Did the characters feel real?
Not just Geng Xiao, but everyone, upon reflection, realized it was true.
In this drama, Xiao Meng’s parents were genuinely petty and small-minded.
Xiao Meng’s best friend was carefree and a bit scatterbrained.
The male lead, an elite rich heir, was convincing in every word and action.
Even the billionaire grandfather’s character held up.
Xiao Meng was the quintessential girl-next-door, with a touch of cleverness and beauty, striving most of the time but occasionally wanting to slack off, daydreaming about getting something for nothing. When Li Mengjiao filmed this, she hadn’t yet landed the dairy group endorsement, lacking today’s star aura, so she portrayed the neighborly girl naturally.
None of the characters were groundbreaking; similar archetypes had appeared in past dramas. But the plot’s pacing, the dialogue, and every character’s actions were crafted to fit them perfectly—something most idol dramas couldn’t achieve.
In idol dramas, the focus is on the leads, maybe a devoted second male lead, while other characters are mere tools. Since they’re just props, neither the writer nor the director bothers investing much effort, giving them minimal scenes to push the plot along.
But can a drama with only the leads be considered good?
A great drama should leave an impression beyond just the protagonists.
Geng Xiao’s subconscious analysis of hidden plots showed the first three episodes’ success: the characters were solid, and the story was convincing!
Wang Jun rubbed his hands, “I don’t get what you’re all saying, but it means this drama’s got potential, right?”
Xie Qian nodded, “Uncle Wang, you must have a sense of its potential by now!”
Wang Shuang’s smarts didn’t equal Wang Jun’s.
No self-made businessman is a fool.
The truly foolish, like Yu Wenhao, might get rich by luck but can’t hold onto it, their fortunes fading as quickly as they came.
Wang Jun chuckled modestly, “Don’t put me on the spot. I’ll need to watch a few more episodes to know for sure.”
If a drama appeals to young people and even middle-aged men like it, its quality can’t be too bad.
Yuan Fenghui had her eye on Xie Qian.
His sharp analysis was spot-on. Such talent…
Yuan Fenghui quietly asked Wen Ying, “If I offer Xie Qian a part-time job at Tianjiao, do you think he’d agree?”
Wen Ying, wary, replied, “I don’t know. You can’t expect him to agree for 3,000 yuan a month, and even 30,000 might not sway him.”
A 2,000-yuan base salary for Wang Shuang or 3,000 for her was fine.
But the same offer for Xie Qian? If he agreed, Wen Ying wouldn’t.
Xie Qian’s intellect shouldn’t be sold so cheaply!
Wen Ying’s stance left Yuan Fenghui speechless.
“You don’t ask for a raise for yourself but worry about Xie Qian being shortchanged!”
Still, Yuan Fenghui was just musing.
Xie Qian came from a well-off family and had no interest in this path, or she’d have recruited him long ago.
Soon, the second screening began.
This time, Qin Xianming and Wang Jun set aside their biases, earnestly watching the company’s labor of love—a drama that felt unlike a typical idol drama.
The second session ended unnoticed.
That day, Yuan Fenghui held four two-hour screenings.
Busy as Qin Xianming and Wang Jun were, their phones buzzed with calls and invitations past noon. At first, they stepped into the hallway to take calls, but later, they turned their phones off.
No one left early.
When the four screenings concluded, Yang Xi, still unsatisfied, said, “How many episodes are left? Can we watch two more?”
How rare—Sister Xi actually wanted to keep watching!
Wen Ying felt confident the drama was a sure hit, and Yuan Fenghui fulfilled her promise of a big meal.
“Want to watch more? Come back tomorrow. If you’re busy, wait for Jiao Jiao’s first drama to air on TV!”
Tomorrow was still a holiday due to the college entrance exam. Wang Shuang was definitely coming, and Geng Xiao and Tang Yifeng said they would too.
Wang Shuang knew Li Mengjiao had been taking acting classes and had followed many shoots as an intern producer.
Dramas weren’t as fun as people imagined. Many scenes required multiple takes, and with so many crew members around, Wang Shuang couldn’t immerse himself in the story.
But the edited final cut was different.
The plot was seamless after editing.
The visuals were enhanced, more beautiful.
The leads’ chemistry was a feast for the eyes.
The music amplified the immersion.
Honestly, Li Mengjiao, as a newcomer, performed well. “Xiao Meng” shared similarities with her but also had distinct differences. Li Mengjiao justified Tianjiao Entertainment’s investment.
Yun Chen performed well too.
With the drama’s character design, his charm was magnified!
At dinner, Li’s mother held her husband Li Zhentao’s hand, filled with emotion, “Jiao Jiao was born for this. Look how well she acted. Thank goodness we didn’t hold her back or become her stumbling block.”
A daughter destined to shine, hindered by parents from pursuing her true calling—what a regret that would be!
Li Zhentao was clear-headed, “Jiao Jiao has talent, but talent alone isn’t enough. This drama isn’t her achievement alone. Her talent needed reliable teammates to shine. Look at how many people poured their sweat into this!”
Yuan Fenghui, Wen Ying.
The director, crew, and original writer Zhang Guangzhen.
Yun Chen and the other actors.
Wang Shuang and the post-production team.
Without any one of them, the final cut wouldn’t be this good—even a different lighting technician would’ve altered the effect.
The next day’s screening added an extra session.
When the 28-episode drama finished, the meeting room erupted in applause.
Wen Ying whispered to Xie Qian, “Now I’m confident my 500,000 yuan won’t go to waste.”
Far from it.
With its quality and Li Mengjiao’s popularity, the drama would fetch a good price.
The top choice was Hunan Satellite TV, whose talent show had drawn huge audiences. Airing the drama alongside Li Mengjiao’s endorsement ads would maximize ratings.
Of course, if Hunan Satellite TV offered too low a price, Yuan Fenghui wouldn’t agree.
In business, you never lock onto one target. If the east doesn’t shine, the west might.
Currently, a modern drama’s production cost averaged 400,000 yuan per episode. Tianjiao spared no expense, with each episode costing 650,000 yuan. For 28 episodes, the total production cost was 18.2 million yuan: Wen Ying invested 500,000, Xie Qian 3 million, Tianjiao 8.7 million, and a 6-million-yuan bank loan.
