Yuan Fenghui was arranging a promotional photoshoot for Yun Chen to update his profile.
As for the “boring” CSM18 city three-day average viewership ratings she mentioned… those were damn critical!
*Emerald Forest* had ruled the idol drama market with a CSM18 city three-day average viewership of [X%] and a market share of [Y%]. But *The Princess’s New Dress* crushed it on its debut, posting a three-day average viewership of [A%] and a market share of [B%], outpacing *Emerald Forest* by a full [Z%]!
Don’t underestimate that [Z%]. Some dramas barely scrape that much total viewership.
Hitting [A%] in three days, breaking 3% was a lock. With *The Princess’s New Dress* not yet at its plot climax, *Emerald Forest*’s finale had reached [C%], just shy of 4%. Now, Hunan TV was confident *The Princess’s New Dress* could smash the 4% barrier!
This was a testament to Director Fan’s sharp eye and the station’s bold gamble. The [A%] rating turned the 70 million yuan exclusive broadcast rights deal into a “visionary” triumph.
Skeptics at the station shut up.
Guan Zong, despite signing several top talent show stars this year, wasn’t thrilled with *The Princess’s New Dress*’s success.
Xu Mei was half-happy, half-not. She was annoyed Li Mengjiao’s drama was such a hit but glad Cao Shao had secured Zhang Guangzhen to write the script early.
Before airing, 1 million yuan for Zhang Guangzhen’s script was steep. Now, with a blockbuster drama, that’s just market rate.
Same money, different timing—Zhang Guangzhen had to finish Cao Shao’s commission first.
With the script unfinished, Cao Shao already ponied up 3 million yuan to co-invest with a coal tycoon. The tycoon didn’t need Cao Shao’s money, but his investment ensured commitment, so the tycoon agreed.
The tycoon was the primary investor; Cao Shao’s 3 million bought a small stake.
Seeing Cao Shao invest, Guan Zong, like a cat smelling fish, wanted in.
How shameless—Xu Mei was livid. Guan Zong had no role in this; Cao Shao’s maneuvering saved a doomed drama!
Xu Mei couldn’t refuse Guan Zong, but Cao Shao did, using the coal tycoon as a shield to block him.
Guan Zong’s resources? Cao Shao could match them. His money? The tycoon scoffed at it.
Guan Zong offered to swap in high-profile talent show stars for cameos. The tycoon was intrigued, but his lead actress flat-out refused.
Xu Mei wasn’t having it either.
With those stars, would their leads even stand out? No way they’d toil to be someone’s backdrop.
Liang Dan reined in Guan Zong, “Cameos? That’d cheapen their value. Cameos are for the big screen only!”
Big screen meant movies; small screen was TV. With no albums out yet, Liang Dan had plans for her high-profile signees.
Yuan Fenghui was great at crafting idol stars, right?
Liang Dan wasn’t following her path—she aimed to create megastars.
Let Li Mengjiao mess around on the small screen; Liang Dan looked down on that route.
A drama’s success needs timing, luck, and harmony. Liang Dan didn’t believe Li Mengjiao could keep hitting jackpots.
…
The portal site disagreed.
They didn’t care if Li Mengjiao stayed hot forever—they wanted her current buzz, the immediate hype and traffic. Originally, they could’ve invited the top three from this year’s talent show, each with big fanbases and buzz. But *The Princess’s New Dress*’s debut vaulted Li Mengjiao to the top of their desired talent show artists.
Yes, Li Mengjiao was the best-developed talent show artist.
A dairy brand ambassador, talent show image representative, solid album sales, and now acting—she wasn’t just a “talent show singer” but a full-fledged star.
A “celebrity” like that? The portal wasn’t letting her slip.
With the public beta set for the 8th, by the 7th, Li Mengjiao hadn’t confirmed joining the portal’s blog. Impatient, they sent a representative to Rongcheng.
The person who’d contacted Yuan Fenghui earlier was replaced. They’d undervalued Yun Chen, trying to bundle him cheaply with Li Mengjiao. After *The Princess’s New Dress* aired, Yun Chen shot to fame, and the original contact was too embarrassed to face Yuan Fenghui.
Yuan Fenghui had pitched two people: Yun Chen and Wen Ying.
This time, the portal’s representative wanted to meet Wen Ying in person.
“Teacher Yuan’s eye is impeccable!”
The representative gave a thumbs-up.
Yuan Fenghui accepted the flattery calmly.
“I don’t recommend carelessly. Your blog invites celebrities from all fields, and you don’t want generic content. Li Mengjiao and Yun Chen each have unique appeal, targeting different fanbases. As for Wen Ying… her potential’s untapped. Read her book, then consider my quote.”
Yuan Fenghui wasn’t Wen Ying’s agent; she was just strengthening Wen Ying’s ties to Tianjiao.
She handed the representative *Teen Idol*, recent press about it, and its latest sales data.
The representative was surprised: 200,000 copies sold in a month—impressive.
“She’s also one of *The Princess’s New Dress*’s screenwriters?”
“Yes, one of two, plus she’s got a solo script in production for Tianjiao, starring Mengjiao and Yun Chen.”
Young writer.
Young screenwriter.
The representative held *Teen Idol*, finding the title fitting.
Maybe from the start, Yuan Fenghui aimed to craft a multifaceted “teen idol”?
Most saw her boosting Li Mengjiao, overlooking Wen Ying!
