Both 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' had already begun receiving promotional attention just a few months after their development started.
Initially, it was all low-key marketing, but once February hit, global promotions began. The most memorable for fans was the wave of ads shown during 'Spirited Away' screenings throughout the Lunar New Year period at major cinemas across Great Zhou.
Basically, anyone who went to a theater during the holiday saw at least a glimpse of 'Yu-Gi-Oh!''s trailer—and got a taste of the over-the-top dramatic speeches worthy of a true "King of Duels." As for Pikachu, even though the game hadn't been released, the character artwork was already flooding the internet.
So when Jing Yu's company released the official press statement about 'Spirited Away' taking the number one box office spot, they deliberately attached gameplay trailers for both titles—the intention behind that was crystal clear.
They were going all-in on cross-promotion.
An event like 'Spirited Away' breaking the national box office record would naturally draw attention from anyone remotely interested in film. No matter which media outlet covered it, the accompanying game trailers would inevitably get mentioned.
In fact, within just 30 minutes of posting the press release on Bluestar Media & Film's official site, the page had already received over 400,000 views. Jing Yu's fans from all corners of the internet were flocking to the site in droves.
Of course, readers didn't care much about the formal congratulations in the first half. They scrolled straight to the bottom—for the game previews.
The 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' trailer contained far more detail than previous ones. It introduced things like the Millennium Items and even briefly mentioned the Pharaoh's backstory.
To Jing Yu's longtime fans, this was a major hook.
In several of his past works, Jing Yu had chosen not to mess with the original lore—both out of laziness and a belief that altering the story too much would ruin the feel. Instead, he simply created a fictional parallel world called Bluestar, which became the new setting for many of his adapted works.
Over time, fans became deeply immersed in the cultural lore of Bluestar, which now included King Arthur, Heroic Kings, Conqueror Kings, and now—Egyptian Pharaohs inside the 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' universe.
Naturally, Bluestar's "cultural archaeology nerds" were buzzing.
From duel mechanics, deck-building strategies, and the origin of cards—all of it fused with Bluestar's lore in a 10-minute gameplay demo. The narrator walked viewers through a sample duel—fans might not have grasped every mechanic, but the excitement was real.
Then came the 'Pokémon' trailer—and the shock level jumped even higher.
Even though both games were from beloved franchises in Jing Yu's previous life, it was obvious that 'Pokémon' was the bigger IP. That difference was reflected in the production budgets, too. 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' had cost 250 million yuan to make—but 'Pokémon'?
It started with 300 million, and after three rounds of additional funding, it had now surpassed 450 million yuan in total investment.
Games of this scale were rare in the Great Zhou gaming industry—only a few major studios could afford this level of spending.
Now, spending more money doesn't always make a game more fun—but it definitely boosts the visuals, audio, and overall polish.
The earlier trailers were CG clips made by a VFX studio. They were well-received, but fans were still unsure. Now that they finally saw real gameplay footage…
"Wait—Jing Yu's game division is this good? They've only been around for what—four or five years? And they're already making games at this level?!"
"When you've got money, anything's possible. Most companies take years to train staff and slowly improve. But Jing Yu? Nah. He just throws cash around and poaches top-tier talent. And it shows—'Pokémon' looks way better than that 'Rurouni Kenshin' game they released months ago."
"Honestly, 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' doesn't look that impressive, though."
"It's a card game, not an action RPG. It's about strategy, not flashy visuals. You don't need stunning graphics."
"Still, damn—'Pokémon' looks gorgeous. Jing Yu's imagination is really on another level."
"A card battle game and a pet battle game—he really knows how to hook players."
"Only thing is, I don't feel like either trailer showed off Jing Yu's strongest weapon—his storytelling."
"C'mon, wait until the games launch. Do you think a trailer is enough to show the plot? Remember the 'Rurouni Kenshin' trailer? No one could tell it had emotional gut-punches like Shishio and Tenken back then."
"But weren't we just talking about 'Spirited Away' breaking the box office record? How did the conversation shift to games?"
"Oh, right…"
"Still—' Spirited Away' is amazing. Jing Yu is amazing."
"Time to hit up his social media and beg for a sequel."
"For real. If there's no sequel, how can he look us in the eye?!"
On the internet, in gaming and entertainment forums, 'Spirited Away', 'Pokémon', and 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' were all trending at once.
Over a hundred media outlets across Great Zhou reported on it in various formats. Even the national evening news gave it a full-minute segment, covering 'Spirited Away''s box office triumph and highlighting Jing Yu's career.
The wave of praise was overwhelming.
That night, the company group chat was buzzing. Jing Yu even handed out a million-yuan red envelope to employees as a warm-up before the official celebration party.
It was past midnight before Jing Yu finally pulled himself away from reading the news.
"Done for the day?" Yu Youqing brought him a cup of coffee.
"Just about," Jing Yu replied.
"You still worried the company won't manage its projects well?"
Ever since the Lunar New Year, Jing Yu hadn't created anything new himself—no games, no dramas, no movies.
But the company had over a thousand people to feed, and Jing Yu wasn't about to pay them for doing nothing.
Even if he wasn't working on anything personally, Bluestar's staff was still producing new projects.
Two romance dramas with budgets over 50 million yuan were set for release in the summer. On the film side, Jing Yu had recently signed off on three projects: a wuxia film, a sci-fi romance, and a crime thriller. None were small-scale, and together they totaled over 250 million yuan in investment.
As for games, there weren't many new titles.
Most of their energy was still focused on adapting their previous films and dramas. Original games weren't on the agenda.
However, the 'Initial D' game was set to launch early next year, and new games for 'Ultraman' and 'Evangelion' had entered production. A 'Steins;Gate' prequel game was also finished—just waiting for a release date.
So while Jing Yu had no new works of his own, the company's pipeline was still full.
Still—
"Just like you said," Jing Yu sighed, "the company got to where it is thanks to my past work. And now I've poured 700 to 800 million into new projects. If they all flop… man, I'll be crying for real."
For years, the company had let employees pitch and create their own projects—but results had been average at best.
"You knew this day would come," Yu Youqing said softly, sitting beside him. "What kind of billionaire CEO personally creates everything to keep a company of a thousand people running? Usually, it's the company keeping the boss afloat. You pulled it off for ten years—working 16-hour days. That's not sustainable."
"Yeah, I know… but still…"
"No, but still.' You told me yourself—after 'Pokémon' and 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' launch, you'll start living your life. Still creating, but not like before. No more losing sleep and sanity over it." She gave him a knowing glance.
"I don't want to marry you just to see you come home past midnight every day."
"Of course not. I'm not a workaholic by nature. The last few years were just… timing. The internet boom, the opportunity—I didn't want to miss it. But now that the company is stable? No way I'm working like that again."
Jing Yu shook his head, brushing aside the unease in his heart. He picked up the coffee.
"Alright. Cheers—to 'Spirited Away' being #1 in Great Zhou."
"Cheers—with coffee?" Yu Youqing gave him a weird look.
"What else?"
"Hold on." She dashed out and returned with a bottle of red wine. She poured a full glass for both of them.
"C'mon, just us two? There's a party tomorrow!"
"Too late—it's open now. Not drinking would be a waste." She smiled.
Jing Yu exhaled deeply, said no more, and downed his glass in one go.
Yu Youqing followed, and then Jing Yu scooped her into his arms and carried her off.
—
The next day, the news of 'Spirited Away''s box office triumph still dominated media coverage across Great Zhou.
Some reporters even showed up late at night to the company's celebration party, held at a private estate.
Insiders all knew that Jing Yu was generous during these events—bonuses were always handed out on the spot.
For Bluestar employees, a party like this meant eating well, drinking better, and going home with a fat wallet.
After all, this was the company's most profitable movie ever.
Excluding production, promotion, and subsidies, net box office profits exceeded 1.5 billion yuan.
And with streaming rights soon to be sold to Qingyun Premium and Qiezi Video, the revenue stream was far from over.
As the #1 film in Japanese history, 'Spirited Away' had immense long-term value. Jing Yu knew that and was generous with rewards.
Every team member on the film project received at least one full year's salary as a bonus. Higher-ups earned even more.
Directors and producers got 0.1% to 0.3% of first-year profits.
Though they were mostly executing Jing Yu's vision, even that small cut could mean millions in bonus pay.
Of course, they were all grinning ear to ear at the party.
Even though Jing Yu technically didn't have to drink, he still played the part of a down-to-earth boss—and ended up drunk out of his mind, carried home by Yu Youqing.
—
The celebration continued to trend on forums and in news reports the next day.
Fans were genuinely happy.
Industry peers? They were watching the bonus payouts with envy.
"So jealous. Same industry—but Bluestar staff are living the dream."
"Their year-end bonus is the same as our company's annual profit. I'm not even mad—just dead inside."
"We've got over 2,000 people, but most projects lose money. Bluestar never seems to lose. They throw four or five parties a year!"
"I had a chance to join once… but I was stupid. Now? Not even qualified. They only hire legends now. Regular pros aren't good enough."
"Honestly, isn't Bluestar the top film company in Great Zhou now?"
"Scale-wise, they're smaller—just 1,000 people split across film, drama, and games. But in terms of impact, success, and brand recognition? After 'Spirited Away'? They're number one."
"Old legacy studios are being overtaken. Bluestar could easily scale up in six months. The only question is: can they fund enough projects to support a bigger team?"
"Exactly. Legacy companies might have 3,000–4,000 staff, but most of their shows lose money. Their annual profit doesn't even match half of 'Spirited Away'."
"Do we even need to debate this? If a company produces both the highest-rated TV series and the top-grossing film, and still isn't considered #1—who is?"
"…"
"Yeah. Fair point."
'Spirited Away's record-breaking run changed everything.
No one in the industry dared to belittle Bluestar—or Jing Yu—again.
They used to think the company was just a lucky newcomer.
Now?
In the blink of an eye, Jing Yu and Bluestar had climbed to the absolute top of the entertainment world—
with undisputed achievements to prove it.