The Lucky Star

Zhao Liying was a little dazed.

But she quickly started discussing the current entertainment industry landscape with Chen Pingsheng.

Leaving aside movies, the state of television was closely tied to the internet.

Right now, the three internet giants were all trying to dominate the mobile traffic market, making mobile video their primary battleground.

Penguin invested in Penguin Video, Ali acquired Youku, and Baidu was backing iQIYI.

These three video platforms, supported by the tech giants, had become the major investors in the television industry.

In the past, TV dramas made money by selling broadcasting rights to TV stations, while TV stations profited through advertisements.

It was worth noting that TV stations weren't in the business of losing money.

In other words, they wouldn't spend too much on acquiring TV dramas.

But the three video platforms backed by BTA were different. Internet companies were used to the "money-burning" strategy.

To them, as long as they could eliminate their competitors, losing tens or even hundreds of billions a year was nothing.

It wouldn't even make a dent.

After all, BTA was really rich.

As a result, starting from 2010, TV dramas kept getting longer and longer.

At the same time, the salaries of traffic stars also skyrocketed.

There were even completely talentless actresses who could shamelessly claim, "I'm worth 90 million."

The main reason behind all this was BTA's competition.

They inflated the pay of traffic stars while also boosting their fame.

As for so-called traffic stars, most of their numbers were fake.

They had things like "hundreds of millions of fans" and "billions of reposts" on Weibo—

But anyone with a brain could see it was just a fabricated hype machine.

The real purpose?

To artificially inflate their market value, secure endorsement deals, and drive up their appearance fees.

Back in the 2000s, TV dramas were usually around 20 episodes.

A 30-episode drama was considered long.

Now?

A drama starts at 40 episodes.

50 episodes? That's short.

60 episodes? That's the baseline.

70 episodes? Now that's the standard.

Compared to the older dramas, today's TV shows were pure filler.

Dozens of middle episodes were completely pointless, just empty padding.

These people were producing for profit, not quality.

This kind of blatant money-grabbing was unthinkable in the past—because TV stations weren't stupid enough to pay for watered-down garbage.

It's also important to note that TV drama pricing was per episode, and so were actor salaries.

Zhao Liying explained,

"Brother Chen, for the past two years, this has been a major flaw in the TV industry. Most viewers are constantly complaining, but there's nothing they can do. They can't change the way capital works, nor can they stop BTA's competition."

Put simply, if BTA weren't fighting over mobile video dominance, the industry wouldn't have fallen into this mess.

And the ones who suffered the most? The audiences who just wanted to watch good TV.

Chen Pingsheng nodded. "So, what you're saying is, if we can change this trend, our company will blow up?"

"Absolutely! Focusing on quality is the only way to build something long-lasting."

Zhao Liying then gave an example. In recent years, Korean dramas had been incredibly popular.

Korea's entertainment industry was famous worldwide—

And while government regulations and content restrictions played a role, the real key was their approach to making dramas.

Screenwriters were king.

To ensure top-tier storytelling, a screenwriter in Korea could freely choose the cast.

They could even fire the director if necessary—

A level of power that was unthinkable in China.

In contrast, in China's entertainment industry, the investors had the final say.

Even if they had zero experience in filmmaking, they could still handpick the female lead.

And the worst part?

Some actresses could force script changes on set.

This made it impossible for screenwriters to maintain a coherent, high-quality script.

Because on set, the screenwriter had the least power.

A great script would often get butchered beyond recognition just to cater to some investor-backed actor.

Chen Pingsheng had already invested in two TV dramas—both low-budget projects.

But his biggest strength was that he never interfered with the script.

That was a rare trait.

Zhao Liying was reminding him:

If you want to create a truly great drama, the screenwriter's role is absolutely critical.

They were the ones who decided the show's fate.

That was why Korean dramas were so compelling—because screenwriters actually had control.

If you compared Chinese and Korean dramas, the gap was obvious.

Korean dramas were usually 10-20 episodes.

Every episode was tight, engaging, and well-paced.

Chinese dramas?

Great opening, tons of filler in the middle, and by the end, random side characters start taking over.

It was like they were force-feeding garbage to the audience.

Chen Pingsheng talked with her all morning.

By the end, he had a basic grasp of the industry's current state—

And a clearer vision of where to go next.

"When you're done filming Lu Zhen, do you have a next project in mind?"

"Of course!"

Zhao Liying's eyes lit up.

"Right now, historical fantasy romance dramas are the hottest genre. I came across a novel online—about a forbidden love between master and disciple. The story is really moving. If we can adapt it faithfully, it will definitely be a hit."

"What's the title? Let me see."

"It's called Hua Qiangu."

Chen Pingsheng nodded and took the book from her.

He decided to use his golden finger to analyze it.

It was worth mentioning that his Entertainment Investment Analysis function had a daily usage limit.

And historically, investing in TV dramas had a 90% failure rate.

Truly successful dramas were rare gems.

Every time he used his ability, it was a valuable decision.

"Target analysis: Hua Qiangu."

"Analyzing target... Please wait."

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

A golden interface appeared before him.

"Analysis complete."

Drama Title: Hua Qiangu

Filming Duration: 1 year

Total Investment: 100 million

Return on Investment: 1000%

No upper limit—Super Blockbuster!

???

Holy sh*t, this is a jackpot!

What kind of god-tier talent did she have for picking projects?!

1000% ROI?

A tenfold return on investment?!

And even better—"No upper limit" and "Super Blockbuster" were marked.

These two phrases alone meant something extraordinary.

Could this drama catapult her to A-list status, like Yang Mi?

And turn Tengying Entertainment into a top-tier company?

Chen Pingsheng didn't doubt it for a second—

Hua Qiangu had the potential to achieve all of it.

What did it mean to be a super blockbuster?

Think 1986's Journey to the West, 1998's My Fair Princess, Kangxi Dynasty, The Sword and the Brocade, Chinese Paladin...

Only legends of that caliber could be called "super blockbusters."

And now, after just founding Tengying Entertainment, he had the chance to invest in one?

What kind of luck was this?!

Nope, he needed a moment.

He couldn't just process this all at once—

Or he might pass out on the spot.