Many people think raising a baby is exhausting—loud, messy, and disruptive to daily routines.
But most of those problems can be solved with money.
For example, by hiring trained professionals to work in three rotating shifts around the clock to care for the baby. During the day, Jing Yu would hold his daughter Jing Xiang, feed her, and play with her. He'd occasionally help change diapers, though admittedly, poop and pee were things he just couldn't get used to. And he wasn't a pro—he could learn, sure, but why bother? What's the point of making money? It's to spend it—to offload the tasks you don't want to do onto others.
These specialized tasks were fully handled by experts. For Jing Yu now, this kind of expense wasn't even a drop in the ocean.
So neither he nor Yu Youqing felt the struggles of parenting. The professionals he hired didn't feel overworked either—because with their sky-high salaries and proper 8-hour shift rotations, the exhausting 24/7 stress of childcare was removed. They were tired, yes, but content. In a way, it was a win-win.
The only part Jing Yu struggled with was adjusting to having strangers living at home. But he got used to it.
For an entire month, Jing Yu didn't concern himself with any company matters.
Even when the 'Bleach' live-action drama began airing, he only made a symbolic post on social media. His full focus was on his precious daughter.
"You always seemed mature and calm. I thought you didn't even like kids. Never expected this—turns out you're a full-on girl dad."
Yu Youqing recovered quickly. Within days, her fatigue faded. She even carved out time daily to exercise and rebuild her strength. Still, watching Jing Yu play for hours with their daughter without tiring, she couldn't help teasing him.
"I just don't like other people's kids. Loud and annoying. I never said I didn't like my own," Jing Yu replied, smiling down at the giggling infant.
"That's why they say genetics is everything. Look at our daughter—she's already this cute. When she's a teen, she'll probably outshine both of us."
"That's for sure... But what about you? Are you planning to have her inherit your career someday? Become one of Great Zhou's top actresses, too?"
"Who can say that now? It depends on what she enjoys," Jing Yu said.
"What if she doesn't enjoy anything?" Yu Youqing shot back.
"Then the money I've made should be enough for her to live a thousand years without worry. Why bother struggling through life? Having dreams and goals is good, but chasing them your whole life might not be happier than being a carefree salted fish. As her father, I'll pursue the goals and ambitions—that's enough. I hope my child can just focus on eating, drinking, playing, and sleeping. The fewer desires, the fewer troubles."
Yu Youqing paused, then laughed.
"That's exactly why I love your mindset... Seriously, we have everything now. But honestly, I feel like even with all we have, my mom selling flowers back in Lancheng might be living more freely than we are. Our company pulls in hundreds of millions a month, but is that really more satisfying than her haggling over fifty cents at the market? Maybe not."
"Just my mindset?" Jing Yu looked at her.
"Okay, okay, fine! I like everything. Happy now?"
She leaned over and lay beside him. Between them was their daughter, quietly dozing. They gazed at each other.
Yu Youqing held his hand.
"It's kind of surreal. All of this started because I went to that blind date with you on behalf of my best friend."
"Speaking of, where is that friend now? I haven't seen you two talk in years."
"She ghosted me, basically. She didn't like you back then... And now I'm married to you, and you're this successful. Probably too awkward and embarrassed, so she just cut contact."
Truth was, the gap between people had widened.
One was now just a regular citizen of Lancheng. The other was the wife of the billionaire founder of one of Great Zhou's top entertainment and gaming companies. Even if Yu Youqing never flaunted her success, many of her old friends stopped reaching out—not out of jealousy, but because people tend to avoid what makes them feel inadequate.
"Sorry about that," Jing Yu said.
"What's there to apologize for? Life is all about trade-offs." She kissed him and looked out the window, smiling.
"But man... I fell in love, got married, became a mom—all so smoothly. Real-life romance is way more relaxing than the chaotic messes you write about."
Jing Yu was quiet.
He spent another half-month at home, ignoring company business.
Still, even while Jing Yu wasn't involved, the company's various ongoing productions and releases experienced no delays whatsoever.
A company of this scale wouldn't stumble just because its founder decided to be a salted fish for a few months.
At most, Jing Yu's reduced creative output might slightly affect revenue.
The previous season's 'Slam Dunk' continued airing into this quarter. Season 1's plot had essentially reached the point where Mitsui Hisashi joined Shohoku, and the national tournament arc was beginning.
As for this season's new series, 'Bleach'—
Its development trajectory was very similar to how it played out in his previous life.
Among the three major franchises—' One Piece', 'Naruto', and 'Bleach'—Jing Yu always felt that 'Bleach' had the slowest and most meandering start.
Sure, the series was stylish, and the character designs were the most attractive of the three. But the core team of characters? Their development felt a bit shallow by comparison.
In 'One Piece', each crewmate had a compelling backstory. In 'Naruto', every member of the Konoha 11 had strong moments in the early arcs—memorable and impactful.
But in 'Bleach', aside from Ishida Uryu, many fans would outright skip Orihime's story arcs. Even Chad, despite having a cool persona, felt more like an afterthought in the early narrative.
The early part of 'Bleach' was essentially Ichigo discovering a Hollow… then fighting it… Then repeating that same formula over and over. The repetitive structure quickly wore thin.
It wasn't until Byakuya Kuchiki showed up that 'Bleach' truly entered its first major arc. From there, the series entered a golden period that continued all the way to the epic showdown with Aizen.
If not for the power creep in the final battle—Ichigo's ridiculous power-ups and the way Aizen was nerfed with a sudden drop in IQ—and if the story had just ended after the Aizen arc instead of introducing the bizarre Fullbring and Quincy war storylines, then 'Bleach' might have been the only one of the Big Three not to suffer a bad ending.
These same issues were also reflected in the Great Zhou adaptation of the drama.
The premise and aesthetics of 'Bleach' initially stunned the audience, generating massive buzz. But a few weeks in, with Ichigo still stuck in his Hollow-of-the-week routine, viewers began to feel fatigued.
Still, Jing Yu had been in the Great Zhou industry for years. He knew exactly how patient this world's audience was. And he timed the shift perfectly.
Just as people were getting bored with the current arc, a twist dropped in the latest episode.
A character who had never appeared in any of the trailers—played by Jing Yu himself—finally made his entrance: Byakuya Kuchiki, clad in flowing white robes over a black inner uniform.
His handsome, icy face radiated nobility and elegance, the kind of presence that transcended the screen.
Though Jing Yu had mostly stepped away from acting, stepping back didn't mean disappearing. If he liked a role, he'd still take it.
And Byakuya was one of his top three favorite characters in 'Bleach'. The other two? Ulquiorra the "Fourth" Espada and Grimmjow the "Sixth."
Those two wouldn't show up until the show had been running for another year or more, so when production started, Jing Yu immediately chose to play Byakuya.
Minimal screen time. Maximum cool factor. And perfectly aligned with Jing Yu's own appearance.
The moment the episode aired—with Byakuya breaking two of Ichigo's fingers, then impaling him through the heart in one smooth move—the audience was floored.
For the first time, viewers saw what captain-level power looked like.
Anyone who'd assumed Ichigo was already invincible got completely blindsided.
Both in terms of plot and performance, Jing Yu's surprise appearance drastically boosted buzz around the show.
"Oh my god, Byakuya is too cool!!"
"Teacher Jing Yu is handsome. Byakuya, as a character, is handsome. Combined = god-tier."
"I was riding a hype high, then hit a cliffhanger. Curse you, Old Thief!"
"Yunteng TV just released this episode's ratings—9.98%! Looks like next week, 'Bleach' is definitely breaking the 10% mark."
"I honestly thought Jing Yu was fully in dad-mode right now. Didn't expect him to come back and cameo as such a god-tier character."
"It's over. I don't want Ichigo as the main character anymore. I want Byakuya!"
"Same here. He only showed up for five minutes, and already stole the show."
"I can't even sleep from excitement. Just give me next week's episode now!"
That's the thing about action-heavy shows. You might not end up rating them as the best series ever. Even Jing Yu wouldn't rank 'Bleach' above classics like 'Hi no Tori' or 'Astro Boy'.
But when it comes to the actual watching experience—the hype, the adrenaline—these shows hit different.
The wave of discussion that episode stirred up didn't die down for days.
But what fans really felt after that Byakuya cameo was this:
Jing Yu might only show up like this from now on.
In recent years, Jing Yu had been shifting more of his focus toward the gaming industry. He rarely starred in dramas anymore. As for movies, ever since the release of 'Spirited Away', he hadn't been involved in anything major.
Now that his company was rapidly expanding, and with the added responsibility of a growing family, he simply didn't have the time to keep acting.
To longtime fans, the idea that their familiar actor and screenwriter Jing Yu might soon fully transform into businessman Jing Yu was a bit hard to accept.
They were reluctant to let go.
But like it or not, Jing Yu really didn't have the time or energy to remain active on set like he used to.
After two full months of playing full-time "girl dad," he finally returned to work—at Yu Youqing's strong insistence.
Back at the company, he reviewed all the backlogged projects, resolved several major creative issues that only someone at his level could handle, and quickly got the machine running smoothly again.
Then, before anyone knew it, another winter passed, another New Year arrived.
During the Spring Festival season, BlueStar Company released five major new games and dramas in a row.
Even though Jing Yu didn't personally promote them, the titles soared in popularity alone—fueled by hype from previous works and BlueStar's massive clout in the industry.
One of the games was even an original in-house project—not one of Jing Yu's own, but it still received glowing reviews after launch.
What's more, among the new Spring dramas, one or two stood out. These weren't the usual Great Zhou-style productions.
When Jing Yu watched those two shows himself, the storytelling, character design, shot composition, and direction—
It was like a wave of heavy pre-rebirth Japanese anime energy smacked him in the face.
Time and influence. That's what it takes to change an industry.
After more than a decade dominating the entertainment world in this new life, Jing Yu had done more than just rise to the top—he had reshaped the ambitions of an entire generation of young creators.
The writers of those two breakout shows? Just 19 or 20 years old. Both had dropped out of high school and never attended university. They entered the industry as low-level assistants, working their way up from the bottom for years before finally getting a shot to lead their own scripts.
Each had taken charge of a small-budget drama funded by a minor TV station and Qingyun Online.
And both series, despite their shoestring budgets, exploded with rave reviews once released.
Seeing this, Jing Yu felt deeply gratified.
He didn't want the Great Zhou entertainment industry to forever rely on adaptations of works from his previous life.
And finally—after over ten years—he saw signs of true originality returning.
Not because those two newcomers were geniuses per se, but because they weren't alone. In an industry this large, there were bound to be countless other young creators brimming with talent. All they lacked was opportunity—a proper platform.
And if given the chance, maybe they'd spark a wave of legendary creations like those from 1980s–90s Japan: golden-age anime and dramas that defined generations.
Jing Yu wasn't going to sit still and wait.
Other companies in the field scoffed:
"So what? Just two new kids. They're miles away from Jing Yu's level."
But Jing Yu moved fast.
Within days, he convened a high-level meeting and pushed through a plan: BlueStar Company would immediately fund and develop a new online platform dedicated to discovering and elevating young creators.
Its function would mirror that of sites from his previous life—as Japan's light novel web portals, where many hit anime started as user-posted web novels before getting picked up by publishers and animation studios.
Jing Yu had money. He had manpower. And if there really were creative prodigies among the public, they wouldn't ignore a platform backed by the biggest name in the industry.
They needed an opportunity. He needed a way to identify and recruit true talent.
And BlueStar would be the bridge.
Other studios understood what he was doing—but knowing and replicating are two very different things.
After all, in terms of industry status, reputation, capital, and influence, Jing Yu's position was nearly untouchable. If promising creators were going to trust anyone, they'd trust him first.
Sure, other companies had money.
But many of their people eventually fell out with their studios over profit disputes. Not so with BlueStar.
Want proof? Just look at 'Fate/stay night'.
Even after all these years, the actress who played Artoria still received over 30 million in annual royalties.
Yes, she was locked into a contract.
But BlueStar treated her well. Jing Yu might be a capitalist, but in a world full of sharks, he was one of the rare prehistoric beasts that still had a hint of humanity.
TV dramas, films, games, and creator recruitment—these projects all moved forward at once.
Blue Star's team, funding, and influence continued to grow rapidly.