Chapter Seventy-Six: The Influence of "Miss Mermaid"

Liu Qingshan dared not be careless, especially after he grasped the identities of the people before him.

Take, for instance, Director Ma Mandi from the Variety Department of the Capital Television Channel. She was once a celebrated host on the National Television Network—a familiar face who had accompanied countless viewers through their formative years. It was impossible not to feel a certain respect in her presence. Though she had long since retreated from the limelight, her signature smile and warm, approachable image still carried the weight of national affection. When she looked at Liu Qingshan, he felt both honored and somewhat overwhelmed by the attention.

Then there was Fang Qingyang, now in his fifties, who held the prominent position of group leader within the National Television Network’s General Editorial Office Review Committee. His authority was even more formidable. Any television drama wishing to be aired on the national network had to undergo scrutiny by this fifteen-member committee, which had altered or outright rejected countless series over the years.

The very existence of the review committee was every drama production team’s greatest nightmare. Dealing with them inspired nothing but anxiety, not because they wielded their power with undue arrogance, but because passing their review meant a drama would bear the stamp of ideological correctness, compelling storylines, and authentic period style—a true masterpiece by official standards.

For producers, having a drama broadcast on the national channel was akin to securing an official endorsement, greatly facilitating one’s future career prospects. While the central authority held the ultimate power over a show’s fate, requiring scripts to be filed for approval before filming commenced, once production was complete, it generally followed a “whoever broadcasts, reviews” principle. Nevertheless, for main-theme dramas, only the national network’s standards truly counted.

Thus, the national network’s review process was the strictest. Regional satellite channels were more lenient, and local stations even more so; many dramas unfit for national broadcast would go directly to local stations.

Still, Fang Qingyang’s presence today, whether or not it pertained to "The Return of the Condor Heroes," had little to do with Liu Qingshan directly. The reason he was waiting here was that Fang Qingyang had another matter to attend to.

Within this room, Fang Qingyang was undoubtedly the main figure, and naturally, everyone deferred to him.

“I’ll just call you Qingshan,” Fang Qingyang said kindly. “There’s something I’d like to ask your help with.”

Liu Qingshan immediately straightened his posture, prompting Fang to continue.

It turned out that a Korean drama, "Miss Mermaid," was currently airing to great acclaim on Channel 8 of the national network. Despite its late-night slot at eleven, it had achieved unprecedented viewership.

Countless viewers waited before their televisions, even altering their routines for the sake of the show. Although the series had been edited down from 247 to 190 episodes for the national broadcast, it remained the longest drama ever aired on mainland television.

According to investigations by national network reporters, audiences once watched primetime dramas, then caught a few other programs, and promptly went to bed by eleven. But after "Miss Mermaid" began, viewers found themselves watching until one in the morning, waking up tired for work, yet reporting they simply couldn’t stop.

Typically, family soap operas—whether the popular Japanese dramas of yesteryear or the current wave of Korean series—were watched mainly by women. Yet on the national network’s international website, where "Miss Mermaid" had its homepage, a great many male viewers joined the lively discussions.

Many men admitted that they’d previously dismissed Korean dramas as trite and shallow, but "Miss Mermaid" had changed their minds. Beyond the romance at its core, the show depicted family ties, friendship, and social customs in a heartfelt, authentic way.

Now that "Miss Mermaid" had finished, many male viewers found themselves truly reluctant to part with it.

The series had become more than a drama—it was now a “life encyclopedia” for many housewives. The show detailed the process of making kimchi, inspiring countless viewers to try it for themselves. It also introduced practical tips, such as cabbage for stomach ulcers, sipping soup before noodles for better flavor, soy milk to prevent constipation and gray hair, using soybean oil as an effective makeup remover, and treating rashes with coarse salt massage.

These tidbits not only broadened the audience’s understanding of Korean culture but also enriched their knowledge.

As a result, widespread viewer feedback poured in through various channels, urging and petitioning the network for a rebroadcast of "Miss Mermaid."

Recent attempts to air reruns during primetime yielded astonishing results. Not only did the show continue to radiate its charm, but it also shot straight into the “China Television Drama Rankings,” climbing to second place in the latest issue.

Its ratings continued to rise, now second only to "Ren Changxia" on the national channel’s primetime lineup, surpassing the prime-time hits "Talented Woman, Handsome Man" and "The Great Ancestor’s Secret History" on Channel 8.

“The network is pressing hard for Channel 8 to organize a fan meeting as soon as possible. Negotiations with the Korean production company are ongoing but have stalled, so Director Ge came up with the idea of asking for your help!”

At last, Liu Qingshan understood but voiced his own doubts: “I’ll certainly help if I can, but why me?”

“‘Miss Mermaid’ was produced by MCC, which is also Miss Kim Seon’s parent company.”

Liu Qingshan realized, “So that’s the roundabout connection! Very well, Director Fang, what do you need me to do?”

There was no need to overthink it. Since this was a directive from Ge Daqian, the director and investor behind "The Return of the Condor Heroes," there was nothing unusual about being asked.

Ge Daqian had thoroughly investigated Liu Qingshan just days ago and would naturally have discovered his not-so-secret personal connection with Kim Seon.

“At present, MCC isn’t particularly enthusiastic about sending their artists to China. It’s understandable—most of the rebroadcast rights fees have already been paid, so they’re not eager to make any extra effort. I’ve also heard that besides Kim Seon, you’re quite close with Park Hyejin?”

“She’s actually waiting for me outside. Would you like me to invite her in?”

Fang Qingyang waved his hand. “No hurry—she’s with MCC’s China branch. I was thinking of using her as an intermediary, do you think that would work?”

“I’m not familiar with all the intricacies here, so I can’t say for sure. But I’m willing to give it a try and do my utmost to persuade them.”

“Qingshan, this really isn’t my responsibility—my only involvement was in helping to introduce the drama. But the network has set its hopes on me, and the pressure is intense!”

Liu Qingshan quietly chuckled to himself. When something isn’t your duty, no one would foolishly rush to take it on—unless, of course, they’d assumed it would be an easy task, only to have things change midway, especially after hastily paying out most of the licensing fees and then realizing they needed a last-minute solution.

In fact, Fang Qingyang was wise not to approach Park Hyejin directly just yet. Once she turned him down, there would be no room left for negotiation.