"It's here, it's here—Teacher Jing Yu's character photo!"
"Holy crap, is this a historical drama? I already suspected it from that teaser image, and now it's confirmed. Definitely a period drama."
"Dressed in white like snow, refined and elegant—I can't take it anymore."
"Seeing this photo just reminds me of that scumbag Yuan Cunxi... sigh. But I guess I finally get why both Xue Cai and He Sha fell for him. If I were them, I wouldn't be able to resist either."
"Wait, are those two kids the main characters? Are they seriously starting from childhood?"
"I heard it's a drama about professional Go. If that's the case, it makes sense. Pros start training super young—by the time they're 17 or 18, they're already at the top of the world. It's not like other careers where things move slowly."
"Yeah, competitive careers are like that. Same goes for esports—past 20 and you're already over the hill."
"Ugh, I'm torn. I want to see Jing Yu on screen, but I'm really not into professional Go. I just can't imagine how a Go drama could be entertaining. Over 300 pieces on the board—my eyes would go numb."
"Same here. Let's just hope Jing Yu brings some innovation to it. If it ends up too dry and tanks in ratings, it'll hurt him. The drama world's brutal. If 'Hikaru no Go' flops, no TV station might want to invest in Jing Yu again. And that means we won't get to see more of his work."
While audiences and industry insiders alike remained skeptical about the theme of Go, there was no denying that a drama centered on the game had never been done before in Da Zhou.
Rumors about how Jing Yu ended up signing with Yunteng TV had also been swirling within the industry.
Some claimed that Jing Yu had originally agreed to work with Chenghai TV, but jumped ship to Yunteng TV because he thought their offer was too low.
Others gossiped that 'Hikaru no Go' had been submitted to all six major TV stations—and rejected by every single one. That this once-rising star of a screenwriter had no choice but to settle with Yunteng TV. Some even claimed this drama might mark the fall of a so-called genius.
There were also less savory rumors, like Jing Yu using his looks to get close to a female executive at Yunteng TV, thus securing funding for this "obviously doomed" Go drama.
Jing Yu couldn't help but roll his eyes at these tabloid stories. Still, while 'Hikaru no Go' itself wasn't generating much online buzz, the discussions around him were at an all-time high.
Sure, there were plenty of more experienced and more accomplished professionals in the film and TV world. But among people his age, no one else had reached his level of success.
Add to that the fact that he not only wrote scripts but also acted, looked good, and even wrote music—Jing Yu wasn't just a scriptwriter. He was a full-blown celebrity active in multiple roles across Da Zhou's entertainment industry.
And so, amid all this noise, the production of 'Hikaru no Go' continued smoothly and steadily.
Half a month flew by.
Although the TV station had provided Jing Yu with housing, he spent most of his nights sleeping right at the set.
There were simply too many things he wanted to oversee personally. Writing the script was the easy part—but just like back in Lan Province, he'd also involved himself in the music production.
When he listened to the background scores composed by Yunteng TV's music team, he found them... lacking. Not terrible, but definitely not on par with the original work's OST. Jing Yu had initially had high hopes for Yunteng TV's music department. But now? He could only sigh.
So far, after working on four different dramas, he had yet to encounter a music team that could match or exceed the quality of the original soundtracks.
Which was why the crew of 'Hikaru no Go' was absolutely stunned to discover the truth:
Their screenwriter had secretly composed not one, not two, but over a dozen original insert songs. Each one is fully arranged and just waiting to be recorded.
The crew could hardly believe it.
So this is what it takes to be a screenwriter these days? Are we supposed to be doing all this, too?
But the most outrageous part wasn't the music.
Since the show was about Go, they needed a professional Go consultant.
Cheng Lie went out of his way and managed to invite Li Le, a professional 5-dan player who was currently on break, from one of Modo City's Go clubs.
Cheng wasn't expecting ultra-technical realism, but at the very least, the Go scenes couldn't look ridiculous. Despite Jing Yu repeatedly reassuring him, Cheng wasn't fully at ease.
Sure, Jing Yu might've beaten that Minister Meng guy, but against a real pro? No way he could keep up.
Or so Cheng Lie thought.
Li Le arrived at the set fairly relaxed.
Sure, top-tier Go players made tens of millions a year, but he wasn't at that level. The consultant fee the production offered him was decent enough, and he planned to earn it.
He took the script, started reviewing the Go sequences, and began making notes.
After all, if he did nothing, it'd be hard to justify collecting the paycheck.
He even tried nitpicking here and there—just to be thorough, of course.
But his suggestions were systematically dismantled by Jing Yu.
To be fair, Jing Yu wasn't rude about it. He simply discussed the Go matches in detail, explaining why a certain game unfolded the way it did based on the characters' skill levels: elementary schoolers, middle schoolers, and even professionals.
But Li Le's brow just kept furrowing.
Who does this guy think he is? A screenwriter trying to talk shop about professional Go? What a joke!
Yes, Jing Yu's reasoning sounded plausible. But anyone could talk theory. Real skill had to be proven on the board.
Though he couldn't call out the show's lead directly, Li Le saw an opportunity and challenged Jing Yu to a game, hoping to put him in his place—and instill a bit of respect for professionals.
Three days later, he'd lost eight games in a row.
Li Le was utterly dumbfounded.
He began to doubt the value of the three decades he'd spent honing his craft.
How is this possible?!
This guy's a screenwriter! He acts! He writes music! And now you're telling me he's also a Go monster?!
What the hell kind of freak is this man?!
He should be playing in professional qualifiers, not writing TV dramas!
On their ninth match, Jing Yu looked up thoughtfully and said:
"Going pro? Nah. Scriptwriting pays better."
And besides, he could exchange his creativity points for skills anyway.
That one sentence left Li Le speechless and clutching his chest.
From that day forward, Li Le stopped trying to nitpick the Go scenes in the script.
But he still had value. As a professional, he provided insider knowledge: the Da Zhou Go Academy's internal structure, the rules of the qualification tournaments, how young players trained, how many there were, their growth paths—details only someone in the world of professional Go would truly understand.
Jing Yu juggled managing the set with probing Li Le for this information, adjusting the script accordingly to keep it grounded and authentic.
As for news of Jing Yu's nine consecutive victories over Modo City's well-known 5-dan pro?
Well, that spread from the crew to the film base, from the film base to the local Go scene, and then finally—straight to the media that had been closely following 'Hikaru no Go'.
Soon, it was all over the news.
Jing Yu's fans were just as shocked:
"Wait, is 5-dan really that impressive? How could he lose to someone clearly amateur like Teacher Jing Yu? Is that guy even legit?"
"Only a few dozen people in the entire country become professional Go players each year. With tens of millions of enthusiasts nationwide, there are only a few hundred pros. So yeah, it's like one in a hundred thousand."
"Then what the hell? Did Jing Yu take a magic pill? How is he this good?!"
"How should I know? Look at him—does anything about him scream 'normal'? Genius minds operate on a different plane!"
"It's insane. I'm a Go hobbyist too—probably around 2 or 3 dan amateur level. I'm unbeatable in my local parks and did okay in the county-level competitions. But when I played against a 1-dan pro? I got absolutely wrecked. So how the hell did a screenwriter get this good?!"
Time passed quickly. The calendar was now just days away from January.
'Hikaru no Go' was set to air on the 1st of January, Sunday night at 10:00 PM.
There was a sort of unspoken agreement among the six major stations: they tried not to schedule their prime-time dramas against each other. The idea was to stagger their hit shows so everyone got a slice of the ratings pie.
Sure, 10 PM on Sunday wasn't as prime as the 8 PM slot.
But 8 PM was already booked with Xing Tong's flagship show.
9 PM belonged to the Imperial Capital TV.
Rather than fighting tooth and nail for the best slot, the six stations had learned to play nice, spreading out their big dramas to avoid clashes.
Of course, this kind of courtesy didn't apply to smaller stations—like Jinhui TV. Or to Yunteng TV, which wasn't even considered on the same level.
If Yunteng TV wanted to schedule its drama to go head-to-head with one of the big six? Fine—go ahead.
But premium time slots were limited. Yunteng TV couldn't just keep dodging forever. They had to pick someone to go up against eventually.
And so, they settled on Sunday at 10 PM.
Unfortunately, that same time slot had been claimed by Chenghai TV's new medical workplace drama for the spring season: 'Race Against Time'.
Jing Yu was reviewing the data with Cheng Lie.
"Can't be helped. The competition is brutal. A drama's time slot is crucial. So far, there's never been a non-weekend show that's broken a double-digit average rating. That shows you how important scheduling is. Hopefully the other show's quality is low..." Cheng sighed.
"No need to worry about all that." Jing Yu smiled.
"'Hikaru no Go'… won't lose."
"Heh. At least you've got the confidence," Cheng grinned.
On December 26th, the first trailer for 'Hikaru no Go' officially aired on Yunteng TV.