Chapter 200

With two long-outdated family and marriage reality shows, Wei Sheng and Y Province TV Station left their competitors utterly stunned.

Just as the other stations were gearing up to relaunch their own marriage-themed programs, a bolt from the blue struck: among Y Province TV Station’s key lineup for the first quarter of next year, there was suddenly a new addition—a science education program for children?

A kids’ show? Are you kidding?

Children don’t have any purchasing power! You’re just throwing money down the drain!

In truth, when Wei Sheng decided to revamp and relaunch this children’s science show, he had no intention of making money. Not only that, he even sponsored the program with five million yuan through Wei Sheng Studio and Yuanxi Biotech.

Director Yang wasn’t wrong—this was a weekly science show, only twenty minutes per episode. The production costs didn’t need to be high. Five million a year was more than enough. Besides, the station didn’t expect the show to generate revenue. As long as the ratings weren’t embarrassingly low and the station didn’t have to subsidize it, Y Province TV Station was quite happy to keep the program running.

The problem was, even Wei Sheng himself didn’t have much confidence in the revamped version. Yet the moment word got out that he was involved in a new show, brands swarmed in, eager to know how much the naming rights and mid-roll ad slots would cost…

Wei Sheng: “…”

Other TV stations: “…”

Weren’t children’s programs supposed to have no advertising value?

“What do they know? Sure, kids are the ones watching, but it’s the parents who sit with them and hold the power to make purchases! Those stay-at-home moms and doting dads might pinch pennies on themselves, but when it comes to spending on their kids, they don’t even blink!”

A well-known online bookstore didn’t hesitate to lock in exclusive naming rights for the show.

They generously offered to provide a batch of free educational books on Traditional Chinese Medicinal Herbs as giveaway prizes. They suggested that Wei Sheng display a QR code near the end of each episode. Parents could scan the code to follow their online store and enter a raffle to win a full set of children’s science books.

Wei Sheng: “…”

That’s some loud and clear scheming—pretty sure the whole internet can hear your abacus clicking.

Still, the sponsor was clearly sincere. Not only were they offering free giveaway items, they also promised to collaborate on a children’s science book based on the show’s content once the season ended. With that level of commitment, Wei Sheng reluctantly agreed to let them display their QR code at the end of the show.

Soon enough, phone watches, kids’ desk lamps, children’s milk, clothing, toys… even before the revamped show’s proposal was finalized, the line of eager sponsors was long enough to overwhelm the advertising department.

And yet, as the producer, Wei Sheng refused to give any immediate approvals. He insisted they register in advance. Otherwise, if too many sponsors piled in, the ad time might end up longer than the actual show. How was he supposed to explain that to the audience?

After all, the entire show—including ads—was only twenty minutes long.

When Y Province TV Station’s top brass heard this, they held another closed-door meeting.

After the meeting, Yang Pingzhou called Wei Sheng again. He said that the station had decided—if this children’s science program could actually bring in revenue, they were willing to cut down less important shows to make room for it.

Would two hours be enough?

Wei Sheng: “…”

The moment Chai Xinhui heard that the station was willing to give them two hours, she practically exploded with excitement.

“Yes, yes! Boss Wei, two hours is perfect!”

Wei Sheng gave her a look of disbelief. “Not for single two hour episode. They’re offering two hours for the whole season. That’s twelve episodes total. You’re telling me we can fill two hours per episode with science content?”

He understood that Huihui-jie wanted to use this opportunity to promote Yuanxi Biotech by co-producing a show with the provincial station. But even if you cut out the ad time, each episode would still be at least 100 minutes. On short video platforms, science content usually lasts just a few minutes. Any longer, and viewers lose interest.

“No, Boss Wei, what I mean is—we can structure the show like one of those cultivation-themed progression novels! First, we hold internal selections at schools across the province. The preliminary rounds alone could fill several episodes.”

“Then we go into quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals. With all that content, twelve episodes might not even be enough.”

“Didn’t the station say kids these days don’t like traditional science shows? Then let’s give them a science show they do like!”

Wei Sheng’s eyes lit up. “Huihui-jie, go on.”

He poured her another cup of hot tea.

Chai Xinhui took a few sips to moisten her throat, then launched into an explanation of her team’s New Year plan.

“The youth learning base we’re co-developing with Yuan Stream Township is set to launch next year, right?”

“So when we were drafting this year’s annual plan, I had them include it. Boss Wei, take a look—this is our event proposal. The back half includes our online and offline promotional strategy.”

She pulled out her phone and sent Wei Sheng the freshly drafted proposal from their branding department—so new it hadn’t even been presented at the company’s annual meeting yet.

This is why million-yuan salaries aren’t easy to earn. If Wei Sheng was paying her a million a year, she had to generate tens or even hundreds of millions in value for the company. Otherwise, why pay her so much?

Wei Sheng flipped through the plan. The more he read, the more he felt that her million-yuan salary was an absolute bargain. Just this proposal alone could bring in over a hundred million yuan in ad revenue for the children’s show.

Chai Xinhui’s concept borrowed from the structure of those popular cultivation progression novels¹ that schoolkids loved.

In short, the province-wide open auditions would be like a sect’s disciple recruitment ceremony. Whether you were a poor farm boy, a foolish son of a minor landlord, or the young master of a noble clan—everyone would compete on equal footing. As long as you passed the selection, you could embark on the path to cultivation.

Of course, that kind of setup was fine for social media. But for a show on a provincial-level official TV station? No way. Talk of Foundation Establishment and Nascent Soul stages² would surely draw complaints.

So, Chai Xinhui suggested modeling the progression after the ancient imperial examination system. The open auditions would be the county-level exam, the quarterfinals the prefectural exam, the top 32 the academy exam, the top 8 the provincial exam, the top 4 the metropolitan exam, and the semifinals and finals would be the palace examination.

Accordingly, contestants would start as “Tongsheng” (students), then advance to “Xiucai” (licentiates), “Juren” (recommended men), “Gongsheng” (tribute students), and “Jinshi” (presented scholars). In the final round, the top three would be awarded the titles of “Zhuangyuan” (first place), “Bangyan” (second), and “Tanhualang” (third).

This way, there were no cultivation elements, and parents wouldn’t accuse the show of “misleading students.”

Although Chai Xinhui believed that using a cultivation-style progression would attract more student applicants, the reality was that many parents still saw webnovels as a harmful influence. So it was better to play it safe.

Wei Sheng nodded, but asked her to revise the cultivation-style progression concept into a separate proposal. They couldn’t use it on TV, but they could make it into a web variety show.

That’s called killing two birds with one stone—one proposal, two revenue streams: one from the TV station, the other from Guagua Video.

That’s right, Wei Sheng planned to pitch the web variety version to Guagua Video.

Ever since The Rebirth of Housewives became a massive hit this year, Guagua Video had been getting desperate. They even sent a senior executive to wine and dine Zhou Mingxing and Wei Sheng every few days, trying to “persuade” them not to keep giving all their good variety show ideas to Y Province TV Station. After all, how many people actually watched a mere provincial station?

Fewer and fewer households are buying televisions these days. Even if they have one, it’s rare for anyone to subscribe to cable anymore. Most people just use their TVs to stream online content or cast from their phones. Honestly, it’d be better to partner with Guagua Video. After all, they have over a hundred million daily active users.

Wei Sheng was already fed up with all the hassle. When it came to online variety shows, aside from Guagua Video, the other major player was Baitu Video. Unfortunately, Baitu Video was infamous across the internet as the central hub for Wei Sheng’s haters. The site still had tons of slanderous content about him that hadn’t been taken down. Liang Yi’s team had to regularly send legal notices demanding the removal of high-traffic defamatory videos. It was a never-ending headache.

Baitu Video claimed they treated everyone equally and were simply protecting users’ freedom of speech. But come on—no one’s that naive. Without the platform’s tacit approval, how could so many haters gather there in the first place? It was obvious they saw Wei Sheng as a traffic magnet with no big investors backing him, so they turned a blind eye to the smear campaigns. The more drama, the more site traffic—simple as that.

That’s why it pays to be decent. Guagua Video had the guts to kick out the troublemakers, and in return, they earned the favor of the God of Wealth. A classic case of good deeds being rewarded.

Chai Xinhui and her team pulled an all-nighter to revise the proposal. By the afternoon of the next day, the updated version was delivered straight to Wei Sheng’s office.

As luck would have it, Director Yang from Y Province TV Station happened to be there too.

Wei Sheng glanced over the proposal and, seeing no major issues, casually handed it to Yang Pingzhou and asked for his thoughts.

Yang Pingzhou hadn’t expected Wei Sheng’s team to work with such efficiency. He immediately picked up the proposal and started reading. Half an hour flew by as he pored over the document. Meanwhile, Chai Xinhui, who had stayed up all night, was struggling to keep her eyes open. But since no one had dismissed her, she didn’t dare leave. What if Director Yang had some feedback?

Then, all of a sudden, Yang Pingzhou slapped his thigh and burst into laughter. “Excellent! This program concept is fantastic! It promotes our province’s traditional Chinese medicinal herb culture while also educating viewers about China’s scientific exploration heritage. And this whole top-scorer, second-place, third-place ranking setup—parents won’t have a single complaint now!”

Wei Sheng couldn’t help but sweat a little. Just how many times had Y Province TV Station been bombarded with complaints from parents? Even the director had developed a trauma over it!

Since the topic had come up, Wei Sheng took the opportunity to explain that, in addition to this show, Yuanxi Biotech was also planning to collaborate with Guagua Video next year on another variety program. It would follow a similar format but be styled like a cultivation-themed progression story, full of level-ups and satisfying breakthroughs.

After hearing that, Yang Pingzhou swallowed his envy with a gulp. No wonder video platforms had been thriving in recent years, completely outclassing traditional TV stations. Just look at how lenient their content approvals were—they could even produce cultivation-based shows!

Seeing that Yang Pingzhou was only envious and not upset, Wei Sheng quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

The more platforms you work with, the more situations like this you’re bound to run into. Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to recognize Chai Xinhui’s talent. Without her, who else could’ve whipped up two full proposals in one go?

(End of Chapter)

Translator’s Notes

• county-level exam, prefectural exam, academy exam, provincial exam, metropolitan exam, palace examination: These refer to the stages of China’s ancient imperial examination system (keju), a merit-based civil service exam from the Tang Dynasty onward. It started with local exams (county and prefectural), progressed to regional (academy and provincial), national (metropolitan), and culminated in the emperor’s final review (palace examination) to select government officials.

• Tongsheng, Xiucai, Juren, Gongsheng, Jinshi, Zhuangyuan, Bangyan, Tanhualang: These are ranks from China’s imperial examination system: Tongsheng (child student, exam candidate); Xiucai (cultivated talent, first-degree holder); Juren (recommended man, provincial graduate); Gongsheng (tributary scholar, metropolitan entrant); Jinshi (advanced scholar, final degree). Top three in the palace exam: Zhuangyuan (top scholar), Bangyan (second place), Tanhua (third place, literally ‘flower snatcher’).