mijobooks Chapter 170: Ratings Exceed 30%! The View from the Top of the Tower
Chapter 170: Ratings Exceed 30%! The View from the Top of the Tower
Chapter 170: Ratings Exceed 30%! The View from the Top of the Tower
The cold wind in Tokyo can already freeze through the thickest coat.
But the entire Japanese television industry is abuzz with excitement because of a set of figures.
31.2%.
This is the average viewership rating for episode 11 of "The White Tower," the episode where the courtroom debate reaches its climax.
In the Japanese television industry of that era, there was an unwritten "golden line" for viewership ratings.
A 10% rating is considered passing, a 20% rating is considered a hit, and only by breaking the 30% barrier can a drama be crowned a "national drama." This means that during this time period, one in three Japanese people is sitting in front of the television, staring at the same image.
It's scary.
What's even more terrifying is that this is not just a medical drama.
In the previous few years, only pure love dramas like "Tokyo Love Story" or tear-jerking family dramas like "Under One Roof" could occasionally reach this level.
"The White Tower" is a serious, hardcore professional drama filled with power struggles and the dark side of human nature. It has no romantic fluff, no sentimentalism for the sake of tearing people down, only cold scalpels and even colder human hearts.
The fact that they broke into the 30% club with such a subject matter speaks volumes about their prestige.
Thursday night, 10:15 p.m.
Shibuya Crossroads.
At this time of day, this place should be the start of young people's nightlife, bustling with crowds and flashing neon lights.
But today, the streets are deserted.
Several taxis were parked on the side of the road, but the drivers weren't in a hurry to pick up passengers as usual. They rolled down their windows a little and turned up the volume of their radios.
The familiar voice came through the radio: "—Goro Zaizen is currently being questioned by the plaintiff's lawyer! He looks terrible. Will he admit to that crucial piece of evidence? Let's hear from the scene—"
This isn't a live sports broadcast; it's a live audio broadcast of a TV series.
In an era when television was not yet ubiquitous in every car and every corner, this retro way of "listening to dramas" became the only solace for many people who couldn't go home.
"Hey, driver, are we going?"
A corporate slave who had just finished get off work knocked on the car window.
The driver waved his hand, pointed to the radio, and said without turning his head, "Wait! This part is crucial! If that nurse recants, Professor Zaizen is finished!"
The office worker paused for a moment, then leaned closer to the car window: "Um—could I listen in for a bit? I haven't had time to go home yet."
"Sure! Get in the car and listen! It's free!"
That night, the urban legend of "no one on the streets on Thursday nights" descended upon Tokyo once again, following the story of "Tokyo Love Story".
Roppongi, Johnny & Associates.
The oppressive atmosphere in the meeting room had dissipated.
Or rather, the tension of wanting to "fight to the death" has disappeared. In its place is a pragmatic acceptance of fate.
Mary Kitagawa looked at the number "31.2%" and did not smash the glass again.
She simply took a sip of tea, then closed the report and tossed it aside.
"That's about it."
She said it calmly.
The higher-ups exchanged bewildered glances, and one cautiously asked, "Vice President, should we continue with Plan B? Should we increase our promotional investment in 'Hot-Blooded Cop'?"
"Let's stop."
Mary said calmly, "It's already quite an achievement that Kimura's side can maintain around 21%. Facing monsters with 30% health, no matter how much effort they put in, it's futile. Rather than wasting money on a battle we're destined to lose, we should conserve our bullets."
She is a shrewd businesswoman.
Johnny's may be domineering, but they are definitely not fools.
The reason for targeting Kitahara Shin earlier was that they felt he was a threat who hadn't yet established himself, and if they didn't suppress him as soon as possible, it would cause trouble later.
But now?
They've already taken off. They've become the star of "national dramas," a guarantee of high ratings. Going head-on against them will only bring you trouble and nothing more.
Moreover, Takuya Kimura is now Johnny's only remaining talent. Someone like Kanai is already finished; if Kimura's reputation is damaged in the process of fighting to the death with Shin Kitahara, that would truly be a losing proposition.
"go."
Mary tapped the table, her eyes gleaming. "Contact Kitahara Shin's agency. Or find a middleman, like those producers at Fuji TV."
"Ask around and see if Kitahara Shin has any suitable roles for a newcomer in his next project. Even a deliveryman or an intern doctor would be fine, as long as I get some screen time."
"Since we can't beat them, we might as well ride their coattails. We might as well take advantage of this kind of buzz."
The higher-ups were stunned.
Is this the survival philosophy of large companies?
One second they're thinking about how to kill the other person, and the next second they're shamelessly begging for cooperation?
"What are you standing there for?" Mary sneered. "What's face worth? Making our newcomers famous is what really matters."
"yes!!"
Minato Ward, Kitahara Shin Apartment.
Ota Masakazu's hands were trembling as he held the latest TV ratings fax.
He has been following Kitahara Shin for more than two years.
From a dilapidated office of only a few square meters to a luxury mansion in the port area; from begging and pleading for a minor role to becoming a "national male actor".
Although he has seen his share of ups and downs along the way.
But when the number "30%" was actually presented to him, the overwhelming feeling of his heart pounding still left him somewhat speechless.
"President! It's broken! It's broken!"
Da Tian burst into the living room, waving a piece of paper in his hand: "31.2%! A historic moment! Do you know what this means? It means that as long as you're still acting, all the major TV stations will treat you like royalty! You can ask for whatever salary you want! Your endorsement fees will double!"
"Stay calm."
Kitahara Shin sat on the sofa, holding a fruit knife, peeling an apple for Izumi, who was watching TV next to him.
His movements were very steady.
[Mind Equipment: God's Left Hand Passive Activation]
The long peel seemed to come alive, swirling and hanging down, evenly thin and without any breaks.
"It's only 30%, right? Relax, Daejeon."
Kitahara Shin cut the peeled apple into small pieces, stuck toothpicks in them, handed one to Izumi, and then turned to his manager, who was so agitated he was about to have a stroke: "We've seen this kind of scene before. Didn't 'Under One Roof' have it too? And—"
He smiled, his tone reassuringly calm: "This isn't the end. The later episodes are even more heart-wrenching, and the ratings will only rise."
Looking at his nonchalant demeanor, Da Tian opened his mouth, but finally sighed helplessly.
"You little brat—"
He mentally screamed: You probably have no idea how difficult it is to achieve this! It requires perfect timing, location, and people—all three are indispensable! You're talking about it as casually as if you just added an extra chicken leg to dinner!
But complaints aside...
Da Tian looked at this excessively young man.
With three nationally acclaimed works under his belt, and also holding shares and capital in his agency, he has the power to produce such works.
If he had quit acting and gone into business, he would definitely be a business genius. But Daejeon knew that this man's ambitions went beyond that.
The tower he wanted to climb was even taller than the one Zaizen Goro had climbed.
"Oh, right."
Just as Da Tian was about to hang up the phone, he suddenly remembered something.
"We just received a call at the agency. The caller said they were Ms. Sayuri Yoshinaga's agent."
"Hmm?"
"
Kitahara Shin paused for a moment.
That legendary name.
Da Tian's voice held an air of disbelief: "That actress—specifically contacted you by name. She said she wanted to ask if you were available recently, or if you had any new film plans. It seems—she wants to work with you."
Kitahara Shin raised an eyebrow.
They arrived as expected.
It seems the letter I received at the TV station that day, and the previous rumors, weren't unfounded. That Showa goddess really has her eye on this "Tang Monk's flesh."
"understood."
Kitahara Shin put down the fruit knife, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes.
This is Sayuri Yoshinaga.
The thrill of sparring with such an opponent is no less than that of a TV rating exceeding 30%.
"Please schedule a time for me. I want to visit in person."
The next day, in Kagurazaka, Tokyo, at a secluded teahouse.
This is a place that Sayuri Yoshinaga often visits.
There was no signboard, only a simple lantern hanging in front of the door. It was quiet and private, and even the waitresses were elderly women who wore impeccable kimonos and were more tight-lipped than a bank vault.
Kitahara Shin was dressed in a dark blue custom-made casual suit, which made him look both formal and relaxed. He knelt on the tatami mat with his back straight.
Sitting opposite him was the legendary woman.
Time has left its mark on her face, but it is not aging, but rather a beauty sculpted by time. She visited in a light purple dress, her demeanor as elegant as a living ukiyo-e painting.
Sayuri Yoshinaga.
In the Japanese entertainment industry, this name is more than just an actress; it's an icon, a kind of faith. She was the last "screen goddess" of the Showa era, someone even Kawabata Yasunari had to take notice of.
Watching the woman skillfully using a tea whisk to prepare tea, Kitahara Shin's thoughts drifted back to the awards ceremony earlier this year.
At that time, he had just won a newcomer award for his role in "The Grand Hotel." Standing on the podium, he was full of pride and confidence.
But as he stepped off the stage and passed the front row of round tables, he deeply felt what "class" meant.
That night, Sayuri Yoshinaga sat in the most central position.
Surrounding her were Akira Kurosawa, Ken Takakura, and Yoji Yamada—the "god's domain" of the Japanese film industry. That circle possessed an invisible aura, like an unseen wall, keeping all young people several meters away.
At that time, Kitahara Shin didn't even have the right to go up and hand over his business card or say "Nice to meet you." He could only watch her from afar, watching her chat and laugh, receiving everyone's adoration.
And now.
In less than a year.
The wall disappeared.
That once unattainable figure is now sitting across from him, personally ordering him a bowl of matcha.
"Mr. Yoshinaga, it's nice to meet you. I'm Shin Kitahara."
Kitahara Shin bowed slightly, his voice steady and neither humble nor arrogant.
Yoshinaga Sayuri put down her tea whisk, her eyes, which had seen countless people, quietly scrutinizing him.
From the hair to the fingertips, no detail was overlooked.
"really----"
She sighed softly, revealing the smile that had captivated all of Japan: "She's even more aggressive in person than on TV. That wildness hidden beneath her politeness is truly alluring."
Kitahara Shin took the teacup with both hands, twirled it twice, took a sip, and then put it down.
"I heard you're looking to collaborate with me?" He didn't mince words and got straight to the point.
"Yes."
Sayuri Yoshinaga didn't mince words; her voice was gentle, yet carried an undeniable strength: "I watched 'The White Tower.' Especially that look in your eyes in court—that look of someone driven to the brink, still wanting to devour everything. I was wondering, if I were standing opposite you, could I meet that look? Or rather—"
Can I suppress you?
This is a kind of provocation that only top actors understand.
It is also a highest level of invitation.
Kitahara Shin smiled: "That's an honor. However—as you probably know, I just finished filming a major drama recently, and I don't plan to take on any long-running series for the time being."
"I know."
Sayuri Yoshinaga was clearly prepared: "So I contacted screenwriter Shinji Nojima."
Bei Yuanxin was stunned.
Sayuri Yoshinaga: "I heard he's writing a script for you called 'Flowers of Evil'? I think—it shouldn't be a problem to have a cameo role as the lead in one of the episodes, right?"
She paused slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and said, "With my experience, it's not too much of a waste for me to play a supporting role for you, is it?"
Kitahara Shin was genuinely surprised, even shocked.
Should Sayuri Yoshinaga be relegated to a supporting role?
If this got out, the entire Japanese film and television industry would be shaken. It would be the headline of every major newspaper for a whole week. This is a "national treasure" who has been famous since the 60s, winning awards left and right; if she so much as nodded, countless top directors would be willing to tailor-make a film specifically for her!
"Are you serious?" he couldn't help but ask to confirm.
"certainly."
Sayuri Yoshinaga picked up her teacup again, her tone becoming serious: "At my age, whether I'm the protagonist or a supporting character doesn't matter anymore. What matters is whether the opponent is interesting. I want to see just how high these young people can climb."
She took a sip of tea and casually brought up the next topic: "By the way, what are your thoughts on those year-end awards?"
The air seemed to freeze slightly.
Kitahara Shin was silent for two seconds.
Pretending to be stupid in front of smart people is useless.
"It would be a lie to say I have no thoughts."
He looked directly into Sayuri Yoshinaga's eyes and said frankly, "I want that Best Actor award. Not just want it, I have to get it."
"very good."
Sayuri Yoshinaga nodded, seemingly very satisfied with this ambitious answer.
"I am one of the jury members for this year's Japan Academy Film Prize."
She looked at Kitahara Shin and said something very weighty: "I will cast my vote for you."
Kitahara Shin's pupils contracted slightly.
This is not just a matter of one vote.
The jury for the Japan Academy Film Prize (Japan's Oscars) is filled with conservative old-fashioned figures and representatives of major film studios. For a young man like him, with limited experience and even a touch of "rebelliousness," to reach the top is extremely difficult.
However, Sayuri Yoshinaga's vote represents a trend indicator.
She was at the heart of that circle, someone even the old fogies had to respect. With her endorsement, it was like having a ticket to the top.
"thank you."
Kitahara Shin thanked him sincerely, bowing even deeper than before.
Sayuri Yoshinaga waved her hand dismissively, "No need to thank me. This is just my respect for good acting. I haven't seen an actor like you in a long time who makes me feel like I absolutely have to go see you on set."
"I'm really looking forward to our collaboration, Kitahara-kun. Don't let me down."
"must."
In the tea room, two generations of "theatre fanatics" reached a tacit understanding.
The young man who once looked up at the altar from the corner of the awards ceremony has finally stood on the altar and sat on equal footing with the gods.
Outside the window, the winter sun shines brightly, falling on the dry landscape garden in the courtyard.
But the spring that belonged to Kitahara Shin seemed to arrive even before the season itself.