As the year drew to a close and the New Year approached, temperatures dropped—but the popularity of 'Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion' remained as high as ever.
However, in terms of ratings, there was no longer any room for growth.
After so many years of fame in the Xia Nation, whether people liked Su Yan or not, everyone knew who he was.
And after nearly half a year of promotion, whether people wanted to watch 'Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion' or not, they were all familiar with it.
A 7.3% rating was essentially the ceiling in the internet era—unless major streaming platforms suddenly crashed or shut down for a month or two, forcing tens of millions of viewers back to their TVs.
Su Yan knew this. The TV stations knew it too.
But no one really cared.
Advertising budgets continued to pour into the market.
Even if ratings had little room to grow, the merchandise market still had massive potential. For 'Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion', revenue from broadcast rights and streaming shares had already been surpassed by profits from merchandise sales.
Although TV stations didn't own the copyright, a significant portion of Su Yan's merchandise sales channels were placed on Zhongxia TV and its affiliated e-commerce platforms. As the platform operator, Zhongxia TV earned a substantial share, so naturally, they went all out in promotion.
Meanwhile, seeing the explosive success of 'Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion' in the global merchandise market, several TV stations—and even numerous overseas streaming platforms—began actively traveling to Tokyo to negotiate partnerships with Dimensional Pictures.
When it came to IP, however, Su Yan had no intention of letting random capital take a share.
He didn't lack money.
But at the same time, if he wanted to grow an IP, he couldn't keep all the profits to himself either. Otherwise, other players in the market wouldn't just sit back and watch him monopolize everything—they would unite against him.
For production—both the works themselves and their merchandise—Su Yan would not allow outside capital to interfere.
But for distribution and sales channels, he had no intention of building everything from scratch.
It was similar to film distribution.
Despite his high output and strong relationships with major theater chains, Su Yan still partnered with the largest film distributors in the Xia Nation for every release. Revenue sharing followed standard industry practices—he never exploited his popularity to impose harsh terms.
He earned his share as a producer, while his distribution partners handled competition and potential underhanded tactics from rivals.
The same logic applied overseas.
If he wanted to expand globally, the best approach was to share part of the distribution profits with major international players—turning them into allies who would help grow the IP.
This was far better than trying to take all the profits himself and ending up surrounded by hostile competitors worldwide.
As long as he retained 100% ownership of the IP, he could always replace weaker partners later.
Although 'Mobile Suit Gundam' wouldn't air until at least the second half of next year, related capital operations had already begun at the end of this year.
Over the past few days, Su Yan and Shinozaki Ikumi had been extremely busy handling these matters.
"At this point, maybe we should just hire professional managers to handle all this," Su Yan muttered, looking at the mountain of documents on his desk that needed signing.
"You serious?" Shinozaki Ikumi narrowed her eyes. "As far as I know, cases where companies thrive after being handed over to professional managers are extremely rare, both domestically and internationally."
"I'm joking," Su Yan said. "Just complaining about how busy things are."
For an IP company, handing control to professional managers—people who bore no real responsibility—was risky. If the company made money, they'd take bonuses. If it failed, they'd simply leave.
Su Yan didn't even want to imagine what they might do to an IP like 'Mobile Suit Gundam'.
Shinozaki Ikumi visibly relaxed.
"But as the company keeps growing… TV, film, games, merchandise, operations—our direct employees are nearing 700. Including partner companies, thousands of people depend on us. And the core of everything still revolves around you and your works. This level of workload is probably going to stick with you for a long time."
"I'll just have to get used to it," Su Yan sighed.
His situation was somewhat similar to Hayao Miyazaki and his studio in his previous life, just on a larger scale and with higher output.
"But instead of complaining about work, you should focus on finding a partner," Shinozaki Ikumi teased with a laugh. "You're almost 28. You can't spend all that money alone—you need someone to help you waste it."
"Right back at you," Su Yan shot back immediately. "New Year and Spring Festival are both important holidays on Sakura Island. Think about how you're going to deal with your parents when you go home in early January."
Her smile instantly froze.
Unlike Su Yan, who had no family pressure, she couldn't escape that topic.
"After 'Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion' ends…" Su Yan changed the subject.
"I might start releasing some scripts and have the company try producing ultra-long-running series."
"We're going to be very busy. You should prepare yourself."
"Ultra long-running series?" Shinozaki Ikumi asked. "You've mentioned that before—what exactly does it mean?"
"At least ten seasons, or even more. Large-scale productions that can run continuously."
For Su Yan, adapting works like 'Naruto', 'One Piece', or 'Dragon Ball' in one go was still difficult—but the system allowed phased exchanges. Even so, each phase would still involve dozens or even hundreds of episodes.
With 'Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion' nearing its end, the emotional points he had accumulated were finally sufficient.
In his previous life, 'One Piece' had already seen a live-action adaptation that performed well globally.
From Su Yan's perspective, Dimensional Pictures now had far stronger production capabilities than those of the earlier adaptation studios. With the right casting, he was confident in tackling such massive projects.
"You haven't even fully established the 'Mobile Suit Gundam' IP yet, and you're already thinking about this?" Shinozaki Ikumi blinked.
"That's called foresight," Su Yan replied. "Next year, the company will focus on 'Mobile Suit Gundam'. Starting the year after, and continuing for the next decade, we'll gradually release several ultra long-running series, along with films and spin-off games."
He paused, then smiled wryly.
"At the very least… I'll aim to finish one of those long-running projects by the time I'm fifty."
"…"
Shinozaki Ikumi fell silent.
"You've really planned that far ahead? What if audiences lose interest after one or two seasons? And you're talking about fifty…"
"That won't happen."
Su Yan smiled.
The confidence in his eyes left her momentarily speechless.
Her urge to tease him faded—replaced instead by curiosity.
Ultra long-running series…
Could that really work?