Modo City Film Base.
Unlike Lan City, this was the cultural and economic heart of Da Zhou. Here in Modo City, not only were there six major television networks, but also a vast number of film and television production companies.
For their flagship dramas, most TV stations preferred to produce and broadcast their own content. However, some networks focused more on variety shows and music programs. These stations would rather purchase already-completed dramas from independent production houses than create their own.
Of course, in Da Zhou, the public's entertainment options extended beyond TV dramas—there were also movies.
But unlike TV dramas, the film market couldn't be monopolized by television networks. Instead, it was a chaotic battleground of countless film companies fiercely competing against each other.
Every year, Da Zhou produces more than a thousand films. However, over 80% of them only saw limited releases in small regional theaters. Yet that didn't stop these film companies from passionately throwing themselves into production.
That's why, aside from the six major TV networks shooting on-site, Modo City Film Base was also packed with numerous film production crews. Gathering in one place created a massive industry hub, which greatly cut costs for everyone involved.
Jing Yu and Cheng Lie were in the car as they entered the base. Jing Yu, curious as ever, looked around eagerly.
Cheng Lie took the opportunity to explain a few things.
"Teacher Jing Yu, over there is where Xing Tong's crew is filming. Their new spring season drama Fireworks is a crime suspense series with a budget of 80 million. They've hired several top-tier stars from the Da Zhou entertainment industry. The expected ratings should at least exceed 7%."
"Mm, and that's where Aurora TV is shooting their new historical drama—also with a budget over 40 million."
"And that side belongs to Yongxin Films. Teacher Jing Yu, try to avoid that area if you can. Yongxin's people are pretty aggressive. Their crew's only been here for six months, and they've already gotten into two fights with other companies."
Jing Yu listened attentively, mentally taking notes.
Soon, the group arrived at the film studio that had been prepared in advance for their crew.
Inside, dozens of people were already waiting for Jing Yu. When they saw him, curiosity sparked in their eyes.
This was the man who managed to produce a drama in a place like Lan Province with single-episode ratings surpassing 3%. Most impressively, 'White Album 2' outperformed all the other Yunteng TV dramas that aired that fall, despite those shows being backed by the powerhouse network itself.
'White Album 2'—even if they hadn't seen it, anyone working in the TV industry had at least heard of its name.
"Teacher Jing Yu!"
"Hello, Teacher Jing Yu! Hello, Producer Cheng!"
"Hi, Uncle Jing Yu!"
"Hello, Uncle Jing Yu!"
Jing Yu looked at the two children who ran up to him—one with a gentle and elegant demeanor, the other lively and adorable.
"Wait... I'm an uncle now? I'm only twenty-five!"
Jing Yu sighed internally but still warmly greeted the children.
After all, these were the two young actors he'd personally selected to play the childhood versions of the protagonists, Hikaru Shindo and Akira Toya.
Truthfully, there were a few other kids who looked even more photogenic, but these two had undeniable acting skills. During auditions, their performances left Jing Yu without a single criticism.
Both were already child stars from Modo City, having trained in acting from a young age.
Of course, they didn't come cheap. They were only appearing in the first few episodes, but each one was being paid in the hundreds of thousands.
For a story like 'Hikaru no Go', which was originally a manga, the audience wouldn't really feel the time jumps. For example, the protagonist, Kondo Hikaru, goes from an elementary schooler to a middle schooler, then drops out of high school to go pro in Go. To manga readers, it just feels like he grew taller.
But adapting this into live action was another story. That age progression—elementary to high school—made casting a challenge. If you kept swapping actors, it would break immersion. Yet the plot demanded that jump, and there was no easy way around it.
Luckily, in Jing Yu's past life, the Chinese adaptation of 'Hikaru no Go' handled this cleverly: after the protagonist had an emotional outburst at Sai and Sai disappeared, a time skip of two to three years occurred. When Sai reappeared, Hikaru had already become a teenager.
With that example in mind, Jing Yu had a clear idea of what needed to be handled carefully in production.
Today, the entire crew had gathered to hold the opening ceremony, following industry tradition, and to get familiar with each other.
The next day, 'Hikaru no Go' officially began filming.
Among the entire cast, Jing Yu—playing Sai—had the most complicated makeup and costume process. It took over an hour each day, so he had to wake up at six to arrive early.
The shoot began with scenes of Sai in the ancient era, tutoring the king in Go, and later being framed and meeting a tragic end.
In this arc, the adaptation Jing Yu remembered from his past life had improved on the manga's storytelling.
In the manga, Sai plays with the white stones, but his opponent cheats by sneaking a white stone into their black stone container and using it to claim extra territory. Just as Sai is about to expose the cheat, his opponent accuses him first—turning the tables.
However, that plot had a glaring flaw. These were elite Go players. Reviewing the game (fupan) would easily reveal how many captures each side had made, making this kind of cheating laughably easy to expose. It made no sense for Sai to die over it.
The Chinese live-action version made it more believable: the opponent subtly moved one of Sai's white stones on the board, then immediately accused Sai of cheating. The accusation came first, and there was no clear way to explain or defend against it. In the end, Sai drowned himself in despair.
Of course, modern audiences might struggle to understand—why would someone in ancient times kill themselves just for being falsely accused of cheating in a board game?
Nowadays, people might say, "If I'm going to die anyway, I'd rather take those bastards down with me."
That kind of death could seem like being too sensitive.
Jing Yu was aware of that, too, so he added more scenes to show how much reputation mattered in ancient times. If Sai didn't prove his innocence by dying, all of his teachers and friends would be shamed. Their Go Academy would lose students, and they wouldn't even be able to feed themselves.
After all, in ancient times, losing your reputation meant social death. With no one to turn to, you became utterly isolated. As long as you spent half a minute adding context, modern viewers could understand, and Sai's character would become far more believable.
Also, after Da Zhou was founded, supernatural entities like ghosts and spirits were officially allowed in fiction. That meant Jing Yu's adaptation of 'Hikaru no Go' could directly portray Sai as a soul bound to the Go board.
No need to rely on convoluted sci-fi explanations like in the past version, which tried to invoke quantum mechanics and supernova explosions to justify a thousand-year-old Go ghost possessing the protagonist.
Jing Yu could only laugh at how those old screenwriters probably didn't understand any of the theories they used—they just threw in quantum physics whenever they hit a wall. Poor guys.
After spending the entire day shooting the ancient scenes, the production finally returned to its modern setting.
At the same time, Yunteng TV's official website had also stepped up its game. The finalized character photos were uploaded as they became available, and the station's prime-time advertising slots had already begun airing teasers for the drama—more than 20 days ahead of schedule.