: THE MANHUA ARTIST AND HIS ASSISTANT

【 THE MANHUA ARTIST AND HIS ASSISTANT 】

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March, the season in which everything comes back to life in full bloom.

After a short Spring Festival holiday, the bustling capital of China was once again swept up in the wave of people returning to work, plunging the city into a whirlwind of hustle and bustle.

Cáo Língxuān was one of them.

As a migrant worker in Beijing three years after graduating from college, she resumed her journey of pursuing her dreams following a short vacation in her hometown.

There was no other option. With a major in fine arts and a passion for drawing manhua, her dream was to become a Manhua Artist. However, her small hometown in the province, which had limited internet access and few opportunities, was not an ideal place to pursue her ambitions.

Thus, she knew she had to leave to follow her dreams, and only a large metropolis like the capital could provide her with the opportunities she needed.

Whilst thinking about her future, Cáo Língxuān sighed softly as she walked down the bustling streets.

In particular, she had mixed feelings about the rapidly evolving digital landscape, which had greatly impacted her industry, especially with the development of the virtual network in recent years.

On one hand, the development of the internet had granted greater freedom to many freelancers like her in the entertainment industry, and the art industry had seen a significant boost in productivity thanks to the improvement of various drawing software.

As it stood, the current market was no longer the same as in the early 2000s, when artists had to sit for hours just to create a single piece.

However, not all aspects of this development were positive. While the expansion of the digital entertainment sector brought about many new opportunities and advancements, its rapid growth had also begun to overshadow traditional forms of entertainment. As more people flocked to digital platforms for their entertainment needs, the demand for physical or traditional media, such as manhuas and novels, steadily declined.

Nowadays, it was practically difficult to make a living just from drawing manhua alone unless you were a true art master.

Therefore, to capture the attention of readers amidst the overwhelming variety of entertainment options, even top-tier manhua artists had to put in their best effort to create outstanding works.

While such developments eased their workload, the mental strain that artists like her had to endure in today’s industry only increased.

In fact, oftentimes the time she spent merely brainstorming far outweighed the actual time she allocated for producing her work.

No wonder industry professionals often complained that, while things were more convenient now than ever, the stress and pressure had only intensified.

Collecting materials, conceiving ideas, and then moving on to the actual creation of the work itself…

At first glance, time seemed abundant for such tasks, allowing her to leisurely immerse herself in each phase. But in reality, no matter how much time she set aside, it always felt like there was never enough to truly complete everything to her satisfaction.

Cáo Língxuān shook her head as she entered an old-style apartment and went straight to apartment 307 on the third floor. After knocking politely on the door and waiting for a few minutes, she strangely received no response.

Frowning, she pressed her ear against the door and heard loud music coming from inside. It wasn’t exactly noise, though—it was just that the volume was turned up too high.

Honestly, it sounded rather nice now that she paid more attention to it.

It wasn’t the usual mainstream electronic music trending online, but a unique style of instrumental music. It had a hint of classical charm, mixed with an exotic feel, which easily drew one in.

Now that Cáo Língxuān thought about it, she realized she may have heard similar music before. It had started gaining popularity in smaller circles last year and was now slowly becoming mainstream. If she remembered correctly, the song was from a niche genre known as “elven style” music.

She didn’t know which genius had created this “elven style” music, but after an acquaintance recommended it, she saved a couple of tracks on her phone. Whenever she was about to tuck in for the night, she would put on her headphones and drift off to the sound of such music.

Surprisingly, it worked quite well to improve the quality of her sleep. Listening to it made her feel better…that is—as long as she didn’t read the comments section of these songs online.

Because for some reason, listening to this music seemed to elicit some strange emotional responses, especially amongst “depressed” individuals who would post sob stories in the comment section.

So, she always made sure to avoid going down to the comments whenever she listened to it.

After fixing her appearance, Cáo Língxuān skillfully retrieved a key from under a nearby flower bed and unlocked the door.

As soon as the door opened, a strong odor of alcohol mixed with a faint sourness hit Cáo Língxuān’s senses, making her scrunch up her nose in disgust.

The room beyond was dimly lit, the heavy curtains still drawn, blocking out the daylight and casting everything in shadow. The air felt thick and stale, as though it hadn’t been aired out in days. Piles of trash bags were stacked haphazardly near the door, their contents spilling over in places, adding to the clutter that overtook the small space.

It was a total mess.

Cáo Língxuān’s expression darkened.

“Ugh, why is it always like this…”

She sighed helplessly as she entered the room. Pulling open the curtains and turning off the music, she gave a solid kick to a figure snuggled up with a pod-shaped sleeping device, shouting:

“Black Cat-Laoshi! ¹ Stop sleeping! Get up!”

The figure immediately sprang up in surprise, and a slightly hoarse male voice shouted:

“Huh—wait, is today the deadline for the manuscript? I’m so close to finishing! Just one more day, please! I just need one more day!”

The man appeared to be in his thirties. Although he wasn’t particularly bad-looking, the scruffy beard, unkempt appearance, and deep dark circles under his eyes gave off the impression of someone who didn’t get much rest or care for hygiene.

He looked around with blurry eyes.

That is, until his eyes met with Cáo Língxuān.

Black Cat: “…”

Cáo Língxuān: “…”

The man cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Oh, it’s you, Little Cáo… I thought it was the editor.”

Cáo Língxuān: “…”

Penname: Black Cat, real name: Mao Mo, male, 33 years old, single.

He was a well-known manhua artist in china’s art industry, having made his debut with a manhua set in isekai fantasy genre. Although the theme was somewhat clichéd, his imaginative ideas often brought captivating, tension-filled sceneries, earning him a loyal and passionate fanbase.

Cáo Língxuān, on the other hand, was his assistant. While she helped him with his manuscript, she also learned various drawing techniques from him.

However, despite being called an assistant, Cáo Língxuān often felt more like his caretaker.

After surveying the pitiful state of the room once again, Cáo Língxuān sighed.

“Laoshi, you really should find yourself a girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Nah, who need those…Virtual games are way more fun. It’s great being alone, so free and easy.”

Mao Mo chuckled awkwardly.

Cáo Língxuān: “…”

“Come on, hurry and freshen up! From the sound of it, the manuscript isn’t finished yet? You promised the editor you’d submit it before March, and half of the month is already gone. The website’s deadline must be approaching, right?”

“W-Well, you see, the game I’ve been really interested just had its public beta open again recently! Hey, research is important too, you know! Besides, without you here, it’s hard to manage everything on my own.”

“Always with the excuses. Seriously, how old are you again? Why are you still hooked on games?”

The girl rolled her eyes before starting to clean up the mess.

The virtual world, after all, was still just that—a virtual world. Fake, fleeting, and often far removed from the realities of everyday life.

In Cáo Língxuān’s eyes, those addicted to such things were merely losers who lacked self-control and were trying to escape reality.

However, as a big shot in the art industry, her teacher Black Cat was entitled to a bit of leniency, so Cáo Língxuān didn’t push the issue.

After hearing the girl’s words, Mao Mo scratched his head and shuffled toward the bathroom in his oversized slippers.

Half an hour later…

Mao Mo, now refreshed, sat at the dining table, enjoying his takeout, while the entire room had been cleaned and tidied up thanks to Cáo Língxuān’s hard work.

However, she raised an eyebrow when she saw the second brand new pod-shaped “virtual capsule” sitting in the room.

“Laoshi, didn’t you already buy a virtual capsule just two years ago? Why did you get another one?”

Upon hearing the question, Mao Mo’s spirit seemed to perk up immediately. He quickly wiped the oil off his mouth with a napkin and said enthusiastically:

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you Little Cáo! This capsule is for you! From now on, we’ll relocate our entire office inside the ga—cough, cough, I mean, the virtual network. Plus, we can also use it to pla—uh…g-gather some research material!”

Cáo Língxuān: “…”

“You were about to say ‘games,’ weren’t you?! You definitely meant ‘play games,’ right?! Laoshi, If you spent as much time on your manuscript as you do playing games, your works wouldn’t be so hard to finish!”

“B-But gathering material is important too, you know? As a creator, you can’t just sit still in this industry.”

Mao Mo scratched his head and gave a sheepish smile.

Cáo Língxuān: “…”

Listening to his excuses, the girl’s expression darkened.

But in a way, she understood.

Indeed, research was important for any creator as inspiration often came about from life experiences or from the collision of ideas with other works. It could come from a game, a novel, a movie, and so on…

However…for this well-known manhua artist, it seemed that the time he spent playing games was just too excessive.

Cáo Língxuān still remembered when she first met him two years ago. He spent almost two-thirds of his day immersed in virtual games.

However, starting last year, surprisingly he had toned it down his addiction significantly. It was as if, overnight, his teacher had lost interest in most online games, and instead spent most of his time watching gaming videos instead.

He kept going on and on about some “masterpiece of a game” and how other games were garbage compared to it, while constantly wondering when he would get an invitation slot…

But now…was he back to his old habits?

“So Laoshi… what exactly happened?” she asked while pouring him a glass of water.

Hearing her question, Mao Mo perked up.

“Hey, Liitle Cao, guess what? I finnaly got into Elven Kingdom!”

“Elven Kingdom…?”

The name sounded familiar, but Cáo Língxuān couldn’t immediately place it.

But soon enough, the memory clicked into place.

“Oh…. isn’t that the game that made headlines last year? The one where millions applied, but only a few thousand got in?”

She wasn’t particularly interested in virtual games, but she remembered the news about it from last year since it’s rare for a game to reach mainstream virality like that.

Hmm…

Oh, right. Now that she thought about it, the videos her teacher had been obsessed with for the past year were also about this Elven Kingdom.

In fact, even the works he had been working on lately had introduced a silver-haired, purple-eyed elven girl named Everia, who worshiped the Goddess of Life…

With such similarities, she wondered if he was somehow influenced by that game.

Cáo Língxuān vaguely remembered that, at first, she had thought he was watching a movie, but when she realized it was actually game footage, she was left surprised by how realistic modern games had become.

“Ha ha, so you still remember!”

Mao Mo slapped his thigh.

“Yes, that’s the game! This time, the devs opened up 200,000 slots and I finally got one for myself! Once I finish eating, let’s go play… uh, I mean, let’s go gather some research material together inside the game!”

Cáo Língxuān: “…”

“Well, congratulations…I guess? If I’m not mistaken, the number of applicants for this game is absolutely ridiculous…Plus, how could I play it, I don’t have a slot, and the deadline is also almost coming soon. Are you sure you have enough time to finish the manuscript?”

Hearing her words, Mao Mo chuckled before speaking mysteriously:

“The manuscript? No rush…we’ll have plenty of time! Once we log into the game, you’ll understand why! And don’t worry about not having a slot either, since I’ve also bought one for you!”

“…You bought one for me?”

Cáo Língxuān was taken aback.

“Yep! Out of the 200,000 slots, 10,000 were pre-allocated and are available for purchase. Thankfully I got lucky and managed to secure two for ourselves.”

“You have no idea how crazy it was to get these! I spent several nights refreshing the page again and again. It was only after so many attempts that I finally managed to secure these two slots. So many people couldn’t even get through! I don’t know why the devs made their game so great but left the official website such a mess…”

Mao Mo complained.

He looked quite proud, not like a man in his thirties, but more like a child who had just gotten his favorite toy.

Cáo Língxuān: “…”

She now had a pretty good idea of why he looked so sleep deprived. So it turned out, he had been staying up all night refreshing that website for days?

She shook her head.

This guy is a lost cause…

However, she didn’t dare ask about the price of those slots…

After all, concert tickets for popular singers can be scalped for outrageous prices, so a virtual game with millions of applicants and only a few thousand slots must have had even more ridiculous prices for those pre-purchased slots.

Nonetheless, seeing how much effort he had put into this, she now felt a little reluctant to refuse…

Cáo Língxuān sighed inwardly.

Well fine…she’d just go along with it and help him with his supposed research or whatever, since he was both her teacher and her boss.

“Alright, Laoshi, I’ll join you, but you have to promise it’s just for research and you won’t get addicted! And most importantly…you have to remember to finish the manuscript! I’m going to let you play for a bit but be sure to get back to work! Otherwise, I’ll call the editor and have someone else take over, okay?”

Mao Mo’s expression shifted slightly:

“Don’t…don’t call the editor! Okay, okay, let’s just play for a bit and gather some research materials. As for the details… let’s talk about it once we’re inside the game!”

Satisfied with his promise, Cáo Língxuān nodded.

Once Mao Mo finished his meal, and after some prodding from him, Cáo Língxuān reluctantly laid down in the brand new virtual pod.

The game had already been installed by Mao Mo, and following his instructions, Cáo Língxuān softly whispered:

“Launch the game — Elven Kingdom.”

As soon as she finished speaking, a pleasant female voice echoed in her ears:

【

】

【Game connection successful…】

【Loading game…】

【Loading complete.】

Accompanied by the soft chime of the system, a familiar melody began to play. As the soothing, beautiful music filled her ears, Cáo Língxuān froze in surprise.

“…Emerald Forest?”

The game’s BGM was definitely the same song listed on the top track on the Elven-style genre music download chart. It was called Emerald Forest and coincidentally, also the song from her phone’s playlist which she often listened to as she drifted off to sleep.

Its light, graceful melody made one feel as if they were running through a beautiful forest or drifting through a magical fairyland…

However Cáo Língxuān never imagined that she’d hear this familiar tune the moment she logged into this game!

In fact, considering the name of this game…

In an instant, a lightbulb went off inside her mind.

“Elven Kingdom, elves, elven-style music…”

“W-Wait… Could it be? The music I’ve been listening to… is it actually from this game? The elven-style songs I’ve been listening came from Elven Kingdom? So you’re telling me, the developers of this game actually created a whole new genre of music?! No way, are they a game company or a music company?”

At this moment, Cáo Língxuān was truly surprised.

No, it was more than just surprise. As someone who had studied music, she truly understood how difficult it is to create a whole new, popular genre of music!

Even now, she still couldn’t figure out what instruments were used to play elven-style music and had only assumed that it was probably synthesized electronically…

And frankly, she had always believed that elven-style music could easily leave its mark in the music history!

The next second, her vision brightened, and she entered the game’s character creation interface.

“Hmm? A character customization system?”

¹ Laoshi – Chinese equivalent of ‘Teacher/Sensei’

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep