"Bad news, Teacher Jing Yu, you'd better get to the set right now!"
At six in the morning, as Jing Yu's phone automatically powered on, his assistant Zhong Xiang's urgent call blasted through.
"What's going on?"
Still groggy, Jing Yu peeked out the window.
The sun hadn't even risen.
"'Hikaru no Go' fans have gone nuts! Our TV station's official website crashed last night, and now there's a crowd of fans protesting outside the filming base in Modo City!"
"...Huh?"
In an instant, Jing Yu's sleep vanished.
Thirty minutes later, he pulled up to the base on his little scooter.
"It's him! That's him!"
"That's Sai!"
"Teacher Jing Yu is here!"
Immediately, over a hundred fans surged toward him.
They swarmed him with cries and cameras, practically engulfing him. Thankfully, Zhong Xiang had anticipated the chaos and called over a bunch of crew members to pull Jing Yu inside the building.
"These people are... way too passionate," Jing Yu said, still catching his breath.
"Can't be helped," Zhong Xiang replied.
"Last night's 'Hikaru no Go' Episode 10 wrecked everyone emotionally. And these are just the ones who know how the industry works—they came here to block you at the filming base.
But over at the Yunteng TV headquarters? Even more people are waiting to ambush you."
"Is this… normal?" Jing Yu asked, still confused.
After all, 'Hikaru no Go' was getting 6-7% ratings. That's solid, but hardly unheard of in Great Zhou—each season had shows with numbers like that. Was it really this serious when something didn't go as fans hoped?
"Of course it's not normal!" Zhong Xiang looked at him.
"High ratings for the Big Six's dramas usually come from viewer habits—they trust those stations, follow big-name actors, and expect decent stories. So even if the plot crashes in the end, most fans won't riot. They just shrug it off.
At worst, they complain a bit and move on to follow their idol somewhere else."
"But 'Hikaru no Go'? Its fanbase was built entirely on the strength of its story—or more accurately, on Sai.
That character captured hearts. And now that he's disappeared?
They can't accept it."
Zhong Xiang hesitated for a moment, then added:
"The site's back up now, but… There are over ten thousand posts, all demanding that the station bring Sai back."
Jing Yu went quiet.
Not long after, Cheng Lie also arrived at the set, looking grim.
"It's a mess," he said.
"There's a massive crowd outside Yunteng TV, all screaming that Sai can't die."
Cheng Lie glanced at Jing Yu, clearly wanting to say more… but in the end, he stayed quiet.
Because he knew—he didn't need to say it.
Sure enough, by 7:30 a.m., the call came in.
From Meng Yu, the head of Yunteng TV's production department.
Jing Yu saw the name flash on his screen, hesitated, then answered.
"Xiao Jing!"
"Minister Meng! You're sounding full of energy these days."
"Bah, I'm just an old man now. Anyway, no small talk.
I think you know why I'm calling."
"You want to ask about Sai's storyline," Jing Yu said calmly.
He paused, then added firmly:
"There will be no rewrite. Sai's ending is set. He's not coming back."
"But… this is still a commercial TV station. We have to consider the audience's reaction!"
"The site crashed last night from fan traffic. The crowd outside HQ? Even if they're just impulsive and cool off in an hour or two, the very fact that so many people are taking real action shows how strongly they feel. We can't just ignore that."
"Can't you add something? A little 'prayer at a temple' or 'ritual summoning' scene to bring him back?
Something light, takes a day to film, makes everyone happy—what's the harm?"
After all, Jing Yu was the writer of the show.
His contract spelled it out clearly: only he could modify the script.
The station could only approve or deny revisions, not force them.
Jing Yu took a breath, then spoke slowly and clearly:
"Minister Meng, do you really think a masterpiece is born by just trying to please everyone?
By squeezing out as much commercial value as possible?"
"It's not."
"The most memorable works often have endings that audiences struggle to accept at first… but they linger in people's hearts for years to come."
"Sai's departure is that kind of ending.
It's the soul of 'Hikaru no Go'.
So… I refuse to change it."
Silence on the other end.
Jing Yu's mind drifted to a classic from his past life—
Slam Dunk.
The main characters, burning with hope, didn't win the championship.
They fell in the quarterfinals.
And that's when the story ended.
Did fans not want a sequel? A comeback run in the next national tournament?
Of course they did.
But if Slam Dunk had continued endlessly, padding out arcs just to satisfy fans, its legacy would've faded. It would've ended up no more respected than Prince of Tennis.
Instead, it stopped at its peak. And decades later, no one resents that loss. They just remember how powerful it felt.
The same principle applied here.
Yes, Sai could survive.
But what would that mean for the story?
This was Hikaru's story—not Sai's.
If Sai stayed forever, how would Hikaru grow? Would he always have his ghost tutor coaching him? Constantly triggering god-mode whenever needed?
Sai had already fulfilled his purpose.
He'd found the Divine Move—the obsession that had anchored his soul for a thousand years.
And in that moment, he realized something even deeper:
Hikaru mattered more than the Divine Move.
But that wasn't enough to keep him anchored.
His time had come.
Their personal growth, their heartbreak, their internal conflicts—that was what gave 'Hikaru no Go' its power.
If Jing Yu rewrote the story just to appease fans, the show would lose its impact.
A graceful, meaningful farewell—even if painful—was worth far more than a cheap happy ending.
"Minister Meng, fans might struggle to accept this now…
But believe me—twenty years from now, they'll still remember 'Hikaru no Go' because of this ending."
Silence again.
Then finally:
"...Sigh.
Do as you see fit, Xiao Jing."
"Honestly, 'Hikaru no Go' has already exceeded all expectations.
Ratings-wise, it's a massive win."
"Of course, don't forget—there's also merchandise, licensing, and follow-up products.
All of which are tied to the show's long-term popularity and your future earnings.
So whether you want to chase that extra profit…
or stick to your vision, even if it risks losing some commercial potential…
That decision is yours."
Meng Yu had worked with Jing Yu long enough to understand him.
If he tried to force a rewrite now, maybe the merch would sell more…
But it would also plant a seed of resentment in Jing Yu's heart—and sour his relationship with Yunteng TV.
Between maximizing 'Hikaru no Go''s licensing value and betting on Jing Yu's future potential?
Meng Yu chose the latter.
If it were any other writer, he wouldn't be this lenient.
Try pulling this kind of "artistic integrity" stunt on another network? They'd blacklist you before you could say "rewrite."
Jing Yu ended the call.
All around him, the production crew watched, faces full of disbelief.
That was Minister Meng, who had just brushed off!
"I refuse."
Jing Yu had said it without hesitation. No sugarcoating. No flattery.
Cheng Lie had been silently sweating the whole time, terrified they'd get into a screaming match.
Fortunately, Old Meng was experienced enough to understand—great talent often comes with a little arrogance.
Another department head might've held a grudge.
But not Meng Yu.
That's why he was in charge.
Cheng Lie exhaled with relief.
"Alright, Producer Cheng," Jing Yu said.
"Let's stop wasting time.
We have 'Hikaru no Go' Season 2 to finish this week."
"As for all those fans protesting online… we should calm them down.
Have the station post an official announcement:
As the writer, I will never allow 'Hikaru no Go' to fall apart in the end."
"From what I've seen, most of the anger comes from fear that Sai's disappearance means a botched ending. We need to put that fear to rest."
"No problem," Cheng Lie nodded.
The next day, Yunteng TV uploaded a video of Jing Yu himself.
In it, he thanked fans for their support of 'Hikaru no Go' and their love for Sai.
Then, he said:
"Over the past few days, I've read your comments and listened to your concerns.
So let me make a formal promise."
"First: 'Hikaru no Go' will not have a bad ending."
"Second: Sai… has not disappeared.
Hikaru will see him again."
Just a short video.
But it was all the fans needed.
Their grief of the past few days evaporated.
"Sai's not gone?"
And it was Jing Yu himself—the writer and actor who played Sai—saying it.
Fans finally exhaled.
It must mean there'd be a twist in the final three episodes.
Sai would return somehow.
And indeed…
Jing Yu had been clever with his words.
Sai wasn't really gone.
In the story, Hikaru sees traces of Sai in his own moves—the patterns, the style, the memories.
As long as he keeps playing Go… he can "see" Sai again.
Sai's soul may have vanished,
But the legacy he left in Hikaru's heart lives on through every move on the board.
After that announcement, fan protests died down.
The fandom settled back into its usual lively rhythm, now full of eager anticipation for the next episode.
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