I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema!

"Waste! All of you are a bunch of waste!" He roared with a hoarse voice, like a trapped beast forced into a desperate situation, pouring all his unwillingness and resentment towards his subordinates who were huddled in the corner and trembling.

However, he knew better than anyone that he was the real loser.

He turned abruptly, rushed out of the office that had become a witness to his shame, and headed straight for the elevator, ignoring the surprised looks in the corridor.

He was going to meet Deputy Director Takada and explain.

He was going to... beg for mercy.

The elevator rose steadily, and the smooth metal wall reflected his distorted and pale face. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt so unfamiliar for the first time.

'Ding dong! '

The top floor has arrived.

The corridor leading to the pinnacle of power is covered with wool carpets so soft that they absorb all sounds. Abstract paintings by unknown painters hang on the walls. The air is filled with a mixture of high-end perfume and sandalwood, the scent of a superior.

This is heaven and hell.

However, when he walked to the familiar door that seemed to lead to the judgment hall of fate, he was stopped by a figure.

She is the secretary of Deputy Director Takada.

She was wearing a well-tailored business suit and had a stylized smile on her face, but beneath that smile was a cold, warmthless aloofness.

"Section Chief Iwata." Her voice was as flat as if she were reporting the weather. "The Deputy Director doesn't want to see anyone right now."

This sentence was like an ice-hardened key. With a slight turn, it locked the last bit of hope in Masao Iwata's heart.

His body shook violently, and the rage and unwillingness that had supported him in rushing here were all gone at this moment, leaving only a boundless panic that had drained all his strength.

He looked at the secretary's face, which seemed to be wearing a mask, and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Then, he did something that shocked himself and caused a slight ripple to flash across the usually calm eyes of the secretary who was used to seeing storms.

His knees softened and with a plop, he knelt heavily on the mirror-like marble floor.

The sound was dull.

He buried his head deeply, and the expensive suit hand-sewn by a famous Italian master was now wrinkled like a rag.

His forehead was pressed tightly against the cold ground, and his butt was raised high, as if only in this way could he absorb a little bit of the chill to prevent himself from completely collapsing.

"Please... please tell the deputy director..." His voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth, from the cracks in his soul, word by word, with a tremor: "I... I was wrong... please... give me another chance..."

The secretary looked at the man in front of him who was performing an art form, and for the first time, a crack appeared on his face that always wore a professional smile.

She pursed her lips, a complex emotion mixed with pity, disdain, and a little helplessness.

She was silent for a moment.

Finally, he turned around and knocked gently on the door.

After a long time, a cold voice came from inside the door.

"Tell him to get in."

Masao Iwata felt as if he had been pardoned. He crawled to his feet and pushed open the door that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

In the office, Takada Toshihide didn't look at him. He just stood with his back to him in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the Tokyo cityscape that was as exquisite as a sand table below.

"I heard that you performed a wonderful 'Samurai Apology' for me?" Takada Toshihide's voice was very calm, so calm that it made Iwata Masao feel a little palpitated.

"Deputy Director, I..."

"Shut up."

Takada Shunei slowly turned around, his face, always adorned with a warm smile, now shrouded in a deep, unfathomable gloom. He walked up to Iwata Masao, but instead of getting angry, he looked him up and down with a cold, almost dissecting gaze.

"I asked you to fight a battle you were sure to win, but you brought me back a huge joke." He paused, his lips curled up in an extremely sarcastic arc. "But, it's good, at least you can give that guy Ming Ri Hai a perfect weekend to be happy about."

"No, no, no!" Masao Iwata's body trembled violently, and he even knelt on the ground again because of the other party's words.

Still sitting down.

"But this game isn't over yet."

Takada Toshihide's eyes turned cold, and he ignored Iwata Masao's gesture. He walked back to his desk, slowly sat down, and said in a sinister tone, "I will continue to work to ensure that your 'Kimi no Samurai' continues to air. However, I have one condition."

He stared at Masao Iwata intently, his eyes like a gambler who had lost all his money and was betting his last chip.

"From today on, your ratings must not drop even 5%! Otherwise, you will jump off this building."

The blood drained from Masao Iwata's raised face.

"As for the title of 'No. 1'..." Takada Shunei's lips curled up into an even more sinister smile. "Don't worry, I'll find a way to have the Statistics Department use the average daily ratings of your two animations to make the final assessment. I'll give you the 'No. 1' title for the 11pm slot. As for 'Anshiji'..."

He chuckled, as if discussing something insignificant. "Just give them a spot in the early morning slot. It's just... a small reward for their insignificant efforts."

"Then...then Suzuki's second-level director..." Iwata Masao asked in a trembling voice.

"His promotion to Level 2 Director is a foregone conclusion." A fierce glint flashed in Takada Shunei's eyes. "However, once he gets promoted, I'll immediately use my connections to transfer him, along with his so-called classroom, to the Hokkaido branch. Let him delve into his 'Urban Tales' with Xiong Hexue."

"Cut off Asumi's left and right arms in this headquarters. We will settle the rest of the accounts slowly."

Hearing these words, Iwata Masao's heart, which had long since sunk to the bottom, was rekindled with a flicker of hope. He looked at this all-powerful supporter before him, and with tears of gratitude, he dropped his head to the ground.

"I wish you a successful start!" said Masao Iwata.

However, when Takada Toshihide heard this, he suddenly stood up, walked around the desk, and kicked him hard in the chest.

The kick was fast and fierce, without any mercy.

"what!"

Masao Iwata screamed and fell backward, landing heavily on the carpet. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and could hardly breathe.

"If it weren't for you being my wife's good-for-nothing cousin."

Takada Shunei looked down at him condescendingly, all pretense stripped from his face, leaving only the most primal rage of a superior: "Based on your performance this time, I will absolutely make you commit seppuku in the most traditional way!"

Chapter 44 Cold Water

Monday's sunshine streamed into the Tokyo TV production headquarters building.

When the employees met in the corridor, their eyes no longer exchanged a formulaic nod of greeting, but were filled with a bit of exploration and speculation, as if there was an unspoken secret floating in the air - the final showdown between "Anzhiju" and "Ghost House Samurai" will be revealed today.

Today is the day to count the results of last month.

Everyone arrived at Suzuki classroom early.

"Section Chief!" Nancun Xing's voice was still hoarse from a hangover, and a kind of spiritual excitement: "Today... should be fine, right?"

Everyone's eyes subconsciously focused on Seito Suzuki.

Suzuki Seito smiled while holding a cup of hot tea.

That smile showed the most unwavering confidence of a veteran general in his elite troops on the eve of a decisive battle.

"Don't worry." He took a sip of tea, his voice gentle but powerful. "My friend from the projection department tipped me off last night. Our ratings are climbing steadily, so we don't have to worry about anything!"

"After all, the ratings for the early morning show never exceeded 3% before us, but now our ratings are 6.01%!"

This is the confidence of Seito Suzuki.

In the past, when has there ever been a program in the early morning that could break 6%?

You should know that the entire historical record of Neon’s late-night movie season is probably just the record of my own "Anzhiju"!

Thinking of this, he paused, looking at the young faces of the crowd that were full of expectations, and a deeper sense of relief and emotion flashed in his eyes.

"Also, I have two good news to announce."

The office suddenly became quiet.

"The first good news."

Suzuki Seito glanced at the crowd and said slowly, "The station has officially approved that the first season of our 'Anzhiju' will be handed over to the affiliated Kanto TV station in its entirety after the main broadcast. It will be rebroadcast on their Saturday night 9 o'clock 'Horror Theater'."

boom!

This news excited everyone more than any ratings figures.

Kanto TV! Saturday night at 9pm!

Even though it was just a subsidiary station, it was ranked among the top ten in terms of ratings in the entire Kanto region!

And Saturday night at 9 o'clock is the top time slot second only to the prime time at 8 o'clock!

This means that "Anzhiju" is no longer a small production that can only be admired in a corner late at night. It will truly move to a broader stage and be seen by more people!

"This... this is what Deputy Director Asumi meant," Suzuki Seito added, a subtle hint of gratitude in his voice. He knew that behind this was the former lord of Kanto TV, building a new world for these former employees of Kanto TV.

"Then...what about the second good news?" Beichuan Yao's eyes sparkled like two obsidians immersed in water.

An even brighter smile appeared on Suzuki Seito's face.

"The second good news is—" He deliberately stretched out his voice, enjoying the eager anticipation of everyone: "The production department has officially approved the plan for the second season of 'Dark Zhiju'! Moreover, this time, our broadcast time slot will be late at night at 11 pm! The station will also provide us with corresponding promotional resources!"

“Oooooohh ...

This time, the office erupted in cheers.

From the unpopular garbage time slot to the highly anticipated late-night slot! This is no longer a simple upgrade, it is a leap in class!

"Wait..." Beichuan Yao suddenly remembered something, and her joy was mixed with a hint of doubt: "Section Chief, isn't Iwata's class's 'Kibo Samurai' on at 11 o'clock right now?"

Upon hearing this, Suzuki Seito's lips curled up in a meaningful arc.

Hashijitsu Ichiro answered for him, "Onibo Samurai was only contracted for its first season, which also only lasted two weeks. Furthermore, its ratings have been declining, and the production costs are very high. I guess the production team decided to cancel Onibo Samurai after weighing their options."

"Yeah, that's right." Suzuki Seito chuckled. He didn't know much about this, but he knew it must be due to a fight between the upper classes.

But then he changed the subject, looked at everyone, and his eyes became serious: "By then, in order to fill the time gap, our "Anzhiju" will be changed to broadcasting two episodes a day. In other words, our production pressure will be twice as great as it is now."

However, at this moment, everyone has already been overwhelmed by the huge sense of happiness and no longer cares about the word "pressure".

"no problem!"

"We can do it!"

Everyone's face was filled with a passion and enthusiasm for devoting themselves to a great cause.

However, Suzuki Seito looked at Nohara Hiroshi and said with some respect: "Then, Nohara-kun, you... should be fine, right?"

The smiles on everyone's faces suddenly froze.