Chapter 83: Ratings Soar! [Extra Update]
Ren Qian and the nurse girl sat together at home, watching “I Am a Singer” on television.
“Jiangnan TV really pulled out all the stops for your publicity this time. The Baidu Tieba and every forum about Wei Bo are completely flooded,” the nurse girl remarked.
“Jiangnan TV just gave it a little push. My popularity was already quite high, at least among the online crowd. After all, most netizens know my memes, so they naturally pay attention to what I do. If the topic is hot enough, the buzz online just skyrockets,” Ren Qian corrected her.
…
Behind the scenes, the TV station staff were monitoring the viewership in real time: as soon as the program started, it ranked number one among all shows in its time slot.
The initial rating stood at 7.43%.
When the first singer took the stage, the rating leaped to 11.6%.
Seeing the timely update from Hong Tao arrive by text message, Ren Qian finally breathed a sigh of relief. He handed the message to the nurse girl, who cheered and leaned over to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.
Caught off guard by the sudden affection, Ren Qian felt his mind go blank. Driven by impulse, he wrapped his arm around the nurse girl and pressed her back onto the sofa.
What was this move called again? He couldn’t recall, but it was definitely a killer technique in the art of flirting, one that not just anyone could master.
Yet, just as he was about to continue, the nurse girl locked her legs around his waist, twisted nimbly, and executed a shockingly complex and dangerous martial arts maneuver, flipping Ren Qian off the sofa entirely.
He was completely stunned. Just a moment ago she’d been soft and yielding in his arms, and now the entire atmosphere had flipped upside down. This just didn’t make sense.
He rolled twice across the wooden floor, then flipped up, hissing as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. Looking suave always came at a price—even if nothing was broken, that still hurt.
“Oh? You’ve got some clumsy kung fu moves, have you? Come on, get up and try again! I’ll even lend you the courage of ten tigers!” The nurse girl stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him with mock defiance.
“We’ll save it for our wedding day!” Ren Qian declared righteously, dusting himself off and reclaiming his seat on the sofa.
“You won’t kick me out on our wedding night, will you? That’ll be my chance to turn the tables! Let’s see how cocky you are then.”
The nurse girl was momentarily speechless.
…
After their playful banter, the main event began in earnest.
Ren Qian took up his role as host, introducing the program’s guidelines before moving on to present the first singer. As the stage lights dimmed and lit up once more, the delicate prelude of “Hidden Fragrance” fluttered down like falling petals. Just as some viewers, growing impatient with the show’s slow start, were about to change the channel, their remote controls slipped from their hands.
They’d been electrified.
They’d never heard “Hidden Fragrance” before, but fell in love at first listen, instantly captivated by the melody.
A masterpiece! A classic!
This song, right from the first note, planted a notion deep in the audience’s subconscious: “I Am a Singer” stood in a league of its own, far above any other program.
…
“When Sha Pulian finished his song, the ratings soared past 12%. After Sun Munan’s ‘Chrysanthemum Terrace,’ the numbers reached 13.14%. Following Zhang Nianwei’s ‘Dreaming of the Water Village,’ ratings continued to climb steadily.”
…
“When Cai Chengyu took the stage, viewership dipped to 12%.”
…
“During Hu Yanbin’s ‘Hair Like Snow,’ ratings surged again to 13%. Xu Zhiqian’s ‘Hundred Flowers Tomb’ pushed it up to 13.78%. When Murong Xue closed the show, viewership leaped to a staggering 16%.”
Not only was Ren Qian stunned by this 16% super-rating, but the staff behind Jiangnan TV were left speechless as well. Even their flagship programs, “Keep Up Every Day” and “Happy Camp,” had never achieved higher than 5.46% and 6.77%, respectively—and those were their all-time highs!
But “I Am a Singer” left them far behind.
Disbelieving, the staff immediately rechecked the numbers, recalculating every step.
The results were the same.
“There’s no mistake! We have to report this to Director Hong and the station chief—this program is legendary!” The data team leader’s voice trembled as he hurriedly filled out the ratings report and rushed it to the station chief’s office.
“Sir, here’s the latest data. ‘I Am a Singer’ has set a new ratings miracle! Over 15%—that’s on par with last year’s Spring Festival Gala!”
He was so excited that his words tumbled out in a jumble.
The station chief frowned, glanced at the report, then looked up at the excited team leader, who wasn’t exactly known for reliability.
Slowly, he pushed back his chair and headed to the monitoring room himself.
The Spring Festival Gala, with its decades of tradition, had only just held onto a 15.98% rating.
Other TV stations could only dream of numbers like these.
He’d seen hit shows before—he had two under his management.
“Keep Up Every Day” and “Happy Camp” were formidable, weren’t they? “Happy Camp” had been on air for ten years, yet ratings had never surpassed 7%.
So, no matter how spectacular a show, it was impossible to suddenly jump to 15%. Sixteen percent was simply unheard of.
What did a 16% rating mean? According to CCTV’s statistics, there were over 800 million televisions in use nationwide. Sixteen percent meant that 128 million people were watching “I Am a Singer.”
The figures seemed utterly exaggerated.
He felt the need to verify the data himself. Allowing such inflated numbers to circulate could damage the station’s reputation—if the media picked it up and it turned out to be a calculation error, rival stations would mock them relentlessly.
Moreover, ratings and market share determined funding allocations, advertising slots, and resource distribution. A single mistake could cost the station dearly.
“Calculate it again!”
“Yes, sir!” The team got to work, furiously tapping on their keyboards, integrating the data as the station chief watched over their shoulders. He didn’t understand the process, but he could at least look the part.
“It’s gone up again! Now it’s 16.64%!”
“How is this possible? Our station’s longest-running shows combined aren’t matching this new program. Could it be our ideas are running dry? Maybe it’s time to grant even more autonomy to the younger staff—they’re full of creative tricks…”
The chief muttered to himself.
Jiangnan TV’s dominance in the industry, even leaving CCTV wary, was due to the constant decentralization from the top. The level of freedom for the staff was extraordinary, fueling an explosion of initiative. The motto here was, “If you dare to dream, you might just make it big.”
Jiangnan TV wasn’t CCTV. It didn’t have the endless tangle of relationships or backstabbing. Here, if you produced a high-rating show, you were the trendsetter—no one could block your path. Fail to deliver, and not even the chief’s own son could rise through the ranks.
PS: My apologies for yesterday’s delay. Today I want to test my limits—let’s see if I can manage three chapters.