Starting as a Manga Editor-Chapter 7: An Eye for an Eye, Tenfold Payback

"Do you have any idea how much effort I put into getting that mangaka to contribute a piece!?
I used up so many connections! Drank myself sick multiple times just to rope in that big-name artist!
And you can’t even maintain the relationship!? What kind of editor are you!?"
"With all due respect, I don’t know what kind of ‘relationship maintenance’ you’re referring to.
I didn’t neglect any part of the process—initial visits, follow-ups, support—I did it all."
"Then why’d he bail!?
Isn’t it because you didn’t try hard enough!?
If the regular visits don’t work, and you notice they’re getting annoyed, then go with gifts, bring wine, kiss up!
That’s your job as an editor!
If you don’t even have that kind of awareness, what the h*ll are you even doing here!?"
"Sorry, I’m an editor, not some hired hostess."
"Then what good are you!?
What’s the point of having a pretty face if you can’t do your damn job!?"
"You sure you wanna keep talking?"
As expected.
Although Tang Yao caught Chief Ding off guard at first, he quickly recovered.
First came disbelief, then his face turned bright red, and finally, he lost all composure and started slamming the table, yelling.
The entire editorial department fell silent.
A short distance away, Kang Ming was practically trembling.
The confrontation between Tang Yao and Chief Ding was way too intense for someone like him—who’d been holed up at home for quite a while.
All he felt now was deep regret.
If only he’d bailed yesterday…
On the flip side, Chief Ding’s meltdown did confirm one thing:
The upcoming manga award was a big deal.
Even though Ding could only yell at editors, it was clear that Wenxin Press as a whole wasn’t completely brain-dead.
They had started embracing the internet.
This manga award was different from the usual rookie competitions—
Not only would the works be judged internally, they’d also be published online for free, where readers could vote.
The main goal was to boost their web platform. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of inviting veteran mangaka to contribute.
Yes.
Wenxin Press had seen where things were heading.
Though their focus still leaned heavily toward traditional print, they’d hedged their bets by launching a manga award to coincide with the launch of their online site.
And the artist Tang Yao was in charge of—Mr. Tang—was clearly brought in to ensure the event wouldn’t flop.
After all, relying solely on rookies wouldn’t generate much hype.
Big-name creators would draw in far more attention.
But Mr. Tang had bailed.
While the department had other backup plans and wasn’t relying on just one big name, the loss still hurt.
That was why Ding was so angry.
But Tang Yao felt no guilt.
She had tried to maintain the relationship.
Every time the artist mentioned a new idea or genre, she’d help gather reference material.
If it was something she could assist with, she promised to handle it—and followed up daily with calls.
She did everything she could.
But the manuscript never came.
What did come was a sudden invitation to “discuss things” at night—two nights ago.
She didn’t know what exactly he wanted to “discuss,” nor did she care.
She rejected him outright.
Not because she feared danger.
She was just afraid that she might lose control and beat the guy so badly he'd end up half-paralyzed—and she’d go to jail.
The result?
When she showed up the next day, he told her he had too much work and backed out.
Tang Yao didn’t know if Ding was aware of what kind of person Mr. Tang was.
But whether he did or didn’t, the way he was talking now made it clear: he was just as vile.
But with a replacement ready and her part of the job done, she had every right to push back.
Right now—
She narrowed her eyes and looked coldly at Ding Yilong.
"Editor-in-chief, are you sure you want to keep going?"
"…Get back to work!
If you don’t retrieve Shao Changqing’s manuscript again, don’t bother coming back!"
Ding faltered when he saw the icy glint in her eyes, but didn’t back down completely.
He shifted the focus back to Shao, shouting in frustration.
Because any further and this could officially count as harassment.
And that was a dangerous line.
Of course, just because he shut up didn’t mean he’d swallowed his pride.
He looked at the beautiful yet utterly insubordinate girl in front of him and burned with even more fury inside.
After all, what infuriates a superior more than being openly defied?
So just before Tang Yao walked away, he added,
"And that so-called 'talented' bottom-tier mangaka you mentioned—"
"Sure, they’re not famous, but the work is solid.
I’ll bring it by later—you can judge for yourself.
If you’re disappointed, then we can talk.
Right now, I’ve got work to do."
Tang Yao didn’t wait for him to finish.
She cut him off, stated her case, and turned to leave.
She’d already offered a solution.
Whether or not that creator was “bottom-tier,” he didn’t get to decide.
And she wasn’t about to waste more time.
But her attitude only made Ding even angrier.
His authority had just been publicly undermined—again.
He stared at Tang Yao’s back, and darker, uglier thoughts began to surface—ones he wouldn’t dare speak out loud.
Until—
Tang Yao sat back down at her desk, and Ding took a deep breath.
"You there—Kang Ming, right?!"
Kang Ming instantly straightened up. “Yes!”
Meanwhile—
Tang Yao, hearing Ding start barking again, felt a bit bad for Kang Ming, who was getting dragged into this.
But she didn’t have time to worry.
She threw herself back into her work.
As expected—
Mr. Ou never revised the storyboard.
He was still going to kill off the protagonist.
The finalized manuscript had already been delivered.
Tang Yao gave up.
There was no turning back now.
She stared at the train-wreck of a script, resisting the urge to shred it, and began working on the storyboard directives.
Storyboard directives were basically like a formatting guide: font sizes, typefaces, print specs, etc.
She also had to write the AORI—the tagline teaser at the end of the chapter.
Something like: “Next time: a major adventure begins!”
Even though she couldn’t understand Mr. Ou’s creative decisions, she still had to do her job.
And soon, she was fully immersed in it.
Until—
The chair at the next desk was pulled back.
“Um… thanks for yesterday.”
Tang Yao turned and saw Kang Ming—the man she’d interviewed yesterday.
He was drenched in sweat, looking like a mix of regret and post-trauma, and even his voice was cautious.
Even though he looked older than her, he acted like he was scared.
“You getting hired had nothing to do with me. I just did what I was supposed to.
…But are you regretting it already?”
Tang Yao gathered up the manuscripts on her desk and tilted her head.
“……”
Kang Ming started sweating even more, but didn’t answer.
Tang Yao didn’t press. She just smiled.
“…By the way—”
Kang Ming found himself briefly entranced by her smile—especially after what he’d just witnessed between her and the editor-in-chief.
He hesitated for a moment, then cautiously asked,
“Aren’t you afraid of p*ssing off the chief?”
“……”
Tang Yao paused, then looked back at him.
“You haven’t worked in a while, right?”
Kang Ming scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Yeah… had some health issues.
And jobs are pretty scarce right now.”
“Then this might be new to you, but listen—
Even if I’d bowed and scraped just now, kept my head down the whole time…
I still would’ve gotten yelled at.
Nothing would’ve changed.
And constantly suppressing yourself like that can seriously mess you up mentally.”
Tang Yao nodded as she organized her papers.
“Being submissive solves nothing.
The only thing you’ll earn is some pity—and that’s worthless.
You’re the only one who suffers.”
She continued,
“When you live like that for too long, you start thinking everything’s your fault—even when it’s not.
And humans are weird.
They have kindness, sure—they’ll pity the weak.
But they also have cruelty—some people just love stepping on those they think are beneath them.
What kind of person do you think our chief is?”
“Uhh…”
“I’d say he’s the second type.
If I’d lowered my head just now—even when I was right—my situation wouldn’t improve.
It’d only get worse.
Being meek just gives him permission to go harder.
That’s how I see it.”
Tang Yao placed the manuscript aside, swiveled her chair to face Kang Ming, and smiled.
“The longer you work here, the easier it is to see who’s competent, who’s a snake, who’s just coasting, and who’s an outright a**hole…
There are a lot of paths you can take.”
She leaned in slightly.
“But unfortunately, most of those paths don’t suit me.
Because of my current… situation, I can’t rely on others.”
“So—”
Her expression turned sharp.
“I’ve got no choice but to take the hard road:
An eye for an eye. Tenfold payback.”
Kang Ming: “…”
He stared at her, stunned—
It felt like she was channeling Hanzawa Naoki.
“Just kidding. It’s not that dramatic.”
Tang Yao saw his serious expression and couldn’t help but laugh.
Then, lowering her voice, she added,
“I’m just doing what I’m supposed to—
Fulfilling my responsibilities, and being assertive when I need to be.
Take Shao Changqing and Ou Congquan, for example—
I did everything I could.
I let my boss know where the real problems are.
The decisions are out of my hands now.
As for the manga award—I found a great backup.
Same deal. Responsibility fulfilled.
So under these circumstances, why should I sit around and be a punching bag?”
“…But the problem is…”
Kang Ming glanced at the manuscript on his desk, his meaning clear.
Assertiveness comes with consequences.
But before he could finish—
Tang Yao stretched and smiled radiantly.
“Then I’ll just solve those problems.”
“……”
Kang Ming stared at her face, those delicate dimples glowing.
In that moment—
Even with the age gap—
He realized this girl was way more impressive than he was.
“Hang in there.”
Tang Yao didn’t say anything else.
She’d said all that just to make up for dragging him into the mess.
After all, she didn’t want this poor guy—who’d already been to more than twenty interviews—to end up traumatized.
It was about time.
She left him with a “hang in there,” then swiveled her chair back around to finish up and get ready to head out.
At that moment—
Kang Ming’s phone buzzed.
He looked at it, immediately snapped out of his daze, and clicked his tongue.
“Man… even free games are a pain.”
Tang Yao thought he was talking to her and tilted her head. “Hm?”
“Oh, no, not you. I meant this.”
Kang Ming turned to face her and held up his phone.
“Before I got this job, I made a little online card game for my friends.
Just for fun.
But lately I’ve been neglecting it, and now the users are getting restless.
My friend asked me to maintain it, but honestly… I barely have the energy.”
“Oh?”
Tang Yao blinked, intrigued—then tilted her head slightly, looking very interested.