"Wait—cross-server conversation?"
"Ugh, this is killing me! How could it end like that?!"
"Okay, fine, Sawako didn't finish her sentence the first time, but then later, when she tried to explain, the other two misunderstood again and didn't let her finish. Now she apologizes, and they've misunderstood that too."
"Sigh… this hurts. How can this be resolved? Once misunderstandings form, there's no turning back. Like, if I go up to an old friend I had a falling-out with and say, 'Hey, I actually like you,' they might not even believe it."
"Exactly. Misunderstandings and internal beliefs like that—once they take root, they're almost impossible to undo."
"I'm so mad. These three are so awkward!"
"Jing Yu-sensei, was all of this part of your plan too?"
"Don't end the episode there! I'm going crazy here!"
"Where are the people from last week who said the second episode would end in a love confession and wedding?!"
"She distanced herself from her friends so they wouldn't get caught up in the rumors, but the more she distanced herself, the deeper their misunderstanding grew… sigh…"
"This episode drove me insane. If the next episode doesn't resolve this properly, I'm dropping this show."
"I'm going to sleep…"
"Does anyone know how to contact Jing Yu-sensei? I'm terrified after his past works—what if this heads down a dark path and Sawako ends up isolated again, with everyone turning their backs on her?"
"Actually… I think Jing Yu-sensei has an account on a blogging app called QingYun. I checked it the past few days—he's already got over a million followers. Sometimes he even posts updates there."
"Wait—what? That app actually exists?"
"Yeah! You haven't noticed? 'Kimi ni Todoke's mid-episode ad breaks always include a plug for that app."
The second episode of 'Kimi ni Todoke' closed with a viewership rating of 7.45%,
still holding onto the top spot for Week Two of the winter season.
However, it was clear that many fans had a hard time accepting the events of episode two. The official Yunteng TV website saw a wave of veteran fans showing up to complain.
But what they didn't seem to realize was that Jing Yu was no longer an employee of Yunteng TV—he was a collaborator.
If this had been the old Yunteng TV, they might've been able to push him to change the plot. But now? That ship had sailed.
The next day, major media outlets across Great Zhou published reports on 'Kimi ni Todoke''s second episode results.
Naturally, they made a point to highlight all the bold claims screenwriter Liang Hui had made before the season began.
That's the media for you—nothing they love more than a dramatic reversal.
The three major TV stations weren't spared either.
Though they stewed in their frustration, there was little they could do except pressure their own production teams to deliver.
And, of course, Jing Yu caught plenty of behind-the-scenes flak from fellow writers in the industry.
But during this time, Jing Yu was having fun experimenting with the QingYun platform.
He'd always known he was popular, but gaining over a million followers in less than half a month was still incredibly satisfying. It was like finally experiencing what it felt like to be a social media celebrity from his past life.
Even though he was now a famous screenwriter and filmmaker, this kind of novelty still amused him.
The only downside?
The moment he opened the app, it was flooded with fans ranting about how emotionally devastating the latest plot was.
Seriously, this was what they called a "tearjerker"?
Had they never seen his older works?
But Jing Yu wasn't on QingYun just for kicks. He understood how valuable such platforms were in the post-internet era, especially for someone in the film and TV industry.
In his past life, there were tons of celebrities who had no real work to their name and yet stayed relevant purely through social media.
He glanced at the production crew busy prepping the set in front of him.
The team for '5 Centimeters per Second' was officially formed today.
Sure, it could've started earlier, but back then, he only had enough funds to get the pre-production off the ground—nothing large-scale.
Thankfully, the box office earnings from 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' had finally come through:
372.56 million yuan.
After subtracting investment costs, there was around 300 million in profit—about 5–6 times the original investment.
And that was just the box office share. There was still the licensing income to consider—design, production, and distribution of Rurouni Kenshin merchandise were mostly finalized, which meant a lot more money was on the way.
His first order of business?
Repaying debts.
Even though the 90-million-yuan debt to Yunteng wasn't due for another six months, Jing Yu wasn't the type to procrastinate. The day his company received the funds, he worked with banks and partners to transfer the amount to Yunteng's account immediately.
After that, he still had around 280 million yuan left in his account. And soon, the box office split from 'Love Letter' and Yunteng's licensing revenue from 'Kimi ni Todoke' would also roll in.
"Feels like I've hit the peak of my life…"
Though Jing Yu had always believed "more money is better,"
Now that he was operating on a 9-figure level, even he was starting to feel a little overwhelmed.
Given his modest lifestyle, this amount was astronomical.
At the very least, even if he flopped a few times in the future, he wouldn't be completely ruined.
Just thinking about that gave him a real sense of security.
As he watched the production team setting up, Cheng Lie approached from the set of 'Kimi ni Todoke'.
"How's everything going?" Jing Yu asked.
"All smooth. Your scenes won't be shot for a few more hours, so you can rest up. But Xia Yining—she's really been struggling today. Kept needing retakes for multiple scenes."
"Yeah, those scenes are tough to shoot," Jing Yu recalled, thinking over the day's script.
His gaze shifted toward the young cast of '5 Centimeters per Second'.
"But the real challenge is over here. The two actors we cast for the middle school versions of the leads are only thirteen. No idea if their acting skills are up to par."
He was talking about the younger versions of the male and female leads in '5 Centimeters per Second'.
"They'll need training. They're still young, but they've already been in seven or eight projects. They're not top-tier yet, but definitely solid. Good popularity and decent skills."
Casting had been tricky—he needed actors whose looks and age matched Jing Yu and Yu Youqing, with passable acting, and who were available for signing within a month. The options were limited.
Cheng Lie didn't waste time on small talk and quickly brought up the real matter at hand.
"By the way, QingMao's rep reached out again."
"Again? Didn't we already tell them we're not producing for them?" Jing Yu raised an eyebrow.
Were they clingier than sticky rice?
"They know you're swamped directing two productions. Said they're open to working together in the future. But this time, they were asking if we'd be willing to license 'Love Letter' and 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' to their streaming platform."
"Their platform's only been out for half a year, but they've done solid research. They've already onboarded a lot of movies and TV rights. And this season, they're advertising across 27 TV stations. User growth is strong, too."
Honestly, Jing Yu's popularity was insane right now. It made sense that the platform had its eyes on him.
"But if we put the films online, won't that hurt DVD sales?"
"Yeah, definitely," Cheng Lie admitted. "But DVDs are expensive. The buyers are mostly hardcore fans. Sales might just top a million copies, with only a few dozen million yuan in profit. If we go digital, the subscription model means way more people will watch. Split 50-50 with the platform, we could actually make more. Plus, it boosts visibility. There are still tons of people in Great Zhou who haven't seen either film. If they can stream them, maybe they'll subscribe."
Cheng Lie was always sharp when it came to the business side.
"I think it's worth trying."
He'd seen that even older shows were doing well on the platform. If those had legs, newer films would probably do even better.
"Let's give it a try," Jing Yu nodded after a pause.
He didn't distrust the business model—in fact, from his past-life experience, he knew DVDs were on their way out. In a few years, they might vanish entirely.
He just wasn't sure if the platform had the size—or luck—to really make it.
Still, the films had already made back their investment. A small gamble like this was no big deal. If the platform blew up, they might become a long-term partner. Might as well build the relationship now.
And if it really worked out, he could consider licensing 'Kimi ni Todoke' thereafter, after its broadcast run ended.
"Alright, I'll start negotiating with them. If it looks good, we'll sign the deal," said Cheng Lie.
Over the next few days, the '5 Centimeters per Second' crew finished setting up and prepping.
By mid-October, the production officially launched.
The cast was small, and the budget modest, but Jing Yu still went through all the formal steps—permits, launch ceremony, everything.
And on the day of the official shoot,
He posted a group photo of the full crew to his QingYun account.
The caption read:
"New film: 5 Centimeters per Second!"