I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema!

Everyone arrived at the office early. A night's rest did not completely dispel the fatigue on their faces, but everyone's eyes were shining with anticipation and nervousness.

The air was eerily quiet, and the only sound was the air blowing from the old air conditioner.

Finally, the classroom door was pushed open, and Hashimoto Ichirō walked in with a grim expression, holding a report that had just been printed out from the statistics department.

Everyone's eyes were instantly focused on him.

"How is it...under the bridge?" Suzuki Seito's voice was a little dry.

Hashijitaro swallowed hard, placed the thin piece of paper on the table, and said in a tone that was almost a verdict: "The premiere ratings... 1.75%."

This number was like a basin of ice water, poured over everyone's head, instantly extinguishing all the flames in their hearts.

There was deathly silence in the office.

1.75%...

Everyone knows what this number means.

Failure! Total failure!

According to Tokyo TV’s internal regulations, if a new program’s ratings remain low for a week, it will be immediately cut in half and removed from the air!

They fought desperately for a week, and this is the result they got?

“How could it be…how could it be so low…” Nancun Xing muttered to himself, his face pale.

"It's over... We're finished..." Hase Luzou slumped down in the chair.

Beichuan Yao's eyes turned red instantly. She bit her lips tightly to prevent the tears from falling, but she couldn't suppress the huge disappointment and grievance.

Suzuki Seito looked at the report, feeling the world spinning before his eyes. He seemed to see the mocking faces of Takada Toshihide and Iwata Masao, feeling that all his years of persistence had become a joke.

You know, although most of the ratings for late night and early morning programs cannot be high because the audience is asleep.

They only fluctuate between 1.5% and 2.0%.

However, the viewership rating of 1.75% is indeed relatively low among the early morning films and cartoons produced in the past!

You have to know that the horror reality show that I replaced, which was supposed to start this week and air at 20 am, had a viewership rating of 1.79% on the first day.

As a result, the ratings are declining every day.

On Sunday, the ratings reached 0.9%.

The show was cut short.

No further broadcast allowed.

Then their "Anzhiju" came to the fore.

So, that's why everyone is so depressed and sad. Even the last project with a 1.79% viewership rating was so bad.

So how could they possibly compare?

"Everyone!"

In this desperate silence, a calm and powerful voice once again resounded throughout the classroom.

“This is only the first day.”

Everyone raised their heads and looked towards the source of the sound.

Nohara Hiroshi.

He still stood there, without any frustration or disappointment on his face, his eyes clear and firm.

He walked in front of the crowd, his eyes sweeping over every pale face.

"Our broadcast time is 1.75: a.m., and this time period itself means our ratings cannot be high. This % is the result we achieved under the worst possible conditions."

"After all, no one knew we were taking over the horror reality show produced by the previous project, and they thought Monday would still be the same reality show, so it's normal that no one is watching."

He paused, his voice becoming more powerful.

"But don't forget what our work is! It's 'Anzhiju'! Its weapon has never been the premiere ratings, but word of mouth! It's word of mouth from person to person!"

"Last night, those 1.75% of the audience were the first seeds we sowed! Today, they will bring fear and curiosity to ten or a hundred times more people around them! Believe me, starting tonight, everything will be different!"

His words were like a ray of light, splitting the haze that enveloped everyone's hearts.

Yes, Nohara-kun is right!

Their animation is unique!

Looking at this young man who was always full of confidence, everyone's hearts, which had sunk to the bottom, miraculously rekindled a glimmer of hope.

Suzuki Seito looked at Nohara Hiroshi, and the light in his cloudy eyes burst out again.

That’s right! It’s not time to give up yet!

The battle has just begun!

Chapter 19 Late Night Canteen

Nohara Hiroshi's words were like a shot of adrenaline, piercing the hearts of everyone in Suzuki's classroom. The despair that threatened to crush them was ripped open by the overwhelming confidence he exuded, allowing light to filter through.

Yes, not lost yet.

In their hands, they hold an unprecedentedly sharp blade called "Anzhiju." Its edge requires time to ferment and word of mouth to sharpen.

"I...I'll go get some coffee!" Beichuan Yao stood up abruptly, wiping the red corners of her eyes with the back of her hand. A strong smile reappeared on her face: "Everyone, cheer up! We still have work to prepare for the second episode today!"

"That's right! We can't let Nohara-kun charge ahead alone!" Hase Jisou slammed the table, as if he wanted to shatter all his previous dejection.

The depressing atmosphere in the office was swept away and replaced by a desperate excitement.

Suzuki Seito looked at this group of revitalized young people, then glanced at Nohara Hiroshi, who stood in the center of the crowd with a calm expression. He felt a mixture of emotions. He knew that this young man had become the true soul and pillar of the entire classroom.

Nohara Hiroshi nodded to everyone, turned around and left the office without saying anything else.

What he needed to do, he had done.

Next, it’s up to time and the 1.75% of the audience.

He believed that those who were seized by the terror of Dark Zhiju in the middle of the night would never remain silent.

After all, this is a result that has been verified in the previous life!

……

One o'clock in the morning, Shinjuku.

The hustle and bustle of the bright lights and feasting gradually faded away, leaving only pedestrians returning late and late-night shops still open, retaining the last bit of warmth in this city that never sleeps.

Shui Shangxiang’s late-night restaurant is the warmest place in this warmth.

The shop is not big, and the L-shaped bar can barely seat about ten people.

Shui Shangxiang stood behind the bar, silently wiping a freshly washed white porcelain bowl.

He was a man of few words, in his early thirties, with delicate features, and he always wore a starched apron. He moved slowly and calmly, with a soothing calmness.

At this moment, there were still six or seven customers left in the store.

"Boss, another big glass of draft beer." A middle-aged man in a suit with a crooked tie was lying on the bar and waved with a drunken face.

He is an employee of a nearby advertising company, his name is Tanaka, and he comes here three or four times a week.

"Mr. Tanaka, drink less. You have to go to work tomorrow." Sitting next to him was a young woman with delicate makeup named Mingmei. She worked in a bar not far away and had just got off work.

She picked up a piece of tamagoyaki and ate it in small bites with an elegant posture, which seemed somewhat out of place with the surrounding environment, yet strangely integrated.

"Work? What work?" Tanaka suddenly raised his head, his red eyes filled with indignation. "That damn guy revised my plan seventeen times! Seventeen times! And in the end, he actually used the first draft! I really want to throw that pile of waste paper in his face!"

While cursing, he took a big sip of the beer handed to him by Shui Shangxiang, and then slammed the glass heavily on the table, making a dull "bang" sound.

No one found it strange, as such complaints were heard every day in late-night restaurants.

To ease the oppressive atmosphere, Mingmei cast her gaze towards the old TV hanging in the corner and smiled, changing the subject: "Come to think of it, Mr. Tanaka, didn't you complain about that horrible TV Tokyo show last week? You said it was uglier than your client's face."

"Ha! Forget it!" Tanaka seemed to have found a new outlet for his anger when he mentioned this. He immediately became energetic. "That reality show called 'Panic Room'? It's utter garbage! They just find a few third-rate actors, splash some ketchup on them, have them hide in a closet and scream a few times, and they think they're going to scare people? I'm telling you, that thing is even scarier than the minister's life-threatening face I saw this morning!"

His words caused a burst of laughter.

Across the bar, a young man wearing glasses who looked like a college student pushed his glasses up and agreed, "It's really ugly. Nothing new. Last week, I stayed up all night working on my thesis and watched an episode about an abandoned hospital. The Earthbender didn't even have the laundry label cleanly removed from his white robe. It was so distracting."

"That's right, it's not scary at all. It would be better to just watch cartoons earlier." Mingmei also complained with a sweet smile.

Shui Shangxiang listened quietly, with a slight smile on his face.

He was open until four in the morning, and this TV was his silent companion. He watched almost every episode of Tokyo TV's late-night program. The customers were right, that "Panic Room" was indeed shoddy to the point of being outrageous.

At this moment, the TV screen suddenly flickered and the picture turned into a noisy snowflake.

"Oh? Is it broken?" Tanaka pointed at the TV with drunken eyes.

Shui Shangxiang walked over, tapped the top of the old TV twice, and then turned the knob that had poor contact.

The snowflakes disappeared and the picture became clear again.

It is TV Tokyo's channel.

"Tsk, it's that crappy show again." Tanaka couldn't help but curl his lips in disdain when he saw the Tokyo TV logo and was about to continue drinking.

But the sound coming from the TV made everyone stunned.

That was not the exaggerated and cheap sound effect in "Panic Room", but a distant and eerie children's singing, accompanied by the "bang, bang, bang" sound of a small drum.

A man wearing a yellow mask with a strange smile on it appeared next to an old bicycle. On the back seat of the bicycle was a small wooden stage.

"Don't miss it if you pass by, the time for Anzhiju has come..."

The voice coming from behind the mask was hoarse, flat, and without a trace of emotion, but it was like a cold hand, silently caressing the back of everyone's neck.

"Huh?" Mingmei exclaimed in surprise, "Did they change the program?"

"Ha! It must be that Panic Room was so rubbish that its ratings plummeted and it got canceled!" Tanaka smirked, "Serves you right! It's because you guys can't make a good show!"

Young people who looked like college students also looked at the screen curiously: "What is this? A paper puppet show? The style is so weird..."

Mizukami Xiang also stopped what he was doing and looked at the TV.

As professional film and television producers, people like Masao Iwata see "roughness", "crudeness" and "a mess of color filling".

But as ordinary audiences, Shui Shangxiang and his guests saw something completely different.