Fu Jing looked sincerely at Jing Yu.
"Mr. Jing Yu, I know you might still have a lot of questions in your heart. And maybe you feel that the offer from Chenghai TV isn't generous enough. But please believe me—it's not because I don't value you. It's just how the station operates. After all, you're still a screenwriter who's only debuted for a year. The station has its risk considerations. The terms we've presented came after countless rounds of communication between me and the higher-ups. Among the six major TV stations, no one is showing more sincerity than us."
Fu Jing explained to Jing Yu seriously.
Jing Yu thought it over.
He didn't feel like Fu Jing was trying to fool him. Although 'White Album 2' and 'Your Lie in April' had indeed achieved solid results, they weren't massive hits by the standards of the "Big Six."
The reasoning was simple. In his previous life, Jing Yu had seen a low-budget web series become a huge success. If it had been released in theaters, it might've grossed one or two billion at the box office—or even more. But unless that actually happened, it's just speculation.
And no one is going to use that speculation to claim the director is the next Zhang Yimou or Feng Xiaogang. No one will offer him the same treatment as a top-tier director based on that alone.
The same logic applies here. To the six major stations, Jing Yu is just a screenwriter who's produced two dramas that landed in the top 20 viewership rankings for the quarter.
While many people believe that if those two shows had aired on one of the Big Six, the ratings would've exploded… this world doesn't deal in "what ifs."
If it hasn't happened, it doesn't count.
Jing Yu's success on Jinhui TV was already impressive. But what mattered was the result—the ratings—not the platform it aired on.
"I understand," Jing Yu said.
"May I have some time to consider?"
"Of course," Fu Jing said, understanding exactly what he meant.
He just wanted to observe a little longer.
"I truly admire your work, Mr. Jing Yu, and I believe the offer we've given you is already quite generous. I really hope you'll seriously consider joining Chenghai TV."
She handed over her business card with a smile and then left with her team.
In the following days, as episode 15 of 'White Album 2' aired, four of the other Big Six networks contacted Jing Yu.
Though "contacted" might be generous. For example, Xingtong TV just gave him a phone call, asking whether he'd be interested in flying out to Shanghai for an interview.
They were indeed interested, but not desperate. Their network was packed with talent. For any show slot, dozens of screenwriters and directors were lining up. Their offer was modest: if the script passed their internal review, they'd invest 20–30 million yuan, air the show in a late-night time slot, and if the performance was solid, they'd increase support in the future.
Among the Big Six, Xingtong TV, Imperial Capital TV, and Huanshi TV are the holy lands—where screenwriters, directors, and producers go to "ascend," if you use chuunibyou language.
Without the backing of these platforms, it's almost impossible to create a nationwide sensation, no matter how good the show is. Even with stellar reviews, if it airs on one of the "weaker three" stations, breaking double-digit ratings is nearly impossible.
The top writers of Da Zhou are all collaborating with those three big platforms. Naturally, they don't take Jing Yu that seriously.
Huanshi TV didn't even reach out. Imperial Capital TV's offer was similar to Xingtong TV's.
As for the weaker half of the Big Six, Chenghai TV was the first to make a move. Squirrel TV gave an even worse offer—practically a modern-day indenture contract. Aurora's terms were about equal to Chenghai TV, but they wanted him to sign for eight years.
"Seriously?" Jing Yu was dumbfounded.
He'd waited this long, thinking that the success of 'White Album 2' and 'Your Lie in April' would earn him some truly appealing offers for a job switch.
But of the Big Six, only the bottom three seemed interested in him—and all their contracts were basically long-term buyouts lasting 5 to 10 years.
Even the top three offered 3–5-year contracts—partial indenture, really.
And once he signed, even if his script passed their review, they'd only give him 20–30 million in budget, and air it in a late-night slot.
Crunching the numbers, Jing Yu realized: if he just stayed at Jinhui TV, he could easily secure 30–40 million for his next project. The production team would scrape the funds together for him without hesitation. And it'd air in the prime time slot.
It came down to one key question:
Would Jing Yu rather be the top dog at Jinhui TV or a nobody at Xingtong TV?
Jinhui TV's prime time slot might not even draw as much traffic as Xingtong TV's late-night block. But if a show really lands at Xingtong TV—even in late night—the potential ceiling is way higher than at Jinhui TV.
Reflecting on the past few days:
Only Chenghai TV had the sincerity to meet Jing Yu in person and discuss his future. The others all expected him to fly to them on his own dime—arrogant and dismissive.
Jing Yu looked out the window at the starry night sky. Tomorrow would probably be sunny.
But his heart felt cold.
Not that he was particularly disappointed. Truth be told, any of the Big Six offered greater growth potential than Jinhui TV.
"Looks like Chenghai TV really might be the best option among the six," Jing Yu thought, glancing at Fu Jing's business card on his desk.
But he resisted the urge to call her.
He decided to wait until his contract officially ended. 'White Album 2' would be finished airing by then. He'd see if the stations became more flexible.
As for the investment and budget? He wasn't too concerned.
More money means one style of production. Less money means another. You can save on casting and redirect that into sets and post-production. As long as the acting is strong, even rookies can shine.
But the five-year contracts? Way too long.
Some people like long-term deals. As long as the show doesn't tank and cost the station big money, they'll be left alone—guaranteed job security.
Jing Yu didn't care about that. He had a lifetime's worth of ideas. He'd never run out of inspiration, so he wasn't worried about starving.
If any of the stations were offering one-year rolling contracts, Jing Yu would accept immediately.
Even if the show aired in the late-night block, he was confident he'd blow it up.
But as things stood now? Not worth it. No matter how successful the show, with a long-term contract, he'd still be dancing in the palm of someone else's hand.
Better to think things through more carefully.
October 23rd, Sunday.
'White Album 2' Episode 17 aired.
In Episode 16, after Kazusa (Haruki's old flame) had her emotional breakdown at home, Haruki Kitahara finally told her plainly that his heart now belonged to Setsuna Ogiso.
He was ready to let go of Kazusa and build a future with Setsuna.
But then came the next gut punch—Yoko Touma, Kazusa's mother, revealed to Haruki that she had a terminal illness and didn't have long to live.
For Kazusa, her two emotional anchors were her mother and the boy she loved—Haruki.
Now, the boy was leaving her, and her only family didn't have long to live.
That's why Yoko tried so hard to push her daughter toward Haruki—to give her someone to rely on after she was gone.
Episode 16 showed Kazusa spiraling as the two most important people in her life slipped away.
In Episode 17…
Kazusa and Setsuna slapped each other across the face—and fans were stunned.
The two of them finally laid bare all the resentment and emotional baggage they'd been carrying. And, surprisingly, their relationship deepened because of it.
People used to say that Kazusa only had her mother and Haruki.
But she still had Setsuna.
Even though they fell for the same guy.
Even though they fought—physically—over him.
In the end, Setsuna hugged Kazusa and comforted her, encouraging her to keep going.
She said to Kazusa:
"If your world becomes empty, then I'll step into it—and walk with you."
From the middle of the series onward, the Setsuna faction and the Kazusa faction had been fighting nonstop.
But after Episode 17, that all stopped.
"Wow, Setsuna is so full of love! She's not just a scheming girl—she really values her friendship with Kazusa."
"And Kazusa finally apologized for how much she hurt Setsuna. That scene had me crying."
"Why do we even need Haruki? Let Kazusa and Setsuna be together, damn it. I'm sobbing."
"Setsuna has Haruki, a family, friends—everything. Kazusa? In the end, all she had left was Setsuna. Even Haruki gave up on her. But Setsuna didn't."
"Episode 16 destroyed me. This episode healed me."
"Now I finally understand both girls. Sure, they both made mistakes. But the real problem was Haruki—he's just a trash male lead."
"Haruki can go die. But the writer, Jing Yu, is amazing."
"I've been fighting with Setsuna fans for a whole month. But after this episode? Respect. This was beautiful. I'm not just Team Kazusa anymore—I'm Team Girlfriends. Haruki doesn't deserve either of them!"
'White Album 2' Episode 17 ended with an average rating of 3.25%.
The growth had slowed down, but the audience's anger and division had noticeably decreased.
Both Setsuna and Kazusa saw huge boosts in popularity.
And within the production crew, the final episode—Episode 18—had just wrapped filming.
"Cut!"
Director Gao Wencang's voice trembled slightly as he shouted.
Then he looked around at the entire cast and crew with a satisfied smile.
"It's done."
The crew erupted into cheers.
But Xia Yining and Yu Youqing shared a glance, their eyes not filled with joy.
It was over.
'White Album 2' was finished.
Which also meant…
Starting tomorrow, they wouldn't have to come to the set anymore.
And they wouldn't be seeing Jing Yu again.
"Although the final episode hasn't aired yet, it's safe to say this show has broken all records for the station—and probably for the entire Lan Province TV industry. Producer Liu has approved a wrap party for our success. It's set for next Monday evening, the day after the finale airs. If you can make it, please come—and dress nicely!"
Director Gao shared the news while everyone was still celebrating.
Jing Yu took a deep breath and started organizing his paperwork in the office.
Barring any surprises, this would be his last time filming at Jinhui TV.
And the wrap party next week would probably be the last time he saw all these friends and colleagues he'd worked with for so long.
His contract had less than two weeks left.