Cheng Lie had never expected that he'd come to convince Jing Yu to renew his contract with Yunteng TV, only to end up being asked if he wanted to leave Yunteng himself.
"I want to start my own production company—make my own shows, film them myself," Jing Yu said bluntly.
"But right now, I don't have the manpower. Producers, directors, crew, even general staff… everything a company needs—I'm missing all of it. Originally, I planned to tell you this after 'Initial D' wrapped. But since you've been asking me over and over, I figured I'd just give you a direct answer."
Cheng Lie's mouth dropped open.
It took him a long time to process what he had just heard.
"Jing Yu-sensei… so you've finally decided to leave Yunteng TV?"
"Not really. I still have a good impression of everyone at Yunteng TV. Even if I start my own company, if Yunteng TV is willing to purchase broadcasting rights for my shows, they'll still be my first choice."
"No, no, no… that's impossible. If Yunteng TV doesn't hold the copyright, upper management won't allow a non-in-house drama to air during primetime," Cheng Lie shook his head.
"Primetime vs. non-primetime, huh?" Jing Yu narrowed his eyes.
"Before I joined Yunteng TV, what was the average viewership of your primetime dramas?"
"Around 3%," Cheng replied.
"And now?"
"Last week's Episode 10 of 'Initial D' hit 8.88%," Cheng answered instinctively—then immediately realized the implication.
If Yunteng TV bought the rights to one of Jing Yu's shows, there's no way they'd stick it in a dead timeslot.
Yunteng TV didn't have any shows that could compete with Jing Yu's work.
He was irreplaceable—and that was where his confidence came from.
"And do you really think for a show like 'Initial D', the time slot even matters that much? Airing it on a Wednesday instead of a weekend might cost 1% to 1.5% in viewership. Sure, the numbers would dip—but even then, it'd still outperform everything else on your schedule.
Now imagine I finance and produce the drama myself, and then sell it to Yunteng TV or any other top-20 station in Great Zhou.
The money I'd make off that would be several times what I'm earning now.
So back to our original topic—I'm a man who values profit, right? Then you should understand why I'd decide this."
Jing Yu laid all his cards on the table.
And he truly believed:
If he did start his own company, no TV station—not even Yunteng TV—would dare push a drama on the level of 'Initial D' to a garbage time slot, just because they didn't own the rights.
It was simple—Jing Yu chased profits, and so did commercial broadcasters.
If airing a purchased drama during primetime could pull over 5% ratings, then the station would make billions in ad revenue.
Why would they sacrifice that just to air a self-produced show with only 2% ratings, just because they own the copyright?
Even if the station owns the full rights, if the viewership isn't there, the downstream value—international sales, streaming, licensing—won't amount to anything either.
In Jing Yu's past life, even state-run networks like CCTV eventually started buying shows produced by private companies instead of making everything in-house.
Why?
Because the times had changed. All the top-tier talent had moved into the private sector.
"No, no… Jing Yu-sensei, my brain's spinning. Give me a moment to think," Cheng Lie said, trying to keep up.
But he was smart—and quickly understood what Jing Yu was really saying:
As long as Jing Yu remained a top-tier talent, and his shows stayed high-quality, no matter what station aired them, they'd still be placed in primetime.
No executive in their right mind would sabotage their own profits.
In other words, as long as he kept delivering hits, Jing Yu didn't need to be anyone's employee.
His shows would still dominate the airwaves.
So why should he ever give up the copyright?
It's not like, in his past life, when production companies sold their dramas to Satellite TV or CCTV, those networks demanded full ownership of all revenue streams, like streaming or international licensing.
"Have you considered the possibility that Yunteng TV and the Big Six might gang up on you? What if none of them are willing to work with you?" Cheng asked.
Sure, capital chases profit—but sometimes, capital also bands together to crush rebels who try to rise above their place in the system.
"There are over a hundred TV stations in Great Zhou—not just Yunteng TV and the Big Six," Jing Yu replied.
"It'd be a hassle, but I'd manage. And if I had kept airing 'Hikaru no Go' and 'Initial D' on Jinhui TV, you think that channel wouldn't be pulling in 4% or even 5% viewership right now?"
He laughed.
"What, if the CCTV version of 'Journey to the West' had aired on some backwater regional channel instead of CCTV, it wouldn't have become a hit? Of course it would—maybe not as big, but it would never have flopped."
Even if the Big Six and Yunteng TV got salty and teamed up to suppress him, Jing Yu didn't care.
He believed the golden age of traditional TV stations was coming to an end soon anyway.
Even if they tried to freeze him out, how long could they really keep it up?
Besides, Jing Yu's achievements at Yunteng TV were already widely recognized.
For other mid-tier and large broadcasters, just getting the rights to air one of his shows would be tempting enough.
The drama industry in Great Zhou wasn't monopolized by any one player.
No one had that kind of control.
Jing Yu didn't believe leaving Yunteng TV would land him in a tough spot.
Cheng Lie froze for a moment—then gave a wry smile.
"I believe you. I get it now."
"Besides…" Jing Yu glanced at the crew still busy filming nearby.
"It's not like writing TV dramas is all I can do."
And movies? They racked up fan points just as fast as dramas.
"The reason I want to start a company is also because I'm interested in the film industry. If I stay at Yunteng TV, there's no path into that. But if I go independent, then I have a shot."
TV networks had little interest in producing movies. In Great Zhou, films were almost entirely made and distributed by private production companies.
Cheng Lie fell silent for a long time.
From Jing Yu's perspective, it all made sense.
"Thank you, Jing Yu-sensei. For sharing this with me, especially now."
"You're my friend," Jing Yu said, adjusting his collar.
"So, same question—are you interested in leaving Yunteng TV and starting a company with me?
'Initial D' will almost certainly be the top-rated show of the year. From a producer's perspective, you've already reached the peak.
Don't you want to try a different role in the industry?"
Jing Yu really valued Cheng Lie's industry experience and network.
Sure, poaching someone from Yunteng TV before leaving the company was a bit shady.
But if it worked out, Jing Yu planned to make it up to them—maybe by selling a few decent scripts he had no interest in shooting, as a goodwill gesture.
Cheng Lie might not have the deepest network in the industry, but he was the best person Jing Yu knew for the role.
Having scripts alone wasn't enough.
If Jing Yu left Yunteng TV and tried to form a crew from scratch, he'd be flying blind.
Sure, he could do it, but the team would be full of opportunists and freeloaders—and he wouldn't know how to tell the difference.
"I…" Cheng Lie started to respond instinctively.
"No need to answer now," Jing Yu cut him off.
"Think it over. You've got a few months. No rush."
With that, Jing Yu turned and walked off.
It was time to get back to shooting that afternoon.