While Zhao Youyue drifted into a peaceful sleep, cradled by the satisfaction of obtaining Xu Jing's classic character card, the creator responsible for that very character lay wide awake in the dark.
Su Li stared at the ceiling of her room, her eyes bloodshot and her mind racing.
Once the final chapter of Pure Love had been successfully sent to the printers at Wind Manga, she had gradually begun to emerge from that strange, almost feverish state of possession. Only now, in the cold silence of the night, did she fully recall the bridge-burning shouting match she had initiated with her editor, Wei Suo, over the story's conclusion.
She pressed her palms against her forehead, her skin feeling clammy.
Thinking back on those moments, she truly felt as if she had been replaced by a different person. Normally, she was the type of author who bent over backward to accommodate her editor's suggestions. After all, she was still a rookie in a cutthroat industry.
"My God... I actually threatened to terminate my contract with the magazine over a single panel," she whispered to the empty room. "Who does that? Since when was I some arrogant, world-class master artist?"
She slapped her cheeks with both hands, the stinging pain doing little to dampen the regret swelling in her chest. Even now, she couldn't explain why she had been so incredibly impulsive. She genuinely respected Wei Suo, yet she had treated him like an obstacle to be crushed.
Desperate to understand her own actions, Su Li reached for the sample issue of Wind Manga sitting on her nightstand. In her memory, she had felt a profound sense of triumph when she finished those final pages. She had believed they represented the absolute zenith of her creative life, which was the only reason she had fought so hard to see them published.
She held the magazine, but before she could flip it open, a nagging question surfaced in her mind.
Why had she been in such a rush to end Pure Love?
The series was at the height of its popularity. A high-budget anime adaptation had already been greenlit and was currently in production. From a financial perspective, ending the manga now was pure madness.
The biggest payday for any manga artist came from the surge in tankōbon sales that followed a successful anime broadcast. The ongoing serialization would usually ride that wave of momentum to even greater heights. Because of this, almost no artist would ever dream of concluding their story before the anime had a chance to air.
When a completed manga received an anime, it was typically a "revival" project for an older masterpiece—something like Parasyte. In those cases, the original art might have been dated, and a modern adaptation served to introduce the story to a new generation using superior technology.
But Su Li was someone who lived for sales and popularity. She usually treated her readers' preferences as divine law. If she hadn't been caught in that bizarre emotional trance, she definitely would have dragged the serialization out for another year at least.
So why had she committed what looked like professional and financial suicide?
She thought about the legendary long-running series that spanned decades. The logic was simple: if a work was popular, you kept drawing it until the ink ran dry or your hands gave out. You stayed with the safe, established hit rather than risking everything on a new project that might flop on its first day. Even giants like Dragon Ball or Bleach had faced criticism for declining quality in their twilight years, yet they remained gold mines for their creators.
The more Su Li analyzed her behavior, the more unnerved she became. It felt as if the version of her that drew the ending was a phantom, a ghost that had borrowed her body for a few weeks.
Shaking off the chill, she finally opened the magazine to the final chapter.
She hadn't even finished the first five pages before she began muttering under her breath.
"This... this is impossible. How did I draw this?" She traced the lines on the page with a trembling finger. The cross-hatching was precise, the panel transitions were cinematic, and the composition was more sophisticated than anything she had ever produced. "This is peak performance. I was in a god-tier state. I must have realized I would never reach this level again. Even if I sat down right now and tried to copy my own work, I wouldn't be able to capture the same soul."
After several minutes of self-praise, she let out a short, hysterical laugh. A deep sense of pride bloomed in her chest. Regardless of the circumstances, being the creator of such beautiful artwork made her feel genuinely accomplished.
However, as she reached the final spread and absorbed the full weight of the narrative conclusion, her smile withered.
She grabbed her head, her fingers clawing at her already tangled hair. She felt like her entire skeletal structure was about to collapse under the weight of her own plot.
"This ending is toxic! It's pure poison!" she wailed. "How did I let this happen? I'm not that kind of writer! I don't enjoy crushing my readers' hearts into dust!"
Su Li felt an overwhelming sense of injustice.
She had set out to write a fluffy, crowd-pleasing harem story with a grand happy ending. Instead, she had delivered a total annihilation finale that left everyone dead or traumatized.
Even Xu Jing—the series' undisputed goddess and the one character Su Li had grown to love most—had been systematically destroyed by her own pen.
She hadn't summoned the courage to check her Weibo or peek into her QQ fan groups yet, but she could already see the firestorm in her mind. She had promised a "Happy Ending" for months, only to deliver a blood-soaked sunset.
Trembling, she reached for her phone and opened Weibo. It was worse than she imagined. The final chapter of Pure Love was trending in the top ten. Her notifications were a solid wall of vitriol and heartbroken screams.
Thousands of readers were promising to mail her razor blades. Others were writing multi-paragraph essays on how they had transitioned from loyal fans to dedicated anti-fans in the span of twenty pages.
One comment from a former supporter caught her eye. The man claimed he had recommended the manga to his entire class, and after the ending was released, he had nearly been beaten to death by his friends. He cursed Su Li for being a master manipulator, claiming she had used the "Happy Ending" promise as bait just so she could harvest everyone's tears at once.
The final verdict in the comment section was unanimous: never trust a single word Su Li says, not even a punctuation mark.
Looking at the endless scroll of rage, Su Li felt her scalp go numb.
Yet, amidst the terror, a realization dawned on her. This single ending had likely made her one of the most famous names in the entire industry.
She was no longer just another rookie artist. Now, the world saw her as a ruthless, fearless storyteller who shared the same dark DNA as creators like Gen Urobuchi. By delivering such a devastating conclusion to a generic harem manga, she had effectively shocked the audience into recognizing Pure Love as an unforgettable, tragic masterpiece.
The story still had its flaws, of course. The early chapters were still cliché, and the male lead was still a shallow placeholder. But none of that mattered now.
The manga had "Scumbag Ming," it had the "Good Boat" ending, and most importantly, it had the eternal, haunting presence of Xu Jing.
That was enough to secure its place in history.
Su Li spent the next day hiding under her covers like an ostrich, avoiding the world. It wasn't until the following evening that she finally gathered the resolve to open her main QQ fan group.
The unread message counter had been stuck at "999+" for hours.
She didn't need to scroll up to know what they were saying. They were undoubtedly tearing her apart for her perceived betrayal.
She took a deep breath, her thumbs hovering over the touchscreen. The first message she posted was short and hesitant.
"Everyone, sorry I'm late..."
"But I'm innocent. This is all Xu Jing's fault!"