Chapter 1 Rurouni Kenshin
[You used up all your emotional points to draw a prize.]
[Ding! You won the work, "Rurouni Kenshin: Reminiscence".
Detailed information on related manga, novels, movies, music, scripts, etc., will be continuously provided!]
[Ding! First draw bonus: You are 100% guaranteed to obtain a skill from a character in the drawn work!
Ding! Congratulations, you have obtained the swordsmanship of Himura Kenshin's "Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu".
Ding! First draw bonus: The system will enhance the host's physique to a certain extent.
Ding! Enhancement complete, host's body fat percentage has decreased to the optimal health level.
Strength, agility, and mental strength have been significantly improved.]
Sakura TV Scriptwriting Department Public Office Area.
Su Yan opened his eyes.
A torrent of information from the system continuously entered his mind.
While accepting this flood of memories, Su Yan was also thinking about something else he hadn't fully accepted.
He had transmigrated yesterday and bound himself to the system.
This was a country very similar to Su Yan's previous life, but completely different.
Historically, the Sakura region was a province of the Xia Kingdom.
Therefore, many popular entertainment works in China today are influenced by early works from the Sakura region, sharing a similar style.
Many of the major capital players in the domestic film and television industry are from the Sakura region.
This is similar to how Hong Kong works were popular in mainland China in Su Yan's previous life.
After transmigrating, Su Yan initially planned to follow the example of Charlotte in the movie, creating a cultural wave from another world and making a fortune.
After all, he was a long-time anime and manga enthusiast in his previous life, his knowledge mainly consisting of anime, novels, and games.
Moreover, at twenty years old in this world, he was a screenwriter at Sakura TV, having just been promoted a month prior—a perfect fit for his career and the market.
Unfortunately, the system within him shattered his dreams.
According to the system, or perhaps the rules of this plane,
Su Yan needed to use emotional points to draw lots to bring works from his previous life to this world.
Each time a work Su Yan created caused a significant emotional fluctuation in the native inhabitants of this world, he would gain one point of emotional points.
The more he wanted to draw a famous, long, and commercially valuable work from his past life, the more emotional points he needed to consume.
If he wanted to specifically redeem a work, the emotional points required would be at least six or seven times greater than through a lottery.
For example, he only managed to draw the Rurouni Kenshin: Reminiscence Arc by spending two years as an intern in the scriptwriting department at Sakura TV, nominally working on the team, and accumulating two million emotional points from over a dozen projects.
If he were to force a redemption, he would need at least ten million emotional points.
However,
"The Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu sword technique..." Su Yan's eyes lit up.
While the system limited Su Yan's unbridled cultural invasion, it also allowed him to potentially obtain skills possessed by characters in the drawn works through the lottery—a trade-off.
At least in the original work, the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu sword technique was a truly terrifying killing technique.
In his past life, when Su Yan watched the Rurouni Kenshin anime and movies, he was incredibly envious of the protagonist's cool killing moves.
Su Yan, feeling the sword techniques flooding his mind and watching the mosquito hovering above his head, grabbed the utility knife on the table.
With a thought, a breathtakingly fast flash of light appeared in the deserted common office area.
The mosquito's two wings, no bigger than a mung bean, were precisely severed, and it slowly drifted down, landing on the desk, crawling aimlessly.
"Even though a society governed by law can only kill mosquitoes, I'm competitive,"
Su Yan thought, his eyes wide.
*Clang!*
At that moment, the members of the scriptwriting department, who had gone out for lunch, returned one after another.
Su Yan quickly stopped his unusual behavior.
Sakura TV, one of the three major television stations in Xia Country, has a professional scriptwriting department with hundreds of employees year-round, creating numerous dramas, variety shows, and prank programs for the station each quarter.
With the rise of the internet age and the increase in internet users, online video websites invested and operated by television stations also have a huge user base, resulting in massive demand for online dramas and movies every quarter.
Everyone in the scriptwriting department is extremely busy, not to mention those out researching and supervising filming on set.
Even those in the company's scriptwriting office are busy with their own tasks.
Despite this, the female employees in the editorial department occasionally steal glances at Su Yan during breaks.
Su Yan's original body was already handsome, and with the system's modifications lowering his body fat percentage, he was even more handsome.
His clear profile and slightly sharp eyes were captivating, even to those accustomed to seeing handsome celebrities at the television station.
"Su Yan, have you finished writing the script to submit to the production department tomorrow?"
At this moment, a portly man in his forties, "Sawai Teruhiro," walked up to Su Yan.
Although entertainment and film productions in Xia Country are heavily influenced by the style of Sakura Island, and Tokyo is one of Xia Country's economically strong cities, how could a nationally-oriented television station possibly have its headquarters located on a small island?
It would be extremely inconvenient for production, broadcasting, and collaborations with advertisers.
While Sakura Television belongs to Sakura Province, its headquarters are located in Shanghai, Xia Country, and more than half of its employees are Shanghai residents sent there by Sakura Television.
Sawai Teruhiro was Su Yan's mentor during her two-year internship.
Su Yan graduated from junior high school at fifteen, studied film and television directing at a vocational school for three years, and then worked as a screenwriter intern under Sawai Teruhiro for two years before becoming a full-time employee last month. As
a full-time screenwriter, she no longer had to do menial tasks for the regular screenwriters at the television station. Each quarter, there's an opportunity to submit a script to the production department. If the script is approved by a producer, the TV station will allocate funds, assemble a team, and produce and broadcast it.
Of course, it's a highly competitive process; a TV drama broadcast on a major network often requires tens of millions in investment, and even works broadcast on online platforms require at least millions.
Many new screenwriters in the scriptwriting department often go one or two years, or even longer, without getting their scripts approved for adaptation and filming.
They can only join other well-known screenwriting teams, doing odd jobs like interns, earning meager base salaries. If they don't demonstrate their value over time, they are either passively dismissed or leave the industry voluntarily.
Sawai Teruhiro showed some concern for his subordinate, Su Yan, and proactively inquired about submitting scripts.
"Yes, Master Sawai, thank you for your reminder. I've been preparing for this for two years, so naturally I won't slack off," Su Yan said with a smile.
In the original owner's memories, although Sawai Teruhiro was somewhat rigid in his speech, he wasn't a bad person and was a responsible mentor.
"Very good, Su Yan. I admire your attitude—calm, composed, and full of confidence. One day, you'll have your own office in the scriptwriting department of Sakura TV," said Teruhiro Sawai.
It was both a promise and encouragement.
Although he actually felt the chances of Su Yan's first script being accepted by the production department and receiving funding were slim,
he still hoped Su Yan wouldn't be discouraged and would persevere in the industry, unlike some young people he'd seen who lacked perseverance and gave up after a few scripts were rejected.
Sawai finished speaking and turned to walk towards his office.
Su Yan watched his retreating figure and breathed a sigh of relief.
He opened his workstation cabinet in the scriptwriting department's common area; inside was a stack of scripts written by the original owner of the body.
[Summer Breeze!]
A story about a female protagonist who, after graduating, can't find a job, faces setbacks in the city, and then returns to her hometown to inherit the family business.
The plot wasn't entirely unoriginal, but compared to the shoddy dramas on the market in Xia Country, Su Yan felt this script wasn't much better.
After returning it to its original place, Xia Yan turned on his computer and skillfully typed, first writing a few large characters in the standard script document title bar:
[Rubik's Kenshin
Writer: Su Yan.]
Having drawn Rubik's Kenshin: Reminiscence Arc, Su Yan didn't have much to say.
Although this work was a spin-off of the Rubik's Kenshin manga in its previous life, its OVA animation was considered a masterpiece in the eyes of veteran anime fans for its production and plot.
Moreover, it was adapted into a live-action film in Japan.
With extremely high praise and a deeply depressing plot, it was one of Su Yan's favorites; he loved watching such melancholic works.
Anyone in the Sakura TV production department with even a modicum of knowledge
would surely know that this script wouldn't be rejected after being submitted, right?
Hmm... probably.
Chapter 2 Submission and Review It
was nighttime, and Su Yan was still revising the script for Rurouni Kenshin: Reminiscence.
The Reminiscence arc itself was only one to two hours long, and its script was only tens of thousands of words long.
It's normal for writing a script of tens of thousands of words to take one or two months, or even longer.
But Su Yan simply turned to copying, becoming a ruthless writing tool. Before 8 PM, he had finished the scripts for the first two short chapters of the Reminiscence arc, "The Murderer" and "The Lost Cat."
After all, this was his first time doing this kind of work since transmigrating, and given Su Yan's relatively slow typing speed, adapting the original plot into a script wasn't entirely without thought. So, this was the amount of work he completed in an afternoon.
But it didn't matter. Xia Guo's film and television dramas, influenced by Sakura Province, adopted a live-shooting and live-broadcasting model.
In most cases, screenwriters would revise the script based on audience feedback.
Even if a series flopped after airing, it was common practice to quickly cancel it at the station's request to minimize losses.
There was no need to completely finish the script before submitting it.
By this time, almost everyone in the scriptwriting department had left. Su Yan walked to the window, looked at the darkening sky and the dazzling neon lights of the city, and let out a long sigh.
"Although it's still hard to accept the fact that I've transmigrated, I'm already here, so I should at least live a more exciting life than I did in my previous life!"
After leaving Sakura TV Station, taking a bus and then the subway, it took Su Yan more than an hour to return to his rented room on the outer ring of Shanghai.
It was a single room of about ten square meters.
The screenwriting industry sounds glamorous, often involving investments of tens or hundreds of millions of yuan in film and television.
Moreover, in the Xia Kingdom world, influenced by Sakura Province, the status of screenwriters in the industry is much higher than in his previous life.
In the production of a film or television work, the status of screenwriters is no less than that of directors and producers. Famous screenwriters can earn millions or even tens of millions of yuan from a single script through royalties and profit sharing.
But for a
newcomer like Su Yan, who had just been promoted from intern to full-time, a few thousand yuan a month in Shanghai was really a struggle.
Orphaned, single, and poor—
these were the labels attached to Su Yan.
No wonder he was a transmigrator.
Su Yan, reflecting on his own situation, found it quite classic.
The next day, Su Yan got up at six, bought two steamed buns on the way, and jogged to catch the subway, arriving at Sakura TV Station before eight.
Xia Guo and Su Yan's previous life in China had many similarities, but also many differences.
In the television industry alone, apart from Beijing TV Station as official media, most other stations were privately owned.
Sakura TV Station, Shanghai TV Station, and Zhongxia TV Station formed a three-way rivalry in the industry, all headquartered in Shanghai.
Of course, below these three, there were five or six large TV stations and dozens of small and medium-sized stations distributed throughout Xia Guo's provinces, but their viewership and production capabilities were significantly inferior to the three giants.
Moreover, although this world had entered the internet age, the development of video websites was not as explosive as in his previous life.
The major capital in the media industry belonged to these TV stations, and they were very cautious about developing and investing in video websites.
There were indeed several video websites with large user bases online.
However, their shareholders were also the major domestic TV stations, making them subsidiaries of these companies.
This meant that even in this era, the main channel for Xia Guo's film and television audiences to watch hit dramas was still television.
The best and most outstanding domestic films and television dramas are broadcast on television.
Meanwhile, lower-budget, lower-quality productions are streamed on online platforms.
For example, Sakura.com, under Sakura Television, is one of the top four video websites in China.
Su Yan didn't have high hopes for Rurouni Kenshin: Reminiscence.
It definitely couldn't be made into a TV series and broadcast on Sakura Television.
It wasn't that Reminiscence wasn't good enough;
it was that Su Yan wasn't qualified.
Competition at Sakura Television was fierce. Every television broadcast opportunity was contested by veteran screenwriters and production teams with over a decade of experience. How could Su Yan, a newcomer, possibly compete with them?
He hadn't initially aimed for television broadcast with the script for Reminiscence; he hoped it would be streamed online on Sakura.com.
The four chapters of Reminiscence were filmed as four short episodes, to be broadcast over four weeks.
Of course, this was assuming everything went smoothly.
He entered the screenwriting department's office area.
"Good morning, Su Yan."
"Good morning, Yoshii-nee, you look beautiful today."
"Good morning, Nishimura-nee, congratulations on the huge ratings of your screenplay 'Sakura Tears.' If this continues, the station will probably make you the lead screenwriter next quarter and assemble a production team for your work."
"Good morning, Xu Fang-senpai."
"Su Yan, you've become even more handsome today. You shouldn't be in the company's screenwriting department; you should be signing a contract with an entertainment company and becoming an artist."
Su Yan greeted his colleagues in the screenwriting department as he walked.
Having just been promoted, Su Yan was the least senior, so he had to be polite to avoid anyone disliking him and making things difficult for him.
Soon, his eyes narrowed as he greeted a handsome man with an indifferent expression.
"Good morning, Kiyota-senpai."
Although Kiyota Sanji had only been in the screenwriting department for half a year, he was older than Su Yan, and since he was a relative, Su Yan still had to show him respect.
To be honest, Su Yan hated these polite colleague greetings.
Unfortunately, Sakura TV is a company owned by Sakurajima, where corporate culture is strong and connections are rampant. More than half of the staff are people recruited from Shanghai but working in the Sakurajima area. Su Yan had no choice but to act subservient to these senior colleagues. He
was especially wary of Kiyota Sanji. Kiyota Sanji
was a graduate of a prestigious university in Sakura Province with a degree in film and television directing, was handsome, and came from a wealthy family.
Moreover, his uncle was Akasaka Yoshitoki, the vice-director of the production department, so everyone in the scriptwriting department had to give him face.
Although Kiyota Sanji's own abilities were average, his uncle's arrangements allowed him to gain experience and fill positions in multiple film and television scriptwriting projects within the station.
In every aspect, except for looks and height, Kiyota Sanji was superior to Su Yan.
But precisely because of this, Su Yan had always clearly sensed a subtle jealousy from Kiyota Sanji.
Of the three most important elements for men—being tall, rich, and handsome—wealth can be acquired through effort.
But being tall and handsome is something you can't force.
"Just focus on your work. The screenwriting department is a place that values ability; there's no need for such politeness and tact," Kiyota Sanji raised an eyelid and inexplicably began lecturing.
Su Yan's expression stiffened slightly upon hearing this, then she smiled lightly.
Value ability, huh?
With your personality, I'll greet others but not you. If you don't give me a hard time, I'll just eat my words.
But Su Yan had worked for several years in her previous life, and there were far more disgusting people than Kiyota Sanji.
After mentally grumbling for a moment, Su Yan forgot about it.
As a newly promoted screenwriter at the TV station, Su Yan spent her time assisting other screenwriters with miscellaneous tasks until her own work was approved.
It was tedious and boring,
but every screenwriter went through that phase.
Not long after starting work, Su Yan's mentor, Teruhiro Sawai, approached.
He had launched a low-budget drama series at the station this quarter, which had decent ratings, so he was in a good mood lately, always with a smile.
"What script are you preparing to submit to the production department?" Teruhiro Sawai asked with a smile.
Su Yan handed him the printed and bound script of *Rurouni Kenshin: Reminiscence*, which she had prepared long ago.
"Rurouni Kenshin?" Teruhiro Sawai looked at the title with some surprise.
The title had a Sakurajima vibe.
"What kind of story is it?" Teruhiro Sawai asked casually.
"Historical, martial arts, romance," Su Yan replied.
"About how long is it?" Teruhiro Sawai asked.
"Well, it's a short drama, probably only three or four episodes long, not suitable for television broadcast. I hope that once it's produced, it can be broadcast on Sakura.com, which is under the television station."
Sakura.com.
"That's true. Your current fame makes it difficult for television producers to decide to make any big investments in you.
Sakura.com, as a television station-controlled online platform established less than ten years ago, although its audience is far less than that of Sakura Television, which has accumulated over decades, has seen quite a few hit works broadcast on it in recent years if the work is good enough." Sawai Teruhiro said after a moment of contemplation.
He didn't actually think that Su Yan's script would really be favored by the production department, but he always wanted to say something positive.
"I understand. I'll submit your script directly to the senior management of the scriptwriting department for review in a little while. This will save several days. After our department's senior management approves it, it will probably be sent to the production department for review tomorrow."
The famous screenwriters at the television station all have their own established producers with influence and connections within the station to work with. They don't bother with this kind of step when they have a good script; they just contact them privately.
Only a clueless new screenwriter like Su Yan would go through this process, and the chances are slim. A new screenwriter might submit ten drafts and only get one producer's attention, securing a project.
Talent and opportunity are both essential for success in this industry.
"Thank you, Master Sawai," Su Yan said gratefully.
"You're welcome. I mentored you. If you achieve something at the station, it will be a source of pride for me, regardless of the final outcome," Sawai Teruhiro patted Su Yan on the shoulder.
"Keep trying, persevere!"
Sawai Teruhiro quickly left for his own project's set.
Su Yan looked at the somewhat empty office area. Those who remained at this hour were like him, marginal figures in the screenwriting department, only fit to do odd jobs and handle mundane tasks for other screenwriters.
"Kenshin, my chances of turning my life around in screenwriting depend on you!"
Su Yan exchanged the emotional points from Kenshin's script for the emotional points he had earned during the original owner's two years of internship work.
If the script for *Rurouni Kenshin* is rejected by the station, Su Yan will have to wait at least another year to accumulate two million emotional points for the lottery.
After submitting the script, Su Yan inevitably became somewhat anxious.
That afternoon, in the scriptwriting department of Sakura TV, several senior reviewers casually flipped through the scripts submitted by the screenwriters.
Without visuals or music, the viewing experience of a script was far inferior to that of a film or television drama, even quite dull.
Among them, Cheng Junsen had been staring at an unfinished script of ten or twenty thousand words for half an hour.
"It's really well-written," Cheng Junsen said, closing his eyes, seemingly able to imagine that cruel era of swords and shadows.
Assassins in Kyoto, murderous youths.
A script is just a script. Before it's made into a finished product and achieves success, for reviewers like Cheng Junsen, whether it's interesting or not only represents whether the work meets his aesthetic standards, not the general public's.
But *Rurouni Kenshin*... through this short script, with just a few strokes...
A young man born in a chaotic world, whose family was killed and who was starving, yet who hoped to save the world and yearned for peace, began to take shape in his mind.
The story of "Kenshin," a murderous weapon in the hands of politicians, and "Tomoe," a girl shrouded in mystery, temporarily ended with the second act of the Kyoto fire and their escape .
The eagerness to read the sequel was something Cheng Junsen, who had worked in the screenwriting industry for over twenty years and read countless original scripts, rarely felt anymore.
"Interesting! But it's a pity, it's just a short story." Cheng Junsen blinked.
He then noticed that Su Yan, the screenwriter of Rurouni Kenshin, intended to adapt this work into a four-episode short story and broadcast it on Sakura.com.
"Su Yan? Isn't that the apprentice of Teruhiro Sawai?" Cheng Junsen thought for a moment.
That's right, a new screenwriter shouldn't expect a multi-million dollar investment for their first work, or instant fame on major television networks.
It would be a great help if the station could invest a million or two to get his work published on an online platform and earn a little money, enough to help him shed the "newcomer" label.
Cheng Junsheng thought for a moment and placed the Rurouni Kenshin script in the document box that indicated it was approved.
After a while, another approved screenplay was placed in the same document box.
It was a work co-written by Kanzaki Yusuke, a young screenwriter at the station, and Kiyota Sanji, who had connections.
Although it was called a co-written work, given Kiyota Sanji's past performance, it was highly likely that Kanzaki Yusuke was the main writer, and Kiyota Sanji would just do some assisting work to get the title of main writer.
This work was also initially aimed at being published on the online platform Sakura.
After all, if you want to be published on television, the review requirements will be much higher.
Kiyota Sanji, who had only joined Sakura Television for half a year, even with his uncle's help, would have a hard time getting the level of resources from the station with his script.
That's why Kiyota Sanji needed to do these things.
With the help of his uncle, the deputy head of the production department, scripts bearing Kiyota Sanji's name often easily passed the production department's review and secured investment from the station.
Kiyota Sanji, in turn, quickly built up his resume; it might not be long before his scripts were approved for filming and broadcast on Sakura TV.
Both got what they wanted.
"Having connections at the station is really powerful."
Cheng Junsen glanced at the script for Rurouni Kenshin, then at the script co-written by Kanzaki Yusuke and Kiyota Sanji, and shook his head.
The script credited to Kiyota Sanji had a 99% chance of passing review and being approved.
However, the station's resources were limited. If Kiyota Sanji's script was approved
, how many more could be allocated to Rurouni Kenshin at the same time?
Although he preferred Rurouni Kenshin
, this was workplace competition.
Connections were also part of ability.
He could only rely on the luck of his little apprentice, Sawai Teruhiro.
Chapter 3 Production Department
"This is the script that came from the scriptwriting department today."
"I know! You can put it there."
Shinozaki Ikumi took a deep breath and said to the staff member who brought a frame of scripts into her office.
Just like the screenwriters in the scriptwriting department were eager to be noticed by the station and have their scripts approved for adaptation and broadcast on television,
the producers in the production department also didn't want to just produce variety shows, documentaries, prank shows, or travelogues for online streaming.
In the current industry environment, working on online projects would only ever make you a third-rate professional.
Because the major capital in the domestic entertainment media industry belongs to these few top television stations, and their capital is entirely focused on programs broadcast on television.
Programs broadcast on their controlled online platforms don't receive much attention or resources.
To become an industry leader, you have to produce a blockbuster work that can be broadcast on television.
But let alone works that can be broadcast on television.
Shinozaki Ikumi's romance drama "Sakurajima Love Song," which she spearheaded and invested in last quarter, still suffered a major failure in online streaming.
In January, during the winter season, Sakura TV invested in and produced over twenty variety shows, dramas, and music programs that were streamed online on Sakura's website.
However, among all these productions, *Sakurajima Love Song* overwhelmingly ranked last in paid views, positive reviews, and viewership.
The investment of over three million yen yielded a mere one million yen in return.
And it wasn't just the January winter season; even earlier, in October of last year, an online variety show she spearheaded also caused Sakura TV to lose hundreds of thousands of yen.
She could already foresee that her performance evaluation for the first half of the year would undoubtedly receive the lowest possible rating (D) from the judging panel.
Moreover,
according to the company's production department's bottom-ranking elimination system,
if her KPIs failed in the second half of the year, her childhood dream of becoming a legendary TV producer would be shattered in her first year after graduation.
Being fired was a certainty.
"No, absolutely not."
Shinosaki Ikumi couldn't help but pinch her arm, standing up from her seat, her fair and beautiful profile filled with resentment.
In middle school, high school, and university,
most of her friends were playing, enjoying their youth, dating, while she was the only one studying.
Her goal since childhood had been to become a producer, and that had never changed. How could she fail here?
"You can do it, Ikumi. As long as you lead some high-profit projects in the second half of the year and make up for the losses of the first half, you will still be that elegant and beautiful Shinosaki Ikumi who will never fail."
"Being fired for being incompetent? That's not an option in your life."
Shinosaki Ikumi slapped her cheek to comfort herself.
But this kind of thing only had a short-lived effect; soon she was mentally exhausted again.
"Who would want to work with me?" "
As a producer who followed in her mother's footsteps and had only been working for a year
, two consecutive projects resulted in losses. 'Sakurajima Love Song' not only lost money but was also ranked second among the top ten worst dramas of the first half of the year by a large number of drama fans on the Chinese internet
. Even the actors and directors involved were silenced by the online trolls.
This also led to the variety show directors, screenwriters, directors, and actors that Ikumi Shinozaki knew deliberately refusing to answer her calls these past few days.
Nobody wanted to participate in her projects, becoming a laughing stock in the industry and adding a stain to their resumes.
After a long silence, she sighed.
Ikumi Shinozaki's gaze fell on a frame of scripts that the staff had just brought over.
Sakura TV's scriptwriting department has many members. Every officially hired screenwriter is entitled to submit a script to the production department every quarter for review by the producers.
But in reality, not to mention the station's top producers, even those producers with some achievements have their own regular screenwriters."
The same applies to screenwriters. How could a truly talented screenwriter lay out their excellent scripts like cabbages for everyone to pick and choose from?
Therefore, the scripts submitted by these new screenwriters are likely only seriously studied by the station's new producers.
Shinozaki Ikumi knew a few screenwriters who were somewhat well-known in the industry, but now…
"Sigh!"
Although Shinozaki Ikumi felt the chances were slim, she still began to peruse the scripts.
What if one or two geniuses were among the screenwriters recruited for permanent positions at the TV station this year?
Thanks to her love of reading various classic works from home and abroad since junior high school, Shinozaki Ikumi read scripts quickly and effectively.
But as she read, Shinozaki Ikumi began to criticize.
"Vulgar!"
"So cheesy!"
"I thought you were going to go big, but you just delivered this huge mess?"
"God! How did this screenwriter named Liang Heng come up with this kind of plot? Did he stuff his head with stinky tofu? Even the plots he comes up with are so stinky."
"Poisonous, die, you cuckold!"
Time passed slowly.
Shinosaki Ikumi still hadn't found a single script that truly caught her eye.
Just then, she picked up a script called "The Breeze."
As she read, her furrowed brow gradually relaxed.
Ten minutes later.
"Huh, surprisingly not bad?" Shinosaki Ikumi blinked.
A pure and beautiful romance script; at least she felt quite immersed in it while reading.
She glanced at the screenwriter's name:
Kanzaki Yusuke, Kiyota Sanji.
Her brow furrowed.
When Kiyota Sanji's name appeared, Shinosaki Ikumi immediately dismissed her hopes.
The nephew of Akasaka Yoshitoki, the vice-president of the production department, right?
Oh well, with him on the list, his dramas would definitely have a ton of producers vying for them. Even if it's just a web series, as long as the budget is right and the production quality is high, it'll likely rank among the top in terms of paid subscriptions and critical acclaim on Sakura.com.
This kind of project, which could almost guarantee success for actors, screenwriters, and producers even before its premiere,
was unlikely to be something someone like her, currently at the bottom of the production department's KPI rankings, could possibly snag.
Sighing, Shinosaki Ikumi muttered to herself.
"Next one."
Her slender, white hand picked up a sealed document and unpacked it.
The four large characters for "Rurouni Kenshin" jumped out at her.
The title was so unique that Shinosaki Ikumi's first impression was quite strong.
But that was all.
Scripts, without music, visuals, or even the extensive narration describing scenery and characters' inner thoughts found in novels, could indeed be dry.
But for a cultured producer, reading the text allowed her to reconstruct the scene in her mind.
Therefore, after reading the "Rurouni Kenshin" script for less than five minutes, Shinosaki Ikumi's eyes had already subtly changed.
From initial scrutiny, they had become fully engaged.
Chapter 4 Script
In this world, while Sakurajima exists, the Meiji Restoration and other historical events are absent.
Therefore, the historical knowledge from the original Rurouni Kenshin storyline cannot be directly applied.
However, this isn't a problem at all. At least in the Reminiscence arc, the main perspective is that of Himura Kenshin and Yukishiro Tomoe. The chaotic historical backdrop is abundant in Sakurajima's history, and Su Yan easily found a suitable template to fit.
The script begins with bandits chasing a group of fleeing prostitutes.
The prostitutes, before dying, desperately protect a young boy named Shinta.
"You're still young, unlike us who can choose their future path, so you can't die now. Live on, strive to live, and choose your own life. Live for the dead,"
the prostitute says to the young boy, knowing she is doomed. This
slightly moved Shinonozaki Ikumi.
A kind woman, reduced to prostitution in such a world, and about to be slaughtered by bandits, yet before knowing she is doomed, her only thought isn't fear, but the desire to protect another young life.
Although this woman has no name in the script. Her fate, too, was to be pierced through the throat with a sword; she was merely a minor character.
Ikumi Shinozaki continued turning the page.
A powerful, aloof man appeared.
He single-handedly slaughtered an entire group of thieves, saving the young boy, Shinta.
He watched this hellish massacre, and his inner monologue began:
"It's common. Being slaughtered by thieves is hell, being sold into a brothel is hell."
"Too common. It's like this now, and it will be like this in the future."
"Even with a sword, sometimes one person can't save everyone."
The man bowed his head and left. But the next day, when he returned to the same place
, the little boy named Shinta had spent a day and a night
burying everyone in the ground, erecting wooden tombstones for them.
Not just the prostitute who protected him, but also the thieves who wanted to kill him.
Ikumi Shinozaki was deeply moved.
Because of Kenshin's kindness and strength,
a man named Seijuro Hiko renamed Shinta Kenshin, took him as his apprentice, and taught him the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu swordsmanship.
The story of Rurouni Kenshin begins here.
Shinozaki Ikumi continued reading. A man named Kiyosato came to Kyoto, hoping to make a name for himself and then return to his hometown to marry his fiancée.
However, at the height of his success,
he encountered Kenshin, a fifteen-year-old assassin who had become an assassin to save the world and overthrow the corrupt rulers.
While killing his target, Kenshin was attacked by Kiyosato, the target's bodyguard.
A cut appeared on his face.
At this moment, the story flashed back to Kenshin's argument with his master, Hiko Seijuro, about leaving the mountain.
"To change this world, you must be used for power. I didn't teach you the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu for that," Hiko Seijuro said sternly.
"That's why you must use this power even more, to protect the people from the suffering of this era," Kenshin retorted.
A classic line from the entire Rurouni Kenshin series appeared.
Hiko Seijuro said.
"A sword is a weapon, swordsmanship is the art of killing! No matter how beautiful the words used, they cannot change this fact."
"To kill to protect people, to kill to let people live—that is the truth of swordsmanship. I have killed hundreds of villains, but they were also human, struggling to survive in this era."
"If you leave this mountain, you will only find endless slaughter driven by the irreconcilable forces of justice."
Shinozaki Ikumi's eyes widened.
What
a cool character.
How did he come up with those lines?
Shinozaki Ikumi's emotions were already surging.
Even though it was just dry text, without any character information about Hiko Seijuro, the character's charm was radiating wildly from between the lines.
A line about widespread starvation wouldn't convey the cruelty of the era.
But through the dialogue between this master and apprentice, their struggles in this chaotic world were vividly portrayed.
Hiko Seijuro had tried, but found he couldn't change anything.
His sword could only kill those before him, save those before him, but not save the world before him!
He didn't want his apprentice to be dragged into this living hell, only to realize this truth after being shattered.
The flashback in the script continued.
"Springtime cherry blossom viewing, summer stargazing, autumn moon worship, winter snow companionship."
"With these, sake naturally tastes better."
"If you still feel it's not good enough, then it only means you're sick!"
Hiko Seijuro uttered many famous lines.
However, Kenshin remained unmoved.
He and his apprentice Kenshin, due to their differing philosophies, went their separate ways.
Shinozaki Ikumi was somewhat stunned.
Could this script be so artistic, so philosophical?
The writing was beautiful, the principles sincere.
The flashback in the script ended.
A long time had passed since the assassination attempt that night.
The wound on the protagonist Kenshin's cheek, which had been slashed, still hadn't healed.
He would always bleed suddenly.
His superstitious companions told Kenshin that he was probably wounded by a sword imbued with resentment, and that the wound wouldn't heal unless the resentment was dispelled.
The script for the first episode of Rurouni Kenshin takes place in that small tavern, on that rainy night.
Yukishiro Tomoe, the fiancée of the murdered man named Kiyosato, also arrives in Kyoto, where Kenshin is.
The assassins are never-ending.
His heart grows increasingly numb.
The script doesn't depict the enemies Kenshin encounters on this rainy night, not even the enemies he struggles against, nor does it describe the battle scenes.
Those were decided by the martial arts director during filming.
But in that torrential rain, the moment Kenshin cuts his enemy in two
, the splattering blood splashes onto Yukishiro Tomoe's white umbrella, onto her white dress, and onto her cold, indifferent face, devoid of any fear.
Facing the enemy who murdered her fiancé Kiyosato,
Yukishiro Tomoe's only line appears in the first episode.
"You really can summon bloodshed!"
Shinozaki Ikumi felt a sharp pang in her heart upon reading this.
The script lacked detail,
and it lacked the divine background music of the original OVA.
However, with her exceptional empathy, Shinozaki Ikumi had already mentally recreated the scene.
Blood, a young girl, an executioner, a rainy night, hatred—
two people driven by a cruel world met; what kind of story would unfold between them?
Putting down the first volume's script, Shinozaki Ikumi closed her eyes, her heart still unsettled.
Soon, she opened the second volume's script.
The second volume's plot ended abruptly at the scene where Yukishiro Tomoe and Kenshin left Kyoto and went to the countryside to pretend to be husband and wife. Yukishiro Tomoe followed behind Kenshin, gripping the dagger at her waist. It hinted at her betrayal.
Just two volumes of scripts, yet Shinozaki Ikumi, who usually reads scripts incredibly quickly, spent over an hour reading them.
She scrutinized every detail, repeatedly pondering them, completely immersed in that era of bloodshed and turmoil.
It was then that she noticed the information included in the script.
The Rurouni Kenshin series was planned for four episodes and would be streamed online on Sakura.com.
"Four episodes?" Shinozaki Ikumi murmured.
Viewers in China generally didn't like these ultra-short online dramas.
They preferred dramas with a dozen or so episodes per season.
But the length of the story was insignificant compared to the absolute quality of the script.
She wasn't sure if this story would be well-received as a live-action drama.
She simply loved it.
"If it has four episodes, what kind of story will the last two episodes present? Will Yukishiro Tomoe abandon her fiancé's revenge and be with Kenshin?"
Shinozaki Ikumi put down the script and looked up at the ceiling, pondering.
For scripts produced by the station's own scriptwriting department, if the station's producers wanted to get funding for filming, they had to contact the scriptwriter and then apply for production funds from the station.
To put it bluntly, if there's a really good script, the producer needs to discuss it thoroughly with the screenwriter before moving on to the next step.
"So, what's next?" Shinosaki Ikumi muttered to herself. A short drama wouldn't have a high budget. Besides, given her past record, the station would be unlikely to allocate much funding for her proposed projects.
If it weren't for her mother's connections from her previous job as a producer, any new project she proposed would most likely be rejected by upper management.
Even so, if Shinosaki Ikumi's next proposed project lost money, she wouldn't even need to wait for the year-end performance review results. She could start looking for her next job months in advance.
Other TV stations were unlikely to hire a producer with three consecutive flops. She'd basically be out of the industry.
Shinosaki Ikumi checked the information for the Rurouni Kenshin screenwriter.
"Hmm, his name is Su Yan, right?"
Any suggestions are welcome, and please try to read the new book during the new season, thank you! Also, which reader voted for me?
The page shows 32 votes, but there's no information in the backend. I even thought it was a reward from Qidian's bot for my signing today.
But then I realized it's unlikely they'd give me 32!
Chapter 5 Meeting
The day after submitting the script, Su Yan still hadn't received any information from the station.
Normally, for a new screenwriter like him, receiving notification of any results within a week would be considered relatively fast by the station's production department.
However, that's human nature; the waiting process can be frustrating.
After all, it's not guaranteed that the producers will actually study a submitted script.
What if the production department is prone to slacking off
, or their judgment is poor?
It's normal that no one would approve of the Rurouni Kenshin script.
Su Yan's past experiences with so many bad dramas have amply demonstrated that there are too many incompetent producers among professional screenwriters.
Just as Su Yan was lost in thought, he heard some commotion in the
screenwriting department. Turning his head, he saw several employees gathered around Kiyota Sanji's desk, discussing something.
A few minutes later, Su Yan understood.
The script "Qingfeng," co-written by Kiyota Sanji and Kanzaki Yusuke, had been contacted by the station's producer, Tu Heng.
It's not surprising that producers were interested in the script submitted by Kiyota Sanji; his uncle's connections were there.
But it was different when the producer who took it over was Tu Heng.
Tu Heng had joined the company five years ago and had grown from a rookie producer to someone who had produced two dramas that aired on Sakura TV.
His detective drama "Black Mist," which he produced last year, even achieved the ninth highest national viewership rating for its quarter.
Even if Tu Heng wasn't considered a top producer at the station, he was still a seasoned producer with considerable achievements. He had been quiet for half a year, doing nothing, and now he was actually lowering himself to help Kiyota Sanji produce a web series
. "Impressive."
It could only be said that Kiyota Sanji's uncle was indeed powerful. This kind of thing couldn't have been something that this promising young producer, Tu Heng, had actively requested; it must have been a political task imposed on Tu Heng by the deputy head of the production department, Akasaka Yoshitoki.
Compare this to the original owner of Su Yan's body, who had worked odd jobs in the scriptwriting department for two years before being promoted from intern to full-time, and was now still struggling to get a low-budget short web series approved.
Su Yan shook his head with a smile.
He was just an ordinary person.
He didn't look down on those with connections; the purpose of people's hard work is to make things easier for those around them.
If Su Yan were an ancient emperor, he would also ensure his son inherited the throne; if he became a tycoon, he would help his relatives and friends.
He just lamented that even after being reborn, he hadn't been born into a wealthy family to live a life of ease.
He still had to start his own struggle as a screenwriter.
As expected of me
, but Qing Tianshanzhi was currently enjoying the praise from his colleagues in the office. For someone as vain as him, the focus was never on those fawning and trying to curry favor with him,
but rather on the others in the office who hadn't yet shown their abilities.
He happened to see Su Yan smiling and shaking his head, and his brows furrowed.
What was he laughing at?
Why was he shaking his head?
Was he laughing at how I, along with Kanzaki Yuuyoshi, co-wrote the script for "Qingfeng," but I didn't actually contribute much and was just a figurehead?
Or was he shaking his head because I used my uncle's connections to get Tu Heng to be the producer of my work?
The more connections one has, the more sensitive one becomes.
Kiyota Sanji, who already disliked Su Yan, deliberately spoke up.
"Su Yan, I remember you submitted a script to the station yesterday, right? How's it going? Surely there's been some news?"
Kiyota Sanji smiled gently and asked Su Yan, who was standing not far away.
Su Yan was taken aback, looking at the dozens of pairs of eyes of his colleagues in the office and Kiyota Sanji's gentle smile. After thinking for a moment, he smiled back.
"Not yet, Kiyota-senpai."
"I already said, Su Yan, you don't need to call me 'senpai.' Although I'm older than you, you joined the TV station two years earlier than me. We can just call each other by our first names," Kiyota Sanji said gently.
"However, your script was only submitted yesterday. Perhaps the news of its approval hasn't reached our scriptwriting department yet. But I believe that with your talent honed over the past two years, your first script submitted to the station will definitely be selected for approval. If there's good news, be sure to tell us, and we'll all celebrate together."
Su Yan looked at Kiyota Sanji, his eyes narrowing.
Hmm... that tone... yes, you're being sarcastic, aren't you? "I
understand
, Kiyota Sanji. I'll let everyone know if my script gets approved for filming."
Kiyota Sanji?
You
're really taking this lying down, not even calling me "senior"?
Kiyota Sanji felt a lump in his throat.
He said that, but he didn't expect Su Yan to actually dare to call him by his first name.
He looked closely at Su Yan's face; he was all smiles, handsome and innocent, with a naturally naive look.
Was he really that clueless?
Kiyota Sanji hesitated.
But to Su Yan
, he wasn't from Sakura Province. Calling someone "senior" at Sakura TV was a matter of local custom, but it was only basic respect. If Su Yan didn't want that respect, so be it.
Kiyota Sanji's attitude towards Su Yan was a bit off, and the other employees present also noticed.
Just then, someone from the scriptwriting department's reception desk came in and called out,
"Scriptwriter Su Yan, Shinozaki Ikumi from the production department is looking for you. Do you have time now?"
"Yes," Su Yan replied, startled.
What could the production department want from him?
He instantly forgot about the unpleasantness caused by Kiyota Sanji.
"Excuse me, everyone, I have to leave now," Su Yan said to his colleagues in the production department.
Then, she hurriedly tried to leave the scriptwriting department, but suddenly remembered something, went to her workstation's cabinet, grabbed a file folder, and rushed away.
"Shinosaki Ikumi from the production department?"
The scriptwriting team quickly recalled who she was.
In any department, the best and worst performers are always memorable.
Because *Sakurajima Love Song* ranked second among the top ten worst online dramas of the first half of the year, and its main creative team was from their own TV station, Shinosaki Ikumi was naturally well-known in the scriptwriting department.
After all, nobody wants to make a mistake in the future.
When looking for collaborating producers, you need to find reliable, capable, and well-connected ones. This way, they can help your script attract more investment, more famous actors, and more capable teams.
Shinosaki Ikumi was clearly in the scriptwriting team's evaluation of the station's producers—she was already in the "caterpillar" category.
What could Shinosaki Ikumi want with Su Yan? She must be interested in his script!
Kiyota Sanji understood this and nodded thoughtfully.
A rookie screenwriter who only got a full-time position after two years of internship, paired with a producer who just led the production of a notoriously bad drama last quarter—a perfect match.
Are they going to put on a grand show?
What a flop!
Besides, if Su Yan's script is actually chosen and passes the production department's budget review, it will definitely be released on an online streaming platform, perhaps even at the same time as his "Qingfeng."
Hmm? That
seems alright.
Wouldn't Su Yan's work become the backdrop for Qingfeng's excellent performance?
It would be satisfying to just tell his uncle to reject Su Yan's script from the production department's project approval process because he doesn't like him.
But wouldn't it be even more satisfying to have his work surpass Su Yan's in terms of performance at the same time?
Outside the screenwriting department, Su Yan straightened his clothes and appearance.
Then, guided by the receptionist, he met the person who came to see him in the meeting room outside the screenwriting department.
Beneath a light green dress were long legs in black stockings, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and beneath a sun hat was a fair and delicate face. Her clear eyes fixed on Su Yan as he entered the room, a smile spreading across her face.
Su Yan hadn't expected that the producer, who had been the subject of much discussion in the editorial department for producing the terrible drama "Sakurajima Love Song" last quarter, would be such a beauty.
On the other side, opposite her, Ikumi Shinozaki had a similar thought. She hadn't expected that this new screenwriter, who had only been an intern in the scriptwriting department for two years before being promoted, would be such a handsome and masculine young man.