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Chapter 52 - Chapter 52 – Ratings

"Whoa… that's a bit much—1.25% already?" Old Li stared fixedly at the viewership metrics for 'Your Lie in April'.

He knew very well that this drama hadn't received any official promotional support from the station. Just one week of organic word-of-mouth... and it grew this much?

No, it wasn't just word-of-mouth. Old Li watched the number tick up again—by a few more ten-thousandths.

That meant one thing: this drama was really resonating with audiences across Dazhou. Even though Jin Hui TV wasn't a particularly popular channel, bored viewers surfing from Channel 1 to Channel 100 would inevitably stumble across it.

And when they did, 'Your Lie in April' managed to keep them watching.

"Is this drama really that in tune with mainstream Dazhou tastes? Even people who didn't watch Episode 1 are getting hooked midway through Episode 2?"

Old Li started to get excited.

To be honest, these things were all about comparisons. And right now, it was Friday—a slot when most premium dramas wouldn't be airing. So 'Your Lie in April' wasn't facing stiff competition.

Plus, the current drama market in Dazhou was suffering from severe homogenization.

Take Xing Tong TV, for example. Their explosive winter season hit was a medical workplace drama—and now, come spring, every other regional channel was scrambling to pump out similar doctor shows. But Xing Tong had the original. The rest? All cheap knockoffs.

By contrast, 'Your Lie in April' stood out starkly. It was the only drama in the January spring season, blending music with a youthful campus romance. And unlike the usual melodramatic fare, it was well-paced, emotionally rich, and its characters were far more fleshed out.

Aside from its low budget and lackluster promotion, most casual viewers who stumbled upon Jin Hui TV and watched for even just a few minutes didn't end up changing the channel.

Then, Episode 2 reached its climactic moment.

You Gongsheng is performing as Kaori's piano accompanist at the violin concert.

Kaori grabbed his hand and pulled him forward into the concert hall—her energy like a beam of light, lighting up You Gongsheng's dull, darkened gaze.

She was free.

"No... Music is what sets us free."

When Kaori turned back and said that, smiling, eyes brimming with emotion, countless viewers across the country felt their hearts skip a beat.

Xia Yining watched, her expression growing increasingly serious.

Having spent several days filming on set, she knew what the production was like. Everyone in the crew unanimously praised Jing Yu, the screenwriter, for being a master of both piano and violin—far beyond even the hired pianists from Lan City, who admitted they couldn't compare.

In Episode 1, Kaori's violin solo had been recorded by Jing Yu himself. Summer had to admit—it was stunning. The raw emotion and power in that piece… even if she practiced piano for years, she doubted she could achieve anything that moving.

But that was a violin.

Summer's own father was a university piano professor, and she herself had no small amount of skill. While she had come to respect Jing Yu's writing talent and character over her time on set, she hadn't forgotten something he once said about her.

During the audition, she overheard Jing Yu whisper to producer Liu Neng:

"She still has a lot of flaws... but I guess she's the best out of a bad batch."

Her ears were sharp—she hadn't misheard.

Back on screen, You Gongsheng stared at the sheet music, looking deeply conflicted.

And the audience? They were holding their breath.

Everyone was experiencing the moment through his eyes.

Imagine it: you're on stage at a concert hall, hundreds of people watching. You're accompanying a friend you just met… but due to psychological trauma, you lose your hearing halfway through your own performance.

The pressure was triple-fold:

His own pride — once hailed as a national piano prodigy, this was his chance to protect that legacy.

The judgment of the audience, including old rivals who had once lost to him—if he failed now, they'd mock him forever.

The success of Kaori's performance — if he screwed up, he'd drag her down with him.

Even those watching the show could imagine what that would feel like.

And the ratings? They spiked again.

The sound of a delicate violin melody began to play—recorded by Jing Yu in the studio.

Then came the piano.

Also, Jing Yu's work.

As You Gongsheng hallucinated his late mother sitting in the audience, smiling in her wheelchair, the music suddenly shifted.

The violin remained light and free, but the piano turned heavy, clunky, and off-key. Even viewers without a musical background could tell:

This isn't accompaniment. These instruments don't match at all!

"God, that's terrifying," Xu Meng gasped, clutching Su Jin beside her.

Su Jin clung to Chen Jing, who had already grabbed onto Xia Yining.

And Summer?

As she watched You Gongsheng—no, Jing Yu—become more and more panicked onscreen, she thought back to her own childhood piano competitions.

The pressure of performing in front of hundreds… it was crushing.

If you played well, no one said a word. But if you made one mistake…

You'd see dozens—maybe hundreds—of sneering faces in the crowd.

But it wasn't just the script that triggered those memories.

It was the piano.

It sounded like chaotic, panicked mashing. But the effect it created was utterly immersive—it made the viewers feel the anxiety and claustrophobia the character was experiencing.

Not just Summer—viewers across Dazhou felt it too.

The piano score led them deeper into You Gongsheng's mental state. Onscreen, the music notes floated off the sheet and vanished into thin air. His fingers locked up. His world is submerged in water. Even the sound felt underwater.

Jing Yu's composition fits this sequence perfectly.

"This accompaniment is so bad, it'd be better without him."

Back in the drama, characters in the concert audience started whispering criticisms.

You Gongsheng eventually stopped playing altogether, devastated.

He had ruined Kaori's performance.

"Nooo, what the hell?"

"That was rough to watch."

"The pressure was unreal."

"I held my breath the whole time."

"This blend of music and narrative is too good. I felt his breakdown."

"As someone with social anxiety, just imagining myself on that stage makes my toes curl into my soles…"

Onstage, Kaori also stopped playing and turned to You Gongsheng, smiling.

"Let's go again."

The last attempt had failed. But now… they'd do it right.

Viewers leaned forward again, attention fully recaptured.

The final segment of Episode 2 was almost entirely internal monologue.

You Gongsheng stared at Kaori's back.

Her violin began once more.

Then, a few seconds later, the piano joined in.

Xia Yining felt a strange twinge in her heart.

She was… unexpectedly moved.

Was this the inner world of that cold-faced screenwriter?

You Gongsheng recalled a melody from the past—Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star—the piece his mother had painstakingly taught him as a child.

Though trauma had blocked out the notes and sound, muscle memory remained.

The melody was carved into his soul.

He didn't need to read the sheet music. Didn't need to hear the notes.

He just… remembered.

And his expression changed.

From here, the soundtrack transformed completely.

The piano began to shine, at times even competing with the violin for dominance.

It was supposed to be an accompaniment—but it felt like a musical duel.

Tense. Exhilarating. And every bit of emotional frustration built up earlier was released through this music.

No dialogue. Just two people playing instruments on stage.

Yet that alone was enough to lock countless viewers onto Jin Hui TV.

In just two minutes, the explosive musical performance captivated both the in-show concert audience and the real-life viewers of Dazhou.

"Wow..." Xia Yining stared in awe.

"Is this guy really a screenwriting major? He did the violin and the piano? And the two parts actually mesh to create such an insane auditory effect?"

Coming-of-age storytelling, deep character psychology, and stunning music.

'Your Lie in April' pulled in viewers not just with great storytelling, but also through Jing Yu's music—a skill pulled from his otherworldly "exchange panel."

Episode 2 ended with the thunderous applause of the in-show audience…

… and Kaori collapsing on stage.

Her hair scattered across the floor, her violin rolling away.

She looked like a fairytale princess who had fallen from grace.

Audience emotions? Skyrocketed.

Episode 2: Complete.

The title card faded in.

The cheerful ending theme played.

"Wait—that's it?"

"What the hell?!"

"Cliffhanger scum!"

"Screenwriter, are you kidding me?!"

"Why did Kaori collapse?! What happened?!"

"Exhaustion? No way—she's always bursting with energy!"

"This ending left me breathless!"

"Screw you, screenwriter! Did you really cliffhanger us just for the ratings?! You feel no shame?!"

"Who's the screenwriter? Let's all head to the station's website and flame him!"

"The guy playing You Gongsheng is the screenwriter. He also did the music."

"Wait... oh. Uh. Maybe we don't flame him after all."

Across all TV drama forums, the 'Your Lie in April' fandom exploded.

That ending? Way too brutal.

Meanwhile, back at Jin Hui TV's ratings department, Old Li removed his glasses and carefully wiped them.

Then he checked, double-checked, and triple-checked the numbers.

Average Viewership for Episode 2:

‣ 1.29% nationwide

‣ 13.4% in Lan Province

Peak Viewership:

‣ 1.55% nationwide

‣ 15.1% in Lan Province

—And that peak hit right at the end of Episode 2.

A dark horse had emerged.

"This… this is the spring season's sleeper hit."

That was the only thought in Old Li's mind.

Outside of the big networks like Xing Tong, some regional TV dramas occasionally pulled off solid ratings—but usually by hiring well-known writers or actors to bring in the views.

But 'Your Lie in April'?

Just two episodes in, and it had reached this level purely by quality.

Its average and peak ratings were double Jin Hui TV's normal Friday slot numbers.

"This is insane… Jing Yu, is he really Jing Liang's son? Even Jing Liang didn't pull off something like this…" Old Li muttered in his office.

Right—he still needed to send out the ratings report to the higher-ups.

He snapped into action, working across both his phone and computer.

Very soon, 'Your Lie in April's Episode 2 ratings were sent to all relevant departments and senior leaders at the station.

That same Friday night, the stellar performance of 'Your Lie in April' caught the attention of not just the local Lan Province station but also other regional broadcasters and professionals in the film and television industry.

After all, a 70% viewership jump between Episodes 1 and 2? That was almost unheard of.

Hard not to take notice.

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