I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema!

Because the office still lingered with the faint smell of alcohol and food from last night's celebration banquet, like the warmth after a grand ceremony, when the gods have left but the worldly atmosphere has not yet dissipated.

He walked to the window and opened it.

By the way, I looked at the traffic and pedestrians downstairs. The whole city was like a sophisticated giant beast that had just awakened and began its monotonous and regular breathing of a new day.

He knew that today, there would be a few different vibratos in the rhythm of his breathing.

Soon, the classroom door was pushed open, and Nancun Xing and Chang Gulu Zou came in almost at the same time. The two young men had a look of fatigue after a hangover and a kind of spiritual excitement on their faces. The dark circles under their eyes were like the color of fireworks after their heroic battle last night, which was smoked by the glory.

"Good morning, Mr. Nohara!"

Their greetings were filled with a heartfelt devotion that was almost like that of believers.

"Good morning." Nohara Hiroshi nodded to them.

After a while, Suzuki Seito and Hashiji Ichiro also arrived, but Hashiji Ichiro just said hello and left.

Looking in a hurry.

But everyone knows Hashimoto's work.

"Good morning everyone! Come and have breakfast!"

Then, Beichuan Yao, who arrived last, came in with breakfast. She placed warm coffee and sandwiches on everyone's table.

As an office assistant, she was used to bringing breakfast to everyone during her busy days.

"Thank you." Nohara Hiroshi also took an egg sandwich and started eating.

However, while eating, they seemed to follow some kind of tacit understanding, sitting around the largest conference table, their eyes drifting towards the door from time to time.

They are waiting.

Wait for Hashishita Ichiro who just left to get the verdict.

"Honestly." Nancun Xing took a sip of coffee, trying to use the caffeine to suppress the nervousness, but his voice was still a little drifting: "Last night, I went home and watched that movie 'Kimi no Sasuke' again..."

"So what do you think?" Hase Luzou asked immediately, and everyone's eyes were focused on him.

"The production... is truly amazing."

Nancun Xing's tone was filled with the admiration of a technician: "Windmill Studio is truly the best in the industry. The animation, the special effects, every frame looks like it was created with a lot of money. I dare say that in recent years, there have been very few Japanese TV animations that have reached this level."

His words dampened the slightly relaxed atmosphere that had just risen in the office.

Even Beichuan Yao murmured in agreement, "Hmm... the graphics are indeed beautiful, and the style of the warrior is also very handsome. My sister saw it and said that the graphics are much better than our animation."

As soon as these words were spoken, Hase Jizo frowned and retorted somewhat unconvincedly, "It's nice to watch, but... but I always feel like something's missing. That story is so clichéd. A samurai who was wrongly killed seeks revenge, and is eventually enlightened by a high monk... I've heard this kind of story in rakugo stories since elementary school. It's nowhere near as good as our 'Anshijiu'. After reading it, the aftertaste... I had a dream last night, and I dreamed that the elevator doors opened and there was hell outside."

"That's right!"

Nancun Xingye nodded vigorously, and said unconvincedly, "The horror of 'Kibo Samurai' is out in the open, telling you 'I'm going to scare you.' But the horror of Mr. Nohara sneaks into your mind and suddenly hits you when you think you're safe. This... this is the difference in realm!"

The two young men became more and more excited as they spoke, as if they wanted to gain some confidence for themselves by belittling their opponent.

"All right."

Suzuki Seito, who had been silent the entire time, slowly spoke at this moment. He was holding a cup of hot tea, the mist swirling around it blurring his weathered face.

His voice was not loud, but it was filled with a calmness that brooked no room for argument:

"Don't judge your opponents lightly. While Section Chief Iwata may not be a very good person, his abilities and resources in this industry are truly substantial. Being able to bring together so many top talents and resources to produce such a masterpiece is a feat in itself. Before the final figures are in, any evaluation is premature."

His words were like a basin of warm water, gently extinguishing the passion of the two young men.

They looked at each other and pursed their lips as if they wanted to say something, but thinking of Section Chief Suzuki's care for them, they sighed and said nothing.

The office once again fell into a tense silence.

Just then the door opened.

‘Crack! ’

Hashijita Ichiro walked in.

Everyone's breathing stopped at this moment.

"coming!"

Hashijita walked to the table excitedly and placed the paper in the middle of the table.

"how is it going?!"

“Should it be over 5?”

"But yesterday was Tuesday, so logically the ratings wouldn't have increased much."

“Look at the results, look at the results!”

Everyone gathered around, as if they were watching a meteorite that had just fallen from the sky.

"Late-night animation "Anzhiju", episode 4.97 rating: %."

“The ratings are top-notch!”

"Oh!"

A burst of suppressed cheers rang out.

Although they failed to break the 5% mark as expected, this number is enough for them to hold their heads high and accept everyone's compliments.

This is also an achievement worthy of being recorded in history!

"Look here." Hashijitachi took out another report and smiled mysteriously: "There's a secret!"

"What?" Everyone looked over, including Suzuki Seito, and their faces were slightly stunned.

That's the ratings report for "Kimi no Sasuke"!

"Evening animation "Kibo Samurai", premiere ratings: 5.03%."

The office suddenly fell silent.

5.03%.

This number was like a small mountain standing in front of them. Looking at the result, they felt that it was still just a little bit short.

An imperceptible sense of loss began to spread quietly in the air.

"Everyone."

Nohara Hiroshi's voice sounded calmly at this moment.

He had stood behind the crowd without knowing when, his eyes fixed on the second report, as if he was looking at an interesting game opponent.

"What are you missing?"

Everyone was stunned and looked at him.

Nohara Hiroshi stretched out his finger and gently tapped the two reports.

"One is 12:20 AM, and the other is 11:00 PM. One is the 'death slot' that everyone considers garbage time, and the other is the 'late night feature film broadcast time' that all advertisers are scrambling to get into."

The corner of his mouth curled up in a faint, yet endlessly sarcastic arc.

"Thirty minutes of airtime, countless times more publicity resources, and a top-tier production team in the industry, all we get is a 0.06% lead."

He raised his head, his eyes sweeping over every face that was gradually turning from astonishment to enlightenment. His voice was not loud, but it was like a loud slap in the face of the invisible opponent.

"Who do you think won?"

Chapter 39 Anger

Nohara Hiroshi chuckled.

He is very confident.

In Suzuki's classroom, the joy of waking up suddenly returned, and everyone's face was filled with smiles.

But at the other end of the corridor, Iwata's classroom.

But it's very dull here.

It was as if there was a huge hammer here that was heavy enough to crush everyone's spine!

Silence is the only main theme in this office at this moment.

A sticky, suffocating silence, like the earthy heat stagnating in the air before an afternoon thunderstorm.

Even the originally gentle sunlight, which now cut out strips of light and dark on the ground through the blinds, was like the iron bars of a cage in an oppressive cell, making everyone's face dim and unclear.

5.03%.

This number was placed in the center of the conference table, like a glittering golden trophy, but no one dared to touch it.

Because right next to it, there is another report with the words 4.97% on it like a ghost.

A ghost with a grin that silently laughed at them.

Won.

Yes, numerically, they won.

But everyone's heart felt like it was filled with a heavy lead block soaked in ice water, and they were unable to say anything.

I dare not say it out loud.

The confidant named Anren, who was usually good at using all kinds of gorgeous words to sing praises for his lord's victory, just lowered his head at this moment, staring at his shiny leather shoes, as if he wanted to see his future destiny from the smooth uppers.

The planner wearing glasses tapped his fingers unconsciously on the keyboard, but could not type a single word.

What kept echoing in his mind was not his own exquisite paintings or the majestic soundtrack, but the hellish dark red light that shone through the crack of the elevator door when he secretly watched "Anzhiju" last night.

At this time, Masao Iwata was standing by the window with his back to everyone.

He looked at the cold urban jungle made of steel and concrete downstairs and felt like he had become a trapped beast in this jungle, being targeted by an invisible hunter.

His face, which usually showed sarcasm and shrewdness, was now as tightly stretched as a piece of dried orange peel.

Every wrinkle is filled with gloom.

Because it's a shame.

His shame.

He had never suffered such shame before!