I Became an All-round Artist

When You Rong finished reading The Death of a Small Clerk, he was already planning to recruit its author once the name was revealed. The writer’s talent was undeniable. But what he didn’t expect was that the author was none other than Chu Kuang—the very person Tribe had snatched from under his nose!

The realization left You Rong fuming, eyes wide in disbelief, as if someone had stolen from him. However, as the editor-in-chief of Fun Reads, he quickly regained his composure: “I’m going to get him back.”

You Rong was determined. Chu Kuang had now been recognized by the short story community—not just a newcomer with potential, but a rising star, a genius already showing his brilliance in the field.

And he wasn’t the only one who wanted to sign such a talent. Major publishing houses in Qinzhou were also stirring, for competition in this industry had always been fierce. A genius like Chu Kuang was bound to attract attention from all directions.

However...
These publishers didn’t yet have a way to contact Chu Kuang. Tribe had the advantage of their platform—after all, every Tribe account was linked to a phone number, so they could easily reach out to him through that.

You Rong was confident that Tribe wouldn’t be foolish enough to share Chu Kuang’s information.
But secrets never stay hidden for long. The industry had ways of finding people, and eventually, the bigger publishing houses would track down Chu Kuang. For now, though, he could only delay the inevitable as long as possible.

At least, for the moment, Tribe was the only serious competitor for Chu Kuang, which offered some comfort to You Rong.

Meanwhile, over at Yinlan Library’s Fantasy Fiction Department, there was also buzz about Chu Kuang.
Although the fantasy department didn’t handle short stories—that was the responsibility of the neighboring Fun Reads team—Chu Kuang was still one of the bestselling authors in their department, so everyone kept an eye on his latest moves.

When news spread that Chu Kuang had just won the first prize for his short story on Tribe, discussions erupted across the department.
“I didn’t know Chu Kuang was this good at writing short stories!”
“He’s incredibly talented to excel in both short stories and fantasy fiction!”
“No wonder the short story community is fighting over him—he’s absolutely worth it!”
“Even our chief editor has been singing his praises for his short story.”

As the chatter grew, one editor voiced a concern: “Is Chu Kuang going to focus on short stories from now on and stop writing fantasy?”

It was a valid worry. Chu Kuang was one of their top fantasy authors, a valuable asset to the department.
“He wouldn’t, right?” another editor, not entirely convinced, shook his head. “Short stories are much shorter than fantasy novels. There’s no way they make as much money.”

“Money?”
Yang Feng, the editor in charge of Chu Kuang, suddenly looked up and said sharply, “Do you really think Chu Kuang cares about money?”

Silence fell across the department. Everyone knew Yang Feng was right.
Indeed, Chu Kuang didn’t care about money.
He had no interest in it.

This was something the entire fantasy department had accepted as fact. If Chu Kuang had been money-driven, he wouldn’t have ended Prince of Tennis so abruptly.

Everyone knew that for a bestselling novel, the longer it ran, the more royalties it generated. Once a story concluded, the royalties would drop off a cliff within months.

But two weeks ago, Chu Kuang submitted the May manuscript for Prince of Tennis—the final chapter.

Yes, that’s right. Tomorrow, May 1st, the final chapter of Prince of Tennis would be officially released. The marketing slogans had already gone out—
Chu Kuang hadn’t written a single word more than planned!
He stuck to his original outline, finishing the entire story in just around one million words, wrapping up what had become an immensely popular novel.

His decisiveness shocked even the editors, who wished they could keep writing it for him!
With the novel’s current momentum, every additional word could have brought in piles of money!

To put it bluntly, if Chu Kuang had been willing to drag out Prince of Tennis, even if the quality of the story declined, readers would still have kept buying it.
After all, many readers were already hooked, and unless he completely ruined the story, they would keep following along—complaining perhaps, but still paying.

This was the hard-earned experience of the editorial team after years in the industry.
And they were certain Chu Kuang understood this as well.
But Chu Kuang, being as stubborn as he was, chose to end the novel even though he knew it could still make him a fortune.

How could someone like that care about money?

After a long pause, an editor finally sighed, “I guess this is what they call a true literary spirit—creating without a focus on making money. Authors like that are rare and deserve respect.”
“Absolutely.”
“In today’s commercialized literary world, while many authors start out with dreams, few would keep writing if their work didn’t pay the bills.”
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen an author like this.”
“Most writers wouldn’t dare end a profitable series, even if they ran out of ideas. They’d find ways to stretch the story. In contrast, someone like Chu Kuang, who ends a bestseller with such decisiveness, is incredibly rare.”

Yang Feng sighed.
He admired Chu Kuang as well.
While most authors followed the mainstream trend of writing epic fantasy adventures, Chu Kuang had fearlessly chosen the niche genre of sports fiction. That pioneering spirit alone earned Yang Feng’s respect.

But admiration aside, Yang Feng was also deeply frustrated.
Chu Kuang’s decision to end Prince of Tennis was a major financial blow to Yinlan Library.

Otherwise, the chief editor wouldn’t have specifically asked Chu Kuang to extend the outline and make the story longer…

But Chu Kuang wouldn’t listen.

Yang Feng couldn’t help but recall his first interaction with Chu Kuang. At the time, he thought Chu Kuang was just a headstrong newcomer, bold and unafraid of challenges.
One day, he believed, Chu Kuang would experience the pressure of deadlines and learn the terror of editors chasing for updates.

Yet here they were.
Chu Kuang had never needed to feel that fear—he was always on time. Instead, it was the editors who were now awed by Chu Kuang’s decisiveness.

This was a man who truly treated money like dirt.
Yang Feng could only shake his head, chuckling bitterly, “He’s just too headstrong!”

The next day, May 1st, Chu Kuang’s final chapter of Prince of Tennis was released!

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