himself.
"Nothing. Go call the other assistants back."
Ou Congquan took a deep breath, then stood up from the sofa with the revised draft in hand. "I'm going to start preparing the storyboards for the next issue. I want to draw them by tomorrow if possible. Tomorrow, I'll hand them to... to Editor Tang."
"Uh, all right."
Li Jiang nodded in agreement, watching Ou Congquan suddenly pull himself together.
Ou Congquan headed for his studio, adding, "Also, sorry for the trouble, but could you ask someone to come clean the house?"
"Sure."
Li Jiang agreed again, then watched Ou Congquan enter the studio before turning back toward the door.
He could tell that his boss had pulled himself together.
Not only that, he seemed to be reflecting on his own behavior.
And all these changes were because of one editor.
Editor Tang... She really was impressive.
Li Jiang thought of that beautiful young woman, and of the way she'd looked at Ou Congquan as if he were garbage... His face suddenly flushed. Then, as though trying to hide his thoughts, he spun around and went to contact the other assistants.
Five minutes later,
Li Jiang had contacted the other assistants and the cleaner, and returned to the living room.
He was about to clear away the teacups on the table when he saw his boss sitting at the desk in the studio, studying the revised draft with utmost seriousness.
Hadn't he already read it once?
So what exactly was written on it?
Li Jiang was curious at the sight, but didn't feel comfortable asking. He could only watch from a distance as he picked up a cup.
...Wait.
A call.
Li Jiang suddenly remembered something and was just about to remind Ou Congquan.
But as soon as he looked up, he heard a phone ringing.
Li Jiang paused and looked toward the studio, where the sound was coming from. Ou Congquan had noticed it this time and raised his head.
But the instant he saw who was calling... his face darkened. Even from across the room, Li Jiang could clearly sense his disgust.
...Looks like there's no need to remind him.
Seeing this, Li Jiang said nothing more and carried the cup back to the kitchen.
Meanwhile,
Ou Congquan had said he was going to draw storyboards... but he didn't immediately start.
The revised draft not only flowed seamlessly from the existing story, it had also inspired him and given him new ideas for what came next—especially the fascinating concept of the Malice Collective.
So he was reading it for the second time, with utmost concentration.
But the more he read, the more unsettled he felt.
Just as he was getting absorbed in it, and that feeling of unease reached its peak,
his phone suddenly rang.
Though he was annoyed,
Ou Congquan still looked up.
When he saw the caller's name, he froze for a moment. Then... a surge of intense disgust rose from deep within him.
The caller was Ding Yilong.
"..."
Ou Congquan stared at the caller's name, his face full of disgust and contempt.
He knew Ding Yilong was incompetent.
The previous editor Ding Yilong had assigned had caused him a great deal of trouble. And when that editor had walked away without a care, leaving him with a mess to clean up, it had truly worn away the last of his faith in editors.
He'd always looked down on this editor-in-chief, and usually just went through the motions. But the man was still the editor-in-chief, so they'd managed to keep things more or less civil.
But that was in the past!
Tang Yao's words just now, along with the revised draft in his hands, had made him understand one thing: editors weren't all the same.
If Ding Yilong hadn't assigned that amateur editor...
If Ding Yilong hadn't later fanned the flames because Tang Yao wouldn't listen to him...
If it weren't for that idiot editor-in-chief...
Even when people realized they were wrong, most would rather believe their mistakes had been caused by someone else, that they'd been influenced by others.
At that moment,
Ou Congquan was in exactly that state of mind.
He stared at the caller's name on the screen, his anger flaring.
A long while later,
he finally managed to calm down. He picked up the phone, tapped the answer button, and held it to his ear. "Hello?"
His tone was extremely curt.
But Ding Yilong on the other end of the line didn't seem to notice. The moment the call connected, he hurriedly said, "Teacher Ou? Why didn't you answer earlier? This is Ding Yilong from the Editorial Department... I'm so sorry to disturb you. You've seen this issue of the magazine, right? I'm truly sorry about what happened. My editor—Tang Yao—caused you trouble. I'll arrange a new editor to work with you as soon as possible. But this has caused quite a stir, and it's completely unlike your usual work. I wanted to ask if Tang Yao affected your creative process.
"If she did, please be sure to tell me..."
Hearing Ding Yilong's voice on the other end, and the insinuations in his words, Ou Congquan immediately understood what was going on.
His eyes slowly widened. Then, when Ding Yilong mentioned changing his editor, he seemed to snap. Before Ding Yilong could finish, he roared, "Go fuck yourself!!!"
"...?"
Ding Yilong fell silent mid-sentence. After a long while, his startled voice came through again. "...Teacher? What did you say?"
"I said go fuck yourself!! Change my editor, my ass!!! Did you hear me?!"
Ou Congquan roared even louder. "Trying to shirk responsibility? Trying to make the editor take the fall again? Go eat shit!!!"
Ding Yilong: "..."
At the same time,
Tang Yao had left Ou Congquan's home and had no idea what happened afterward.
She didn't care, either.
She'd already accomplished what she'd set out to do.
She could tell that her revised draft had done the trick. As long as nothing unexpected happened, Ou Congquan would probably draw the story according to it.
Of course, there was still a chance he'd stubbornly refuse to change it just to save face.
But it didn't matter. If that happened, she could have Shang Tao get the higher-ups to put pressure on him... At that point, even if he cared about saving face, Ou Congquan would probably cave.
So this matter was more or less no longer her concern.
"I've finally taken care of the last thing."
Tang Yao left the luxury apartment building where Ou Congquan lived and walked to the roadside. After taking a deep breath, she raised a hand to hail a car.
She wasn't planning to go back to the office. She was going home!
The final piece was in place.
So now... all that remained was to draw the opening of Fate Zero.
After all, hadn't she worked so hard just to get Fate Zero onto this publicity bandwagon, which was attracting so much attention?
It would be pretty awkward if she got all the groundwork in place, talked everyone into it, and then failed to draw the manga.
Besides... there really wasn't much time left.
Before you continue