Chapter 22 – The Top Illustrator “Yuxin”

A flood of pop-up notifications filled Shuhui’s laptop screen.

[Shengyi Studio V]: Teacher Yuxin, could you revise the draft one more time? Our boss says it’s still missing something.

[Shengyi Studio V]: [bowing-90-degrees.jpg]

[Shengyi Studio V]: The boss wants the cover to have that feeling of youthful sunshine, but also to show innocence—like an artistic sense of radiant light.

…

[Yanyue Hot Spring Resort V]: Hello, Teacher Yuxin. We’re interested in collaborating with you on promotional illustrations for our resort. Payment is generous, open for discussion.

[Yanyue Hot Spring Resort V]: Per your terms, if we request to jump the queue, our company can settle the full fee upfront.

[Yanyue Hot Spring Resort V]: Looking forward to your reply.

…

[Eternal Heart V]: Hello, this is the official account for the romance otome game Eternal Heart. Our company would like to invite you as a card illustrator. If the results are good, we can discuss long-term collaboration. Please respond.

…

Scrolling, Shuhui’s hand paused. These two blue-check official accounts were… interesting.

She rarely worked with established companies. Generous as they were, she disliked the confinement.

She was slow to produce, slow to revise, often unreachable for days.

That notorious attitude had earned her a blacklisting from many firms.

She never expected there were still companies daring to reach out.

---

Five hours earlier – Port Star Group’s weekly meeting.

At the long table, Qin Yushen sat at the head, with executives and department managers down the sides.

Concise reports, quick problem-solving, brainstorming—that was the rhythm of these weekly sessions.

As the meeting neared its end, the topic turned to Gina’s project.

She operated the PPT with practiced hands. After dealing with Lin Wenran’s incident last night, she’d pulled an all-nighter writing the report.

Three layers of concealer barely hid her dark circles. Inside, she cursed Lin Wenran a thousand times—and President Qin another eight hundred.

“This is the second Yanyue Resort completed in mainland China.” She tapped, flipping the slides.

Clear, methodical. Results, innovations, problems.

“Compared with overseas, our Yanyue brand lacks recognition and trust domestically.

The first resort still operates at a loss. The projected six-year cost recovery has not been met.”

“This second resort is built at the base of the snow mountains in Dongcheng.

In recent years, thanks to the viral success of the game City of Snowlust and the manga Snow, Dongcheng has become a hot travel destination among young people.”

“City of Snowlust is a massive, expensive IP. Cooperation fees are sky-high, and negotiations would be a nightmare.”

She gestured to a manga illustration on screen.

“I propose linking with the manga Snow. Since both IPs tie strongly to Dongcheng, leveraging one automatically anchors us to the other.”

The Chief Marketing Officer nodded. “A low-cost, high-gain strategy. Online chatter will tie us to City of Snowlust anyway. With these two IPs, the resort won’t lack attention.”

“Proceed,” said Qin Yushen—his approval the cue for Gina to present implementation.

The room filled again with her crisp voice.

And inevitably, to speak of Snow was to mention its illustrator—Yuxin.

The first artist on Weibo to surpass 8 million followers. By any measure, a top-tier name.

Four years ago, she had illustrated Snow’s finale and extras. Reception was mixed, but the buzz immense.

Coincidentally that same year, pop star Shengyi released an album with Yuxin’s cover art and inner-page illustrations. It went explosively viral.

From then, Yuxin was a household name.

Mysterious, low-profile, never attending offline events or fan meets. All people knew, from her bio, was that she was female.

Like many top artists, she shared the same fatal flaw—laziness.

Selective commissions, slow delivery, even slower revisions.

Waiting for her was like waiting centuries. Fans jokingly nicknamed her “Yuxin the Eight-Hundred-Year”.

“So you’re saying she’ll be hard to book,” the CMO said.

Gina nodded. “She rarely partners with companies.”

“Still, proceed with this plan. Contact her.” Qin Yushen decided.

He didn’t care much for her work ethic, but negotiating with her would be easier than wrangling a giant gaming corporation.

---

Meanwhile, Rongfeng Group’s Gaming Division.

Bang!

Documents slammed on the table.

“Two days! Still no solution! The players are rioting, the crisis worsening—what are you even here for?” Manager Fu Dai snapped.

The entire table cowered.

For nearly two hours, their meeting had gone nowhere. Fu Dai had done nothing but rage.

Their otome game Eternal Heart had blundered badly during its anniversary event.

The story hyped a legendary artifact—a drum. But sharp-eyed players realized its design exactly matched an ancient Tibetan human-skin drum.

A relic made from the flayed skin of young women—glorified in a romance game.

The revelation detonated online.

At first, they hadn’t cared. Players always whined—too many events, broken card art, they always found something.

So they issued the usual denial statement, expecting it to blow over.

But instead, fury escalated.

Fans dug up every past slip-up, exposing carelessness and insensitivity.

Accusations piled up: the company profited off women while harboring misogyny.

Top-spending whales even led a boycott, announcing they were quitting.

Heaven knew, they hadn’t meant to insult women. They’d just borrowed some references without checking the details. Overblown fuss, they thought.

Blame flew around the table. Eventually, the designers blamed the players themselves.

“One little mistake, and those women just had to screenshot and blast it on Weibo. So sensitive.”

Smack! Fu Dai’s palm hit the table again. “Complaining now is useless. Give me solutions!”

“Maybe issue an apology statement. Wait for the heat to die down.”

“No good. We just denied it. Apologizing now makes us look like liars.”

“Then we bury it—with a bigger story to distract attention.”

Fu Dai’s eyes lit. “And what would that be?”

The man adjusted his glasses, pushing them down slightly.

“…Yuxin.”