In truth, 'Hikaru no Go' and 'Initial D' were no short stories either.
Even when adapted into live-action, they would both need at least two full seasons to do justice to their plots.
But their subject matter?
Much more accessible than something like 'Kaiji'.
'Kaiji' appealed to a niche — fans of high-stakes, psychological thrillers.
Whereas 'Initial D' and 'Hikaru no Go' had broad, mainstream appeal.
What's that?
You don't drive, or don't know how to play Go, so you wouldn't be into these kinds of stories?
Come on —
Jing Yu had lost count of how many people in his past life didn't know the first thing about drifting or Go,
But started learning after falling in love with these series.
Just like how Jing Yu himself had no interest in playing basketball,
Yet still devoured Slam Dunk with excitement.
Or how Prince of Tennis was still fun to watch, even if he'd never even seen a live tennis match.
"I wish I could just exchange for both…" Jing Yu muttered, staring wistfully at his meager fan point balance.
A little over 7 million fan points…
Just barely enough for one of the two.
But if he really had to pick —
He liked 'Hikaru no Go' more.
Mostly because…
He liked Sai.
And he wanted to play that role himself.
His previous acting role — Haruki Kitahara in 'White Album 2' —
had pretty much tanked his reputation.
Even though the ending salvaged some public opinion,
A lot of fans still saw him as half a scumbag.
But if he could play Sai in 'Hikaru no Go'…
He might just flip his image overnight.
Jing Yu knew he had serious decision paralysis.
So the moment he made up his mind, he immediately exchanged it for 'Hikaru no Go'.
Otherwise, give him another half hour, and he'd just be tangled in indecision again.
Over 6 million fan points — gone in an instant.
He now had less than 1 million left.
"Ugh… Well, it is what it is," Jing Yu sighed.
"I don't think 'Hikaru no Go' will flop… but if it does, at least I've got a million left. Enough for one more decent drama. If it bombs, that'll be my comeback fund."
Just as he was consoling himself, a panel popped up:
[Spend 300,000 fan points to acquire top-level Go skills.]
[Spend 300,000 fan points to unlock the original anime soundtrack, translated into Da Zhou's language.]
[Spend 300,000 fan points to auto-generate custom Go matches and sequences in line with 'Hikaru no Go's plot, adapted to Da Zhou's Go rules.]
Jing Yu: "…"
You've gotta be kidding me.
This panel is a damn bloodsucker.
Won't even leave me a million!?
He stared at the options for a long time.
Sigh…
He gave in and bought all three.
Truthfully, those 900,000 points could've been saved.
Go knowledge? Soundtrack? Custom Go sequences?
If he had the money, he could've hired pros to do it.
But Jing Yu understood one thing clearly:
When it came to quality,
The system's support far surpassed anything he could hire.
Take the Go matches in 'Hikaru no Go', for instance.
They weren't just basic games —
They were supposed to be among the top-tier professionals.
And no, Jing Yu couldn't just hire any local Go player.
Even if he found a Second or Third Dan player,
calling that "top-tier national level" in the show would only bring criticism.
You could already picture the backlash —
armchair experts crawling out of the woodwork to nitpick every scene.
And asking real national-level pros to consult for a drama?
Good luck.
Even if he threw money at them,
top-tier Go players in Da Zhou easily made tens of millions annually from prize money, endorsements, and events.
No way he could afford them just for scene consultation.
So yeah, spending those 900,000 points might sting,
But it saved a lot of hassle.
After that, he had fewer than 300,000 fan points left.
One year of hard work… and he was back to zero.
Forget "don't put all your eggs in one basket" —
Right now, 'Hikaru no Go' was the basket.
If this flopped,
well...
He'd just have to laugh and press GG.
Jing Yu shuddered as a flood of data surged into his mind.
Rules. Tactics. Patterns.
Memory after memory of Go matches — hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands.
When he finally opened his eyes again—
"Same as always," he muttered. "No sense of growth.
Feels like having food pumped straight into your stomach.
You're full, but you didn't taste anything."
Still, now that he thought about it —
If one day he couldn't make it in the drama world,
He could always pivot to becoming a pro Go player,
Or go back to music and become a pianist or violinist.
Now that he had everything in place, Jing Yu picked up his phone and dialed Fu Jing, the producer from Chenghai TV who'd previously visited his home.
"Hello? Teacher Jing Yu?
So you've finally made up your mind?
You've decided to choose Chenghai TV, right?" Fu Jing's voice was bright and confident.
She knew how the Big Six worked.
Maybe her offer wasn't perfect — the contract terms were still strict —
But it was, hands down, the best one Jing Yu would get from any of the Big Six.
If Jing Yu wanted a top-tier platform, he'd almost certainly pick Chenghai TV.
On that, Fu Jing had full confidence.
"Yeah, I'm mostly okay with the offer you gave me earlier," Jing Yu said calmly.
"But I can't accept the five-year contract.
I want to change it to three years."
"…That's not possible," Fu Jing's tone cooled slightly.
"We reached out to you because we believe in your potential.
If it's only a three-year deal, then frankly, there's no point for us to go through all this trouble, right?"
She didn't spell it out, but Jing Yu understood.
If he were truly a valuable asset,
Then a three-year contract wouldn't give Chenghai TV enough time to fully capitalize on him.
Why would they help him rise —
Only to watch him leave?
"…That said," Fu Jing continued, "since you're calling, I assume you've already got the script for your new project?"
She could tell that contract duration was clearly a sticking point for Jing Yu —
But she didn't push it further for now.
After all, before they could negotiate anything,
They first had to see if his script passed the internal review.
Remember:
If he passed the review, Chenghai TV was prepared to invest 40 million yuan into his first drama.
Not a small sum by any measure.
Until the script cleared review,
no matter how detailed the contract talks got —
It was all pie in the sky.
"Yeah, I've got it," Jing Yu replied.
Fu Jing nodded on the other end of the line.
"Then how about this —
Can you fly out to Chenghai TV the day after tomorrow?
If you can, bring the first two or three episodes of your new script," she said.
"Of course, we'll cover all travel and lodging costs."
"Okay," Jing Yu answered simply.
Because at the end of the day —
Contracts mean nothing if the script doesn't deliver.
If his script was good enough,
He'd naturally gain more leverage in negotiations.
Over the next two days, Jing Yu locked himself in his room,
writing the first two episodes of 'Hikaru no Go' —
and even drawing out the key Go sequences featured in the story.
Then he caught a flight to the headquarters of Chenghai TV.