In this world, when a show’s ratings flopped, the screenwriter indeed had to shoulder part of the responsibility.

However, in the public’s perception, the plot of Snow in Early May was controlled by Lin Ji. Lin Ji was the one who should be apologising. By stepping forward, Xiao Cheng was seen as voluntarily taking Lin Ji’s burden onto his own shoulders.

#WorldsBestSeniorBrother

#HeartacheForXiaoCheng

#LoyalAndRighteous

Several hashtags related to Xiao Cheng climbed the charts, soon occupying the top three spots on the trending list.

Xiao Cheng’s red-rimmed eyes and his sincere, guilty demeanour touched the hearts of many drama fans. Unlike Lin Ji, who had no representative works, Xiao Cheng had a hit drama under his belt, Love in Summer Night. It had broken into the top ten ratings for Qinglan TV that year. The fans weren’t blindly believing whatever the Snow in Early May crew said; they simply refused to believe, given the existence of Love in Summer Night, that such a disastrously bad show could come from Xiao Cheng’s hand.

“Xiao Cheng is so pitiful, he actually promoted an ungrateful wolf.”

“+1. Since the incident, has Lin Ji spent even one minute expressing regret? Does he not realise that without Xiao Cheng, he wouldn’t have even gotten his first credit?”

“National Film Academy alum here. Lin Ji even left the alumni group chat. Probably knows he’s in the wrong.”

“…Upstairs, you actually guessed wrong.”

Lin Ji’s Weibo, which hadn’t been updated since the failure of Snow in Early May, finally showed signs of life. It was a single character…

【Heh.】

“…How do you have the face to say ‘Heh’?”

“Poor Qinglan TV. Poor other writers of Snow in Early May.”

“If you’re human, you should remember Xiao Cheng’s kindness, right? He’s your Senior Brother; he hasn’t wronged you, has he?”

To this comment mentioning Xiao Cheng, Lin Ji replied again with two characters: “Heh heh.”

Lin Ji’s account had no real heat, only a few hundred followers. But right now, the tag pitying Xiao Cheng was trending, dragging Lin Ji’s replies into the hot topics as well.

“Calling Lin Ji the Number One Ungrateful Wolf Under Heaven isn’t an exaggeration, right?”

“…What did Xiao Cheng do wrong to get stuck with this plague god?”

“Don’t come near us, thanks.”

The original host had a good temper. Having been brought into the Snow in Early May crew by Xiao Cheng, he naturally obeyed him implicitly.

The reason Xiao Cheng dumped the pot on the original host was precisely that he had a handle on the host’s personality.

There were countless drama queens in the screenwriting circle. Creative circles were already full of drama, and since screenwriting involved massive profits, the dogblood stories generated could be told for three days and three nights without end.

The original host was of the rare, soft-tempered, slow-reacting variety. His reflexes were always a beat slower than others. Xiao Cheng had slammed the pot on his head long ago, and it took him ages to even realise what had happened.

But Lin Ji was not that kind of person.

He only became milder in temperament after he became famous, and that was only because no one in the crew dared to argue with him.

The original host’s misfortune would never have happened to him. The moment Xiao Cheng tried to dump the blame, he would have thrown it right back. And just in case Xiao Cheng didn’t feel the pain, he would have shaved the guy’s head first.

Of course, the original host had signed an agreement with Xiao Cheng prohibiting him from revealing inside information about the Snow in Early May crew.

This did tie Lin Ji’s hands somewhat, but it just made things a bit more troublesome. It didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything.

…

Xiao Cheng and his agent were discussing today’s trending searches.

Small-time screenwriters didn’t need agents, but established ones like him did to handle business affairs. Especially after a show failed, an agent could provide the fastest PR advice.

Whether it was tricking Lin Ji into taking the fall for Snow in Early May or apologising at the new drama’s press conference, these were all ideas from his agent.

On one hand, it was to eliminate the impact of the failure of Snow in Early May. On the other, it was to expand the influence of the new drama so Xiao Cheng could receive more good projects in the future.

Xiao Cheng had also seen Lin Ji’s “Heh.”

“He’s been wronged; letting him vent a little doesn’t matter,” Xiao Cheng said.

“If he hadn’t posted that sentence, buying this trending topic wouldn’t have been worth it,” the agent said with a cheerful expression. “Once he posted, look at these comments, they’re all supporting you…”

When Xiao Cheng exploded in popularity with Love in Summer Night, he hadn’t seen heat like this.

Although Xiao Cheng was quite famous among young screenwriters, the fact remained that aside from Love in Summer Night, he hadn’t produced any other drama that entered the top ten ratings.

Compared to writing, he was better at marketing. Every drama he worked on was lively during its broadcast, which was at least good for attracting advertisers. That was why Qinglan TV liked using him.

If Snow in Early May hadn’t flopped so brutally, Xiao Cheng could have coasted like this for a few more years. There were actually quite a few screenwriters like him in the circle.

Xiao Cheng still felt a bit of heartache over the money spent on the trending search.

He achieved the desired effect, but buying the search used his own savings. Unlike when he first dumped the blame on Lin Ji, where the production crew covered the PR costs.

As Xiao Cheng thought about this, he looked at his agent, only to see the other man frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

The agent held up his phone. The screen displayed a new post Lin Ji had just made.

Unlike the simple “Heh,” this time, Lin Ji’s Weibo post was accompanied by a large image

A picture of a golden, shining Buddha statue.

【I dare to swear before the Buddha that the responsibility for the failure of Snow in Early May does not lie with me. Who among you dares to do the same?】

He tagged every single screenwriter whose name appeared before his on the credits of Snow in Early May, not leaving out a single one, including Xiao Cheng.

The film and television industry was superstitious by nature. Burning incense and praying to Buddha before a shoot began was standard procedure, for fear of violating taboos and causing accidents during filming.

Once Lin Ji posted this, the voices cursing him in the comments actually quieted down a bit. After all, screaming abuse at a picture of a Buddha statue created a fair amount of psychological pressure.

Even more internet users, who were just there for the drama, were waiting for the other screenwriters to respond.

But a full two hours passed, and regarding Lin Ji’s tags, no one showed their face to respond.

“Xiao Cheng was just online, right? Since he apologised so much on behalf of his junior brother, why doesn’t he come out and respond to his junior brother’s tag?”

“…Actually, I’ve always been suspicious. Lin Ji’s name is last in the credits; how did he end up being the one responsible?”

“Why doesn’t Qinglan TV just show the contracts? Whoever took the most money should take the responsibility.”

“I wouldn’t dare lie in front of a Bodhisattva. While it’s not enough to make me stand with Lin Ji, I feel that since he dares to say this, maybe this pot really shouldn’t be on his back.”

The other screenwriters played dead and didn’t respond, assuming the netizens would forget about it as time passed. But Lin Ji, whether out of boredom or something else, would wake up early every morning and tag them once.

In his comment section, a netizen even changed their nickname to “Did the Snow in Early May screenwriters respond today?”, posting only one thing every day, “No.”

“This looks exactly like me asking my former company for compensation. I ran to the company every day and finally got an extra two months’ salary.”

“Suddenly, I feel like Lin Ji is me taking the blame for my boss. Taking the blame is one thing, but I also have to get scolded for him, and in the end, the credit is all his.”

The netizens were more or less catching on.

Before, the trending searches were all cursing Lin Ji. But if the truth was really what the marketing accounts claimed, why didn’t those screenwriters respond?

…

Lin Ji wasn’t necessarily trying to get justice for the original host. With the agreement in place, he couldn’t say much. But crying out his grievances was still allowed.

Even if he couldn’t change his situation, disgusting Xiao Cheng and the others was good enough.

It was just posting one extra Weibo a day. Since Lin Ji’s career was currently on pause, the one thing he didn’t lack was time.

During this period, Lin Ji had been looking for screenwriting-related work. In this world, screenwriting was a hot industry. Unlike Lin Ji’s previous life, the industry here was generally more closed off.

Good jobs were still monopolised by screenwriters recruited by TV stations. These writers had their own networks and used them to bring in new blood.

Lin Ji used to be part of that network, but not anymore.

There were crews recruiting screenwriters online, but Lin Ji looked around and found most were unreliable. Some were practically club-level recruitments, no pay, but demanding the copyright belonged to the crew. It could only be described as outrageous.

Lin Ji only saw one recruitment post from a video site where the fees and requirements were somewhat reasonable. However, the content format wasn’t a long-form drama, but a short drama.

Currently, short dramas are a new thing, and those produced by web platforms are not trusted by the public.

Major TV stations monopolised the best screenwriters and production resources. What was left for video sites were leftovers. To some extent, video sites were just vassals of the TV stations, buying dramas that had already aired on satellite TV to provide an extra stream of revenue.

Even so, among video sites, Chaoxing TV and Qike Video were far ahead of Rice Grains Video, the one Lin Ji was looking at. Although Rice Grains Video showed the most sincerity, their share of the video market wasn’t high.

Lin Ji’s experience in creating short dramas wasn’t extensive, but in his previous life, short dramas had already become a significant source of income for video sites.

Compared to long dramas, short dramas required lower investment and offered a better chance of a high return on a small cost. For high-viewership short dramas, the profit per episode could be more than ten times the cost.

After thinking for a few days, Lin Ji submitted a short drama script to Rice Grains Video.

Even though he had been in the original host’s body for a month, Lin Ji was still in the phase of understanding this world. His daily routine consisted of watching dramas and movies, understanding the positioning of various TV stations, and taking stock of the hit dramas and blockbuster movies of the last decade.

The variety of drama genres in this world wasn’t as wide as in Lin Ji’s previous life. Of course, there were masterpieces. What satisfied Lin Ji most was the existence of a screenwriting forum. Screenwriters were active there year-round, introducing scriptwriting experiences and summarising recent hot topics.

After lurking for a week, Lin Ji started answering questions.

For some reason, although screenwriting was a popular industry, books like Save the Cat, Story, or Screenplay didn’t exist here. Lin Ji had only posted “dry goods” (solid, useful content) a few times before he was regarded as a senior figure in the industry. Before long, people were approaching him for private chats.

“Great God, help! If you have time, could you help me sort this out? Urgent use. Is it okay if I pay twenty percent above market price?”

NOTES

Pot / Taking the pot: Slang for taking the blame or being a scapegoat. A “black pot” (heiguo) is the blame itself.

Dogblood: Melodramatic, clichéd, over-the-top drama (e.g., amnesia, secret siblings, terminal illness).

Dry goods: Internet slang for high-quality, practical information without fluff or filler.

Save the Cat: A famous book on screenwriting structure by Blake Snyder.

Translator’s Note: Lin Ji pulling out the Buddha picture is a masterclass in petty revenge. Enjoy, and drop feedback.