By late February, most of the spring TV season had already aired.
It had to be said—Jing Yu had brought significant benefits to Yunteng TV during his years there. Although none of his shows were airing this season, Yunteng TV's main drama still managed to firmly hold onto the fifth spot in the ratings chart since its debut. Compared to the time before Jing Yu's involvement—when it couldn't even break into the top ten—that was a huge improvement.
Across Great Zhou, people no longer talked about the "Big Six" TV stations. Yunteng TV had been added to the list, and they were now referred to as the Big Seven.
But that was as far as it went. Without a Jing Yu production in its lineup, Yunteng TV was still far from competing with the top three TV networks. Its current lead drama didn't receive much criticism online, but audiences generally found it unremarkable.
Of course, the overall quality of the spring season had dropped compared to the previous winter season. Even the highest-rated drama this quarter—Imperial Capital TV's flagship show—only managed an average rating of 6.54%.
TV audiences across Great Zhou couldn't quite put their finger on it, but there was a sense that something was missing this season.
That said, on February 23rd, they finally got a pleasant surprise.
Qiezi Video premiered its long-anticipated original romantic fantasy drama 'Star Guardian!', which had been in preparation since the latter half of the previous year.
The screenwriter was Yan Yuanqing, who made a name for himself seven years ago with the drama 'Dazed', and the director was Lu Yiqi, known for directing the 7% ratings hit 'Railway Boys'. Though both were veterans of the industry and hadn't had a breakout hit in recent years—having retired from Aurora TV and Xingtong TV respectively—Qiezi Video brought out the titles of their past classics in its promotional campaign, and Great Zhou's audience quickly remembered who they were.
After two weeks of strong promotion, 'Star Guardian!' debuted on February 23rd, and the influx of viewers visibly slowed down Qiezi Video's servers.
Thanks to earlier releases like 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' and 'Love Letter', which Jing Yu had adapted, Great Zhou's netizens were already becoming more accustomed to this online viewing model. Although each episode of 'Star Guardian!' cost 2.5 yuan to watch—considered pricey by some—as long as the show was good, who would complain?
People had no problem spending hundreds on a video game disc or buying physical DVDs of TV shows that had already aired. By comparison, 2.5 yuan per episode wasn't much at all. Once you're used to luxury, it's hard to go back to frugality.
In fact, the Great Zhou market had long been conditioned by various industries to equate cultural products with high value. That's why the pay-per-view model caught on so fast in Great Zhou.
A full drama costing 10–20 yuan total was well within most people's acceptable range.
So, on day one of its release, the first episode of 'Star Guardian!' surpassed 700,000 paid views. By the third day, that number had passed 2 million.
By the end of February, on the eve of episode two's release, the first episode's total paid views had reached a staggering 3 million.
The executives at Qiezi were ecstatic.
Sure, it couldn't match the tens of millions of views racked up by 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' and 'Love Letter', but those were on another level entirely. 'Star Guardian!' was in a different league.
If every episode could maintain similar numbers and average 4 million views per episode by the end of the season, the drama would be a solid success in the streaming phase alone.
With 13 episodes priced at 2.5 yuan each, and assuming a 4-million average view count, that would mean a direct revenue of 130 million yuan. Since Qiezi had fully funded the show themselves, they wouldn't need to split profits.
Subtracting the 40+ million yuan production budget and 20 million in marketing, and adding in future licensing revenues, the numbers were very promising.
Qiezi's upper management could practically smell the money. Was it possible that after just over a year online, their platform was already on the verge of becoming profitable?
However…
After episode two of 'Star Guardian!' aired in early March, the internet exploded in criticism.
"WTF—episode one looked amazing, how did episode two turn into low-res garbage?"
"Did the episode two screenwriter suffer a head injury? The female lead eats stinky tofu for THREE WHOLE MINUTES. Out of my 2.5 yuan, nearly 20 cents was wasted watching her eat and review whether grilled or deep-fried stinky tofu is more authentic?? I can figure that out myself, thanks."
"Sigh… guess I'll try episode three. The second one was straight-up idiotic. Did they switch screenwriters?"
"I thought 'Star Guardian!' would be the hidden gem of the spring season. Turns out it's just another bowl of toxic soup. Bros, let's wait for '5 Centimeters per Second' in two weeks instead."
"Yan Yuanqing's really past his prime. He's in his 50s now, can't keep up with the times. What was innovative ten years ago is cliché now."
"But to be fair, episode one was genuinely good—tight pacing, great effects. Why did episode two fall off a cliff?"
"What do you mean by ' why? If they didn't go all-out for episode one, how else would they bait you into buying episode two? But whatever… even if it's dumb, it's still better than most of what the Big Six TV stations are putting out this season. All the same tired formulas."
"Let's hope the poor quality in episode two was just a fluke. Fingers crossed episode three brings back that episode one magic."
"Could '5 Centimeters per Second' be the crown jewel of the spring season?"
"It's not even a drama—it's a movie! Forget the spring season—it's probably the highlight of the year in film. Those holiday releases were garbage, and yet some of them still broke 2 billion at the box office. Unbelievable."
After the release of episode two, negative reviews flooded the internet.
The direct result? Viewership dropped. From just over 3 million views for episode one, episode two only managed a little over 2 million in its second week.
Naturally, rival streaming platforms Qingyun and Jixun were also keeping a close eye on Qiezi's data.
Jing Yu, too, was paying attention.
Truth be told, even a few million paid views per episode was already an impressive number.
After all, many families shared a single account. With only a few million paid accounts, the actual number of viewers could easily be in the tens of millions.
As long as a show gained exposure and recognition, its future licensing and merchandise value would rise. It was like the online novel platforms from Jing Yu's past life: small sites worked hard to fight piracy, but the big sites didn't bother. Why?
Because large platforms wanted their works to be widely shared. The more people knew about a title, the greater its licensing value. They would gladly sacrifice short-term revenue to maximize long-term IP value.
"Honestly, it's shocking how smoothly this stuff is developing in Great Zhou," Jing Yu sighed.
In his previous life, getting a few million—or tens of millions—of paying users for any software product was nearly impossible.
It wasn't about the money. Internet users raised in the era of free content had a mindset: "If it used to be free, and now it's not, the platform's just trying to fleece me." They'd rather forgo the service entirely than feel ripped off.
But Great Zhou had never gone through that free-content era.
So, people had no resistance to the pay model. Whether it was Qiezi, Qingyun, or others, out of 30 million users, just getting a few million to pay was already a goldmine. Back in his past life, internet companies would've been green with envy over these numbers.