ROSGT #### Chapter 41: Would You Mind Developing the Manga Industry in Your Spare Time?
### Volume 1
#### Chapter 41: Would You Mind Developing the Manga Industry in Your Spare Time?
Having resolved the issue of Ye Ling’s penalty fee and even making a small profit, Ye Chui generously took Fang Nan and his sister to a fancy restaurant for a lavish meal. Although Ye Chui initially intended to split the 30,000 yuan, neither Fang Nan nor Ye Ling were willing to accept their shares, so he had to relent.
Around nine o’clock in the evening, Fang Nan wheeled Ye Chui to the bus stop and saw Ye Ling off: “Be careful on your way home.”
“I know, brother,” Ye Ling smiled and waved.
“Don’t forget to practice that song,” Ye Chui reminded her, thinking of the song "Ningxia." With his sister’s sweet voice, it would surely sound beautiful.
“Got it,” Ye Ling nodded.
As they watched the bus slowly pull away, Fang Nan wheeled Ye Chui to wait for another bus back to the studio.
On the way, Ye Chui’s portable wrist computer suddenly alerted him to an incoming call request. Seeing the name, he immediately dismissed it.
“Chui Chui, it seems like someone has been trying to contact you all day, but you keep rejecting the calls. Who is it?” Fang Nan asked curiously.
“It’s SB Daren,” Ye Chui replied. “He’s been bothering me since morning. It’s really annoying.”
“He must be trying to apologize,” Fang Nan speculated. “I’ve dealt with people from big companies before—they’re usually very arrogant. If SB Daren is pestering you like this, he must genuinely want to make amends.”
Ye Chui smiled and asked, “So, you think I should forgive him?”
“Of course not!” Fang Nan’s voice raised slightly. “That guy is too despicable. He made a bet with Fang Xi. If you forgive him, where will that leave Fang Xi’s pride? He deserves it. I can’t stand those arrogant people from big companies. Let him eat dirt…”
Fang Nan’s voice grew louder and louder, and she felt very satisfied cursing SB Daren.
However, she quickly realized something, stopped abruptly, and covered her mouth, giggling awkwardly, then tried to change the subject: “Chui Chui, the weather is really nice today.”
“…,” Ye Chui glanced at the dark sky outside the bus window, his face showing a bit of sweat. That was a pretty poor attempt at changing the subject.
But what was with that sudden burst of tough-girl energy? It must have been an illusion, right?
Ye Chui wondered how long he could keep comforting himself with that thought.
By the time they returned to the studio, it was already past ten o’clock.
Fatty Fang Xi was busy at his work desk, while Jian Fan looked on with a mix of envy, jealousy, and resentment.
Ignoring him, Ye Chui wheeled himself over to Fatty Fang Xi.
He had planned to discuss the manga idea with Fang Xi at lunchtime, and now he had the opportunity.
Fang Xi also had something to show Ye Chui: “Chui Ge, this is the dynamic character model I created. What do you think?”
Fang Xi had a sly look on his face, making sure his sister was not around before speaking.
Ye Chui looked at the holographic display and his eyes lit up: “Not bad, not bad. This is exactly what I wanted.”
In just an afternoon, Fatty Fang Xi had completed the character model for the female karate character.
The original arcade game had very pixelated graphics due to technical limitations, but there were no such concerns now, so the character model was extremely clear.
A new female fighter in a white karate uniform, executing various kicks and punches under Fang Xi’s control. The movements were smooth and fluid, showcasing Fang Xi’s understanding of human anatomy. Most importantly… the breast physics effect was well-done, visually pleasing.
“Send the character model to my computer. I’ll check it out thoroughly later,” Ye Chui said with a cough, speaking conspiratorially to Fatty.
Damn, in this world, Japan had never recovered from the Third World War, and its national industries like anime and other entertainment had completely declined. Having been reborn for almost a month, he had been quite repressed…
“Chui Ge, you’re too perverted!” Fatty immediately exclaimed loudly, then squinted his eyes. “By the way, I also made a mod that removes the clothes. Do you want it?”
“Damn, you can even do something that perverted!?” Ye Chui shouted, “Of course I want it!”
After finalizing the character model, Fang Xi asked, “By the way, Chui Ge, you said you had something to tell me tonight. What is it?”
“Oh, it’s about manga,” Ye Chui explained promptly.
The manga idea had come to Ye Chui at noon. In the afternoon, he researched and found that although manga hadn’t developed in this world, there was potential for this type of content. In Huaxia, a form of illustrated books called lianhuanhua was quite popular.
Ye Chui remembered that lianhuanhua had also been popular in his previous world during his childhood but gradually disappeared over time.
Manga, similar to lianhuanhua, told stories through illustrations, but with more expressive and intricate visual storytelling.
“The manga I’m talking about can be seen as an improved version of lianhuanhua,” Ye Chui explained succinctly, taking out paper and a pen to sketch.
“Lianhuanhua has one picture per page, which limits what can be conveyed. But if you divide the page into smaller panels, called frames, you can break down actions into more dynamic sequences, making the visuals more impactful.”
Fang Xi quickly grasped the concept of manga.
However, he was a bit concerned: “This framing technique seems tricky to master. Chui Ge, I can draw it, but I’m not sure I can handle the framing…”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle the framing; you just do the drawing,” Ye Chui said with a smile.
In the professional manga industry, creating manga involved two steps.
First was creating the storyboard, also known as the name, which was the manga’s rough draft.
Once the name was approved by the editor, the second step was the final artwork.
Many classic mangas were collaborations between two people.
Ye Chui intended to create the name himself and have Fang Xi do the final artwork.
Before crossing over, Ye Chui was a manga enthusiast who had read countless mangas, including classics like Dragon Ball and Slam Dunk, multiple times.
While he couldn’t reproduce these mangas exactly, he could remember the storylines well enough to create his own storyboards.
Hearing that Ye Chui would handle the storyboard, Fang Xi’s eyes lit up.
“Chui Ge, let’s collaborate on making manga. I can draw very fast and won’t delay the game work. I can spend a few hours each night on it. If we make money, let’s split it seventy-thirty, with you getting seventy.”
Good stories were the most important part of manga. Many talented artists couldn’t create good manga because they lacked strong storyboards.
For instance, in Ye Chui’s original world, in Japan’s manga industry, the revenue split between the writer and artist in manga collaborations was usually seventy-thirty.
So, Fang Xi’s proposed split was quite fair.
But Ye Chui thought for a moment and said, “Let’s split it fifty-fifty. Drawing is the hardest part.”
“Hehe, then I’m getting a great deal, Chui Ge,” Fang Xi said with a chuckle.
“Come to think of it, making manga could be a lucrative venture…” Ye Chui mused.
He glanced at his disabled legs.
To walk again, he needed tens of millions for medical expenses—a huge sum. He had to find every possible way to make that money.
Games were Ye Chui’s main focus, but he wouldn’t overlook other opportunities if they had potential.
“Fang Xi, do you know other skilled artists? They need to be at least decent,” Ye Chui suddenly asked.
“Yes, quite a few,” Fang Xi said. “The art industry is tough. If you can’t become a recognized artist, you can only do odd jobs. People like me who know programming are better off, but those who only know how to draw often struggle.”
“Great, then help me get in touch with them,” Ye Chui decided. “If their skills are good, I’ll provide the story ideas, and they can help me draw manga. I’ll buy their drawings for at least a hundred yuan per page.”
“At least a hundred yuan per page?” Fang Xi was shocked. “They’ll go crazy for that rate, Chui Ge. Isn’t that too much?”
“Who said it’s too much?” Ye Chui laughed.
In another world where the manga industry was developed, a hundred yuan per page was dirt cheap.
Fang Xi didn’t see the commercial value of manga yet. Ye Chui split the profits fifty-fifty with him because he considered him a friend.
As for others, Ye Chui wouldn’t be so generous. A hundred yuan per page for drawing Dragon Ball or Slam Dunk-level manga… That was practically exploitation!
Of course, games were still Ye Chui’s main focus. But if manga turned out to be very profitable, he wouldn’t mind developing it in his spare time.