In September, the heat in Hudu City was intense.
But despite the scorching temperatures, the audience of 'Pure Breeze' was hit with a chilling wave last night when Episode 11 aired—like being plunged into the depths of winter.
A show that had been a light-hearted school romance for the first ten episodes suddenly dropped a bombshell in Episode 11:
The female lead was diagnosed with a terminal illness, the male lead's father's company went bankrupt, and he was hospitalized due to an old disease flaring up, and the mother fell into depression overnight.
Classic. Just classic.
We watched ten episodes of sweetness, and now you strip the sugar coating and force-feed us this garbage?
[Did they switch screenwriters or what?]
Over the course of one night, 'Pure Breeze''s rating plummeted from 8.0 straight down to 5.5.
Episode 11 had only set the stage for disaster—it hadn't confirmed anything yet.
But if Episode 12 ends with the female lead's death and the series concludes in tragedy, that would be a total collapse.
In the production department of Sakura TV, inside the office of Deputy Director Akasaka Yoshitoki—
The luxurious office was adorned with framed photos of Akasaka from his younger years, when he led production on numerous TV dramas and variety shows, along with trophies and awards he had won.
One of the shows had even won the Xia Nation's Best Drama of the Year award.
Anyone who stepped into this office could immediately understand how Akasaka Yoshitoki had risen to his current position.
If you've got connections, you can compete with legacies.
Bam! Akasaka slammed his palm onto the power button of his laptop, abruptly ending a video call with the 'Pure Breeze' production team—producer Tu Heng, the director, and main staff, including his own nephew, Kiyota Sanji.
"…Idiot. Why is my sister's son this dumb…"
Akasaka felt like even his breathing was burning with anger.
He never imagined that after going out of his way to fight for a 10-million investment for an online drama, 'Pure Breeze', not only failed to become the quarter's #1, but its reputation was now crashing hard.
Kiyota Sanji had blamed the tonal shift in Episode 11—which caused an online backlash—on Kanzaki Yusuke, claiming he insisted on copying 'Rurouni Kenshin's structure after seeing its breakout success.
But Akasaka wasn't stupid. Did Kanzaki Yusuke even have the guts to pull something like that?
From the look Kanzaki gave Kiyota during the call, it was like his mother had died.
If 'Pure Breeze' had just quietly finished airing with a slightly worse reception than 'Rurouni Kenshin', that would've been fine.
It would still be a solid drama, and Kanzaki could use that success to pad his resume.
But the only one bold (or foolish) enough to pull such a reckless, last-minute rewrite was his dear nephew, Kiyota Sanji.
TV stations only care about profit. Producing a well-reviewed classic? That's a director or writer's ambition—not the shareholders'.
So even if 'Pure Breeze''s reputation collapsed now, its earlier episodes had already earned back the investment. For Akasaka Yoshitoki, who had approved the funding, there was no actual risk.
What infuriated him was how short-sighted Kiyota Sanji had been.
If you can't hit the top target, settling for second-best is fine—you just lose some face. But Kiyota had chosen the riskiest, dumbest path: blindly rewriting the script.
He had no idea what kind of long-term damage a ruined debut could have on his career.
And of all days, this controversy had to erupt today, right before the quarterly production investment meeting…
Akasaka took two minutes to calm down and smooth his expression back to one of confidence.
He checked the time—just right.
After adjusting his clothes, he walked out of his office, took the elevator down two floors, and entered the main conference room for the Production Department's quarterly meeting.
Inside, more than twenty senior executives who were eligible to attend were already seated.
This was the meeting where they would decide which shows would be greenlit and funded for the next broadcasting quarter.
At present, several factions within the production department are actively competing with one another. In any company, department, or clique, the central issue in all power struggles is always the same:
Money.
The station's available production budget each quarter didn't fluctuate much.
But everyone—producers, writers, planners—was watching that money like hawks.
Who gets how much, for which projects, and who holds more sway—all came down to how much profit their past projects had brought the station.
This meeting was all about slicing the cake.
Right from the start, the room was filled with arguments.
Everyone more or less agreed on which projects were eligible for approval ahead of time. The debate now was about how much funding each should get.
But a few new projects had only come to light during the meeting itself—projects few had heard of before.
For example—
A fantasy romance drama, 'Night Sakura', with Kiyota Sanji listed as the lead screenwriter.
And a fantasy historical romance drama, 'An Ancient Love Song', with Su Yan as the sole credited screenwriter.
An hour into the meeting—
Akasaka Yoshitoki's eyelid twitched as he saw two scripts placed on the table.
Su Yan?
Him again?
He submitted a new script this quarter, too?
Akasaka had spent a fortune to acquire a high-quality original script from a retired veteran screenwriter—then slapped Kiyota Sanji's name on it. He'd been preparing to launch it at this very meeting.
Now, Su Yan has suddenly popped up again?
Akasaka frowned, a bad feeling rising in his chest.
He glanced across the table at three elegant older women:
Ogata Aya, Mei Bihong, and Yu Delan.
The three of them had long-standing tensions with him in the department. They had also been close friends with Shinozaki Ikumi's now-retired mother, often playing mahjong together. The four formed a well-known inner circle among the production department higher-ups.
Ogata Aya began speaking:
"In summary, newcomer screenwriter Su Yan has demonstrated outstanding talent this summer. His debut work, 'Rurouni Kenshin', was made with only a 1.2 million investment, yet by the end of September, it is projected to reach an average of 5 million paid views per episode—breaking the station's online drama record. The show currently holds a 9.6 rating from tens of thousands of viewers, achieving both critical acclaim and commercial success. After review, his new script 'An Ancient Love Song' is also an exceptionally strong work."
She finished with the most crucial part:
"I propose that 'An Ancient Love Song' be greenlit as a 'B-tier' fall season drama on Sakura TV, with a production budget of 25.5 million."
Each quarter, Sakura TV produces at least 7–8 new dramas. In boom periods, that number could exceed a dozen.
But not all dramas received big budgets.
Before greenlighting, each project was assigned a tier.
For example, C-tier dramas were aired during weekday non-prime slots, with budgets ranging from 8 to 15 million.
B-tier dramas aired on weekends, usually outside prime time, with budgets typically between 20 and 30 million.
A-tier and S-tier dramas were prime-time blockbusters—A-tier with budgets around 30–40 million, S-tier possibly exceeding 100 million.
A-tier shows were produced 1–2 times per quarter. As for S-tier, only when the stars aligned—high-quality scripts, top actors, directors, and production teams—would even the Big Three stations dare invest.
"Heh. Just a four-episode success and now we're giving a newbie screenwriter this kind of special treatment?" a mustached middle-aged man beside Akasaka sneered.
"Su Yan hasn't proven he can carry a full-season drama. Being able to manage a few short episodes is not the same."
"On the other hand, last quarter's 'Pure Breeze' was helmed by Kiyota Sanji, a classically trained, highly capable screenwriter. His debut has already achieved an average of 3.2 million paid views per episode. His new script 'Night Sakura' is the more reliable investment."
"I propose we greenlight 'Night Sakura' as the 'B-tier' drama, with a 27-million production budget. As for Su Yan, who's only achieved a minor hit with a short series—let him continue gaining experience in the online streaming market on Sakura Net."
"That's not how you frame it." Mei Bihong chuckled, wrinkles crinkling in amusement.
"From what I know, 'Pure Breeze''s reputation collapsed just last night. The internet's full of backlash. Its rating tanked overnight to below 5.5."
"5.5? You know what that means? Even 'Sakura Island Love Song' from earlier this year got 4.7. This proves Kiyota Sanji can't deliver a full drama that's solid from start to finish."
"The collapse in reputation was caused by co-writer Kanzaki Yusuke. Kiyota Sanji was responsible for the well-received early episodes. Kanzaki handled the final ones," Akasaka quickly argued.
"When the top beam is crooked, the lower beams follow. A drama's failure is everyone's fault—from the screenwriter to the director to the producers. Team failures are individual failures," Yu Delan cut in, her voice louder than most of the men in the room.
Akasaka's face darkened.
She might as well have called him out directly.
Other factions, like the one led by Department Head Yoshizaki Shigeyoshi, stayed quiet—just watching the two sides bicker.
Everyone knew the station's remaining budget was limited.
There was only enough left to greenlight one more B-tier drama.
Would it go to 'Night Sakura'?
Or 'An Ancient Love Song'?
The verbal sparring escalated, both sides poking at each other's weaknesses.
Especially Kiyota Sanji—despite having over ten million in funding, his drama had been completely overshadowed by 'Rurouni Kenshin', which was made for just over a million. Akasaka's camp had no comeback. Their faces turned red, but they couldn't back down.
If Kiyota Sanji's results were enough to justify greenlighting a new script…
Then why not Su Yan's?
Akasaka was growing increasingly frustrated.
If only 'Pure Breeze' had clinched the #1 spot among online dramas…
If only Kiyota Sanji hadn't botched the last two weeks by recklessly rewriting the script and tanking the show's reputation…
He glanced over at the 70-something department head, Yoshizaki Shigeyoshi, who now wore a gentle smile.
"Well, having two talented new writers emerge at the same time is a good thing," Yoshizaki said with a chuckle. "Why choose one and discard the other?"