Starting as a Manga Editor-Chapter 29: What’s That Got to Do with Me?

Half an hour later.
Tang Yao once again arrived at Building C of a certain residential complex—20th floor, outside Ou Congquan’s apartment. She rang the doorbell.
This time, the door took noticeably longer to open.
About a minute passed before the door finally opened. A man wearing round glasses, looking a bit worn out, appeared in the doorway—it was Ou Congquan’s assistant, Li Jiang.
Li Jiang held the door and his expression shifted the moment he saw Tang Yao. Then he glanced nervously over his shoulder and quickly said, “Editor Tang… this really isn’t a good time. Teacher’s in a terrible mood right now. Maybe come back a little later…”
“Is he free now? I need to confirm something with him.”
Tang Yao shook her head, seemingly ignoring his hint, and replied politely, “Please just go ask him.”
Li Jiang looked anxious, about to say something else.
“You came to laugh at me, didn’t you?”
But just then, a voice came from behind him.
Li Jiang instantly tensed up.
Tang Yao looked past him.
Standing not far away was Ou Congquan. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at her. “You were right, so you came to laugh at me, is that it?”
He looked terrible. He must’ve been fine just last night—after all, the magazine hadn’t launched yet. But in just twelve hours, he’d turned into this red-eyed, hysterical wreck.
Clearly, something had hit him hard.
So, he only appeared confident on the surface.
But in reality, he wasn’t.
He was the kind of author who wore a mask but was extremely susceptible to reader feedback underneath it all.
In fact, from what Tang Yao knew, some manga artists were specifically advised by their editors not to read social media—especially around publication days.
Because some mangaka really couldn’t handle reader feedback. They’d be thrilled by positive comments, but the moment they saw anything negative, they’d start doubting themselves. Their mental state would get rattled, and they’d unconsciously try to adjust their pacing to the criticism, which could completely throw off the original rhythm.
Sometimes, the entire storyline could collapse because of it.
And this arrogant, conceited Ou Congquan clearly belonged to that kind of artist—worse yet, the kind with zero emotional resilience.
Wait a minute…
Something occurred to Tang Yao.
After she had accepted her new role, she’d gone through Ou Congquan’s past serialized works—because she believed a responsible editor should at least be familiar with the works of their own artist.
And based on his past serials, although he could get a bit pretentious at times, most of the time he was pretty stable. His quality fluctuated—some chapters were bad, but some were great. Still, whether good or bad, he stayed within a normal range, and more importantly, he had never once taken a break. Which meant he’d never been this seriously affected before.
This was the first time.
And yet, his mental resilience was this bad…
At that thought, Tang Yao narrowed her eyes slightly.
“What’s the matter? Don’t have the guts to laugh now that you’re here to mock me?”
Seeing Tang Yao had stayed silent for a long time, only staring at him,
Ou Congquan spoke again.
“Mock you?”
Tang Yao snapped out of it and looked at his bloodshot eyes, replying with a blank face, “I would love to laugh at your ridiculously stupid plotline, but unfortunately, I don’t have the time. I’m your editor—I represent the magazine and the readers. So what? You want someone to mock you? You don’t need me for that. Just log into your own social media accounts. There’s plenty of people mocking you there.”
“…”
Ou Congquan’s eyes reddened even more. His breathing turned rapid.
Li Jiang, standing in front of Tang Yao, stared at her in shock, pupils trembling violently.
“If I wanted to laugh at you, I wouldn’t waste time showing up here. I’d just leave a comment on your account saying ‘You deserved it.’ Because you did. So why would I even bother coming to your door?”
Tang Yao continued, “So can you quit with the act already? Is the storyboard for this chapter done or not?”
“…No!”
“Then can the great mangaka finally listen to the editor now?”
“…”
Ou Congquan glared at her fiercely.
That line—it was practically identical to what Tang Yao had said the first time she came to visit him.
Only now, it sounded even more sarcastic.
But.
He didn’t see any schadenfreude or satisfaction on her face.
Just the same calm, flat expression she had the first time they met.
Ou Congquan’s expression slowly grew more complicated. After a few labored breaths, he turned and walked back inside.
Li Jiang looked at him, then at Tang Yao, unsure what to do.
Tang Yao reminded him, “Mind stepping aside, Assistant Li?”
Li Jiang hesitated for a moment, then moved to the side with a helpless smile and whispered, “Editor Tang, Mr. Ou lost his temper big time today. Honestly…”
Honestly, you shouldn’t have come.
“It’s fine.”
Tang Yao shook her head and thanked him for the concern before stepping inside.
Nothing was going to stop her from earning money to support her sister.
Once inside, she saw the living room in complete chaos—stuff thrown everywhere. The workspace opposite the living room had the floor covered in torn-up, crumpled manuscript pages. All of it was further proof that Mr. Ou had the emotional durability of wet tissue.
Also, it looked like he’d kicked out all the assistants—only Li Jiang, the chief assistant, was left.
“What do you want to say?”
In the messy living room,
Ou Congquan sat on the sofa, head lowered, hands on his forehead. He was trying to look composed, but to anyone watching, he looked completely curled in on himself, radiating despair from every pore.
Tang Yao sat down across from him, placed the documents she brought on the table, and said, “This chapter has sparked major controversy.”
But she’d barely started before—
Ou Congquan snapped his head up and glared at her. With his bloodshot eyes and drooping mouth, he looked both bitter and terrifying. “You came here just to tell me that?”
“What else?”
Tang Yao stared right back, unfazed. “Came to say it’s not your fault? That reader feedback doesn’t matter? Why don’t you check your own social media? If you want people to blow sunshine up your *ss instead of solving the issue, go call Ding Yilong—he’ll fluff your ego as much as you want.
If you want to play ostrich, don’t sit here pretending. Go lie in bed, pull the covers over your head, and pray for divine intervention.
You’re already in this s**tshow of a situation and you still want to posture? You won’t even listen? I barely opened my mouth and you’re already like this? What, did the editor offend your royal highness?”
“…”
Ou Congquan was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling like he’d just been slapped.
But soon, his breathing started to calm down… and he lowered his head again, curling up.
Truth was—
The only reason he let Tang Yao in…
Was because he didn’t know what to do anymore.
His mind was a mess.
And the only one who had shown up during this mess was the editor he’d always looked down on.
He wanted to fix things. He just didn’t know how.
And right now, the only person he might be able to rely on…
Was the editor.
“I’ve got issues with you editors.”
Ou Congquan kept his head down, staring at the table’s reflection. His voice was low. “That last arc got screwed up because of one of you.”
“The summer break arc?”
Tang Yao narrowed her eyes.
“…”
Ou Congquan stiffened. He hadn’t expected her to name the arc so quickly.
But he soon calmed down again.
“Back then, that editor told me my work was too repetitive—same things over and over. Said a world with supernatural powers couldn’t exist without some sort of official authority. Suggested I try adding political drama… I saw some readers say the same thing, and he even brought me reference material, so I gave it a shot.
But that guy—he kept saying stuff like that, but every time I finished a draft, he’d nitpick: ‘This part won’t work.’ ‘That’s too sensitive.’ ‘This one’s too extreme for serialization.’ In the end, he made me change it again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and AGAIN!!
By the time I was done, I didn’t even know what the f**k I was drawing anymore! Readers tore me apart!
And that guy! That editor! After making a complete mess of my series, he just bailed! Left me all alone to clean up the wreckage!
Editors, huh! Useless.”
“…”
Tang Yao was now certain. This guy was exactly the type to be heavily influenced by others.
Anyone with a shred of backbone wouldn’t have followed that previous editor’s crap.
Official authority? Political drama? What the hell does that have to do with your story?
And now she understood why he was so hostile to her input.
But still—
Tang Yao stared coldly at Ou Congquan. “So? What the hell’s that got to do with me?”
“You’re another editor recommended by Ding Yilong.”
Ou Congquan slowly raised his head. “He said you looked obedient… Your Chief Editor sure knows how to pick ‘em.”
He gave a twisted smile. “Obedient, huh.”
“So that’s your excuse?”
Tang Yao’s tone turned even colder. “You take it out on the next editor down the line?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Ou Congquan’s bloodshot eyes locked onto her. “You’re just like that other editor! Came in and started talking about revisions! Acting like you understand the story better than the mangaka! Don’t forget—it’s me doing the drawing, not you people!”
“Then what, you don’t know how to talk? You mute?”
Tang Yao stared him down. “And what exactly did I suggest you draw? All I said was this chapter’s pacing was a mess—too jarring, too forced.”
“How’s that any different?”
“How’s it different? Did you even read the proposal I gave you?”
“…”
“So you didn’t, huh.”
Tang Yao saw his silence and figured it out. “Why wouldn’t you even glance at it? Afraid it might influence you?”
He still didn’t respond.
“Thought so.”
Tang Yao shook her head. “How utterly stupid.”
“What did you say!?”
Ou Congquan’s expression froze. He leaned forward, eyes wide like a beast ready to pounce.
“I said you’re stupid.”
Tang Yao’s face didn’t even flinch. “You take every bit of reader feedback to heart, but completely ignore your editor’s notes. All because of that ridiculous excuse. You caused a sh*tstorm over this, when you’re a big-name mangaka swimming in royalties. And you’re acting like some puppet on a string—with zero judgment.
No, it’s worse—you don’t even have the guts to make judgments. You’re over fifty, but you act like a grade schooler. Your reasoning is juvenile and pathetic.”
“You—!”
Ou Congquan was beyond furious. “What the hell do you know!? You came here just to laugh at me, didn’t you!? You happy now!? Yeah, I f***ed up! I was wrong! You satisfied now!? But do you even know what the readers are saying? Do you know why I even wrote that arc!? You don’t even know what I’m drawing, and you’re here trying to lecture me!?”
His voice echoed through the living room.
Meanwhile, Li Jiang—carrying a tray of tea from the kitchen—froze mid-step.
He stared nervously at Tang Yao’s back, wondering if he should say something—
“I know.”
“You know… what did you just say?”
Ou Congquan’s fury wavered for a second. He hadn’t expected that answer.
Tang Yao looked straight at the famed mangaka and said, “You wanted the protagonist to be less perfect. You wanted to show he had flaws too, right? And through that arc, reveal each character’s inner anxieties—use it to wrap up the romantic subplot between the second male lead and the female lead. Right?”
“…”
Ou Congquan stared at the girl in front of him, eyes widening slightly as shock slowly filled his gaze.
“Denying people without understanding a thing first…”
Tang Yao noticed the surprise in his eyes and said coldly, “Does that make you feel good?”