In the two weeks that followed, fans were in an uproar over Jing Yu's comments on the ending of 'Slam Dunk'.
There were too many people in Great Zhou, and everyone's tastes differed drastically. Some felt that an ending filled with regret gave the show a unique beauty. Others believed that even a stereotypical championship win for Shohoku's five-man team would have been better than watching beloved characters fall short at the quarterfinals.
But regardless of which side they were on, everyone agreed from the bottom of their hearts: 'Slam Dunk' was undeniably a masterpiece. The debates only existed because fans hoped for an alternate ending that could make the work even more perfect.
That said, Jing Yu was clear on his own role. He was a cultural ambassador across worlds, not someone who recklessly rewrote classics.
He only deviated from the original storyline in certain works when there was evidence from his past life that a different direction would benefit the adaptation.
But with 'Slam Dunk', the Shohoku-quarterfinals-ending didn't change the fact that it was a legendary work.
Naturally, Jing Yu didn't want to mess with perfection.
By this time, his daughter, Jing Xiang, was already toddling around with her baby walker.
Kids these days were clever beyond their years—even at just over a year old, though she couldn't fully speak yet, she could already grasp how to use phones, play games, and follow what's going on in shows.
Her favorite? 'Ultraman Tiga'.
Jing Yu had already played the entire series for her twice, but she still lit up with excitement every time Tiga appeared on screen.
After 'Slam Dunk' ended, Jing Yu's new long-running battle drama, 'Fullmetal Alchemist', took its place. During that year, 'Fullmetal Alchemist' also had tie-in games, novels, and merchandise rolled out in tandem. The production had a longer timeline, and its visual effects far surpassed those of 'Bleach'.
Around the same time, the third major 'Pokémon' game launched globally.
In just a month, it sold 19 million copies.
In two months, sales exceeded 28 million.
By two and a half months, it had passed 31 million.
And that wasn't the end—before the third-gen hype faded, the fourth-gen 'Pokémon' game dropped, and its sales even exceeded its predecessor's.
By year three of the 'Pokémon' IP's birth, with global fandoms for 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' now firmly established, Jing Yu's company went all in—pouring resources into global promotion and IP expansion, regardless of cost.
They advertised during Great Zhou's Spring Festival Gala, international New Year's specials, and major sports finals. The IPs gained endorsements, co-developed games with other famous franchises, and continued to grow.
The output of BlueStar Company, compared to two years before Jing Yu's child was born, had grown by roughly 60–70%.
As the largest entertainment company in Great Zhou, BlueStar didn't slow down after dominating the domestic market. It set its sights globally, entering a new round of high-stakes competition with top industry giants worldwide.
By this time, Jing Yu's daughter Jing Xiang was three years old and already speaking fluently.
Her favorite series was still 'Ultraman', of course, but she had also begun watching some of Jing Yu's earlier works.
"Daddy, how come you and Mommy still look the same after so many years?"
Her lips were rosy, her teeth pearly white. With her hair in tiny pigtails and a black dress, she sat on the floor, watching a scene from 'Your Lie in April' where the male lead, played by Jing Yu, and the female lead, played by Yu Youqing, performed their first duet. She looked back and forth between the TV and her parents, confused.
Jing Yu was 25 when he filmed that drama. Now, he was 38.
Xiang had already asked about these facts while watching. But from her perspective, her parents hadn't changed at all—even though more than a decade had passed. This clashed with what Grandma had told her about people aging.
Jing Yu glanced at Yu Youqing. Their daughter's question stirred memories.
"Really, honey, you look as young as ever! I see you every day, so I didn't notice. But seriously, how have you not changed at all? It's freaking me out."
"What's there to freak out about?"
It was summer. Yu Youqing was wearing a long white dress, and the warm breeze blowing in through the villa's open windows made the whole room cozy and sleepy.
She held a glass of light grape wine in her delicate white hand. Her lips were tinted pink, dimples appearing as she smiled.
"If anyone should be freaked out, it's me. Just last month, you won the top spot in Great Zhou's male celebrity popularity poll—even though you've basically stepped back from the spotlight for two years. You beat out that 22-year-old rising heartthrob, Xu Cheng. From teen girls to women in their 40s, your fanbase is over 100 million strong."
"I seriously have to worry about some vixen stealing you away. And that beard of yours? If you're not growing it out for a role, shave it off. It only makes you look more mature and attractive. You already look like you're in your 20s—it's unfair!"
"Huh?" Jing Yu touched his chin, dumbfounded.
Some guys grow a beard, and it covers their entire jawline. His own, on the other hand, added a touch of elegance, giving him a refined, aristocratic air—nothing rough or aged about it.
In his past life, Jing Yu had envied someone like Jimmy Lin, who looked 30 at age 50. In this life, he was even more handsome and even more ageless—it almost felt unfair.
"You know," he said, "when Xiang starts middle school ten years from now, and we go to parent-teacher meetings, the teacher's probably going to scold us for sending her older brother and sister instead."
Yu Youqing giggled and brought her half-finished glass to his lips. Jing Yu obediently drank.
"I'd love that to happen," she said. "But you? You'd better age gracefully. I'm scared that someday I won't be able to keep up. That'll mess with my head."
They chatted casually about aging and appearances.
After all these years, with their company worth billions, fame and fortune within reach, there were moments when life started to feel aimless.
They had everything—wealth, a happy family, perfect health.
"Don't worry," Jing Yu said. "I'll always love only you."
Over the years, Jing Yu had perfected the art of sweet-talking his wife—and it worked. Yu Youqing burst into laughter.
"So," she asked, "ever think about giving Xiang a little brother or sister?"
"Great idea. But that's your call. I'd be content with just Xiang. But if you think one's not enough… well, tonight—"
"Let's talk later." Yu Youqing blushed.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Jing Yu's eyes lit up.
At the door stood the muscle-bound Cheng Lie and the cool, shades-wearing beauty in a black dress—Xia Yining.
She was only two years younger than Jing Yu. While calling her a "girl" would be a stretch, she hadn't changed much in appearance.
"Alright, let's begin BlueStar Media's sixth board meeting of the year," Jing Yu said with a cheerful tone.
Of course, calling it a "board meeting" was mostly an excuse for friends to gather. They fired up the grill in the garden, Jing Yu outlined the company's plans for the next six months, everyone agreed, and then it was just chill conversation.
"You know, Yining," Yu Youqing said seriously, "you should really start dating someone…"
"No need. I'll wait until you and Jing Yu break up," Xia Yining said playfully, raising an eyebrow.
Yu Youqing stiffened, clearly alert despite knowing Yining was teasing.
"Relax. I'm just picky. If you introduce someone better than Jing Yu, I'll marry him right away. Otherwise, stop worrying. I've spent the past few years traveling the world. That's way better than being tied down."
"Sigh…" Yu Youqing let out a soft sigh.
But honestly, if she'd lost to Xia Yining back then, she might have done the same—diverting her passions elsewhere.
Spending time around Jing Yu made it hard to admire anyone else.
She understood Xia Yining—but still felt guilty. After all, there was only one Jing Yu. If Yining stayed single forever, she'd bear some of that responsibility.
"Bro," Cheng Lie said, "we're already at the top of games, films, and TV. Even your investments in delivery and food services are worth billions now. Do you really need to keep expanding into short video?"
"Of course," Jing Yu replied. "My foresight is average at best. So I spread my bets—minority stakes. Most of these companies are still in angel rounds. If they flop, whatever. If they win…"
"I trust your instincts," Cheng Lie said. "But we're already rich. Why play the VC game?"
"We have to. The internet industry is becoming interconnected. To grow BlueStar, we need to build ties with giants in other sectors. And nothing does that better than becoming their shareholder."
Promoting games, TV, and films all required marketing. Soon, offline promotions would be obsolete—everything would shift to short and long-form video platforms.
Jing Yu wasn't a business genius. So he just invested—didn't manage. Small stakes now, but as the companies grow and founders dilute their shares, maintaining his percentage could make him one of the biggest stakeholders.
Like owning shares in a short video app with Douyin-like potential. Later, when promoting the next 'Pokémon' game, he could easily demand full-channel promotions at cost.
Of course, these were all based on his past life's knowledge. It was hard to explain that to Cheng Lie now.
"Sigh, remember back when the two of us were dubbed the black-and-white twin beauties of Great Zhou's TV scene? We had male fans swooning left and right. Look at the actresses today—it's all plastic faces. Honestly, if I made a comeback, I'd still be queen."
A slightly tipsy Xia Yining leaned on Yu Youqing's shoulder, face flushed.
"What a pity," she whispered.
Jing Yu glanced at the two of them. No weird vibes. That feeling of being watched—probably just his imagination. He returned to business talk with Cheng Lie.
The four were long-time friends.
Jing Yu and Cheng Lie loved discussing company growth. Yu Youqing and Xia Yining loved gossip and industry scandals.
Their "board meetings" happened monthly. These friend gatherings? A dozen times a year.
Each of them was a billionaire now. But their friendships hadn't changed.
That was something they all truly treasured.
Meanwhile, Jing Xiang sat watching her parents and their friends barbecuing in the yard—then shifted her eyes to the TV.
She had just reached the latter half of 'White Album 2'.
When she saw Aunt Xia playing Kazusa Touma, her eyes turned pitiful.
"Sigh… Mommy was too sneaky. Aunt Xia was clearly there first. But, well… she's my mom."
At just a few years old, Xiang didn't understand romance. But she was deeply invested in Jing Yu's past dramas.
BlueStar kept growing. Another year passed, and Xiang started kindergarten.
With their little gremlin out of the house, Jing Yu and Yu Youqing finally had time—and soon, she was pregnant again.
Meanwhile, Jing Yu's earlier investments were flourishing.
It was like the cutthroat stage of the internet boom in his past life.
Everyone was burning cash, fighting for users. Many startups died. Big companies either destroyed each other or merged for mutual gain.
That's when capital firms realized:
In every sector—food delivery, payments, social media, long video, short video, ride-hailing, games, film, TV...
Jing Yu had a stake in all of them.
He held small but meaningful shares in every surviving company.
Bought in early. Dirt cheap.
It was like SoftBank investing millions in Alibaba and walking away with tens of billions.
Jing Yu's strategy was simple: spread wide, invest small.
Even if he invested in ten food delivery companies, it didn't matter—as long as one survived and became dominant, everything paid off.
The trick wasn't hard. The miracle was how he only picked winners.
He avoided fads like bike-sharing or hookup apps.
His investment method was crude—but his insight into which industries to back was borderline supernatural.
Even 1–2% shares in a unicorn were worth billions once scaled.
People could only imagine what his net worth might become.
Rumors spread. Fans now call him a genius investor, too.
Another New Year arrived.
Thanks to years of building momentum, 'Pokémon', 'Yu-Gi-Oh!', and other flagship IPs exploded in popularity.
Revenue multiplied.
Back in his past life, companies like Tencent and miHoYo made hundreds of billions a year from a single game. That was standard.
Now, in this world, Jing Yu was teaching his peers the same lesson: basic stuff—don't be surprised.
Sure, it wasn't that wild yet—but in just a month or two, BlueStar was making a "small target" in revenue daily.
Even the finance department was stunned.
Game companies across the industry were green with envy.
Only now did they understand why Jing Yu had spent years hyping those IPs.
This was their true commercial value.
They got it now.
So this was the old thief's ultimate move?
To that, Jing Yu could only say:
"You get it? Yeah, right."
He never planned to survive on just a couple of games.
Next year, 'League of Legends' would launch.
A cheat-free 'PUBG' would follow.
In two years? Marvel IPs.
That's when his true net worth would skyrocket.
His place on the Great Zhou—and maybe even global—rich list would drop jaws.
By the sea, under the setting sun, a warm breeze blew.
Five-year-old Jing Xiang was carefully watching crabs scurry along the sand.
Jing Yu lay with his head in Yu Youqing's lap, her chest blocking his sunset view.
"So big," he sighed.
"You're an adult now, Jing Yu. Have some shame," Yu Youqing said, cheeks red. She placed their two-month-old son in his stroller.
She sat on a beach chair in a pale blue dress, barefoot, her fair skin glowing in the golden light.
Jing Yu wore only beach shorts, muscular and lean—but fully relaxed.
"You're thinking dirty," he said. "I meant the sun."
He looked at Xiang playing nearby.
"I really hope this kind of happiness lasts forever."
"What are you saying?" Yu Youqing asked softly.
"Our kids and I will always be with you. Speak with confidence. Of course, this will last forever."
"Forever?"
"Mmhm. Forever. I believe in reincarnation. If we pass in this life, I'll find you in the next. And the life after that—you come find me. That's forever."
"You're gaming the system," Jing Yu teased.
"Just say it. Do you want that or not?" she said, pretending to pout.
"Twenty years ago, I didn't believe in reincarnation. But ten years ago, something changed my mind. I believe I came to this world… to meet you, our daughter, and our son. Happy now?"
Yu Youqing looked down at him.
"If there's a next life—" he said.
"Mm?"
"I'll find you first."
The sun dipped below the sea, casting a golden glow across their faces. Their eyes met for a long time.
Their cheeks flushed—as if they were just falling in love.
"Daddy! Come catch crabs!"
Their daughter's voice rang out in the distance.
Jing Yu and Yu Youqing exchanged a smile.
(The End!)
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📢 T/N (Translator's Note):
🌟 This novel is officially COMPLETE! 🎉📚
It's been an amazing journey translating this Chinese fanfic 💖 Definitely not your average fanfic, and that uniqueness made it super special for me too. Thank you all for reading along!
🎉 New Projects Incoming! 🎉
1️⃣ 'Starting a Plant Revolution in Another World'
🌱🧝🎮 Isekai meets game mechanics!
Not originally a fanfic, but since it's a fan translation and packed with anime vibes, it'll be posted under the fanfic section. Expect a chill but exciting ride through another world!
2️⃣ 'Depressive-style Screenwriter'
🎬💔😭 From the author of 'Rebirth Begins with an Anime Adaptation!'
This one dives into the emotional side of anime and production life. (Yes, there will be tears — yours, not mine 😤💦)
🗓️ Tentative Schedule:
📅 Day 1: 5 chapters of 'Starting a Plant Revolution in Another World'
📅 Day 2: 5 chapters of 'Depressive-style Screenwriter'
🔁 …and repeat!
⚠️ Heads up: Releases may be delayed due to real-life stuff 💻🌧️ Thanks for understanding!
💗 Thanks again for all your support so far! Whether you've laughed, cried, or facepalmed along the way — I hope you'll join me for the next ride too! 🌸🚀