Although it was a web drama, Jing Yu followed the trend and released 'Kaiji' alongside the rest of the summer season's prime-time dramas.
However, online streaming was inherently different from traditional TV broadcasts.
Because people could watch at their leisure and weren't bound by schedules, real-time viewership numbers wouldn't be as high. Still, a show's overall influence depended on the total number of viewers.
As long as they were all dramas, they were competitors by default.
It was simple—viewers only had so much time. Whether a drama was broadcast live on TV or streamed online, all of them were fighting for the audience's limited free time.
Only the most influential and highest-rated shows could win the viewers' favor.
Thus, the six major TV stations—including Yunteng TV—viewed Jing Yu as a formidable rival this quarter.
There was no helping it—Jing Yu's record was too impressive. Among all top-tier screenwriters in the history of Great Zhou's television industry, he was undeniably one of the best.
His only "flaw" was that he started at platforms like Yunteng TV and Jinhui TV, so he hadn't yet released a series with an average rating over 10%. But industry insiders knew: dramas like 'Initial D', 'Kimi ni Todoke', 'Hikaru no Go', and 'Steins;Gate'—any of them, if aired on one of the top three networks, would almost certainly have broken that benchmark.
So everyone treated Jing Yu as a screenwriter of that level regardless.
What set Jing Yu apart from other "10%-rating gods" in Great Zhou was his consistency.
So consistent that even a show with a name like 'Kaiji'—which sounded like an obvious flop—had everyone convinced that it would be one of the hottest dramas of the summer.
"Just hearing the name 'Kaiji' makes it sound weird!"
"Is it one of those gambling dramas? Teaching people how to gamble?"
"No idea. But judging from the trailer, it looks kind of childish—like it's just rock-paper-scissors?"
"Rock-paper-scissors? What's so great about that?"
"Still not sure… but it's by Jing Yu. You just know there's going to be some insane twist."
"Come on, how exciting can rock-paper-scissors get? It's just a luck game."
"A luck game? You're oversimplifying it. Sure, it might seem like that, but if you understand statistics and psychology, it's a lot more complex than it looks."
"Still… I really hope Jing Yu keeps making romance dramas. That final segment of '5 Centimeters per Second', and that song 'The Wind Rises'—it's currently topping the Great Zhou music charts. Every time Jing Yu makes a romance drama, the soundtrack is amazing."
"Don't mention 'The Wind Rises'… I've been looping it nonstop. The more I listen, the harder it is to move on from Takaki and Akari's story."
"Haha, same here. But you know, the best way to forget a masterpiece is to find the next great one—and look, here's 'Kaiji'."
"It's premiering at 8 PM, right? Finally, a prime-time release for Jing Yu!"
"Yunteng TV's always had weak traffic. Even with Jing Yu's past projects, they didn't dare go head-to-head with the six major stations in the top time slots. They'd always schedule him at 9 or 10 PM. But this time, with the premiere on Qingyun Video, there's no need to worry—fans will find it whenever they want. No concern about cutthroat ratings wars."
"That may be true for Jing Yu. But for the six major stations, this must be a nightmare. His fans can watch on demand anytime, but if you miss a live broadcast on TV, you're done. And the worst part? His new drama is airing at the same time as Imperial Capital TV's main series. The execs there must be fuming."
"What can they do? There are only so many golden slots. Even if it's an online drama, being featured in the prime-time slot is still ideal. And tomorrow night, Xingtong TV will be taking the hit—'Clannad' airs at 8 PM too."
"Suddenly, I feel so blessed. Feels like we're back in the days when Jing Yu's dramas dominated everything. Hope he keeps them coming!"
As fans chatted away, 8 PM arrived.
Tang Tao pulled himself away from the fan group chat and looked at his laptop.
The link for the paid episode refreshed right on time. Each episode costs 1.5 yuan.
A reasonable price.
Most seasonal dramas had production budgets under 100 million, the same as films. The first season of 'Kaiji' had a budget of 60–70 million, roughly the same as '5 Centimeters per Second'.
So pricing it this way meant the full 13-episode season would cost about the same as a movie ticket. Audiences could accept that. Otherwise, if watching a series costs hundreds of yuan, they'd rather buy the deluxe Blu-ray with bonus footage and autographs.
The opening theme started.
Honestly, when it came to the original manga and anime of Kaiji, aside from decent plot development, the music and art style were... well, not great.
Plenty of people dropped the series simply because they couldn't stand Kaiji's "shoehorn face".
Which is exactly why this adaptation could never "ruin" the original in terms of visuals—real people could never look as abstract as that.
Tang Tao finished the theme song and saw the main character appear—disheveled and gloomy.
His brows furrowed.
This is the protagonist?
"Peak loser" would be an understatement. Lifeless eyes, not exactly in rags, but extremely unkempt. His place was a mess of beer bottles—not filthy to the point of horror, but enough to leave a bad impression.
When a person has zero redeeming traits, all those negatives stack up, making him thoroughly unlikable.
Especially when this loser—Kaiji—cried alone in his room after losing a bet, saying how he never wanted to be a gambling dog again. Then, in a fit of rage, he took out a cherished pocketknife and went out to "take revenge on society" by vandalizing a luxury car parked near his home—ripping off its emblem and slashing its tires.
Yikes.
Tang Tao could feel his blood pressure rising.
This guy's the male lead?
"Wait, did I click the wrong link? Is this really Jing Yu's drama?"
"What the hell is this? Jing Yu has never written a male lead this down-bad before! Even 'Dragon Zakura' had a cool 40-something main guy!"
"No, no, that actor—it's Feng Xi, right? Didn't he play Yu Fei in 'Below Qing River' three years ago? What a transformation!"
"Below Qing River? Never heard of it. Was it good?"
Fans used to Jing Yu's high-visual dramas felt a bit out of place seeing this gritty realism.
But the original Kaiji had an even more absurd art style and still became an iconic psychological thriller manga in Japan.
Why? Because its brilliant plot made people forget all about the visuals.
Just like One Punch Man by ONE-sensei—true masterpieces wouldn't be buried by aesthetics.
Sure enough, a few minutes in, the plot silenced all complaints about the characters' looks.
The car owner Kaiji had vandalized was actually a shady loan shark, there to collect debts.
Because Kaiji had once co-signed a loan for a friend. Just 30,000 yuan.
Predictably, the friend took the money and ran.
Fourteen months passed.
"You think you only owe 30,000? Look at the loan agreement—monthly compound interest at 20%. Fourteen months of that? That's just 385,000!"
The loan shark smiled amiably.
"I can tell you're broke. That's fine. I'm not a demon. No more 20% monthly interest. Let's drop it to just 15% annually. You'll only need to pay 6,000 a month for the next 11 years. That's even shorter than expected!"
That one line sent countless viewers into a rage.
30,000 yuan turned into 6,000 per month for 11 years?!
What the hell kind of demonic loan is this?
Even Great Zhou's capitalists would weep at how evil this is!
This was the real beginning of the story.
Of course, Kaiji didn't want to repay that money. But loan sharks always had their ways.
As a penniless slacker, Kaiji had no choice but to accept the loan shark's other offer:
Board a "gambling ship" for one night. If he made it through, his debt would be cleared.
No negotiation. No second option.
Kaiji chose to board.
From here on, the fan group started focusing entirely on the plot.
"A gambling ship, huh? Looks like he'll gamble his way out of debt."
"This is good! Kaiji's a mess, but man's got guts."
"This is that desperate 'gambler dog' all-or-nothing move. What, he's gonna flip burgers to pay it off?"
"Feeling immersed now. Just imagine—a bottom-feeder going onto a gambling ship. How much can he win? Honestly, if the plot has him win easily and walk away, that'd be a total cop-out. With this setup, you just know the ship's a trap."
As expected, the ship was indeed a gambling arena where passengers bet to clear their debts.
Each player was given three stars and twelve cards—four each of rock, paper, and scissors.
The rules were simple: within a limited time, play all twelve cards against other passengers. Anyone who finishes without losing their three stars gets to leave.
The stars were your lifeline—your ticket out.
They were allowed to borrow up to 1 million yuan, with 1.5% compound interest every 10 minutes.
By the end of the game (a few hours), that meant paying back around 1.4 million.
Of course, borrowing was optional… but Kaiji, somehow, sensed the money was essential.
Even if he didn't understand the game mechanics yet, he felt it deep down—he had to borrow, no matter the cost.
The tension soared.
Tang Tao unconsciously leaned forward, completely focused.
The plot never let up.
Soon, another player approached Kaiji in the gambling hall—a man named Funai.
"We just have to play all twelve cards, and we're free. If we use the same card every round, we'll always draw. Do that twelve times, and we're done. No risk at all."
With a kind smile and a calm proposal, Funai instantly made Kaiji's heart waver.
Tang Tao blinked.
No way. This smells fishy.
"Kaiji, I think you're a good person. That's why I took this risk. Let's survive together."
Funai's eyes were sincere.
Tang Tao—and the other fans watching—felt a deep sense of dread.