With the curtains drawn, the room dimmed, Jing Yu sat quietly watching the final cut of 'Voices of a Distant Star'.
In his past life, Makoto Shinkai only became widely known in Japan's film industry after 'Your Name' exploded in popularity. The film even made it into the top three highest-grossing Japanese films of all time. But before that, Shinkai had only been a moderately famous animator.
And 'Voices of a Distant Star', his debut short film, had always been one of his least well-known works.
Why? Simply because the visuals were rough.
It was a short animation made in the early 2000s. From the keyframes to the script, to character designs, background art, even the male voice acting — it was all done by Shinkai himself. Only the female voice acting and the music were handled by someone else.
If it weren't for the outdated visuals, Jing Yu believed the film's popularity in his previous life wouldn't have been any less than '5 Centimeters per Second'.
But in this world...
Jing Yu's eyes were fixed on the screen.
Here, 'Voices of a Distant Star' was essentially entirely VFX. Aside from the two lead characters, every background element — the skies, the sea, the starfields, deep space — required intense visual effects to capture the beauty the story needed.
Yu Youqing sat beside him, her gaze equally captivated by the images onscreen.
Shinkai's early works were full of fantasy-like visuals — even realistic romance films like '5 Centimeters per Second' had dreamy, surreal backgrounds. So you could imagine how whimsical 'Voices of a Distant Star' looked.
That said, the story still had its flaws.
In the original setting, humanity had already developed interstellar travel — yet the heroine's phone was still an old-fashioned flip phone that could only send texts. The idea that a phone signal could traverse light-years of space was, frankly, a stretch.
But upgrading it to video calls would've ruined the atmosphere of the original. So Jing Yu simply added a few tweaks to the lore: in the film's world, due to the limitations of long-distance signal transmission, only low-bandwidth text messages could be sent across such vast distances — video was impossible.
When it came to worldbuilding in film and TV, adding details like this was just a matter of the creator's intent. As long as there weren't obvious, laughably illogical plot holes, most viewers wouldn't nitpick whether the science was legit or not. No one watches dramas for a science lecture.
From Yu Youqing's perspective—
This twenty-minute short, which cost over 50 million yuan to produce, hit her with one word as soon as it began: "Beautiful."
The opening scene featured her character, Mikako Nagamine.
"Under that background… I look so beautiful!" she said shamelessly, praising herself.
"Heh." Jing Yu chuckled.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Yu Youqing turned to him.
"It means I agree. So, what do you think of my role in this one?" Jing Yu asked in return.
Yu Youqing looked at the screen more carefully.
In the film, Jing Yu's character — clean-featured, handsome, and with the distant, confused air of a high schooler — came across perfectly.
"Well, what can I say? Your high school boy look is always on point. Out of 100, I'd give it a 99."
"Hmm? Only 99? Then who gets 100?" Jing Yu blinked at her.
"You, just now, being a little jealous — that's 100," she teased with a smile.
Jing Yu scratched his head, embarrassed, and wisely stopped the topic there. She always had a way with words. As a textbook straight man, he simply couldn't keep up.
Onscreen, the imaginative starry skies, the powerful, awe-inspiring mechs, the massive Jovian thunderstorms, and the grotesque alien ships came alive.
It was overflowing with sci-fi flair.
The story followed the long-distance love between the male lead, Noboru Terao, and Mikako Nagamine.
At first, their messages only took minutes to deliver — within the solar system. But as the story progressed, Mikako was deployed further and further away. Eventually, it took over six months for a text message to travel one way from the solar system's edge.
By the end, after chasing an alien fleet into another star system, a single message round-trip — over 8 light-years away — took sixteen years.
Yu Youqing had known the script during filming. But the final cut of the visuals? That was something else entirely.
Gradually, she was drawn in. Twenty-some minutes flew by in silence.
When the image of Mikako's mecha drifting into the deep cosmos cut to black, both of them sat in silence.
"You're gonna get flamed again," Yu Youqing said with a sigh.
She had already sensed something was off when they shot the script. But now that the final cut was complete — with the crushing loneliness of a long-distance romance amplified by the visuals and music — the emotional weight was overwhelming.
"With this ending, your fans are definitely gonna flood your socials with complaints again."
"Can't you think about your poor fans for once? They follow your work, full of hope — only to find all their favorite characters die at the end!"
"Eh, it's not so bad. I've always loved tragic stories. If they want to be my fans, they'll have to adapt to my tastes," Jing Yu replied.
Most of his favorite works were tragedies or emotionally painful. He'd hardly ever made a purely upbeat, happy-ending show.
"The editing's good. Nothing that needs to be changed." Jing Yu switched off the projector.
By late June, the summer drama season had mostly wrapped up. Viewers across Great Zhou trudged their way through the season's offerings with mixed feelings.
"Meh" was the best way to describe the general sentiment.
Now, 'Fate/stay night' had entered full promotional mode. Yunteng TV had dedicated nearly half of its ad slots just to hyping up the series.
Artoria, Gilgamesh, and Kirei Kotomine — all the major characters from 'Fate/Zero' were heating up online again. Even the 'Fate/stay night' game saw a jump in sales in June.
The Big Six networks had given up completely. They stopped trying to compete. Although the fall season hadn't officially begun yet, Jing Yu's competitors already felt like the match was over.
Ironically, just as July approached, Jing Yu found himself with some rare free time.
With filming for 'Fate/stay night' and 'Voices of a Distant Star' complete, and 'Your Name' down to just post-production, plus night scenes for 'Castle in the Sky' wrapped up, Jing Yu didn't need to micromanage anymore. For once, he could finally take a break.
Having dated Yu Youqing for quite some time, the two had spent most of their relationship filming. Now with a rare window of freedom, Jing Yu took his girlfriend on a tour across Great Zhou.
During their travels, he also asked some friends in Modo City to help him find a new company HQ and personal residence.
After all, Bluestar Media & Film Company had grown well past its startup days. The company had plenty of cash on hand, and Jing Yu figured it was time to buy a building in Modo for the official headquarters.
As for his own living space, he had always rented — a nice place, true, and only a bit over 100,000 a month. But still, it lacked prestige.
It wasn't about being flashy. He just felt it'd be silly to have made so much money and not spend any of it. Buying property was a reasonable investment anyway.
His assistant handled the details of finding options while he was traveling.
Although Jing Yu was out of town, Bluestar's operations hadn't slowed one bit.
As the calendar turned to July, the fall TV season officially began.
Everyone at the company was on edge, holding their breath for the premiere of 'Fate/stay night'.