"He really seems to have reached the peak of the TV drama industry. If he wants to go further, he'll have to break historical viewership records."
"The highest single-episode TV viewership in Great Zhou history was 24% back in the 1990s, but the highest average series viewership record belongs to 'Summer', aired on Shenlong TV in the 1980s, with an average of 17%. But those figures aren't comparable. Back in the 80s and 90s, there were fewer than 20 TV stations in Great Zhou, and even fewer major ones. Any drama could easily break 8% or 9%. Audiences had no choices. In this era, breaking those records is basically impossible—there are just too many entertainment options."
"Besides, the influence of a work isn't just based on ratings. For example, 'Hikaru no Go' clearly had lower viewership than 'Fate/Zero', but it had a far greater impact. That show alone got millions of people into playing Go. That kind of cultural influence can't be measured by ratings alone."
"Yeah, you can't compare today's era to the early days of TV development. No one could help that—the records were a product of history. But at least for the past twenty years, none of the other writers or networks in Great Zhou has outperformed Jing Yu. That's something everyone should agree on."
"Honestly, if you ranked the top ten and excluded Jing Yu from the list, the combined works of spots two through nine still wouldn't add up to his output. His works aren't just prolific—they're terrifyingly consistent in quality."
"Let's just see when his creative streak ends."
"It's been five or six years already, and we haven't seen him hit any kind of slump. Who knows? He might keep going like this for another five or six years."
"If he keeps this up for another five or six years, what's the point of trying anymore? Great Zhou's audiences won't even want to watch anything that isn't his."
"Well, there's nothing we can do. He's just that kind of once-in-a-generation creator."
The industry's grumbling and chatter about Jing Yu peaked around mid-to-late July.
This situation was starting to resemble the rise of wuxia novels in Hong Kong during Jing Yu's past life. Back then, there were the "Four Great Wuxia Masters"—Jin Yong, Liang Yusheng, Gu Long, and Wen Rui'an—who all competed with each other. But in Great Zhou's TV industry, all six major networks had already thrown their best people at Jing Yu, and they'd all failed. Now it was just Jing Yu dominating the entire scene.
Even inside Jing Yu's own company, people were getting cocky after seeing the ratings for 'Natsume's Book of Friends' and 'Legal High' Season 2. When chatting with others, drinking or singing karaoke, they'd often say:
"My boss is already invincible."
And the media? They just jumped on the bandwagon with the fans, hyping him up non-stop.
"What? You don't seem happy with all the praise?" Yu Youqing asked, seeing Jing Yu's indifferent expression as he looked at the news reports.
"What's there to be happy about?" Jing Yu replied.
"The media's just riding the wave for clicks and traffic. As for being called 'the number one TV writer in Great Zhou'… take it with a grain of salt. If you buy into that stuff, you'll lose yourself quickly."
"You're so calm about it. Meanwhile, everyone else in the company is fired up. Even Cheng Lie is in that mood."
Which was understandable. If Jing Yu was called the number one writer, then Blue Star Media & Film must be the top production company. That made its employees the top-tier talent in the industry. If Jing Yu's status rose, they benefited too.
"For now, maybe," Jing Yu said. "But haven't you noticed? In recent years, the quality of Great Zhou's TV dramas has improved a lot compared to four or five years ago."
"My shows still rank at the top for now, and probably will for the next four or five years if I really push it. But ten years from now? Who knows?"
Every industry evolves. In the 60s and 70s, Japanese anime storylines were incredibly formulaic by modern standards. If you took a 90s classic like Naruto, One Piece, Dragon Ball, or Bleach and aired it in the 70s, it would have been a total game-changer. But those "crushing blows" don't last forever—the people you're beating will learn, adapt, and eventually surpass you.
Great Zhou has over a billion people. The only reason Jing Yu's shows dominate is that the industry's standards were still low. But his success has acted as a catalyst. Competition has increased, the industry has "involuted," and lazy, half-assed writers can't get by anymore. On the flip side, talented young creators inspired by Jing Yu are starting to rise on various networks and platforms.
Give it ten years, and some genius might emerge and create a masterpiece that rivals anything from Jing Yu's past world.
Historically, once one genius appears in an industry, others follow. Toriyama, Inoue, Oda, Kishimoto, and Togashi—all titans of the manga world—emerged in the same golden era. Any one of them, placed in another time, could've dominated their peers. But it was the fierce competition of the 90s that made that period so legendary.
"So you think someone might surpass you in the coming years?" Yu Youqing asked, half-laughing in disbelief.
"Surpass me completely? No." Jing Yu paused, then added, "But it's possible some genius could write something as good as 'Initial D' or 'Hikaru no Go'. After all, Great Zhou has billions of people. It can't be less talented than a country with only 100 million."
"But they won't beat me in output. That's impossible."
"How humble of you!" Yu Youqing said, clearly not buying it.
"Too much humility is just another form of arrogance."
"Is that so?" Jing Yu shrugged.
"I hope those geniuses show up soon. I've been entertaining Great Zhou's audience for years. It's time someone made something interesting enough to entertain me."
After all, that way he could enjoy the best of both worlds—both creating and consuming culture.
But Jing Yu also knew the truth. Right now, no one else has come close. He still felt like he was growing and improving, but when he looked around, all the competition was already lying flat.
In the eyes of the industry, he was probably seen as some kind of final boss.
Still, he was getting a little tired of making TV dramas. In the past, he pumped out shows like a machine because the company needed to grow. But now? The company had money, staff, and a solid reputation.
After wrapping up this year's lineup—'Natsume', 'Legal High', and 'Evangelion'—he'd scale back TV production. Do not stop completely, but definitely avoid releasing multiple shows per quarter. It was exhausting for him and his staff, and it attracted too much envy.
Instead, he planned to focus more on unexplored areas like film and merchandise development.
Because in this environment, even if he managed to recreate the Marvel or Pokémon franchises, it'd be pointless if there was no merch infrastructure to back it up.
Late at night, Jing Yu drifted to sleep thinking about all this.
Time moved into late July.
In truth, the filming of 'Evangelion's' character scenes didn't take that long. The extended production timeline was due to all the demanding special effects. So the crew's filming schedule gradually slowed, and Jing Yu finally had time to join the 'Fate/Stay Night' game development team on a promotional tour.
After all, one of the game's major characters, Gilgamesh, was based on him.
July 31st, at Capital City's Stadium No. 3.
It was summer vacation.
Great Zhou didn't have anime, but that didn't mean it lacked an otaku culture.
The gaming scene was booming too—just more focused on realistic art styles and Western-style games. So while game expos weren't swamped with people, they still had major influence.
Game release dates were usually chosen at the publisher's discretion, like movie premieres. Big-name studios avoided releasing games on the same day, but smaller ones didn't have that luxury.
In Great Zhou, most game launches happened in spring and late fall/winter. So from August to December, dozens of major titles would hit the market—plus countless indie games.
Roughly 40% of these were developed domestically, the rest from abroad.
Compared to his past life, Great Zhou's local studios weren't far behind international ones. The gap was more like scoring 80 vs. 95—not like in his previous world, where the market was flooded with mindless mobile games and pay-to-win junk.
If not for the restrictive license system back then, a lot of those terrible companies would've gone under.
But in the current Great Zhou, despite 'Fate/Stay Night's popularity among 'Fate/Zero' drama fans, the game was just the first project from a brand-new studio. Historically, that almost always meant failure.
Even with the drama's fanbase, and despite the game's bold 129 Great Zhou yuan price tag, most industry experts predicted it would flop. They figured global sales wouldn't break a million copies.
As such, the game's booth wasn't placed in a prime spot at the convention—somewhere in the middle, not at the edges.
But the organizers noticed something odd.
Typically, this event sold 10,000–20,000 tickets. Since people came and went throughout the day, actual attendance was usually just a few thousand at any time. It was mostly a media-driven promotional event.
But this year, even though the event wasn't until August 2nd and they were still setting up, more than 40,000 tickets had already sold.
Strange.
The organizers didn't follow the film world much, so they didn't understand what was happening.
But over in fan forums and drama groups?
One rumor was spreading like wildfire.
On August 2nd, at the Capital Stadium expo, Jing Yu would appear dressed as Gilgamesh in golden armor to promote 'Fate/Stay Night'.
Translation: for just 38 yuan, you could attend the expo and see Great Zhou's most popular star in person.
Maybe even grab his ass in the crowd.
Guys loved Gilgamesh because he looked cool and rebellious. So, of course, they'd pay to see Jing Yu cosplay him live.
Girls, even if they weren't into games, thought:
"Why not go? I can stare at Jing Yu up close. Maybe… just maybe… he'll fall for my beauty."
Delusional? Sure.
But Jing Yu's female fans were full of wild fantasies.
Even though the event was in the capital, his fanbase was so massive that the organizer's backend system showed completely abnormal ticket sales.
And they mistakenly believed it was due to the hype surrounding other games coming out this fall.