Different viewers had distinct reactions to the drama’s opening.
Yang Xi found it deeply relatable, and even Deng Yaomei felt a sense of connection.
Deng Yaomei’s biological father was an alcoholic, a lazy rural man who drank constantly.
While other families in the village thrived through hard work, Yaomei’s family remained dirt-poor. If Deng Shangwei hadn’t brought her to the city to work as a housemaid, her drunken father would have married her off for a bride price in her teens.
In her darkest days, Yaomei had fantasized: if only she weren’t their real daughter.
She didn’t need wealthy parents—just a dependable father and a less timid mother.
Xie Qian, however, had a different perspective.
He never indulged in such daydreams.
Though he despised Xie Jinghu, he wouldn’t pin his hopes on fate.
This was already Wen Ying’s revised script; Xie Qian couldn’t imagine how melodramatic the original must have been.
It was too early to judge the series, so he decided to keep watching.
Wang Jun tucked in his belly, shifting to a more comfortable viewing position, muttering, “Kids these days love to daydream, wanting rich parents. I’d love to swap for an obedient, successful son, but heaven hasn’t granted me that either!”
Wang Shuang, sitting in the back: “…?!”
Did his dad really say that without fear of losing him?
Wen Ying chuckled.
The grass is always greener—most parents often say such things.
Even with Wang Shuang’s past antics, Wang Jun wouldn’t truly trade him away. When Wang Shuang nearly got into trouble at Changtan Lake, Wang Jun’s legs went weak with fear upon hearing the news.
The drama’s plot gradually unfolded.
Xiao Meng’s wish came true. One day, she woke to find a fleet of luxury cars parked in her alley—Bentleys flanking a Rolls-Royce.
Heaven didn’t give Xiao Meng rich biological parents but gifted her a billionaire grandfather!
“That’s a bit misleading for students,” Qin Xianming, who had been silent, commented.
Parents often dislike their kids watching idol dramas—too unrealistic, teaching bad values. All about romance, no proper work, as if studying or working matters less than love. Do people not need to eat or sleep? Can love alone quench thirst, hunger, or fatigue?
Though this drama wasn’t mainly about romance, Xiao Meng’s “dream come true” still promoted a get-something-for-nothing mindset.
“Old Qin, don’t rush to judge. Keep watching. Wen Ying revised the script; have some faith in her,” Li Zhentao, the shareholder most familiar with the plot after Yuan Fenghui, said.
Qin Xianming gave Wen Ying an apologetic smile. His earlier remark was hasty; he shouldn’t judge without seeing the full drama.
When Yun Chen, playing the male lead, appeared, Deng Yaomei couldn’t contain herself: “Wow, so handsome!”
Yaomei was the purest viewer. Unlike the familiar Li Mengjiao, Yun Chen’s face was fresh and striking to her, eliciting her genuine reaction.
It wasn’t that Yun Chen outshone Xie Qian, but on screen, Yun Chen was there for viewers to admire freely. Yaomei, too shy to look directly at Xie Qian, felt her inferiority magnified in his presence. Yun Chen, however, made her blush and her heart race—after all, he was just a drama’s male lead, and staring wasn’t a crime!
Even Yang Xi sat up straighter.
Yun Chen had a toned physique, with subtle muscle outlines under his clothes—not the bulging kind of a bodybuilder but handsome and well-defined on screen, retaining a youthful aura. In later terms, he was top-tier “fresh meat.”
Yang Xi wasn’t swooning; she was assessing Yun Chen’s combat potential.
Good—not a frail, one-punch knockout male lead. This drama was worth watching.
Among the room, only Yuan Fenghui wasn’t focused on the drama; she was observing the audience’s reactions.
When Yaomei exclaimed “so handsome,” Yuan Fenghui couldn’t help but smile.
Wherever Wen Ying had found Yun Chen in some magazine, this young male model was undeniably handsome. If the drama’s ratings soared, he’d skyrocket to fame.
Yuan Fenghui made a mental note to try signing Yun Chen’s mainland agency contract before the drama aired.
Tianjiao Entertainment was founded for Li Mengjiao, but as it grew, it couldn’t rely solely on her. Yun Chen, being male, wouldn’t compete with Li Mengjiao’s resources, so signing him wouldn’t hinder her career.
With no ads or lengthy intros and outros, the story flowed seamlessly, and three episodes passed quickly.
Seeing no one immediately stand up, Yuan Fenghui knew the drama had hooked them.
Given the diverse audience, she quietly raised her expectations.
Girls were engaged, and the boys didn’t seem too resistant?
Even Boss Qin and President Wang stayed glued to their seats for two hours.
Zhang Guangzhen’s original script couldn’t have achieved this.
His script catered only to young girls, housewives, and maybe young female office workers.
Wen Ying’s revised script had a broader appeal.
Though it retained idol drama staples—mansions, luxury cars, glamorous outfits, and lavish parties—with significant budget spent on sets, the story’s core was different.
“Let’s take a break to rest your eyes. We’ll resume in half an hour,” Yuan Fenghui clapped her hands, and the audience stood.
Geng Xiao stretched, offering a fair assessment: “Better than the dramas I watched with my mum.”
Was *Meteor Garden* popular enough?
Extremely.
But from Yingde Academy to F4’s styling, Geng Xiao couldn’t relate.
If that was “high society,” he’d rather stay a bumpkin in Chengdu.
But Yun Chen’s elite rich heir felt believable to Geng Xiao.
He didn’t inexplicably pick fights with Xiao Meng. His head was clear, knowing his status was threatened by the billionaire grandfather’s newfound granddaughter, and he prepared countermeasures—very realistic.
Though not explicitly stated, Geng Xiao even suspected the grandfather’s delay in finding his granddaughter was due to deliberate concealment by close aides, including the male lead.
Good heavens, was he seriously analyzing hidden plots in an idol drama?
Geng Xiao began questioning his life choices.
Xie Qian hit the nail on the head: “The characters are well-established, making them feel real, so you instinctively analyze the unspoken backstory.”
