Jing Yu wasn't particularly well-versed in technical matters, but he found the self-introductions from the people Cheng Lie brought along to be clear and professional.
After all, in this world, Great Zhou ranked among the top global powers—not just in terms of population and scale, but also in the quality of its industries. In many sectors, it was considered world-class.
Domestic VFX companies weren't necessarily the absolute best in the world, but they were definitely among the global elite. It wasn't like in Jing Yu's past life, where any halfway decent visual effects required hiring foreign teams.
When it came to VFX, many people assumed it was just a group of people tapping away on computers and couldn't understand why it cost so much. How could labor alone bring the cost of visual effects on a single movie up to hundreds of millions?
But the truth was, if all you wanted was something low-effort and mediocre, it wouldn't be all that expensive. However, the moment you wanted high quality, it became a different story.
For starters, professional VFX companies use licensed software. This wasn't like in Jing Yu's previous life, where amateurs used pirated versions they downloaded off the internet.
Great Zhou had strict copyright enforcement. All legitimate companies used legal software, and most of those programs had strict device limits—often one license per machine. What's more, modeling and rendering software often had to work in tandem, which meant several programs running at once. So, for every new computer added, a full set of licenses had to be purchased again. Some VFX companies spent tens of millions annually just on software.
And with a film's VFX team sometimes numbering in the hundreds—sometimes even over a thousand—each running on high-end GPUs, CPUs, and massive storage systems, it was no surprise that producing a movie could take anywhere from several months to years.
That's why animated movies in his previous life had such high production costs—because every frame was essentially VFX.
Jing Yu had only absorbed a basic understanding through exposure to the industry, but after listening to the group talk shop for half an hour, he gained a real appreciation for the grueling nature of the work.
Yes, the industry made money—but that money mostly went to the company heads. The employees beneath them? They were burning out their lives.
That said, once they heard Jing Yu's VFX requirements, the group expressed full confidence in taking on the project.
After all, Jing Yu wasn't trying to make something like 'Avatar'. His Fate series, while visually ambitious, wasn't over-the-top in terms of spectacle—'Fate/Zero' in particular focused more on dialogue and narrative. The fight scenes, while crucial, weren't dominant.
"Actually, our company would be honored to collaborate with you, Mr. Jing Yu—Great Zhou's most renowned screenwriter and actor," said the lead, Huang Jinhai, smiling. "We're one of the top VFX firms in the country. A partnership between two industry leaders could benefit both sides in terms of visibility."
"If this project goes into production, we sincerely hope you'll consider us. We may not be the cheapest, but when it comes to cost-performance, I dare say no company in Great Zhou can top us."
After about an hour of discussion, Jing Yu stood to see them off.
"What do you think?" Cheng Lie asked as soon as they left.
"If they're not a good fit, I've also reached out to two firms in the capital—can have them come by next."
"Yeah, sounds good. Now that 'Kimi ni Todoke' has wrapped, I've got more time to handle these things," Jing Yu replied, still digesting what he'd heard.
"But if Fate/Zero really goes into production," he continued, "based on what Huang Jinhai said, just the VFX budget alone could hit seventy to eighty million."
"Do you think that's too much?" Cheng Lie asked, frowning.
"No. Not at all. In fact, I think we should increase the budget." Jing Yu looked at him seriously.
"Spending money on visual effects is a bottomless pit. If you're willing to spend, you'll always find something worth spending on. With a budget of seventy to eighty million, the effects I saw in his demo footage were just barely passing—mediocre, really."
"Huh? Then why do you look so concerned?" Cheng Lie was puzzled.
"I'm just thinking…" Jing Yu looked at him and continued.
"If '5 Centimeters per Second', 'Kaiji', and 'Clannad' bring in enough revenue, how much of that can I funnel into this project?"
"You're thinking of reinvesting it? Isn't that kind of risky?" Cheng Lie frowned.
He had long suspected that Jing Yu was particularly invested in this VFX-heavy project. All his previous works had been modern-day romantic dramas—budget-friendly and easy to control. Production costs rarely exceeded a hundred million.
But this new project? Jing Yu didn't even blink at a seventy or eighty million VFX estimate—he actually thought it was too low. That could push the total investment north of two hundred million. What's more, Jing Yu had mentioned that if 'Clannad' and 'Kaiji' sold well on Qingyun's platform, Fate/Zero would also stream there exclusively.
That kind of cost gave Cheng Lie heart palpitations.
"You don't have to worry," Jing Yu said. "'Fate/Zero' might not necessarily be rated higher than 'Hikaru no Go' or 'Initial D', but in terms of commercial value, it's far beyond those titles. I'm not throwing money around for the sake of it—my goal is to make this series explode in popularity."
Once 'Fate/Zero' became a hit, merchandising wouldn't be a problem. Hell, if it got big enough, Jing Yu could even acquire a game studio to develop Fate-themed games.
But that was a problem for another day. No need to tell Cheng Lie all that just yet.
That night, after wrapping up his work, Jing Yu headed home alone.
When he reached his floor, his gaze lingered on the apartment across the hall.
Yu Youqing's words from earlier echoed in his mind:
"Want to give dating me a try?"
He exhaled long and slow, then opened his door, brushing the thought aside.
That could wait—he needed to clear his schedule first before thinking about that.
—
At the end of December, the final episode of 'Kimi ni Todoke' aired.
Jing Yu had crafted a small cliffhanger in episode 12, which made the opening of episode 13 incredibly enticing. As a result, the final episode opened with a stunning 9.65% viewership rating.
But the episode itself? A full-blown sugar rush of a couple of fluff.
After all, the main confession had already happened in episode 12. Audiences had earned this sweet, romantic payoff. Otherwise, all that emotional tension would've been for nothing.
Still, that kind of sweetness should only last one episode—too much and people would burn out.
Episode 13 ended on a poignant note:
Under a blue sky, the couple stood at the same three-way intersection where they'd first met.
Shouta looked fresh and handsome, and Sawako was beautiful and just a bit shy.
Their first date.
And the final scene of the series.
"That made me cry!"
"What a beautiful ending!"
"So sweet!"
"Tears in my eyes!"
"Look how happy the male lead is!"
"They finally ended up together."
"Brilliant work!"
"See you all in '5 Centimeters per Second'!"
"See you in '5 Centimeters per Second'!"
"Can't wait to watch another Jing Yu movie!"
"Too bad Xia Yining isn't the female lead in that one. I wish she and Jing Yu could play a couple forever, in every drama!"
"Same here."
"This drama made me believe in love again. Now I just need a cute girl like Sawako…"
"Keep dreaming."
"Ugh, I'm torn. I was all about Jing Yu and Yu Youqing, but now I'm totally shipping Jing Yu and Xia Yining after this. Their chemistry as Sawako and Shouta, Kenshin and Yukishiro… It's just too good!"
"Right? Why isn't Jing Yu dating yet? If he doesn't end up with Xia Yining, I'll riot!"
"Don't confuse drama with reality—but yeah, I do hope they get together IRL."
"You think '5 Centimeters per Second' will be even sweeter than this?"
"Hard to say. Just because he wrote one romance drama doesn't mean he's given up on heartbreak."
"Maybe, maybe not. His highest-rated drama is this one, and it's pure romance. He might've finally cracked the code on what audiences want!"
While fans chattered away, the three-minute-long ending theme of 'Kimi ni Todoke' finally came to a close.
Most had stuck around just to see… Was there a post-credits scene?
To their delight—
There was.
Over the next two weeks, 'Kimi ni Todoke' would air bonus side stories.
These specials would dive into the romantic subplots of Kurumizawa and Chizuru Yoshida, which hadn't been fully explored in the main series.
The announcement sparked a fresh round of fan celebration.
Then came the real surprise—
The screen faded to black…
And then: a warm, vivid spring scene bloomed into view.
Soft pink cherry blossoms drifted through the air, the scent of youth seemingly carried with them.
First on screen—a stunning girl, doll-like and breathtakingly cute.
And then—a boy, equally handsome.
"Hey… I heard it's 'five centimeters per second'."
"Huh? What is?"
"The speed at which cherry blossoms fall…"
A girl and a boy ran down a slope.
Later, they stood facing each other, separated by city traffic.
"Takaki… Next year, let's watch the cherry blossoms together again!"
The iconic opening of '5 Centimeters per Second' is used as a trailer.
Young Akari and Takaki. Trains, cherry blossoms, and soft, golden lighting—
A radiant wave of youthful emotion spilled from the screen.
March 15th – Qingyun Streaming.
'5 Centimeters per Second' – A love divided by time. Don't miss it.
As the date and logo faded out, the final image was a train racing by.
On one side, a girl with an umbrella—Akari.
On the other hand, the boy chasing her—Takaki.
They smiled at each other.
Warm. Healing.
Instantly, the emotional void left by the finale of 'Kimi ni Todoke' was replaced with excitement and longing.
"Was that… a '5 Centimeters per Second' trailer!?"
"Those visuals were insane. So much feeling!"
"Who were those kids? Their faces were stunning—so easy on the eyes."
"Wait, I thought Jing Yu and Yu Youqing were the leads? Why didn't we see them?"
"Probably just the younger versions of Takaki and Akari."
"Jing Yu said in an interview that this film explores love through the passage of time. Sounds like it spans years."
"Man, I was so satisfied with the ending of 'Kimi ni Todoke', but now I'm sad again. March 15th feels SO far away!"
"Come on—Jing Yu's been on fire this year. 'Dragon Zakura', 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal', 'Love Letter', then 'Kimi ni Todoke'… and now a movie?"
"Seriously, let him rest. Don't work the poor guy to death."
That night, Qingyun Video launched a full-scale promotion for '5 Centimeters per Second'.
It was their first self-produced film—and with Jing Yu as both screenwriter and lead actor, they were going all in.
Thanks to steady growth, Qingyun had recently passed 30 million users. Monthly growth was projected to be over a million. But after airing the trailer post-finale?
Overnight, Qingyun saw 760,000 new user registrations.
By the next night: 1.37 million.
On the movie's landing page, they launched a pre-sale campaign:
Buy early and get all three chapters for 17.6 Yuan instead of the full price of 20 Yuan.
Preorders exploded:
From 1.21 million on day one…
To 3.37 million within a few days.
Jing Yu and Cheng Lie were watching the numbers closely.
And gradually, Cheng Lie's anxiety began to ease.
Qingyun's pre-sale strategy basically worked like advance ticket sales.
Whether it was discount pricing or platform-backed subsidies, the logic was the same.
With over 3 million preorders, the film had already pulled in around 60 million in revenue.
Given Jing Yu and Qingyun's 70/30 split, half the production cost was already recouped.
Sure, it wasn't a record-shattering achievement—both 'Trust & Betrayal' and 'Love Letter' had brought in five to six times their production budgets.
But still—it was reassuring.
With this kind of pre-sale performance, even if the growth slowed, projections pointed to at least 5 to 6 million preorders before the March release.
Plus, there were still ad revenue and brand placement deals to factor in.
At this point, '5 Centimeters per Second' was practically guaranteed to break even.