She looked at Su Yan again and again.
In all of Su Yan's dramas, the relationship between the male and female leads had never developed this fast.
By Episode 3, the confession had just happened—and it was the female lead who took the initiative
Yet after reading the script, Shinozaki Ikumi didn't feel anything was wrong at all, because Rika was exactly that kind of person. Or rather, it was precisely her straightforward, head-on approach to love that made her so charming, and why she became the unforgettable regret of so many fans in 'Tokyo Love Story'.
After finishing the three episodes, Shinozaki Ikumi had only one thought about this drama.
"Invincible."
This was a show overflowing with talking points—every single episode had a major hook.
Her curiosity was completely ignited. She desperately wanted to know how the story would develop next.
Taking a deep breath, she looked at Su Yan's calm expression.
"This drama has a lot of Sakura Island–specific locations and cultural elements. If you try to find substitutes in Hudu, it'll be pretty difficult," she said.
"Yes, I know." Su Yan paused.
"So this time, I'm not planning to shoot it at the Hudu studio base."
Shinozaki Ikumi turned to look at him, her expression changing.
To put it bluntly, filming at studio bases and soundstages was about saving money.
It was like early TV dramas from Hong Kong in Su Yan's previous life—one bowl could appear across countless series; costumes from one show would be reused for years. Fake mountains, fake water, fake scenery. Aside from acting and story, everything else was hard to watch.
Hudu's studio base was the same. Xia Nation's audiences had long grown aesthetically numb to sets that appeared in hundreds of dramas.
But this was 'Tokyo Love Story'.
And after 'Cyberpunk: Edgerunners', Su Yan's company would soon receive massive revenues. With over a hundred million in funds, he could afford to be bold with this production.
"I'm planning to shoot on location—in Tokyo, Sakura Island," Su Yan said.
Shinozaki Ikumi froze.
"On location?"
After thinking it through, she had to admit he was right.
How could a studio shooting ever compare to real locations?
After 'Edgerunners', the entire Xia Nation drama industry would be watching Su Yan's next move. He had to invest heavily in quality.
His reputation now was far more valuable than the extra cost of on-location filming.
"And not just 'Tokyo Love Story'," Su Yan continued.
"The second script I brought—'Puella Magi Madoka Magica'—will also be shot on location in Tokyo, alongside it."
"Magical… girl… Madoka?"
Hearing the strange title, Shinozaki Ikumi felt dizzy again.
She quickly opened the second folder and started reading.
Not long after, her expression went blank.
Magical girls.
Contracts.
Such a novel setup.
As she continued, once she reached the scene involving the headless senior Mami Tomoe, she sensed something was very wrong.
A long while later, Shinozaki Ikumi finally pulled herself out of the script.
Her mind was numb.
Completely different from 'Tokyo Love Story'.
She hadn't finished the whole script, but once she grasped the true nature of magical girls, she felt unwell.
Too dark. Too depressing. Too grotesque.
"This drama… there's no romance?" she asked.
"No," Su Yan nodded.
"I see it as friendship. Though if fans insist on shipping characters—like with 'Life Is Strange'—I won't object," he said with a smile.
A thoughtful look crossed Shinozaki Ikumi's eyes.
She couldn't judge this script yet.
"'Puella Magi Madoka Magica' will definitely be produced at S-tier standards," Su Yan said.
"As for 'Tokyo Love Story', check with the team about the costs of on-location shooting for both. In any case, aim for high production standards."
Strictly speaking, Su Yan also wanted to make 'Tokyo Love Story' at S-tier quality.
But pouring seventy or eighty million into it—where would that money even go?
It wasn't a historical epic or war drama. No massive spectacles.
The characters were ordinary people. No luxury settings. No thousand-person concert scenes like 'Your Lie in April'.
The highest cost would be actor fees. Forcing more money into it would just be wasteful.
"Understood," Shinozaki Ikumi replied. She had learned not to question Su Yan's scripts or decisions lightly.
His rise so far was built entirely on his sharp market instincts and writing.
Magical girls were bold and unprecedented in the Xia Nation, but if Su Yan believed it could succeed at the S-tier level, there had to be a reason.
Trust first.
The company had enough capital now. Even if it lost money, they could afford it.
What she needed to consider was how to build crews in Tokyo, arrange logistics, accommodations, and safety for the whole team.
And 'Puella Magi Madoka Magica', like 'Edgerunners', would require massive VFX investment—possibly even higher demands on costumes and props.
Contracts with VFX studios. Costume orders.
Work piled up instantly.
And this time, Su Yan couldn't stay on the sidelines—he had to be deeply involved.
Times had changed.
For the next drama, cooperation with Zhongxia TV in a prime weekend slot was the obvious first choice. If they were willing, the next step would be scheduling.
Then there was 'The Garden of Words'.
The pressure mounted.
She thought there would be a break after 'Edgerunners' ended.
Instead, less than two weeks later, work came crashing down again—powered entirely by Su Yan, the company's engine.
As Su Yan and Shinozaki Ikumi planned the company's next phase, time quietly slipped into July.
By now, summer releases across Xia Nation had finalized their schedules.
Starting July 4th, three big-budget films (over 100 million) will be released on the 4th, 11th, and 18th.
Around them, eight or nine mid-budget films (10–60 million) would follow, hoping to sip some soup while the giants ate meat.
On July 31st—
The release day of 'The Garden of Words'—six mid-budget films (under 50 million) would premiere on the same day.
Around August 10th, two more big-budget films would arrive.
In short, 'The Garden of Words' was positioned right in the middle of the summer season.
It avoided head-on clashes with superstar directors and mega-productions, but its release week was crowded with similar-tier competitors.
At this time, Skybound Pictures, the distributor working with Su Yan's company, had already begun negotiating with major theater chains about screening allocations and promotion.
On paper, screen allocation depended on cast, popularity, and profit expectations.
In reality, there were countless under-the-table deals—ticket subsidies, profit-sharing concessions, relationships.
Su Yan felt uncomfortable about it, but respected the rules of the Xia Nation's film market.
He didn't need dominance—just parity.
On opening day, 'The Garden of Words' could not be given fewer screens than its competitors.
Soon, Su Yan and Shinozaki Ikumi were fully swamped.
They had to manage 'Puella Magi Madoka Magica' and 'Tokyo Love Story'—crew building, casting discussions—
And also join Gu Qingyuan and others on roadshows and promotions for 'The Garden of Words'.
Finally—
By early July, as the summer season loomed and production companies circled like predators—
The official promotional trailer for 'The Garden of Words' was released across the four major streaming platforms and major theater chain websites.
In the film industry, Su Yan was still a rookie.
Competitors knew his name, but didn't take him seriously.
Film and television were different beasts.
Did success in TV guarantee box-office success?
Usually not.
In most cases, acclaimed TV actors or writers moving into film saw their first works flop—both financially and critically.
This was true in Su Yan's past life.
It was true in the Xia Nation.
People acknowledged Su Yan's achievements on TV.
But few were optimistic about his film debut.
Some haters even hoped his first movie would crash and burn.
Yet within hours of the trailer's release, the news spread everywhere.
On all four major streaming platforms, 'The Garden of Words' trailer shot straight into the top three trending topics.
Su Yan's fan loyalty exceeded everyone's expectations.