On the eighth day after its release, 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal''s daily box office fell to 59 million.
Those repeat viewers—the second, third, even fourth-time watchers—had finally started to move on from the emotional pull of the story.
While the film had undeniably left a deep impression on many, after a few days, the public slowly returned to normal life.
Still, the box office performance left Meng Yu waiting at the agreed meeting spot, both in awe and envy.
His entire lifetime of earnings at Yunteng TV probably didn't even amount to one-tenth of the revenue this single film had brought in within half a year.
And it was Cheng Lie who had the sharp eye—leaving his stable position at Yunteng TV to follow Jing Yu even when Jing Yu's future seemed uncertain.
Jokingly speaking, if Jing Yu were to ask Meng Yu now whether he wanted to quit and join his team, Meng Yu might actually be tempted.
Although he held a high-ranking position at Yunteng TV, with access to various behind-the-scenes resources, his actual income was significantly lower.
Back when Jing Yu was at Yunteng TV, he probably earned more than anyone except the shareholders of the major TV stations.
Those on fixed salaries could never match the return Jing Yu earned from his performance-based contracts.
And now, with Jing Yu's departure from Yunteng TV and the success of 'Trust & Betrayal', his earnings were clearly poised to skyrocket even further.
If 'Love Letter', scheduled for release next month, also became a hit... Meng Yu took a deep breath.
In the new era, what's the most valuable asset?
Talent.
Jing Yu might not have the longest résumé or the biggest name in film and TV, but in terms of return on investment, few could match him.
Dressed in a white T-shirt, casual pants, and sneakers, with a baseball cap and mask covering his face, Jing Yu walked into the restaurant.
He immediately spotted Meng Yu, who looked in good spirits.
"Minister Meng, long time no see." Jing Yu smiled and reached out for a handshake.
Meng Yu shook his hand warmly.
"Here, I brought a bottle of my personal stash—aged over 20 years. The packaging may look plain, but trust me, it tastes way better than any of those so-called premium brands out there."
Grinning, he pulled out an old, worn-looking container.
As soon as he uncorked it, the room filled with a rich, fragrant aroma.
Jing Yu wasn't really into drinking, but…
Seeing how cautiously Meng Yu poured the wine—so careful that even a drop spilled made him wince—Jing Yu figured he couldn't just decline.
They began with light conversation—reminiscing about the first time Meng Yu met Jing Yu, what he thought back then, and marveling at how far Jing Yu had come in less than two years.
They chatted like that for nearly half an hour.
Finally, once the alcohol had loosened them up—
Meng Yu got to the point.
"Jing Yu, it's pretty much confirmed that you won't be returning to Yunteng TV, right?"
"There are no absolutes in life," Jing Yu said with a pause. "If I ever lose all my investments and rack up a mountain of debt, and there's a company still willing to take me in... then yeah, I'd go. What choice would I have?"
Meng Yu understood instantly.
Unless Jing Yu was in deep debt and had no better offers, and if Yunteng TV was still willing to offer a role that would allow him to pay it back legally and honorably, only then would returning make sense. Otherwise, asking him to go back and be a salaried employee was just unrealistic.
So there was no point pursuing that line of discussion.
"What about collaborating on a drama then?" Meng Yu asked.
"Collaboration… sure, but it depends on whether both parties are offering equal value," Jing Yu replied after a moment of thought.
If Yunteng TV could take a B+ show and blow it up to S-tier popularity…
Like that investor in his past life behind "Hi, Mom (2025)", who took advantage of perfect timing and hype to drive a modest-quality film to a 5-billion-plus box office—then yeah, Jing Yu wouldn't mind splitting the rights and profits evenly.
But what could Yunteng TV really offer him now?
All they had was a broadcasting platform—and there were hundreds of those in Great Zhou. The only difference was traffic volume.
Money? Jing Yu didn't have much, but he had enough to survive a few flops.
Talent? Maybe not as elite as Yunteng TV's teams, but still professional and capable of meeting his needs.
It was all pretty clear-cut.
Meng Yu sighed heavily.
"Alright, let me get straight to it then. That proposal you brought up—where your own company, Bluestar Media, invests and produces independently, and Yunteng TV simply licenses the broadcast rights—the higher-ups… have reluctantly agreed."
Reluctantly. Jing Yu didn't buy that for a second.
Yunteng TV's leadership probably had been hoping he'd flop and come crawling back. But now that 'Trust & Betrayal' was a smash hit, they had no choice but to face reality.
Otherwise, they wouldn't have contacted him just one week into the film's release.
"But, Jing Yu, you know... we have the in-house talent to make dramas that get 3-4% ratings. So if we're going to collaborate this way, your series needs to meet that standard—at least."
Meng Yu wasn't trying to sugarcoat it. No need for fake pleasantries between old colleagues.
On paper, it looked like Yunteng TV needed Jing Yu, but in reality, Jing Yu also needed Yunteng TV.
He had no plans to leave the drama industry completely. And the "Big Six" broadcasters would never buy just the broadcast rights—they wanted full ownership.
Small stations? Out of the question. Even a top-tier drama like 'Initial D' would be lucky to break 4% ratings on those channels. At Yunteng TV, it pulled over 10%.
So in terms of viable partners that weren't part of the Big Six but still had decent traffic, Yunteng TV was by far the best—and the most familiar.
"So..." Meng Yu continued.
"You don't have to worry about that, Minister Meng," Jing Yu smiled. "I'm willing to sign a performance-based agreement like I did back when I was at Yunteng TV. If the show I produce gets less than 3–4% ratings, I won't charge a cent for the broadcast rights."
In his past life, it wasn't unusual for mediocre productions to pay broadcasters just for the chance to air.
Without a major TV platform, nobody would even know your drama existed—let alone buy merch or other licensing deals.
So while it looked like Jing Yu was taking a loss, in truth, even if the show flopped, airing on Yunteng TV gave him exposure worth more than cash.
Meng Yu knew that perfectly well but didn't bother calling it out.
Jing Yu had never made a flop. No point in assuming his next show would be the first.
That performance-based clause, though—it got Meng Yu interested.
"If you can keep cranking out smash hits like 'Initial D', then broadcast fees and all that—no problem! Yunteng is open-minded."
"But…" Meng Yu hesitated, "Time may be a bit tight."
"Tight?" Jing Yu raised a brow.
"You know that ever since you joined Yunteng TV and started producing dramas, our overall ratings have gone up significantly. We were already neck-and-neck with the lower three of the Big Six, and now we're basically on par in most timeslots."
"But this trend is unstable. A lot of the added viewership came from fans of your past work. If we don't have another high-quality show airing soon, those viewers might drift back to the Big Six."
"When Jin Yuan left earlier this spring, we saw that exact pattern. Then 'Dragon Zakura' aired in the fall and stabilized things. But even now, traffic is starting to dip again."
"Last year, when you were still at Yunteng TV, we saw steady growth. No ups and downs like this."
"That's why the higher-ups were so quick to approve this collaboration."
Forget about profits for now—Yunteng TV just needs high-rating shows to keep their traffic alive.
Ratings are the foundation. Everything else is just noise.
"So what you're saying is…" Jing Yu looked at him.
"Even though July and August will be packed for you—with 'Trust & Betrayal' and 'Love Letter' in theaters—I'm hoping that by September, you can start production again." Meng Yu exhaled deeply.
"If not, we'll miss the window for the October winter slot."
Jing Yu understood immediately.
Yunteng TV was willing to accept this new collaboration model—but only if his next drama could air in time for this year's winter schedule.
"September, huh…" Jing Yu mused.
With 'Love Letter' releasing on August 7th, things would start to ease up by September.
But there was a problem: the box office for both films wouldn't return profits that quickly.
"If we're talking about starting production in September, the script won't be a problem," Jing Yu said.
Meng Yu's eyes lit up.
That's what it's like working with a genius—just casually saying he could write a drama that pulls 5–6% ratings like it's no big deal.
None of the in-house writers dared make promises like that.
"But I'll need Yunteng TV to front me the production funds."
"I'm low on cash right now. By next spring, it'll be fine, but this winter? The revenue from the two films won't have cleared yet."
That sentence made Meng Yu's face go green.
Wait, what?!
Wasn't this supposed to be your own investment? Now you want us to front the money?
So let me get this straight:
Yunteng TV loans you the money to shoot the drama, the copyright remains yours, we still pay you for the broadcast rights, and then you use that money to pay us back?
And in the end, you walk away owning all the other rights?
Unbelievable. Is there a savvier businessman in the world?
"I'll discuss your proposal with the higher-ups." Meng Yu's face was dark, but he couldn't really say no.
If Yunteng TV wanted to stay competitive in the winter lineup, they had to accept Jing Yu's terms.
Sure, they were demanding—but Jing Yu wasn't the one desperate.
If this deal fell through, he wouldn't suffer. Yunteng TV would.
"Then I'll leave it in your hands, Minister Meng." Jing Yu smiled politely.
"If your team agrees, we can move forward and talk about the details."