Everyone left the dinner in high spirits.
Late at night, Okabe Sosuke and the others departed first.
Outside the restaurant, Shinozaki Ikumi and Su Yan stood side by side.
December in Hudu was already bleak and biting cold. Even without snow, the chill cut deep.
Shinozaki Ikumi pulled her white coat tighter around herself and looked at Su Yan beside her, her clear eyes carrying a trace of complexity.
"Su Yan, thank you."
"Huh? Why are you suddenly saying that?" Su Yan asked.
"Thank you for still thinking about me when you're planning your future career," Shinozaki Ikumi said softly.
She hadn't cared about most of what Su Yan said during dinner.
Only one sentence truly mattered.
Under equal conditions, he would stay at Sakura TV.
And if he stayed at Sakura TV, he would only choose to work with her.
That promise carried enormous weight.
Sakura TV had no shortage of producers who could effectively manage a crew.
But a genius like Su Yan—one who had proven himself twice in a row—was something Sakura TV might not encounter again for years.
"Of course. You're the first friend I made after coming to—" Su Yan paused, quickly correcting himself.
"After coming to Hudou."
"That's exaggerated. You interned at the station for a year—you must've made plenty of friends. But hearing you say that still makes me happy," Shinozaki Ikumi said with a smile as they walked toward the underground parking lot.
"Today's dinner really eased a lot of my worries," she continued, looking at him.
"At first, I set my expectations for 'An ancient love song' very low. I was too cautious—like a frog at the bottom of a well."
"But now, with results like this, maybe I'm starting to feel a little proud."
"The current performance is excellent. There's even a chance it could climb higher in the autumn rankings."
"Su Yan, you have a real shot at being nominated for Best New Screenwriter this year."
"And I've already started looking forward to January—when the awards committee might send me an invitation for Best New Producer."
She took out her car keys and brushed her hair back behind her ear, smiling brightly.
She hadn't drunk any alcohol, so she was the one driving Su Yan home.
Although she'd joined the station earlier than Su Yan, her first producer credit had been the disastrous 'Sakura Island Love Song', followed only later by 'Rurouni Kenshin' and 'An ancient love song'.
She truly qualified for the award.
"Working with you has brought me nothing but good luck," she said.
"I have a feeling this luck will stay with me for a long time."
Su Yan paused, then smiled as he opened the passenger door.
"Drop the 'feeling.'"
"The good luck will stay with you."
Shinozaki Ikumi started the car, smiling.
"I'll take that as a blessing."
She thought the conversation would end there—comfortable silence, city lights sliding past, the unspoken understanding of partners who worked well together.
But after ten seconds of silence, Su Yan suddenly spoke, breaking the mood.
"Miss Shinozaki."
"Yes?"
"Next week is the production department's meeting to approve new projects for the January winter season, right?"
The car screeched to an abrupt stop. Both of them lurched forward.
"Su Yan—why are you asking that?" Shinozaki Ikumi immediately turned to him, a strange light flashing in her eyes.
Most of 'An ancient love song' had less than two weeks of filming left. Post-production—encompassing audio, editing, music, and effects—would take another week or two.
But if Su Yan already had a new script…
The crew wouldn't even need to disband. They could transition seamlessly into the next project.
"You guessed right," Su Yan said calmly.
"I have a new script. I want it produced for the January winter season."
Shinozaki Ikumi stared at him in disbelief.
She had personally witnessed Su Yan's workload this quarter—acting, writing, composing hit insert songs.
And now he was saying he'd written another script?
Was he even human?
Su Yan was tired too—but he had no choice.
By his own estimates, even after 'An ancient love song' finished airing and the revenue came in, his total assets would only reach five to six million.
If he wanted to leave Sakura TV in March and go independent, he needed close to ten million as startup capital.
So for the January winter season, he had to do one more project—one last job for Sakura TV.
One more round of "humiliating" money.
"You're really planning to produce three dramas in three consecutive seasons?" Shinozaki Ikumi took a deep breath.
"Do I look like someone who acts without preparation?" Su Yan replied evenly.
"The script's been planned for a long time."
The car fell silent.
"Another depressing story?" Shinozaki Ikumi asked after a pause.
"Yes. Very depressing," Su Yan answered.
He didn't hide it this time.
The new script had cost him roughly 3.5 million emotional points the night before—nearly a third of what he had.
The remaining points, along with what he'd earn from the final episodes of 'An ancient love song', were being saved for March—for the first self-produced project of his future company.
Hearing his answer, Shinozaki Ikumi felt a headache coming on.
This man really wasn't afraid of being hunted down by enraged viewers.
Then again, any fan who tried would probably just be asking for trouble.
She'd been getting cursed alongside him ever since 'Rurouni Kenshin'.
As a producer, she was responsible for script approval—so the criticism wasn't entirely undeserved.
But what could she do?
Depressing stories were what made Su Yan successful.
And the cautionary tale of Kiyota Sanji was still fresh.
"What's the new script called?" she asked curiously.
"'To the Moon!'" Su Yan said softly.
'To the Moon'?
What kind of name was that?
She thought about it for a minute.
"Give me the first three episodes within three days. I'll submit them to Director Okabe so she can start the process."
Her eyes sharpened.
"No matter what, this time we'll secure proper resources. I won't let that old bastard interfere."
She started the car.
Since Su Yan had already decided not to renew his long-term contract, he hadn't poured all his emotional points into selecting this January project.
But that didn't mean 'To the Moon!' lacked value.
Among all the depressing works he'd experienced in his previous life, 'To the Moon!' had left one of the deepest impressions.
The original wasn't a TV series, anime, or novel.
It was a game.
A low-budget, pixel-art, text-heavy game with almost no gameplay—more like reading a novel.
No flashy visuals. No fan service. Just pixels.
In terms of gameplay, it was terrible.
In terms of storytelling, it was a masterpiece.
In its release year, it beat out major titles and won Best Story of the Year.
Its creator was even invited for national interviews because of the emotional impact it had on players worldwide.
Back in his previous world, there had once been plans to adapt 'To the Moon!' into an animated film—but years passed without even a character poster appearing.
Back home, Su Yan opened his script template and typed three words:
'To the Moon!'
He took a deep breath.
Even years later, seeing that title still made his chest tighten.
After all, the first time he experienced that story, he hadn't slept all night.
But imagining spreading that same emotional devastation to the Xia Nation…
Su Yan felt energized again. His writing momentum surged.
Two days later, Sunday.
Episode 11 of 'An ancient love song' aired.
Shen Buyan's fourth transmigration began.
This time, all the jade fragments had merged into one, and even the jade itself transmigrated.
It truly was the final journey.
Shen Buyan finally understood that fate could not be defied.
Every attempt to change Lu Yuan's destiny had only caused her greater pain.
He saw eighteen-year-old Lu Yuan and her brother Lu Shi, still trapped in servitude near South Dream Lake.
So this time, Shen Buyan had only one wish:
Free her family from slavery.
Teach this girl—who met him for the first time in this timeline—knowledge of strategy, politics, and economics.
So that in her already-doomed future, she might suffer a little less when facing Li Yong.
This episode wasn't as brutal as the previous ones.
But the details cut deep.
When Shen Buyan brushed a leaf from Lu Yuan's hair, she stepped back half a step.
Just like how thirty-six-year-old Lu Yuan once stepped forward—and Shen Buyan stepped back.
In the moment each loved the other most, they met the version of the other who had never loved them.
The pain once unknowingly inflicted was now fully returned.
The sense of fate reached its peak.
Yet Su Yan's earlier statement became the audience's only emotional anchor.
["Don't be afraid. Writer Su Yan said it himself.
["In the finale, Shen Buyan and Lu Yuan's dreams will all come true."]
["This drama must have a happy ending."]