I Became an All-round Artist

Chu Kuang has posted a short story?

Upon receiving this notification, many fans' first reaction was—

Did Chu Kuang release an extra chapter of Prince of Tennis on Tribe?

It's understandable they’d think this. Some authors enjoy posting free bonus chapters on Tribe to engage with their readers, especially content they never intended to publish officially. However, Chu Kuang clearly isn’t the type to interact much with his fans.

As people clicked on the Tribe notification, they realized it wasn’t an extra chapter at all. It was just a micro-story Chu Kuang had written.

“If only it was an extra chapter of Prince of Tennis...”

By this point, Prince of Tennis was already on its second volume, with a considerable fanbase. Many fans felt a bit disappointed when they realized it wasn’t a continuation of the story.

For example, Zhu Ming, a high school student in Shancheng, Qizhou, was a hardcore fan of Prince of Tennis.

“You should read something more meaningful,” his sister, Zhu Hui, often chided him, always taking any opportunity to scold him for reading youth fantasy novels.

Zhu Hui had a strong bias against youth fantasy novels. She’d read some of them before, where the protagonist traveled to another world and was constantly surrounded by beautiful women, who all became his wives. Sometimes, there were even adult themes sprinkled in...

“I’ve told you,” Zhu Ming argued, “Prince of Tennis is different. It's about tennis, and even professional players have praised it. A lot of girls love this novel too.”

“Really?” Zhu Hui was skeptical.

She sat down at the computer, which was logged into her brother’s Tribe account. “Didn’t you say Chu Kuang just posted a short story? Isn’t he one of your favorite authors? I want to see what he’s written.”

“A short story isn’t the same as a youth fantasy novel.”

“If it’s written by the same author, it’s worth looking at.”

“Why don’t you read Prince of Tennis? I have the physical books.”

“No need. You can often get a sense of a person’s style through their writing,” Zhu Hui said casually, clicking on the micro-story titled Artificial Beauty.

It was indeed very short.

The story began with a bar owner who, seeing his business on the verge of collapse, decided to go all out and created a beautiful robot woman to serve drinks. Since the fate of the bar rested on her success, he made her exceptionally beautiful and alluring.

Her fair skin was flawless, easily mistaken for that of any young woman, so lifelike that anyone who saw her would think she had the most delicate skin they’d ever encountered.

Customers flocked to the bar, eager to chat with the beautiful newcomer. When they asked her name and age, she could respond with a charming smile, but beyond that, her answers were limited. Yet, no one realized she was a robot.

And so, the bar became popular.

More and more people came to the bar to invite this artificial beauty for a drink. The bar owner, standing behind the counter, would secretly siphon the drinks from a plastic tube connected to the robot’s feet and resell the liquor to other patrons.

The customers were none the wiser.

“This young lady sure can hold her liquor for someone so youthful—she must be in great health. And she never clings to the guests or acts overly flirty. Every time someone offers her a drink, she downs it without hesitation and never gets drunk,” the customers thought.

Sitting at the computer, Zhu Hui was intrigued.

Chu Kuang's creativity was impressive. The story had a satirical undertone, suggesting that people are often obsessed with appearances and don't care about substance, leading them to fall for a robot without any critical thinking.

But how would the story unfold from here?

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Zhu Hui read the next passage:

“Among the patrons was a young man who fell in love with the beautiful robot at first sight. He visited the bar every day, spending all his money to buy the most expensive drinks for her. No matter how hard he tried to impress her, his efforts were in vain. Still, he refused to give up and only grew more persistent, eventually draining his entire savings.”

This part felt even more satirical, with a hint of real-world relevance. The young man who fell in love with the robot was reminiscent of those poor souls who spent all their money to tip streamers, only to receive nothing in return.

But where was this story heading?

Was it going to end with the robot developing human emotions?

If that were the case, Zhu Hui would be disappointed—it would be too cliché.

She continued reading with anticipation:

“When he could no longer afford to pay his tab, the young man, feeling desperate, returned home to ask his father for more money. His father, furious, warned him never to return to that wretched place again and begrudgingly handed him the last bit of money, saying: ‘This is the last time!’”

Taking his father’s final gift, the young man returned to the bar one last time, buying more drinks for the robot. As a farewell, he drank heavily with her, confessing his feelings once again.

But the robot’s mind was a blank slate, an empty shell, and her only responses were pre-programmed lines. The young man didn’t get the answer he wanted.

“Quietly, he pulled a deadly poison from his pocket, mixed it into her drink, and handed it to her. He watched as the robot lifted her head and drank the poisoned alcohol.”

“That’s dark!” Zhu Hui muttered in shock. This desperate patron, unable to have her love, had poisoned the robot. Thankfully, she wasn’t human—otherwise, she’d have been killed.

But just as she thought this, the next passage sent a chill down Zhu Hui’s spine:

“After the young man left, the bar owner cheerfully called out to the remaining customers: ‘From now on, drinks are on me! Everyone, drink up!’ Although he was treating, the bar owner wasn’t losing money. Late at night, when no more customers would come, he would simply retrieve the alcohol from the tube connected to the robot’s feet and resell it to the customers.”

Ah!

Zhu Hui had forgotten—whatever the robot drank was always recycled and resold. This meant that every customer in the bar had just consumed the deadly poison!

Zhu Hui felt a shiver down her spine.

The story was already wrapping up, and the final lines read:

“The customers and staff all cheered and clinked their glasses, drinking heartily. Even the owner, swept up by the joyous atmosphere, slowly raised his glass behind the bar and took a sip.”

Everything ended abruptly there, leaving the reader to imagine what happened next. But it was clear—the poison had taken effect, and the bar was doomed.

“They all died,” Zhu Hui murmured, shocked. “They really all died!”

“What?” her brother asked curiously.

Zhu Hui didn’t answer right away. Instead, she logged into her own Tribe account and followed Chu Kuang. Only then did she respond:

“Chu Kuang is a very talented writer. His stories... are definitely worth reading.”

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