By the time June arrived, not only within the Great Zhou, but also across many international gaming platforms, forums, and communities, waves of ads for 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' flooded in one after another.
Of course, for veteran gamers, no matter how good the advertising is, they won't rush in blindly. They'll wait for post-launch player reviews before deciding whether to buy.
Still, the games produced by Jing Yu's Bluestar Media & Film Company gave many domestic and international players a refreshing feeling.
Though Jing Yu was only a seasoned gamer and not a developer, the intricate gameplay mechanics and pacing differences he imported from his past life's world were the main reasons his past works had received such high praise.
What might be considered "tropes" when overused were once groundbreaking innovations when they first appeared. Gameplay concepts that bored players in his previous world felt completely fresh and exciting to players in Great Zhou.
The trailers for 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' reflected that clearly.
While this type of game existed in the Great Zhou world, players weren't impressed by the genre itself. It was the attention to detail and innovations in the trailers that truly surprised them.
The game visuals were top-tier, the stories were in Jing Yu's wheelhouse, and the gameplay appeared creative. Combined with Bluestar Media & Film Company's solid track record, players felt confident about both titles.
As a result, players at home and abroad began checking Bluestar's official website almost daily to follow updates on the two games.
International gaming media also began covering the two upcoming titles in a positive light.
August and September weren't typically peak months for game releases in the Great Zhou market, so 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' actually had a timing advantage. Regardless of anything else, each game had a production budget of several hundred million, with talent recruited internationally — clearly AAA-caliber productions.
After taking a two-month break, Jing Yu returned to the company at the end of June. No more skipping work for ten days at a time to go play; he was back to personally handling company matters.
He also got involved in promoting the two games. He made surprise appearances at major domestic gaming expos and frequently held fan meetups. Though he wasn't starring in or producing any dramas or films recently, his fans could still see him everywhere — on all kinds of media platforms.
"It's already mid-June and still no news on a new project from the Old Theft! Don't tell me he's going to ghost us in the fall season, too?"
"Seems like it. Honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, the guy's giving off retired millionaire vibes."
"???"
"Seriously, though — since 'Attack on Titan' wrapped up, he hasn't released anything new. 'My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU', 'Hyouka' — they were great but way too short. Sure, 'Spirited Away' hit theaters back in February, but that was filmed last year. It's been over six months with nothing new... dude really might be done."
"I mean, let's be real. He's stupid rich — I wouldn't want to grind either. Better to just enjoy life."
"But what about the 2,000 people working at his company? He chills and they just what... go broke?"
"Didn't the company drop three dramas this season? And they all made it into the quarterly Top 10. It's not like everything's collapsed — they're just not in the #1 slot like they used to be."
"A version of the Old Theft who doesn't care about being #1... is that even him?"
"Come on, the guy's clearly obsessed with game development now! Don't forget — his main gig was film and TV!"
"But real talk — his investment in these two games is the biggest he's ever made. 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' alone costs over 400 million, including promotion, and 'Pokémon' already burned 200 million just on global ads — and the costs are still rising. He's treating these games more seriously than any film or show."
"I just hope he comes back to making dramas. Games take forever. You can film a TV series in a few months, a movie in a year, but a game might take years. If he goes all-in on games, how many can he even release in a lifetime?"
"Who knows? For now, he's just been quiet for half a year. Let's see what happens after the release of 'Pokémon' and 'Yu-Gi-Oh!'. If there's still no new drama news, maybe the golden era of quarterly releases from the Old Troll really is over."
By the end of June, there was still no official word from Jing Yu about any new projects.
The fall season would feature two in-house dramas. Their ratings were about the same as the previous quarter — floating around 6%, sometimes dipping to 5% when an episode didn't land. Overall, they weren't much different from the shows produced by the six major TV stations.
Of course, July marked the start of the summer season — a major box office window in Great Zhou. Jing Yu's company had one mid-budget action film (costing 90 million) scheduled for release.
Since it was under the Bluestar Media & Film label, the promotion heavily emphasized that "Jing Yu himself praised it as outstanding." These days, every piece of marketing has to include Jing Yu's name — he was a natural advertisement.
The film's performance? Not a flop, but not a hit either. Day-one earnings were 46 million, with a total of 130 million in its first week.
That kind of return was average. For its budget, it met expectations — no losses, but not much profit either.
Jing Yu reviewed the company's financial report.
Without any new work from him, net profits had dropped more than 50%. Around 70–80% of what remained came from passive income tied to his past works.
If you removed everything even remotely related to Jing Yu and looked only at employee-created content — original films and TV series — after subtracting costs and taxes, the company made just over 100 million this quarter.
"Hmm." Jing Yu glanced at the report several times, then let out a long breath.
"Not losing money is already a win."
This, in truth, was the normal level of profit for a film company. Only a few major firms in Great Zhou could make billions annually in net profit.
But Jing Yu was used to hitting it big with one mega-hit — whether it was 'Mobile Suit Gundam SEED', 'Attack on Titan', or top-tier films like 'Spirited Away', 'Castle in the Sky', or 'Your Name'.
As long as one of those dropped, the company could rake in over a billion in profit in a single quarter.
That's how Bluestar Medi & Film broke 10 billion in total assets in just a few years — and that's without even counting IP valuation.
Even after slacking off for two whole quarters, Jing Yu didn't feel much about the measly income hitting the accounts.
If he had to spend tens of millions, even billions, in his personal life — unless it was for gambling, he wouldn't know what to do with it. But earning this little in a quarter? Meh.
"This... is life," Jing Yu laughed.
He knew it wasn't just him feeling the pinch. The finance department, used to eight-figure monthly revenue, must've been just as disappointed.
Two quarters of near-total detachment had taught Jing Yu something.
If he really wanted to lie flat, he had a long way to go. The only reason the company hadn't collapsed was because of his lingering reputation and fan loyalty. But if the quality slipped, audiences wouldn't keep forgiving them.
Sitting in his office chair, Jing Yu thought.
It was now late June. Next month's focus would be 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' promotions, August was its launch and 'Pokémon''s pre-release marketing, September was 'Pokémon''s global launch, and October — his wedding with Yu Youqing.
Realistically, he'd have no time or energy to create new works this year.
But on the other hand, after months of downtime, he was starting to get bored. Plus, with no new content, he was bleeding fan engagement — and right now, he was still the face of the company. The only face.
Until Bluestar cultivated its own geniuses like Akira Toriyama or Yoshihiro Togashi, the flag was his to carry.
"Well then..." Jing Yu smiled bitterly.
Turns out lying flat isn't so easy.
The six major networks had spent years trying to compete with him and failed to dig up anyone at his level. The people Jing Yu's company recruited were top-tier, too, but no more special than those from the big six.
That's just the truth — in Great Zhou's film and TV industry, "top-tier" still got crushed by Jing Yu.
Sure, he could stay in retirement mode, let the team run wild, and still rake in a few hundred million in profit yearly — mostly from old IP royalties.
But he knew it couldn't last.
Running a company was like sailing against the current — stop moving, and you drift backwards. Get too comfortable for too long, and the world leaves you behind.
In a few years, he'd spent over 700–800 million supporting in-house creative projects — and not one breakout hit. He had to face that fact... and consider making something new to boost performance.
He wasn't planning anything huge this year. The game department alone had enough to do just adapting his past works.
As for film, his highest-grossing movies all followed one pattern: Jing Yu writes, Jing Yu stars. Replacing him would hurt box office numbers. With no time this year, he wasn't planning any new movies.
For TV shows...
He sat thinking in his office for a long while, then called in his assistant.
"Bring me my old creative tools."
"Eh?" His pretty assistant blinked behind her black-rimmed glasses, then lit up with joy.
She rushed to the next room and returned with his script notebooks and character design kits in record time.
At this point, Jing Yu had such high fan value that he could basically unlock any of his past life's works from the system panel.
But with his current standing, he couldn't afford to release just anything — it had to be high quality.
If 'Spirited Away' was an S-tier title, and 'My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU' or 'Hyouka' were A-tier, then his next release had to be at least A-tier or better.
Anything worse would ruin his brand.
And that limited his options.
Something like 'Great Teacher Onizuka'? A classic, sure — but it was full of crude jokes and violent scenes. Even if ratings were good, it'd hurt his image.
Filtering out those kinds of shows, he narrowed it down to two main ideas:
One — the all-time high-rated J-drama: 'Hanzawa Naoki.'
The other — one of his personal favorite anime: 'Death Note.'
He hadn't touched 'Hanzawa Naoki' before because Great Zhou's work culture wasn't quite as soul-crushing as Japan's — viewers might not relate. But now that people were used to his fictional Blue Star + Japan setting, it was fine. Just tweak some job titles and department names, and it'll feel natural.
As for 'Death Note'...
He always considered it a god-tier masterpiece. He'd wanted to adapt it for ages, but never found the right time. Now, since he'd only be filming this year and not airing it yet, there was plenty of time to work with a special effects studio to handle Ryuk and the shinigami visuals.
These two projects would be his way of making it up to fans after a year of silence.
He would write the scripts and start pre-production — though most of the heavy lifting would be left to his team.
For now, his main focus remained on the two soon-to-launch games.
T/N: The author won't go into detail about 'Death Note' — too risky to the book. Just a quick mention, like with 'My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU'.