Reboot the heyday

Chapter 3500 The Prerequisites of Possessiveness
The plane landed at Incheon International Airport.

The familiar noise and commotion rushed towards him, and for some reason, Wang Taika felt a sense of normalcy.

After all, there are many things he can't do in China. But here, he can sometimes truly be above the law.

So, this doesn't count as worshipping foreign things and fawning over foreigners, does it?
The brief escape ended, and real life resumed on repeat.

In fact, Wang Taika still wanted to do something bad on his own, but the flight from China to Seoul only took two hours, so he really didn't have the opportunity to do it.

Chunka and Jiongjing definitely did it on purpose, and Wang Taika can only accept it.

Actually, it wasn't a loss, since Jiongjing did obediently help, even if it was only half the job, it was still a significant breakthrough.

The difficulty of this breakthrough was comparable to getting Ji-eun to start calling him "Oppa".

However, after getting off the plane, Wang Taika and Chunka Jiongjing didn't travel together anymore. These two are big stars with a lot on their minds, and their company teams picked them up immediately.

Once they arrived in South Korea, Chunka and Jiongjing were like wind-up tops, quickly throwing themselves into their busy schedules.

Chunka's fashion brand has a lot of backlog of work, from design and production to promotion, and she needs to personally oversee every step. In addition, some previously scheduled photoshoots and commercial activities have also been scheduled.

She regrouped and transformed back into the meticulous and perfectionist CEO Zheng. Although she would occasionally send Wang Taika a message saying "I'm so tired" late at night, she would still appear in front of everyone with impeccable makeup the next day.

The contrast between the thief and the character is amazing, I love it!

Jiong Jing's schedule is even more packed. Group activities, personal endorsements, variety show recordings, script discussions. Her manager has some complaints about her "vacation" during this period, but doesn't dare to tell Wang Taika, she just doesn't have the guts.

So now that she's back, she's going to frantically make up for the lost exposure. Krystal has become the Krystal who shines on stage and works hard in front of the camera again.

Only during rare breaks would Jiongjing curl up like a kitten in the corner of the van and make a brief phone call to Wang Taika, her voice filled with unconcealed exhaustion.

Time and again, this made Wang Taika feel sorry for Kyung-jung. Of course, there was also Kyung-jung deliberately acting cute and pitiful, only happy when Wang Taika was worried about her. There was no way around it, Kyung-jung just loved to torment people like that.

Wang Taika sometimes even felt like he'd been cheated on by someone called "work." Jiong Jing was completely focused on work, and he'd become a completely incompetent husband.

Joking aside, it's a good thing that they have their own careers. Wang Taika saw all this and felt sorry for them, but more than that, he felt understanding and respect.

Because Wang Taika clearly knows that both Chunka's career ambitions and Jiongjing's love for the stage are indispensable parts of their lives.

Loving someone is never about confining them to your own world, but about supporting them in becoming a better version of themselves, even if it means spending less time together.

It's not because Wang Taika has many female confidantes that he can be so carefree.

But
Respect is the prerequisite for possessiveness in love.

It's a bit of a mouthful, so Wang Taika didn't understand this principle before. But he lost his first love because of it, and after countless reflections, he realized that it was ultimately his own fault.

But when you're young and hot-blooded, who cares who's right and who's wrong? Even if you're wrong, you'll desperately blame others and insist on getting revenge by risking everything.

That outburst, in retrospect, really seemed unnecessary. But for someone in their early twenties, it was indeed a momentous event in their life.

Humans, in reality, only live for a few fleeting moments.

Wang Taika also has his own things to do. Various collaborations he had previously undertaken in China now need to be finalized and implemented. The various funds and partnerships involved are enough to keep Wang Taika extremely busy.

With his partnership with Netflix growing ever closer, Wang Taika has now set his sights on the fiercely competitive Korean Wave market, or more precisely, on the weaknesses of traditional Korean drama production models. Wang Taika's company is no longer content with simple investment or distribution. Leveraging its deep strategic partnership with Netflix, it is brewing a major impact on the Korean drama market.

The current situation is quite clear. Wang Taika's strategy is clear and sharp. First, it is to use capital to achieve a lower level of competition, taking advantage of Netflix's ample budget and global revenue-sharing model to break the constraints of limited budgets for South Korean TV stations and production companies.

In other words, XB Entertainment can offer salaries far above market rates to attract top actors and screenwriters, and spare no expense in production, pursuing cinematic audiovisual effects, which is unimaginable in the past Korean drama productions that relied on advertising and copyright fees.

Secondly, there is creative freedom. Unlike traditional television stations, which are constrained by ratings and advertisers, streaming platforms pay more attention to the long-tail effect and global appeal of content.

With Netflix's support, XB Entertainment gives creators a great deal of freedom, encouraging thematic innovation and genre fusion, and even supporting the production of some series that traditional television stations would consider "too risky," such as large-scale political thrillers, science fiction epics, or dark comedies.

Several dramas are currently in preparation, and Wang Taika has also specifically requested the establishment of a dedicated production team to film a lesbian story.

It tells the story of two female trainees who are not yet famous in the high-pressure world of K-pop. During their long struggle, they develop feelings for each other, but eventually part ways due to reality, resulting in a tragic ending.

Familiar, right? Hehe, those who know, know.

Wang Taika was a meticulous person, and he remembered the messy affair between Chunka and the Empress Dowager. He never imagined that he would be cheated on by two women. This feeling was too humiliating.

If you hold a grudge, don't blame me for being sarcastic and subtly mocking. Wang Taika only made a private request; he won't get involved on the surface, so when things come to light, it won't be his problem.

This matter is very secretive, and actually very few people know about it. But once the parties involved see it, they will definitely understand.

Ahhh, the more I think about it, the better it feels! This is revenge! Wang Taika was filled with hatred; he really had to vent this anger.

Closer to home.

Aside from these advantages, the biggest one is actually leveraging the US platform for simultaneous global release. Netflix's global network covers more than 190 countries and regions, an influence that Korean dramas simply can't match.

Therefore, success on Netflix instantly brings massive international exposure. This not only brings substantial revenue but also greatly enhances the international reputation of the lead actors and production team—a platform advantage that traditional Korean dramas cannot match.

The most important thing is censorship! Or rather, the right to censor.

Korean films and television dramas, whether written or directed, seem to be mostly made by people who are prone to wishful thinking and fantasizing, the serious kind.

Many writers are middle-aged women who excel at writing rambling, trivial plots, but when it comes to anything deeper, they start spouting nonsense and plagiarizing. They even frequently shift blame to neighboring countries, which is utterly absurd.

Wang Taika had long been disgusted by this, but he couldn't do anything about it before. It was a systemic issue of poor character; he could deal with one or two, or even eight or ten, but the overall character was just as bad.

You can't clean a sewage tank by pouring clean water into it. So Wang Taika resorted to his traditional skill: flipping the table.

I can't control traditional TV series, but Netflix's big investments must all be subject to content censorship. Otherwise, they won't make any money and will starve. Profit-driven decisions are far more effective than coercion or retaliation.

Netflix has some reservations about this. After all, Americans always like to apply double standards to freedom of speech.

However, Wang Taika was unusually quick-witted. Faced with Netflix's double standards, he used just one sentence to get them to tacitly approve the censorship of the show's content.

“If a series contains sensitive content, even if Netflix does not enter the mainland market, the capital behind Netflix will still be affected.”

So the Americans who were originally clamoring for "creative freedom" immediately succumbed to the allure of capital.

(End of this chapter)