Early in the morning, Su Yan walked into the screenwriting department, dressed in his black staff uniform.
The moment he stepped inside—
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Colorful ribbons exploded above him in a shower of celebration.
"Congratulations!"
"Congrats, Su Yan!"
"Congrats on 'Rurouni Kenshin' becoming a breakout hit!"
"You really pulled it off, Su Yan! Why'd you hide your talent for two years as an assistant? If you'd debuted earlier as a lead screenwriter, you'd already be hailed as a genius. We wouldn't have to put up with the likes of Wen Yutong from Hudu TV or Zuo Yuhan from Zhongxia TV."
"At this rate, 'Rurouni Kenshin' might hit 14 million total paid views by the end of September!"
The office was full of clapping and smiles. Everyone looked at Su Yan with admiration.
He was momentarily stunned but quickly realized—
This was a long-standing tradition in the screenwriting department.
Anytime someone got promoted from a supporting role—like dialogue writer, episode contributor, or assistant—to a lead screenwriter, and managed to successfully produce and broadcast a full series without any major mishaps, the department would throw them a mini celebration if staff were free.
"Congratulations, Su Yan. 'Rurouni Kenshin's airing wrapped up smoothly. At this rate, it's shaping up to be the best-performing web drama of the season across all four major platforms."
One colleague grinned as he spoke.
Of course, "best-performing" here referred specifically to web-only dramas.
Sakura TV, Zhongxia TV, and Hudu TV together produced over 20 TV dramas per quarter, aired directly on national television.
These shows had traditional viewership—2% to 6% ratings, meaning tens of millions of TV viewers per episode.
Those dramas would also be uploaded to web platforms a week or two later—for people who missed the airing, wanted to binge-watch, or simply didn't watch TV at all.
Naturally, a TV drama released across two channels (TV + web) would start with millions of plays, often far higher than web-only productions.
That's why comparing TV dramas to web dramas like 'Rurouni Kenshin' or 'Pure Breeze' wouldn't be fair.
"Thanks, everyone." Su Yan quickly bowed and expressed his gratitude.
"We should all go out for drinks tonight!"
"Sure thing—it's on me," Su Yan said with a smile.
"With 'Rurouni Kenshin' blowing up like this, you'd better prepare yourself. The production division might start reaching out to invite you for new scripts."
Su Yan paused for a second before replying calmly:
"I'll think carefully about it."
Returning to his desk, Su Yan let out a deep breath.
Not far from him, Kiyota Sanji's desk sat empty.
Kiyota had spent a long stretch basking in praise at the office thanks to 'Pure Breeze', even though most of that show's script was written by Kanzaki Yusuke.
But ever since 'Rurouni Kenshin' took off, he'd stopped coming in. He was holed up on set every day.
They hadn't spoken, but Su Yan could guess what he was thinking.
He was probably cursing the success of 'Rurouni Kenshin', hoping it would flop so 'Pure Breeze' could win in the end.
"But things aren't that simple," Su Yan muttered.
He opened his laptop. Right on SakuraNet's homepage, there was a huge banner—
Promoting the finale of 'Rurouni Kenshin'.
The SakuraNet team wasn't stupid.
They'd been hesitant to push a four-episode low-budget drama at first. It didn't seem likely to bring major returns, even with promotion.
But after Episode 4 dropped, with sky-high ratings and an explosion in paid views—
They finally saw the potential.
And now they were all in.
It was mid-August. Though 'Rurouni Kenshin' had concluded its story, for the show itself, this was only the beginning.
Its average paid view count had surged from 2 million to 2.5 million, to 2.7 million, and continued climbing.
Each day, the growth was visible.
On August 21st, it surpassed 'Pure Breeze'—
'Rurouni Kenshin' hit an average of 2.77 million per episode, while Clear Breeze held at 2.73 million.
The outcome that Kiyota had hoped for—that 'Rurouni Kenshin' would lose steam post-finale—never came.
He stayed at the filming site every day, barely focusing on the final two scripts of 'Pure Breeze'. All he cared about now… was 'Rurouni Kenshin's numbers.
And the constant upward trend… was ruining his sleep.
"Why?!"
After yet another harsh scolding from his uncle, Kiyota's eyes were bloodshot with fury.
He looked across the room at Kanzaki Yusuke, who sat there with a furrowed brow, struggling over the final two episodes' scripts—and Kiyota's rage boiled over.
This useless guy—he can't even beat a rookie like Su Yan.
He's made me a laughingstock!
Why do I rely on him? I'm the star of this crew. Without me, there is no drama!
Why should he entrust 'Pure Breeze's fate to someone like Kanzaki Yusuke?
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He stormed forward, grabbed Kanzaki's draft, and crumpled it into a ball—tossing it into the trash.
Kanzaki was furious—but held it in. He knew—
Without Kiyota, the show wouldn't have been greenlit.
It was his name and connections that secured the 10 million yuan in production funding.
In Xia Nation, talented screenwriters without opportunities were everywhere.
He could look down on Kiyota in private—
But he couldn't afford to show it.
"What's there to think about?" Kiyota sneered.
"Your ideas and writing style are outdated."
"...What do you mean?" Kanzaki Yusuke gritted his teeth.
"You still don't get why 'Rurouni Kenshin' took off after Episode 4 and overtook 'Pure Breeze', do you?" Kiyotani said slowly.
Kanzaki's eyes widened.
He understood immediately what Kiyota was about to say.
You? You barely graduated from college. You've spent your time bouncing from one assistant writer gig to another.
Now you're being paraded around as some genius co-creator—because your uncle made it happen.
We do all the work, you reap the glory.
And now you're giving me creative direction?
Still, Kanzaki forced a polite tone.
"So what are you suggesting, Sanji?"
"Episodes 1 through 3 were solid. But the show's real breakout came after Episode 4 aired," Kiyota said, his voice steadier now.
"And honestly? The plot in Episode 4 wasn't even that great."
Kanzaki's scalp tingled.
Not great?!
That episode gave us Yukishiro Tomoe—a heroine people will remember for life.
It transformed Kenshin into a true man—one who bears pain for his people, his nation, and still moves forward.
How could he say that so lightly?
"The reason Episode 4 blew up," Kiyotani continued, "is because it went full melodrama. Full-on tragic, emotionally manipulative."
"And that's what the audience likes. Sadness. Pain. Tears.
So that's what you'll write."
"'Pure Breeze' is at Episode 9. Next week we start filming on the 11th and 12th. The outline's already done. Scrap the ending. Rewrite the final two episodes. Keep the theme. But make it tearjerking."
Kanzaki felt like he couldn't breathe.
'Pure Breeze' was a romantic comedy set in a high school. How could he turn it into a tragedy now?
"But the tone of 'Pure Breeze' is supposed to be light and sweet…"
"Are you saying you're not capable of adapting to market trends and writing what the audience wants?" Kiyota shot him a look.
Kanzaki fell silent.
"Enough. It's not September yet. We haven't lost. I believe in you."
"If 'Rurouni Kenshin' can skyrocket from a single final episode—then so can 'Pure Breeze'."
No one knew the kind of behind-the-scenes nonsense "genius screenwriter" Kiyota Sanji was up to.
But one thing was clear:
In the web drama scene, he was no longer the protagonist.
SakuraNet's push wasn't the only force behind Kenshin's momentum.
Industry media also began publishing rave reviews:
📰 "Brilliant debut from screenwriting and acting talent Su Yan—millions of viewers moved to tears, awarding a sky-high 9.6 rating."
📰 "In this scorching summer, 'Rurouni Kenshin' delivers sorrow and soul. Tomoe is the gold standard of how to write a female lead. If you're in a drama slump, click play—you won't regret it."
📰 "A tragic masterpiece that doesn't rely on tragedy alone. If emotional devastation had a scale, 'Rurouni Kenshin' would get a perfect score."
📰 "Who would've thought a 1.2 million yuan drama like 'Rurouni Kenshin' would outperform the 13 million production 'Pure Breeze'? Its success is a wake-up call—forget endless CGI polish. A drama's soul… is the script."
📰 "Questions arise over the co-writers of 'Pure Breeze'. Maybe the true genius… is Su Yan."
📰 "Star screenwriter Zuo Yuhan of Zhongxia TV praises 'Rurouni Kenshin' as the best drama of the season."
📰 "On September 1st, 'Rurouni Kenshin's average paid view count surpassed 3.6 million. It's unstoppable."
And it really was unstoppable.
Not just in numbers—
But in the emotional points, Su Yan gained.
The first three episodes only netted around 3 million emotion points total.
But now, just three weeks after Episode 4 aired—
Su Yan's total was over 5 million.
"At this rate, I might clear 7 million total. And average over 5 million paid views per episode…"
Su Yan muttered quietly.
Still, he knew 'Rurouni Kenshin's reach had limits. It only aired on SakuraNet.
And Xia Nation's main drama audience? Kids, the elderly, and housewives—people who mostly stuck to the three major TV networks.
'Rurouni Kenshin' might be a masterpiece in his heart—
But its genre and distribution platform capped its ceiling.
He leaned back, propped his feet on the desk, and stared at the ceiling.
The day 'Rurouni Kenshin' surpassed 3 million average paid views, the screenwriting department gave him a private office.
It was only natural.
'Rurouni Kenshin' was projected to bring over ten million yuan in profit to the network.
After all, SakuraNet was owned by Sakura TV—so streaming profits came back to the network too.
With real success and real value—
Giving Su Yan an office was more than justified.
"It's already September. In a few days, I can submit my next script to the production team…"
He glanced at the system interface in the corner of his screen—
Where emotion points were rising rapidly.
This was the moment where, normally, many experienced producers would be reaching out.
But in Su Yan's case—
Not a single one came calling.
Because 'Rurouni Kenshin's success had blocked Kiyota's path.
Which meant Su Yan had offended Akasaka Yoshitoki, the Deputy Head of Production.
With the current head, Yoshizaki Shigeyoshi, aging at 72 and rumored to be suffering from early-stage dementia—
Everyone knew:
When Yoshizaki stepped down, Akasaka would take control.
No one wanted to risk offending him by working with Su Yan now.
Except—
Ring ring. Ring ring.
Su Yan's phone rang.
He picked it up and heard Shinozaki Ikumi's voice:
"Hey! Is your new script ready yet? Got any ideas? I can find you a few assistant writers—
Or are you planning to sit out the fall season and let your Yoshizaki Shigeyoshi' fame fade?"
Su Yan chuckled.
Only Shinozaki still cared about whether he had a next project.
They were in the same boat—tied together. She wasn't afraid.
After all, Akasaka was still just a deputy.
There was still one Yoshizaki between him and real power.
"No need. Assistant writers only mess up my flow."
He paused—then took a deep breath, finally making up his mind.
"Actually… I already have an idea for my next drama."