I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema!

"I'm not running away either! Damn, who knows if the next one I pull out will be a human or a ghost!"

"I won't accept any orders to the mountains and countryside even if they pay three times the price!"

The panic quickly fermented.

What was originally just a cartoon had now become a curse hanging over their heads. They were on the road every day, interacting with strangers every day, and this kind of horror close to reality was too devastating!

Senior Yamada slowly squatted down and picked up his thermos. For the first time, an expression of fear appeared on his weather-beaten face.

He has been driving at night all his life. What kind of weird people and weird things has he not seen?

But he never thought that one day he would be so scared by a three-minute cartoon that he would not dare to hold the steering wheel anymore.

This thing called "Anzhiju"... is poisonous!

……

In Suzuki's classroom.

When the words "The End" appeared, Suzuki Seito realized that he had stood up without realizing it, and his back was soaked with cold sweat.

He looked around and saw that everyone in the office had an expression as if they had survived a disaster.

"Success...success..." Hase Luzou muttered to himself.

"So awesome... Nohara-kun, you are simply a devil..." Kitagawa Yao looked at Nohara Hiroshi, her eyes full of awe and admiration.

Suzuki Seito let out a long breath, walked up to Nohara Hiroshi, patted him on the shoulder, and said a thousand words, but in the end, they were reduced to three words:

"Thanks for your hard work."

Nohara Hiroshi still just smiled calmly.

The first episode of Anzhiju is a gradual and terrifying experience with real ghosts.

Then the second episode is about the terror created in people's hearts.

Not so much ghosts.

It’s better to say that it’s… the sinister human heart!

"It all depends on tomorrow's ratings." Suzuki Seito slowly breathed a sigh of relief, turned his head and looked at everyone and said, "Everyone go to rest. Tomorrow morning, remember to come to the office on time so that we can see the results together."

"Hi!" everyone replied.

……

When Masao Iwata finished his social event in Akasaka and returned to his apartment in Minato Ward reeking of alcohol and women's perfume, the clock hands had quietly slipped past midnight.

He ripped off his tie and threw himself heavily into the soft sofa, with the flattery and compliments from the wine table still echoing in his mind.

A smile appeared on his lips.

He really enjoys the feeling of being flattered and praised by others.

"Private Marseille! This is the finest product produced by Toshiba Industries! Everyone can take a look!"

"Wow! So strong!"

"Yoshi! This is the future of our great neon industry!"

He casually turned on the TV, and a boring late-night shopping advertisement was playing on the screen.

Iwata Masao picked up the remote control, inexplicably wanting to see what episode of Suzuki Seito's joke was. But when he saw the time displayed 00:35, he smiled self-deprecatingly and turned off the TV.

Why bother?

How could a piece of garbage with only 1.75% viewership rating on its first broadcast make such a splash the next day?

If you can keep 1.5%, you should go to the shrine to fulfill your wish.

Watching that kind of thing is just a waste of your precious time savoring the taste of victory.

He would rather savor the exquisite original paintings of "Kimi no Sasuke" presented by his animators. That is art, the perfect product of the combination of money and talent.

……

Similarly, in another quieter study, Deputy Director Takada Shunei had long forgotten the name "Anzhiju".

In his opinion, this chess piece was useless. Not only did it fail to bring any help to that guy Ming Ri Hai, but it also became a laughing stock.

What he needs to consider now is how to completely marginalize the people of the Asuka faction in the S-level plan in the second half of the year.

On this night, no one in the entire Tokyo TV station, and even in the entire Tokyo, seemed to care about the strange animation that was quietly playing in a corner late at night.

Except for Takeshita Ai.

Chapter 23

Takeshita Ai's apartment was spotless, and the air was filled with the faint scent of lavender.

She didn't drink any alcohol, but there was a cup of warm black tea in front of her.

When the last scene of the second episode of "Dark House" "Bai Misery" froze, and the harsh sound of brakes seemed to still echo in her ears, she let out a long breath and felt a chill on her back.

Even though she had seen it in advance during the review, when it was actually broadcast through the TV signal in such a quiet late night, the horror that seeped into her bones still made her heart palpitate.

She picked up the plan on the table that she had read several times, and her eyes fell on the name "Nohara Hiroshi" again, and the word behind it that he created, which seemed extremely novel in this world - "urban legend".

This is no longer just a simple horror animation.

Takeshita Ai asserted in her heart.

This is a brand-new narrative mode that abandons the distant ghosts and ancient legends in traditional horror stories, and instead focuses the camera on every ordinary person in the modern city, digging out the most primitive and resonant fear from their most familiar and daily life details.

Apartments, neighbors, hospitals, taxis…these are all traps, portals to the unknown.

This is a true stroke of genius.

Ai Takeshita picked up the teacup, and the warm liquid slid down her throat, but it could not dispel the chill in her heart, and the increasingly hot admiration.

She made up her mind that if, if the ratings of this animation really could not meet the standards of the TV station, she would never let such a gem be covered in dust.

She will go to see Deputy Director Ming Rihai in person.

Her old classmate who has had the same sharp vision since high school and never compromised with mediocrity will definitely understand the true value of "Anzhiju".

……

The next morning, in Suzuki's classroom.

The air was so heavy that it seemed as if water could drip out of it.

Everyone was present. Nancun Xing's dark circles looked as if they were painted on with ink, and Beichuan Yao's eyes were a little red and swollen. They were like prisoners awaiting trial, their eyes all fixed on the office door.

Finally, the door opened.

Hashimoto Ichiro walked in, clutching a thin report in his hand. The paper felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. His face was even uglier than yesterday, a mixture of disappointment, resignation, and absurdity.

"Under the bridge..." Suzuki Seito's voice was very hoarse.

Hashijitaro didn't say anything, but just put the report in the middle of the table, and everyone subconsciously came over.

"Late-night animation "Anzhiju", second episode audience rating: 1.77%."

“The ratings are poor.”

1.77%.

There was deathly silence in the office.

If yesterday's 1.75% was a basin of ice water, then today's 1.77% is a merciless slap in the face.

It only rose by 0.02%.

This insignificant growth is more despairing than a cliff-like drop.

It meant that the "word-of-mouth seed" that Nohara Hiroshi had high hopes for yesterday had not sprouted at all. It meant that all their struggles were in vain.

"How...how could this be..." Nancun Xing's lips trembled and he couldn't say a complete sentence.

Hase Luzo slumped dejectedly in the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, as if all his strength had been drained away.

Beichuan Yao couldn't hold back any longer, buried her face in her arms, and let out suppressed, tiny sobs.

It’s over.

This time, it's really over.

Suzuki Seito felt his heart tighten as he looked at the glaring number on the report. He didn't even dare look at Nohara Hiroshi, fearing he'd see the same despair on the face of the ever-confident young man.

Not far away in Iwata's classroom, there was an undisguised burst of laughter.

"Hahahaha! 1.77%! Oh my god, how did they do that? It actually increased by 0.02%! Are there two new viewers? One is his father and the other is his mother?"

"Section Chief, we can rest assured now! That old guy Suzuki is dead!"

"Just wait until next Monday to see how our 'Ghost House Warriors' will make a splash and crush their pitiful ratings into dust!"

Masao Iwata leaned back in his leather chair, listening to his subordinates' flattery, a smile of triumph and cruelty on his lips. He picked up the phone and reported the "good news" to Deputy Director Takada, who also chuckled with satisfaction on the other end of the line.

Everything is under control.

……

Just when Suzuki's classroom was shrouded in a low pressure of despair and was almost suffocating, a voice finally came from the corner that everyone subconsciously avoided.

"Everyone."

Nohara Hiroshi's voice remained calm, without any emotion. He stood up from his seat, walked over to the report, and picked it up.

Everyone's eyes were focused on him.

They saw that there was no despair, no reluctance, or even the slightest surprise on Nohara Hiroshi's face. His eyes were calm and focused, as if he were looking at a number that had nothing to do with him.

He held up the thin piece of paper in front of everyone, pointed to the number "1.77%" on it, and spoke slowly.

"What did you see?"

Everyone looked at each other, unsure how to respond. They had seen failure, they had seen despair, what else could they see?

Nohara Hiroshi's eyes swept across every pale face. His voice was not loud, but it was clearly heard by everyone.

“What I see is growth.”

He tapped his finger lightly on the "0.02%" increase.