February passed, and March arrived.
Spring season dramas from major TV networks were nearing their finales.
This quarter, Xingtong TV clearly had the upper hand, with its average viewership rating climbing to 8.3%.
Meanwhile, Yunteng TV's flagship drama was hovering around a 4% rating.
That placed it sixth among all spring season broadcasts.
By Yunteng TV's historical standards, that performance wasn't bad. But to an audience with increasingly high expectations—it felt... underwhelming.
"I miss Teacher Jing Yu."
"Sigh... only a month left in the spring season, and still no word from him. Can't he work on both dramas and films?"
"Looks like Yunteng TV won't have any breakout hits next quarter either."
"Even if Teacher Jing Yu's movies are amazing, they're just two movies. It's not like a TV drama where we can watch every week."
"No point whining—he's moved on to film now. That's the trend anyway. Writers, directors, and actors in Great Zhou all aim for film once they succeed in TV. After all, movies do carry more prestige."
While fans in Jing Yu's fan groups continued lamenting his pivot to movies...
Yunteng TV suddenly dropped a piece of news that sent them into a frenzy.
A new drama written by Jing Yu as the lead screenwriter — 'Dragon Sakura' — had officially been greenlit at the start of March.
And it was already holding open casting calls across Great Zhou!
The news spread like wildfire. Not only were Jing Yu's fans stunned, but even the six major TV networks were caught off guard.
"What's going on?"
"Didn't he switch to film?"
"So why is there a new drama airing?"
In the fan groups:
"What the hell is happening?"
"I don't get it."
"Is Teacher Jing Yu now working both TV and film?"
"Is he... going back to Yunteng TV? Isn't that too fast? The movies haven't even been released yet. If he failed and returned, I'd get it. But now?"
"Seems like he didn't go back. According to Yunteng TV's press release, Jing Yu is listed only as the lead screenwriter. He's not mentioned among the core production staff."
"So... he sold them a script?"
"That must be it. No doubt."
"Wait, so if he sold the script, he won't appear in the show, nor will he have control over the filming or the final presentation?"
"Yep, that's what it sounds like."
"Dragon Sakura? That name tells me nothing... wuxia?"
"Nope. It's supposed to be about Great Zhou's brutal college entrance exam system."
Fan forums exploded.
And among the six major networks — especially the Top Three, this announcement sparked even greater panic.
This guy again?!
They were hoping he'd quietly go shoot his movies. Why was he still selling scripts?
Did he have too much free time?
Frustration aside, the execs at the top three networks snapped to attention.
They were used to competing against each other. Who came out on top rotated all the time — it was just part of the game.
But ever since Jing Yu entered the scene, everything changed. Last year, in four seasons, his works ranked in the Top 3 three times and took the top spot twice.
That shook the top three to their core.
Each of their production teams immediately called meetings the next day.
Because this time, Jing Yu wasn't acting in the show. He wouldn't be present on set. He wouldn't even oversee the music.
If even under these conditions, their own summer dramas lost to a script he wrote?
They'd never live it down.
Back at the Modo Film Lot, the production crews were equally confused.
Especially Cheng Lie — he had no idea what kind of deal Jing Yu had made with Yunteng TV.
The truth?
Jing Yu had used the script sale as part of his negotiation to officially leave Yunteng TV.
He hadn't told Cheng Lie — there was no need.
Originally, he had planned to sell them one of his lower-tier scripts.
But the more progress they made on 'Rurouni Kenshin' and 'Love Letter', the more Jing Yu realized a critical issue:
Funding.
Not that they couldn't finish the movies with their current budget. But if they wanted to elevate the details — polish the cinematography, enrich the sets — they'd have to spend more. And spending more on production meant less money for marketing.
So after some thought, he decided — if he was going to sell a script anyway, he might as well sell a better one.
And with a few creative negotiations...
He struck a side deal with Meng Yu over at Yunteng TV.
The terms were similar to the ones he had back when he was employed there: script fees and royalties based on final ratings performance.
Of course, since he wasn't acting or overseeing production, the terms were slightly less favorable — but still acceptable.
One key clause: the final script fee would be paid out immediately upon the airing of episode 11, the finale of 'Dragon Sakura'.
Based on Meng Yu's promise of a nearly 100 million yuan budget, Jing Yu expected a script fee between 10 and 20 million.
Combined with residuals from previous projects — especially the long-delayed royalties from 'Initial D' — this cash would fund the marketing campaigns for 'Rurouni Kenshin' and 'Love Letter'.
Just in time.
"So that's the situation,"
Jing Yu explained to his three business partners: Cheng Lie, Yu Youqing, and Xia Yining.
The script was his, after all. He didn't have to report how he sold it. But since they asked, he didn't hide anything.
"So... the script you sold — Dragon Sakura — is it really that good?"
— Cheng Lie, ever the producer, couldn't help but ask.
"Not amazing, per se... but very relatable," Jing Yu replied with a grin.
'Dragon Sakura' was originally a manga, later adapted into a live-action series in Jing Yu's past life. It had solid ratings and reviews.
The premise: an unconventional teacher helps a group of underperforming students fight their way into Great Zhou's top university — Imperial Capital University.
From an adult's perspective, the core message was: if you work hard enough, you can succeed. Most underachievers are simply using the wrong methods or lack discipline.
That message wasn't wrong — but it was idealized.
In truth, correcting bad habits might get you into an average university. But for the top schools? Everyone's already working themselves to death — six hours sleep, eighteen hours study — and that's after mastering the right techniques.
At that level, it's a battle of raw talent.
If you do make it, it just proves you were gifted all along — you just hadn't tapped into it yet.
It doesn't prove that someone with an IQ of 80 can outwork someone with an IQ of 120 who's also grinding just as hard.
The drama glossed over that nuance, which made it deeply moving and motivational.
Viewers couldn't help but think: "If I tried hard enough, I could do it too."
When Jing Yu first saw it as a teenager, he was moved. Later in life, he realized it was a bit too inspirational — bordering on emotional manipulation.
Still, as a drama, it was solid and uplifting. And no matter the era, there'd always be youth full of dreams — so the show would always find an audience.
Overall, Jing Yu felt it wasn't as captivating as 'Hikaru no Go' or 'Initial D', but definitely better than 'Another'.
"My only worry is that Yunteng TV, without me or you to steer the production, might mess it up."
— Jing Yu exhaled.
"I doubt it," Cheng Lie replied. "Maybe it'll look different stylistically, and the casting might not match our tastes... but if it's a strong script, it'll still be a good show. Yunteng TV still has plenty of talented people."
"Let's hope so. I'm counting on that script fee to fund our film promotions. If ratings flop, the fee drops... I'll be stressed."
Cheng Lie, ever practical, didn't dwell too much.
But then something occurred to him.
"Actually, Jing Yu... if you trust the script and believe the final show will be decent, we could use Yunteng TV's platform to promote 'Rurouni Kenshin' and 'Love Letter' as well."