"How could you expect me to pilot that thing?"
"Are you in or not? If you're not, go home."
"That guy... he's found this place, hasn't he?"
Inside the soundstage, Jing Yu and the other actors were rehearsing their scene.
This was the moment in 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' when Shinji Ikari is first ordered by his father to pilot Unit-01 to confront an Angel.
To be honest, aside from the three main leads, the hardest character to cast was Shinji's father, Gendo Ikari.
That mix of calm, cold detachment, and the occasional flicker of human warmth was incredibly difficult to portray convincingly.
But "hard" didn't mean "impossible."
Jing Yu had already spent the entire morning on this scene. The emotions hadn't landed in earlier takes — this was their sixteenth retake.
A few minutes later…
After reviewing the footage through the camera monitor — both his own performance and his co-star's — Jing Yu finally nodded in satisfaction.
Of course, in the actual drama, this scene takes place in the underground base beneath the city, with the two of them arguing in front of Unit-01. In post-production, the green screen behind them would be transformed into the towering head and shoulders of the mecha.
It had been about half a year since Jing Yu last acted, and he was a bit rusty, but a few days into filming, he'd mostly gotten back into form.
But let's be honest — no matter how well you perform, Shinji Ikari isn't a particularly likable character.
Because his thoughts and reactions are so ordinary, his first instinct is often the same choice 90% of ordinary people would make.
It's not that "ordinary" is bad, but for a protagonist, if your mentality and worldview are too relatable — too normal — audiences get frustrated. They're watching a boy who thinks and acts as they do, but who gets to pilot Unit-01 because of bloodline perks, show off cool moves, and attract both Rei Ayanami and Asuka Langley. That kind of plot just builds resentment.
But that's exactly how this character is meant to be written.
Or rather, you have to watch the full series to understand that one of the key narrative arcs is Shinji's emotional and psychological growth. If he started with saint-like enlightenment on par with Confucius, Aristotle, or Socrates, there'd be no room to develop. Might as well just ascend to godhood immediately.
From that perspective, Shinji is the hardest role to play in the entire series.
As a flawed protagonist, the actor has to strike a careful balance — too pitiful and the audience might quit watching. The execution has to be spot-on.
That's why Jing Yu insisted on playing the role himself. Casting a plain-looking actor with a weak personality would've been a disaster. In live-action, appearance matters a lot more than in anime. There are tons of anime with weird art that still succeed, but live-action dramas with unattractive leads? Show me even one hit. In his past life, even Ximen Wuhen flopped despite having Jiao Enjun as the male lead.
Having stunning heroines like Rei Ayanami and Asuka fall for a bland, cowardly kid? Even Jing Yu wouldn't buy that as a viewer. If he didn't act, he'd at least find a more handsome actor for the role.
Once the morning's shoot wrapped, the entire crew exhaled in relief.
Especially the director, though his job was mostly artistic composition, it was Jing Yu's word that ultimately decided if a shot was usable.
After discussing the scene's deeper meaning and visual details with Jing Yu, the director went off to reflect on the narrative alone.
"Ugh... I'm exhausted." Xia Yining, dressed in her blue and white school uniform, slumped into a seat next to Jing Yu.
"Yeah, even though it's technically a TV drama, we're producing it at film-level quality — including budget. So it's normal for the workload to be tougher than most past productions," Jing Yu said, sipping his coffee.
Right now, the estimated cost for VFX and filming had already surpassed 400 million, and the additional expenses to come were anyone's guess.
But not all of that budget was for the drama itself.
Some of the visual modeling and effects being created now would later be used in the movie version of 'Neon Genesis Evangelion'. So during the current TV production, scenes intended for the movie were also being filmed in parallel. Of course, the theatrical cut would eventually need its own dedicated team, but overall, Jing Yu found this integrated approach cost-effective.
The drama and game were both slated for spring release next year — and the movie wouldn't be far behind. Jing Yu wasn't the type to wait for the buzz to die down before pushing out follow-up content. For the past half-year, he'd been filming both the 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' TV content and the movie in tandem. Post-production was also progressing simultaneously. None of this had been made public.
As for the movie itself, Jing Yu's only comment was:
"Just watch it for fun. The real EVA is in the TV version."
If it weren't for nostalgia — and the fact that some key lore appeared only in the movie — he wouldn't have bothered making it.
"To be honest," Xia Yining said, turning her eyes toward Jing Yu, "I still don't get why you made the protagonist so unlikable. It's really not your style. A loser-type male lead? That's just... not you."
"Not me?" Jing Yu blinked.
"Exactly. Everyone in Great Zhou knows you're a genius, and now you're playing this timid teenager in a drama? It's weird sharing scenes with you," Xia Yining huffed.
"But I really like Rei Ayanami. She's awesome. Do she and Shinji get together later?"
"You'll know when we film it," Jing Yu replied calmly. He was never one for spoilers.
Xia Yining didn't push. She knew Jing Yu well — he loved keeping the mystery alive until the end. Even the scripts weren't handed out in full until the very last moment.
The scorching heat of June passed quietly, bringing them to the end of the month.
'Legal High' had maintained its one-case-per-week storytelling format for nearly three months. Audiences had grown used to the fact that no matter the case, the courtroom duel would always be between Miki and Komikado.
But in the later episodes, a new character — Saori — started showing up more frequently.
Eventually, it was revealed through dialogue that Saori had once been part of the same law office as Miki and Komikado, as a junior colleague. During a biotech lawsuit, Komikado's ruthless tactics resulted in her death, leading to a falling out and long-standing enmity between the two men.
On the night the final episode aired…
After wrapping up a biotech case, Miki and Komikado found themselves face-to-face again.
This time, the conversation turned to Saori.
By this point, viewers were fully engaged.
"Is Saori's identity finally going to be revealed?!"
"They kept us hanging for three months, damn."
"Bet she's a total beauty."
"What if she's a little kid?"
"Even cold-blooded Miki lost it over her death. Komikado never even badmouthed her. Gotta be a mature, elegant lady, right?"
"Maybe they both liked her — classic love triangle turned rivalry."
"Introducing Saori in the finale... clearly she'll be key in Season 2."
"They're lawyers, right? No way they let someone die for a win. Her death must be tied to a bigger case — probably the hook for Season 2."
In the fan groups, speculation was wild. Meanwhile, on screen, Komikado and Miki both burst into tears while discussing Saori.
"That child was doomed," Komikado sobbed in regret.
"What did you say?!" Miki shouted, slamming Saori's memorial photo in Komikado's face.
"Look her in the eyes and say it again. Say it!!!"
The two began grappling on the floor.
Viewers' internal reactions:
"Whoa! This must've been some goddess-level beauty for Miki to totally lose it."
Female lead Mayuzumi Machiko picked up Saori's memorial photo, her expression frozen in disbelief.
"So this is Saori?"
Her reaction drew even more intrigue. Was she that pretty?
"During the months-long drug trial for that lawsuit, Saori's health steadily declined. But she became a pillar of support for everyone at the firm — including both Miki and Komikado. Komikado's decision to continue the trial is what led to her..." the narrator explained.
But the viewers were already raising red flags.
Drug trial?
No way. In a real court, human trials like that wouldn't even be admissible.
On screen, the brawl raged on.
"If we had stopped the trial then, everything would've been wasted!" Komikado howled, pounding the ground in agony.
"Ms. Sawachi, I have to ask again... is this Saori?" asked Mayuzumi Machiko, staring at the photo.
"Yes. At the time, she was just under three years old."
Cut to the memorial photo in Machiko's hands.
A cute, fluffy hamster, with big, round eyes, gazing out of the picture.
That was the under-three girl?!
The audience stared at the background — Miki and Komikado still wrestling on the floor — and felt their worldview collapse.
This was Saori?
Are you kidding me?!
The two greatest lawyers on a Japanese Island fell out over a drug trial that killed... a hamster?!
What kind of drama is this?!
"Saori was like my own daughter. You were touched by her gentle eyes, too, weren't you? Running so happily in her little wheel…" Miki wept, tears streaming.
"All for the win... all for the win!!!" Komikado cried, as if his entire family had died.
Mayuzumi Machiko looked utterly dumbfounded.
So did viewers across the nation.
The fan chats fell silent.
So this... was the big secret that had teased fans for months?
A joke, right? Had to be a joke.
This was the big mystery behind 'Legal High'?
The truth everyone waited three months for?
Saori was a hamster.
Teacher Jing Yu — are you sure this wasn't a comedy?